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chosok-amo · 10 days

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HELP ME, MAN! : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you, their little girlfriend, scared the shit out of your boyfriends. they don't know why, how, them, the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the modern world are scared of their girlfriend.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, fem! reader. anger issues mentioned, you scared the shit out of them. fluff.

wc. | ( 𝜗𝜚 ) masterlist

( 𝜗𝜚 ) art belongs to the artist.

being the strongest sorcerers in the modern world, gojo satoru and geto suguru didn’t know fear. they had faced countless curses, fought against the worst of the worst, and never once backed down. no matter how dangerous, no matter how terrifying the curse, they’d come out on top, especially when they worked together. their bond and strength were unmatched. they could take on anything the world threw at them without flinching.

but there was one thing that shook them to their core. something even worse than a thousand cursed spirits combined.

you.

their fiery, sarcastic little girlfriend, who had more rage bottled up in her than any curse they’d ever faced. when you were angry, it wasn’t just explosive—it was terrifying. your sharp tongue, your piercing glares, and the way you could tear them apart with a single, biting comment. they’d rather face off against the worst special-grade curse than deal with your wrath.

and right now, they were both standing in front of you, like guilty children caught red-handed. you were pacing back and forth, arms crossed, the air thick with tension. they could handle anything… anything but this.

“so,” you started, your voice cold and sarcastic, “which one of you wants to explain this mess?” your eyes flicked between them, daring one of them to speak up.

gojo, never one to shy away from a challenge, opened his mouth, though his usual cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. “babe, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” he tried to play it off, but even he knew he was walking on thin ice.

you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning to face him, your eyes narrowing dangerously. “wasn’t that bad? really, satoru? because to me, it looks like you completely ignored the one thing i asked for.”

geto stood to the side, looking like he was praying for some sort of divine intervention. he knew better than to jump in too soon, but he also knew you were right. they’d messed up. and badly.

“idiot, stop talking,” geto said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s arm, though his own nerves were clearly showing. then, he turned to you, his tone soft and apologetic. “we’re sorry. we really didn’t mean to mess this up, it just—”

“oh, so you’re both sorry? well, that fixes everything,” you cut him off, your sarcasm biting. “i guess next time i’ll just expect the bare minimum from the two of you.”

gojo winced, trying to shrink into the background, and even geto, usually calm and composed, was struggling to keep his cool under your stare. the two of them could take on anything, but this? this was something entirely different.

you could feel their unease, but it didn’t soften your mood just yet. “i ask for one thing,” you continued, pacing again, “and what do you do? exactly the opposite.” your voice rose with each word, your frustration clear. gojo shot a glance at geto, mouthing, “what do we do?”

geto shrugged helplessly, though he knew there was only one way out of this—admitting they were wrong. completely and utterly wrong. “look, we really messed up, okay? we’ll make it right, i swear. just… don’t be mad at us, alright?” he sounded genuine, his usual stoic tone now laced with concern.

you stopped pacing, your arms still crossed, and looked at both of them. “you better. because if you think i’m mad now, wait until i’m really pissed.” they both nodded, practically in unison. they knew better than to push their luck. after all, you were the one thing that could truly strike fear into their hearts. curses? no problem. a pissed-off girlfriend with anger issues? that was another story entirely.

“we’ll fix it,” gojo promised, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual, clearly trying to get back in your good graces. “yeah, we’ll do whatever it takes,” geto added, backing him up, eyes serious.

you watched them for a long moment, letting the tension hang in the air before sighing. “good. because the last thing i want is to be disappointed again.” they both exhaled in relief, knowing they were getting a second chance. you may have been their biggest weakness, but you were also their greatest strength—keeping them in check when nothing else could.

I DIDN'T SLAM THE DOOR, I SWEAR!

there was also a moment—just like any other day—when you and gojo found yourselves in a small argument. nothing major, just one of those little things that built up over time. this time, it was about him always leaving his clothes on the floor. no matter how many times you asked, it seemed like he just couldn’t get the hang of putting them in the hamper.

you stood in the bedroom, arms crossed, glaring at the pile of clothes that had been tossed haphazardly on the floor next to the bed. “again, satoru?” your voice was sharp, laced with frustration. “is it really that hard to put your clothes in the basket? it’s right there.”

gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, looked up at you, his signature grin plastered on his face, but you could see the nervousness behind it. “come on, doll. it’s not that big of a deal, right? they’re just clothes.”

“just clothes? satoru, you’ve been leaving them everywhere—everywhere—for weeks. i’m not your maid!” you snapped, waving your hand toward the scattered mess. “you’re lucky i haven’t thrown them all out by now.”

gojo chuckled, clearly amused by your annoyance. “oh, come on, you wouldn’t throw them out. you love me too much for that.” he leaned back on the bed, the smirk growing wider. “besides, you could always pick them up yourself if it’s that important,“ he added, the taunt subtle but noticeable.

your eyes narrowed, the irritation bubbling up even more. he knew exactly what he was doing—pushing your buttons, trying to get a rise out of you. and it was working. you clenched your fists, taking a deep breath to keep from snapping right away, but the frustration was hard to contain.

“satoru,” you said, your voice dangerously calm as you looked at him. “i am not your maid. i’m not here to clean up after you like some kind of personal assistant.”

he opened his mouth, about to say something in response, but you cut him off, stepping closer, your temper flaring. “i already deal with enough without having to pick up your damn clothes every single day. you know i hate it when the house is messy, and you still leave your stuff everywhere. why? because you think i’ll just clean it up for you?”

his smirk wavered, just for a second, as he saw how serious you were. he might have been teasing, but he knew when you were on the verge of losing your patience. and right now? you were teetering on the edge.

gojo sat there, the smirk replaced by a hint of uneasiness. he hadn’t expected you to get this mad, but then again, he should have known. you weren’t one to back down easily, especially when it came to this issue.

he swallowed hard, trying to salvage the situation. “okay, okay, i get it. i know you’re not my maid. but come on, it’s just a few clothes. it really doesn’t take that much effort to pick them up, does it?”

you could feel your irritation spike even higher at his words, and your eyes narrowed. the way he was downplaying it, acting like it was no big deal, just pushed you closer to your breaking point. if it didn’t take much effort, then why couldn’t he do it?

“if it’s so easy, satoru,” you snapped, voice sharp with anger, “then why can’t you do it?”

without giving him a chance to respond, you bent down, grabbing one of the shirts from the pile of discarded clothes and hurled it at him. the fabric hit his chest, and he blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that reaction.

“you think it’s not a big deal, right? it’s just a few clothes, no effort at all,” you continued, grabbing another piece of clothing and throwing it at him. “then why do you keep leaving them everywhere? because i’ll pick them up for you? i told you, satoru, i’m not your maid.”

gojo sat there, eyes wide, the smirk completely eradicated as you hurled clothes at him. he flinched each time one hit him, and he didn’t say a word, recognizing he’d messed up.

when you grabbed another shirt, he finally spoke, his voice softer. “babe, wait—”

you didn’t stop, your eyes blazing, and he saw the real anger blazing in them. “you think it’s funny to disrespect me like this? to treat me like some kind of servant?”

gojo looked at you, his usual confident facade cracking under your intense glare. he knew he messed up, but he still tried to keep some of his usual attitude, though it faltered when he spoke. “it’s not that big of a deal, doll, come on. i’m just a bit messy, isn’t that part of the charm?”

he knew the moment those words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. your expression darkened even more, and another shirt hit him.

gojo’s confidence shattered the second the words left his mouth. he saw the way your expression darkened, eyes narrowing even further as the tension in the room spiked. before he could even backtrack, another shirt flew at him, hitting him square in the face. he froze for a second, blinking as the fabric slid off his head.

“wrong move, dickhead,” he thought, his heart speeding up just a bit as he noticed the way you were glaring at him, practically daring him to say something else.

without another word, gojo shot up from the bed, all traces of his usual cockiness gone. “okay, okay! i’ll clean it up!” he stammered, frantically bending down to gather the clothes you had thrown at him. he moved faster than he ever did in a fight, scrambling to pick up the scattered mess around the room.

you stood there, arms crossed, watching him with a piercing stare as he scurried around the floor, picking up every last piece of clothing with a nervous energy. the man who faced down curses without blinking an eye was now clearly scared of you.

gojo moved quickly, rushing to pick up all the clothes, his heart pounding the whole time. he had faced down some of the worst curses in the world, fought against overwhelming odds, but this? this was something else entirely.

he could feel your gaze on him, sharp and unwavering, and he knew better than to make any snide comments or try to joke his way out of this. he was in the doghouse, and he knew it. as he finally gathered the last of the clothes into a messy pile, he stood there, glancing up at you, his usual confident demeanor completely vanished before he quickly left the room.

gojo, in his frantic rush to escape the room, accidentally slammed the door behind him with more force than he intended. the loud bang echoed through the hallway, and he froze for a split second, his eyes wide with panic as the realization hit him. “shit.” without wasting another moment, he bolted down the hall, clutching his clothes like his life depended on it.

he raced into the living room, where geto was sitting on the couch, looking far too tense for someone who hadn’t been directly involved. geto had heard everything. every word of the argument had reached him, and he hadn’t dared to intervene—not with you in that mood. he knew better. much better.

when gojo came running in, face pale and eyes wide, geto’s first instinct was to flinch, his muscles tensing even more. gojo practically threw himself at geto, clinging to him like a lifeline, the pile of clothes still in his arms. “suguru, help me! she’s gonna kill me, man. i didn’t mean to slam the door, i swear!”

geto, whose nerves were already frayed from listening to the argument, quickly pushed gojo away, eyes wide with alarm. “fuck off, satoru!” he hissed, scrambling to put some distance between them. “don’t want to be anywhere near you when she starts yelling again. i don’t need to get dragged into this.”

gojo blinked at him, clearly desperate for any sort of support. “but—but you’re supposed to have my back!”

“not when it comes to her,” geto shot back, keeping his voice low in case you were nearby. “do you know how terrifying she is when she’s pissed? no way, man. you’re on your own for this one.“

gojo groaned, his shoulders sagging as he slumped onto the couch beside geto, still clutching the clothes. “come on, suguru. you can’t just leave me to deal with this by myself. we’re in this together, remember?“

before geto could even muster a response, both of them froze at the sound of your heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway. it was slow but deliberate, each step echoing louder than the last. gojo’s eyes widened in panic, and he shot a terrified glance at geto, who was looking equally tense. neither of them dared to move, as if staying perfectly still might make them invisible.

“satoru,” geto whispered, voice barely audible as his eyes darted toward the doorway, “you better hide or something, man. i don’t want to be involved when she gets here.”

“go where?!” gojo hissed back, frantically looking around the living room for some sort of escape route. but there was nowhere to go, no time to run. he was trapped. the footsteps grew louder, and gojo’s heart pounded in his chest. “oh no, oh no, she’s coming…” he muttered under his breath, gripping his clothes tighter.

“this is your fault,” geto whispered harshly, scooting a few inches away from gojo. “you’re the one who pissed her off.“

“satoru…!” your voice called from down the hallway, sharp and unamused. both men stiffened at the sound, knowing that whatever came next wasn’t going to be good. gojo’s face drained of color as he leaned closer to geto, whispering desperately, “don’t leave me, man! i’ll do anything—just don’t let her kill me!”

geto looked at him, weighing his options, but before he could say anything, there you stood, arms crossed, your glare fixed on gojo like a laser. your presence alone filled the room with an intense pressure that made even the strongest sorcerers feel small. “satoru,” you said, your voice dangerously calm, “did you just slammed the door?”

gojo was frozen, his eyes widened like a deer in headlights. he looked back and forth between you and geto, the panic clear on his face. “uh, i...i didn’t mean to,” he squeaked, the clothes clutched tightly in his hands.

geto, watching the scene, leaned back into the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible, avoiding eye contact with you. he knew better than to draw your attention.

you didn’t say anything at first, just raised an eyebrow, and the silence was enough to make both gojo and geto sweat. finally, you spoke again, your voice laced with irritation. “do you want to try that again?”

gojo immediately shook his head, eyes wide with fear. “n-no! absolutely not, babe!” he blurted out, his voice shaky. “i swear, i wouldn’t do that again! it was totally an accident! i didn’t mean to slam the door, i promise!”

he stood there, practically trembling under your glare, clutching his clothes like they were his shield. “i’ll be so careful next time—no more slamming doors. i’ll tiptoe if i have to!” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush as he desperately tried to fix the situation.

geto, who was watching from the couch, subtly leaned back, clearly relieved that gojo was taking the brunt of your anger and praying he wouldn’t get dragged into it.

gojo looked at you with pleading eyes, hoping his quick apology would be enough to cool your anger. “i’ll be good, i swear,” he added, his voice softening, hoping to appeal to your softer side. but your expression remained firm, leaving him to sweat just a little longer, wondering if he'd escaped this round of your wrath—or if he was still in trouble. you slowly nod before walking away back to your shared bedroom without taking your eyes off of him.

gojo let out a shaky breath as you walked away, the silence in the room almost deafening. he stood there, frozen in place, clutching his clothes tightly and wondering if he was really off the hook or if you were just planning something even worse.

geto, who had been watching the scene unfold, let out a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing his tense muscles. “jesus, man,” he whispered, turning to look at gojo. “i don’t know how you do it. i’d be shitting my pants right now if i was in your shoes.”

WHITE TURN PINK

you stormed into the living room, laundry basket in hand, grumbling under your breath. your favorite white button-up shirt was now an embarrassing shade of pale pink, along with almost all the white clothes from the load. it didn’t take long to piece together what happened: one of them had carelessly thrown pink clothes in with the whites.

as you stood in front of gojo and geto, blocking their view of the video game they were so engrossed in, they immediately began to protest. “hey, we were—” gojo started, but the moment they looked up and saw the expression on your face, their words died in their throats.

your eyes were narrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. you were pissed, and they could feel the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“who’s turn was it to do the laundry?” you asked, your voice low but laced with enough irritation to make them both sit up a little straighter. without missing a beat, gojo’s hand shot up, pointing directly at geto. “it was him!” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.

geto’s eyes widened, his head snapping toward gojo in disbelief. “seriously?” he mouthed, glaring at him for the betrayal. but when he turned back to face you, his defiance melted away, replaced with sheer panic as he saw you holding up the now pink shirt.

geto could feel shivers running down his spine, his heart racing at the sight of your anger and the tainted shirt clutched in your hands. he wanted to protest, to deny the accusation that gojo had so shamelessly thrown at him, but one glance at your face told him it was pointless.

he swallowed hard, glancing at gojo who had the gall to give him a shrug and a smirk, as if it wasn’t his fault this had happened. but geto didn’t have time to deal with that right now. right now, he had to survive this. “care to explain this?” you asked, holding up the evidence.

geto could feel the color draining from his face, his mind racing as he desperately tried to come up with a convincing excuse. he shot a glare at gojo, silently vowing to get him back for this later, but right now, he had to handle the wrath of you.

“i...uh...” he stuttered, his voice shaky as he struggled to find the right words.

but before he could say anything more, gojo piped up beside him, clearly enjoying his friend’s predicament. “come on, tell her,"” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

gojo’s smirk didn’t last long. the second you shifted your glare toward him, your eyes narrowing dangerously, his confidence evaporated. you didn’t have to say a word—the intensity of your stare was enough to make him freeze in place. his lips clamped shut, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender, silently mouthing a “sorry” as he shrank back into the couch.

the teasing look was gone in an instant, replaced with one of sheer regret. gojo knew better than to push you any further when you were this angry. his eyes darted between you and geto, desperately hoping the attention would stay on his best friend and not shift back to him.

the atmosphere in the room was heavy, the tension palpable as both gojo and geto sat there, silent and clearly nervous about your next move.

gojo avoided your gaze, opting to find the most interesting spot on the floor to focus on, all his earlier cockiness gone. he couldn’t believe he’d so effortlessly thrown geto under the bus, and now they were both neck-deep in your wrath. geto, on the other hand, still looked like a deer in headlights, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a satisfactory explanation for the pink shirt.

your gaze slowly shifted back to geto, who visibly tensed under the weight of your stare. you crossed your arms, eyes still sharp as you raised an eyebrow. “well?” you prompted, your voice low but demanding. “explain.”

geto’s heart thudded in his chest, his tongue feeling heavy and clumsy as he tried to form words under your intense scrutiny. he swallowed hard, his mind scrambling to come up with any sort of explanation that might appease you.

“i...i...” he started, his voice cracking slightly. “i just...i didn’t...uh...”

he trailed off, his eyes darting to where gojo sat, silently mouthing, “help me, man!” but gojo only shrugged, unwilling to come to his aid and risk drawing your anger back towards himself.

geto’s throat went dry. his usual calm and collected demeanor was nowhere to be found as he fumbled for words. he could feel the color draining from his face, his mind scrambling for any excuse that wouldn’t make things worse. but there was no escaping this one.

“i—uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “i didn’t realize the pink clothes were mixed in with the whites. it was an honest mistake, i swear.” he glanced over at gojo for a split second, hoping for some kind of lifeline, but gojo was firmly staring at the floor, wisely avoiding your gaze after nearly getting himself in deeper trouble.

“i didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” geto continued, his voice softening as he gave you a tentative, apologetic look. “i’ll… i’ll fix it. i promise.” you didn’t say anything at first, just continued to glare at him, making him squirm under the silence. geto knew he had messed up, and the longer you stared at him, the more he regretted it.

the silence was deafening, and geto fidgeted nervously, the weight of your glare like a vise around his throat. gojo watched from the corner of his eye, still trying to act casual even as the tension in the room grew.

geto swallowed hard, his mind racing for anything that might soften your anger. “listen, i know i messed up,” he began, his voice dropping to a quiet, contrite tone. “but i swear, i’d never do it on purpose. it was an error, a genuine mistake. it won't happen again.”

“damn right it won’t,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “because you two are redoing the laundry now.” gojo, still sitting stiffly beside geto, looked like he wanted to say something smart but quickly thought better of it. geto, on the other hand, sighed in defeat, clearly knowing there was no getting out of this.

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, both knowing that they had no choice but to follow your command. gojo let out a weary sigh, already dreading the chore ahead, while geto simply nodded in submission.

“yes, ma’am,” geto murmured, rising from the couch. gojo followed suit, reluctantly getting to his feet as well. the two men both looked like puppies that had just been chastised as they trailed after you as you led the way to the laundry room.

with matching groans of reluctance, the two strongest sorcerers in the world—men who had faced countless curses without fear—got up from the couch, heads hanging low, and shuffled toward the laundry room like a pair of scolded children.

as they passed, you shook your head, muttering under your breath, “honestly, how hard is it to separate the colors?” geto shot gojo a sideways glance. “this is your fault,” he hissed, still holding a grudge from being thrown under the bus. gojo shrugged, looking unapologetic. “hey, better you than me, man.”

“you owe me,” geto muttered darkly, glaring at him as they got to work on fixing their laundry disaster, while you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed, making sure they did it right this time.

they both muttered and grumbled under their breath as they sorted through the laundry, each taking their turn to throw in a sarcastic comment.

“you know, for being the strongest, we sure do spend a lot of time sorting socks,” geto grumbled, holding up a black one that had somehow gotten mixed in with the white.

gojo rolled his eyes, grabbing the sock from his friend and dropping it into the correct pile. “well, if you had been more careful—”

“oh shut up, satoru.”

you leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as you watched gojo and geto sort through the laundry, their faces set in identical frowns. they muttered to each other under their breath, casting glances in your direction every now and then, clearly miffed about being forced into this chore.

as the two men carefully separated the clothes, making sure to keep the colors apart this time, you couldn’t help but smirk. the sight of them working diligently, like a pair of scolded children, was a sight to see. you can hear them blaming each other. “stop fighting,” you tell them.

they both stop their bickering and look up at you. gojo starts to open his mouth, but you shoot him a warning glare, and he quickly closes it. “we’re not fighting,” geto mutters, continuing to sort through the laundry, careful to avoid any more pink shirts.

gojo rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath, but you catch it anyway. “what was that?” you ask sharply, pinning him with a look.

gojo swallows hard, realizing he’s been caught. “nothing,” he mutters sheepishly.

WE HAVE TO STAND FOR OURSELVES

in the kitchen, geto and gojo stood side by side, leaning against the counter, their expressions tense but trying to appear more confident than they actually were. they glanced nervously toward the hallway, making sure you weren’t nearby as they quietly discussed their situation.

“we’re the strongest sorcerers in the world,” gojo muttered, half-convincing himself as much as he was trying to convince geto. “we shouldn’t be scared of her. she’s… she’s just one girl. smaller than us. it’s ridiculous.”

geto nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his agreement. “right. we face curses and danger all the time. we can’t let her… you know, terrorize us in our own house. we’re the men in the relationship.”

they had a point. they had faced deadly curses and powerful sorcerers without flinching. but here they were, nervously tip-toeing around their girlfriend like frightened schoolboys.

“absolutely,” gojo continued, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “we can’t let her intimidate us. we’re stronger than her. we’re the strongest.” geto nodded again, though he seemed a bit less sure this time. “we need to show her that we won’t be pushed around... right?”

they both tried to sound resolute, but there was a visible nervousness in their body language—shoulders tense, eyes darting toward the door every few seconds, like they were expecting you to burst in at any moment.

“yeah,” gojo added, his voice lowering as if he didn’t even believe what he was saying. “we can’t let her push us around. i mean, come on. we’re gojo satoru and geto suguru. we shouldn’t be scared of her. right?”

but even as the words left his mouth, the doubt was clear. geto let out a small sigh, nodding but with much less confidence than before. “yeah, totally. we shouldn’t be scared… at all.”

there was a brief pause as both of them exchanged uneasy glances, neither wanting to admit just how much they were actually afraid of upsetting you. their bravado was shaky at best.

the silence stretched on. clearly, both men were starting to panic. they were not used to feeling weak, and to have you—someone they cared about and respected—wielding so much power over them was uncomfortable to say the least.

“so we...we should confront her, right? show her we're not afraid?” gojo asked, more for reassurance than anything else. geto nodded half-heartedly, his own confidence flagging as the thought of facing you head-on filled him with unease.

just as their uncertainty reached its peak, the echo of your footsteps rang through the hallway. they both went still, their eyes wide as they heard you approaching and turned to look at each other in panic. the color drained from their faces, and all the bravado they had been trying to muster moments ago completely evaporated.

you appeared in the hallway, looking nothing like the terrifying figure they had been hyping themselves up to face. instead, you were dressed in your cozy cat printed pajamas, your hair slightly messy, and you looked more like someone ready for a peaceful evening than the source of their terror. you seemed so casual and calm, it was almost comical.

but despite how cute and harmless you looked, the effect on the two strongest sorcerers was instant. when you reached them and stood in front of them, a casual look on your face as you were about to ask what they were up to, they immediately went into panic mode. without a second thought, both men dropped to their knees, their faces showing sheer dread.

“it was all suguru’s idea!” gojo blurted out immediately, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation, his eyes wide with fear. he didn’t even give geto a chance to protest before continuing. “he said we should stand up to you, that we’re the strongest sorcerers and shouldn’t be scared. i—I told him it was a bad idea!“

geto glared at gojo, but he was too terrified to defend himself properly. “i—what?! you were the one who said we shouldn’t let her push us around!” he stammered, trying to shift the blame back.

you looked at them, clearly confused by their sudden and dramatic display of fear. your eyebrows knitted together as you took in the sight of gojo and geto kneeling in front of you, their faces pale and their eyes wide with distress. it was such a stark contrast to the usual confident and unflappable demeanor they showed in almost every other situation.

“what is going on with you two?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion. “why are you both on the floor?” you glanced between them, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene before you. the sight of them so unnerved and trying to pass the blame off on each other was bewildering. your calm demeanor and casual attire made the whole situation seem even more surreal.

they both looked up at you, their faces a mixture of fear and shame. gojo opened his mouth to speak, but geto cut him off immediately, wanting to defend himself.

“please, we're sorry,” geto blurted out, his voice quavering slightly. “we were just... uh...”

gojo chimed in, his voice still panicked. “we were just... messing around. yeah, messing around. just having a bit of fun.” they look at you, silently begging for forgiveness and trying hard to hide their previous arrogance.

you looked at them, your expression turning from confusion to genuine puzzlement as you tried to make sense of their frantic apologies and conflicting explanations. “messing around? having fun?” you repeated, clearly unsure of what they were talking about.

“what are you guys even saying?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. you took a step closer, still trying to understand what could have prompted such an over-the-top reaction. “seriously baby, what’s going on? did i miss something?” your hands softly find their cheek, gently rubbing your thumbs across their skin.

the feeling of your hands on their cheeks was both soothing and embarrassing. they leaned into your touch, their bodies still tense with anxiety.

“we... we were just...” gojo began, his voice cracking slightly. geto cut him off again, clearly not wanting his friend to say anything else that could dig them deeper into trouble.

“it's nothing, really,” he mutters, looking up at you with a mix of guilt and shame. “just a silly argument. we're sorry if we worried you.” their panicked expressions soften slightly as they look up at you, still on their knees. they look so pathetic, and so uncharacteristically vulnerable, that it's almost endearing.

you looked down at them, your expression softening as you saw their vulnerable and somewhat endearing state. a small, amused smile played at the corners of your lips as you reached out to gently stroke their cheeks.

“you two weren't in bed,” you said, your tone light and soothing, “i was looking for you two. i just wanted to see if my boyfriends wanted to cuddle or hang out. i didn’t realize you were having such a… dramatic moment.”

the tension in their bodies seemed to ease at your words and soft touch. they both looked up at you, their eyes full of guilt and embarrassment.

“we, uh...” gojo started, but geto cut him off again.

“we're sorry we didn't notice you looking for us,” he muttered, his voice still laced with shame. “we were just having a... disagreement, and we didn't want to bother you.” they both looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, their faces full of remorse.

seeing the guilt and embarrassment in their eyes, you softened, feeling a wave of affection for them despite their earlier antics. you reached out and gently helped them to their feet, your touch reassuring and comforting.

“come on, baby,” you said, your voice warm as you guided them towards the bedroom.

you could tell they were feeling remorseful, and despite your confusion over their odd behavior, you chose not to press the issue. instead, you opted to show them a different kind of comfort. “let’s just go to bed and cuddle,” you continued, smiling at them, “it’ll be okay.“

as you led them toward the bedroom, gojo’s initial nervousness began to melt away in the warmth of your gentle presence. noticing your obliviousness to the full extent of their earlier antics, he seized the opportunity to return to his usual self, his playful side resurfacing.

“you know,” gojo began, sliding closer to you with a wide, affectionate grin, “i’ve really missed you today.” he snuggled up to you, his usual playful demeanor coming back full force. “it’s like, you’re the best part of my day, and i’ve been counting the minutes until we could be like this again.”

geto, feeling the shift in gojo’s mood, couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the change. he followed suit, wrapping an arm around you as you all made your way to the bedroom. “yeah, what toru said,” he added with a softer smile “we definitely missed you.“

behind the closed door, the three of you entered the bedroom, where the soft, dim lighting created a cozy and comforting atmosphere. as you led them both toward the bed, gojo began to shed his shirt, the fabric slipping off his toned body with an air of nonchalance.

“you know,” he stated casually, “i think a cuddle session is exactly what we need right now.” he tossed his shirt aside, not even bothering to see where it landed as he flopped down onto the bed.

geto followed suit, tossing his shirt and pants aside as well before joining gojo on the bed. “definitely,” he agreed, resting his head on the pillow. “i could use a good cuddle right now. it’s been a long day, after all.”

both men looked up at you expectantly, their eyes full of a mix of affection and mischief. they patted the space between them, silently inviting you to join the snuggle puddle.

“come here,” gojo said, his voice low and warm.

as you complied with their silent invitation, snuggling in between them, gojo wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer against his bare chest. geto did the same, snuggling up against your back and molding his body to yours. his hand lightly caressed your arm, the touch tender and intimate.

“this is nice,” gojo murmured, burying his face into your hair. “i love having you here like this.”

the warmth of their bodies against yours was like a small, comfortable sanctuary. gojo’s arms were wrapped securely around you, his bare chest pressed against your back. geto was curled up behind you, his body molding to yours like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together.

“it’s perfect,” geto agreed, his voice soft and muffled as he nuzzled into your hair. “having you here with us like this just makes everything feel right in the world.” gojo hummed in agreement, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your skin. “absolutely,” he said, his eyes closing in contentment.

for a few moments, none of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustle of sheets and the steady beat of everyone's hearts. then, gojo spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “can i tell you something, baby?”

you hum softly, still buried your face on his chest.

gojo's fingers continued to caress your skin as he gathered his thoughts. he was quiet for a few moments before he finally spoke, his voice soft and serious.

“you know we care about you more than anything, right?” he asked, his hand moving to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking at him. “more than anything in the entire world.” geto, sensing the sincerity in gojo’s words, moved in close on your other side, his arm wrapping tighter around you. “he’s right,” he muttered. “you mean the world to us.”

you felt a swell of warmth at their heartfelt words. you looked up at gojo, his gaze soft and sincere, and then turned to meet geto’s equally genuine eyes. your heart ached with affection for them both.

“i know,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. the emotions were almost overwhelming. you tightened your grip around gojo’s waist, pulling him closer, and then reached out to draw geto nearer to you as well.

gojo and geto both responded instantly to your wordless gesture, their bodies drawing closer as if magnetized to yours. gojo pulled you impossibly close to him, his arms embracing you like a vice, while geto pressed himself against your back, completing the cozy little sandwich.

gojo pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smirk. “we just... we want to make sure you feel loved and safe, always.”

geto’s chin rested on your shoulder, and he added his own gentle kisses to your neck and face. his hands stroked your arms soothingly, his touch tender and affectionate.

“always,” he echoed gojo’s sentiment, his voice low and earnest, “you matter so much to us, baby.” gojo’s chest vibrated slightly as he hummed, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“we’d do anything for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

you let out a contented sigh, feeling the weight of their embrace and the tenderness of gojo’s kiss on your forehead. the warmth of their bodies pressed against you was incredibly comforting, and you closed your eyes for a moment to fully appreciate the feeling.

“i feel safe,” you murmured, your voice soft and sincere, “i always feel safe with you two, more than with anyone else. each time you cuddle me, it’s like my brain just turns off. i get so comfortable that i could fall asleep in seconds.”

you nestled even closer into their arms, savoring the sense of security and peace they provided. their combined presence was like a soothing balm, washing away any lingering worries or stress. in their embrace, you felt completely at ease, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle comfort of their love.

gojo and geto both tightened their hold on you even more as you spoke, their bodies pressing against yours like an impenetrable wall of warmth and affection. the knowledge that you felt safe and secure with them, that their presence could turn off your worries and calm your mind, filled their chests with a deep sense of contentment.

“good,” geto murmured against your neck. “that's exactly how it should be.”

gojo nuzzled against your hair, his arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you. “you should always feel like this,” he said, “like nothing in the world can touch you.”

as the three of you continued to snuggle, geto’s hand began tracing gentle patterns up and down your arm, his touch soothing and rhythmic.

“we would do anything to make sure you feel this way,” he said softly. “you deserve nothing less than happiness and comfort.” gojo leaned down slightly to press another gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a few moments before he spoke again.

“always, baby... always.”

you intertwine your free hand with geto’s, feeling his fingers gently intertwine with yours. with your other hand, you caressed gojo’s bare waist, enjoying the warmth and closeness of him.

as you felt their soothing touches and heard their comforting words, you closed your eyes, already starting to drift off. “i’m so grateful for you both,” you murmured softly, your voice barely audible. “thank you for being in my life.”

gojo and geto both held you tighter as you intertwined your fingers with geto’s and rested your palm on gojo’s waist. the simple touch was like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place, completing the circle of love and affection that surrounded you.

their hearts swelled with emotion at your words, and they both responded in unison, their voices low and soothing. “we’re the grateful ones, sweetheart,” gojo spoke up. “we should be thanking you for bringing us into your life,” geto continued, his voice warm and gentle.

you felt their embrace tighten around you, the simple touches of intertwined fingers and a warm palm on gojo’s waist completing the circle of love and affection. their words filled the space around you, wrapping you in a cocoon of emotional warmth.

as their voices melded into a soothing, harmonious backdrop, you drifted further into the comfort they provided. the gentle rise and fall of their breaths and the steady rhythm of their heartbeats guided you toward sleep.

you didn't have the chance to respond, as the comfort of their presence and their heartfelt words lulled you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

gojo and geto each felt a sense of deep contentment wash over them as they heard your breaths become slower and more even, signaling your descent into sleep. they held you close, their embraces protective and affectionate.

they watched over you as you slept, their gazes full of admiration and love. they continued to whisper soft, soothing words and gentle touches, ensuring you slept undisturbed and surrounded by their love.

“sweet dreams, baby,” gojo said quietly, his lips brushing your forehead. geto echoed his sentiment, his hand gently running through your hair. “we love you so much.”

the room was filled with a peaceful, quiet atmosphere, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft rhythm of their breaths. gojo and geto were completely engrossed in their silent vigil, their senses fully attuned to you and your every movement.

slowly, the dawn began to break, casting a soft, morning glow into the room. it caught the edges of gojo’s silver hair and geto’s dark locks, creating a soft, halo-like effect around their heads.

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rhenuvee · 1 month

Text

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with HSR Men

Warnings: ugly villager slander, established relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

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Argenti: Your fellow knight of beauty grows quite fond of the game, immediately finding the freedom of creativity in decoration endearing. He always gives you compliments on your OOTD, and takes screenshots whenever you design a new area on your island. Argenti gave himself the gardening job- spending his bells on red rose seeds. He gets proficient in following the flower guide, and is very proud of himself if he ever gets a golden rose on your island. He loves the villagers, finding them each very cute, and even beauty in the "ugly" villagers. "Did you see the villagers wearing the red rose on their head? I must say I am flattered they love it so much. Though, I am more happy that they appreciate the beauty of our island." He enjoys documenting the beautiful places in your island with photos <3

Aventurine: From the beginning he points out the fact that Tom Nook is a capitalist, which makes you roll your eyes thinking he thinks this game is silly. However, it is quite the opposite as it doesn't take him long to get out of his home loan debt and is somehow extremely lucky. It's unfair to you that he could just log in on any given day and have the best deal for turnips. However because you are his favourite he says he’s willing to buy you whatever you want, he guesses. He happens to be able to catch rare species like the Coelacanth, and it infuriates you but you really can't be if it's helping the museum. "445 bells per turnip, sounds like music to my ears~" "What's that? You want this violin? Well I guess I could spare you a few bells... is one million okay?"

Blade: Let's not kid ourselves here- it takes a lot of convincing and help from Silver Wolf to get him to even be in the presence of Animal Crossing. He says he would much rather stand and look at the wall (SW: "You already do that everyday"). Eventually he sits himself next to you, and listens to your giddy rambling about what to do in the game while he puts on a serious face not saying anything. After the preliminary tutorial/startup gameplay, he finally says, “…why is this rat harassing me for money.” However, the loans aren't the worst but the villagers chasing him down are. He purposely ignores them and grumbles when you tell him to answer ):/. He prefers to watch you play, but because he sees you smile and laugh at his sarcastic comments, he thinks it's not so bad.

Boothill: He's definitely down to try it out, but he ends up being a bit of a troll. He doesn't really mind cute/ugly villagers, until he judges them for what they say. “That’s right, (y/n) did catch all those fish.” “Did he just ask me if he could call me Muffin.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA PAY ANOTHER LOAN?!!?” Yeah… he quickly feels the grindy-ness, complaining that Tom Nook was working him like a forkin’ dog. A little bit of comical rage, but he won’t lie he is enjoying it. He also asks if there are any guns and he is disappointed, so he opts for the net. He's a little rough and rowdy, but he does it in style. That being said, he 100% spends his extra bells on a cowboy outfit.

Dan Heng: He agrees instantly- aw :(. He knows you (and March) have been begging him to play. He’s is fairly good at it- gets out of the tent quickly, masters catching creatures, a nicely organized house… He’s quite resourceful too, chopping down trees and going to mystery islands to farm the heck out of it. The villagers love him, both of you often seeing them run to him with the little sparkly flowers. And even though he's normally serious, you can't help but fawn over how sweet he is with the villagers. "...She wants to call me Shmoopy, do I-" "YES." Villagers asking him to catch a fish? He's immediately on it. He remembers their names and treats them like real people :(

Dr. Ratio: "Is it educational?" Bro is such a nerd. You deadpan at him, and sass him for expecting this to be IXL or something. He is also one to get through the tutorial part easily. You expected him to be overly critical of the game, but he finds appreciation in the museum: both the creatures and the art. Is it a farfetched idea that I think he'd know how to tell the reals and fakes right off the bat? "Do you really think Da Vinci spilled coffee on his work?" At least it saves you the troubles of wasting your bells and getting a fake. I think your island would not be a mess, and would have at least a few statues (you know the ones) which add his touch to it.

Gallagher: Honestly he's happy as long as he gets a little area for himself. Kind of a wild card this one- somehow calm and chaotic at the same time, and it's puzzling because how is he doing such weird things with a straight face? Trolls the villagers quite a bit (he's lucky ACNH villagers are nice) by hitting them with a net (just once though) and giving them different catchphrases every time they ask. "Why is Bob saying 'spaghettini' at the end of his sentences?" "Um, because I thought it'd be funny? Also I'm kinda hungry so-" "Gallagher ):/" Despite the randomness, he is wholesome at times. He is also one to compliment your new outfit, and stargaze with you on the new area you decorated.

Gepard: He's busy so you weren't expecting too much from him, but he takes pride in having a well-rounded island. He gets so excited when he catches a new species that you don't have yet- what a cutie. Also goes full throttle when there's a bug-off or fishing tourney. Despite being a video game, I feel like there will be some way he messes up taking care of plants. The flowers overgrow, the turnips rot, and he doesn't understand why the trees aren't growing? But with some tips from you along with your island designing skills, your island rank moves up and he is BEAMING. "Zucker asked about you." "...he did?" "Mhm, he asked how you were doing, and said he saw you laying out pathways on the island."

Jing Yuan: He finds it so cute when you ask him to play. Lowkey like Blade where he likes watching your happy expressions when playing. He's happy that this game provides him a way to relax while not getting bored. Secretly an enjoyer of villager drama: "Wolfgang wants to apologize to Audie with this present. What happens if I don't deliver it?" "Again? Ah, just give it to her quickly." "...what if I don't." "...Jing Yuan." Oddly I feel like he'd enjoy the group stretching (what an old man), and encourages you to join. Like the "Dozing General" he is, there will be times when he's inactive and gets the bed head.

Luocha: You weren't expecting him to enjoy the game, but he's surprisingly willing to be resourceful. His storage is full of materials, which you scold him for because this is the reason for his empty undecorated house. But he always has things you need so you can't exactly complain. Also one to be pretty smart with managing bells and resources, able to maximize their worth. When the island gets visitors like Label or Flick, he has items ready. "Luocha... where did you get that coat?" "This? It's a designer piece, from Miss Label." I'd say he does have a sense of beauty in design, so thankfully your island is gorgeous.

Sampo: Sympathizes with Redd like a true scammer. "Aw look, he just needs a bit of money to get started... he even gave us a 'cousin's discount'." However, a rivalry starts with Redd when Sampo's first art piece turned out to be fake (scammer gets scammed moment). He asks if he can be the salesman that he's supposed to be. When villagers run up to him to offer bells for an item he has, he accepts thinking it'll get him a deal along the way. Unfortunately friendship gets you nowhere in terms of home loans. I'd say he's pretty good with the turnip stonks, so there's a balance. Also TRASH ISLAND. I'm sorry, but your man is a hoarder, "But what if I need this?" (Literally me.)

Welt: When you ask him to play he asks why the animals are crossing. He finds the style and characters are so cute, and he can see why you enjoy it. This is definitely a way he gets in touch with his "youthful" side. He loves the creative freedom in the game, even getting indecisive about how to design your island, and thinking of what outfit to wear. He once made a simple t-shirt for fun, but was surprised when he saw a villager wearing it. It'd be so cute and funny when he learns new emotes- and he just spams them with a straight face. Not gameplay related, but I feel like in his free time he'd draw you both in villager form <3.

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#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail imagines #animal crossing #animal crosing new horizons #acnh #hsr imagines #argenti x reader #aventurine x reader #blade x reader #boothill x reader #dan heng x reader #dr ratio x reader #gallagher x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #luocha x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader

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jockbroski34 · 2 months

Text

AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate. We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him. Him and I were basically complete opposites. While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways. He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead. We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass. His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place. As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room. He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad. Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance. And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude. We were just having a good time.” Yeah, a good time at my expense. Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night. I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday. I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?” Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know?” I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro. Happy birthday!” I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me. I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door. He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in. “I’ve been saving this for you. I hope you like it!” Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy. He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something. Not that I work out or anything. The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche. I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw. It was a video game. Not any that I’d ever heard of. I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you. I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?” I responded. I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing. As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word! I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing. I’m happy with what I have right now. I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude. Anyways, I gotta hit the gym. I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself. Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet. As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you! In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose. Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system. It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem. The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle. I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free. Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up. The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music. I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen. I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account. I knew I should’ve put a password on it. I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made. Knowing him, I can only guess. His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room. At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room. I guess the character starts by moving into their new home? I went into the menu to find more information about the character. The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too. I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats. You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats. If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue. This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue. As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at. Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level. The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck. Not too far off from DnD I guess. It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue. Gee, why am I not surprised… Cody was anything but a genius. It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5. And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian. It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game. I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen. I was back on the save select screen when I became confused. There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine? The play time was set to 0 minutes. I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there. Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default. Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later. I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city. I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar. On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym. It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym. I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole. Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events. First, I had to do some bench presses. Then some squats. Then finally, run on a treadmill. At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms. A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym. So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default. That should’ve been the first thing I checked. I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute. I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode. Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed. When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read. I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels. I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best. I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face. Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop. I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease! These stats can even go into the negative. Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read. This guy was nothing like me at all! I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron. I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream. Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams! These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats. Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening. I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1. My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school. That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him. He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes. Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring. This was honestly getting embarrassing. My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2. If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself. After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong. Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team. Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good. Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football? Cody. I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around. This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option. To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead. It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point. Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command. This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not. Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization. This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks. A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes. For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable. He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good. It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not. By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable. My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed. I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character. Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices. It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path. I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats. Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon! By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place. That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end. You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become. Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities. His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom. I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60. Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far. I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am! Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them. The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+. I’m not even sure if you are human anymore. I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to. You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+. Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron. You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B. You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance. However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F. Are you even trying? I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull. You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F. Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium? You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires. In short, you often act before you think. Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells. As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+. Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act. You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts. When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off. On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-. Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial. I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B. Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes. Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life. This alone proves that life favors some over others. If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think? Are you happy with your results? Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype. It’s who you are and who you will be from now on! Drumroll please… (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…) You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought. You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else. You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical. However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome. You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself. Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between. Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation. Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness. Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build. He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face. The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show. Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong. It sounded like everything Cody was, not me. Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life. I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day. Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me. I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result? Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world? WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result. These changes are permanent. If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text. What the hell was I thinking?! I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life. At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black. Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons. I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below. My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4. My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight. The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs. My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs. Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting. I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more. My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain. As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde. My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue. My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline. The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble. Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around. I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent. I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug. I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good… Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk. Was I…enjoying this? Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was. And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation. Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo. What the hell is this game? I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good. The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling. That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head. I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro? If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit. I had to admit, it was kinda addicting. I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home. Wait, what was that? I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own. Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me. Your AlterEgo. You know, the real you. It’s been fun, dude. Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick? So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude. I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be. That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind. Don’t try to struggle or fight back. You know I’m stronger than you. There’s no going back. So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself. I wasn’t a jock. I was never a jock. I’m nothing like my AlterEgo. This is a mistake. This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro. I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk. Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made? Because you are one deep down. Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one. Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side. Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen... Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude. I know you can feel me taking over your mind. You’re finding it harder to think. Soon you’ll be The Jock, me. I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over. I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards. An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image. But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could. However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock. The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me. Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds. I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself. Wait…what’s a reboot? I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended. I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted. This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole. I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it. It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes. Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it. If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say. Who has time for that anyways? But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist. My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me. It’s like he was addicted. A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him. His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self. I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted. I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore. He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it. No matter what, he won’t tell me. If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude. Wasn’t just me. I just played it right? But I don’t feel any different. You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game. Maybe they might come out as different people. I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price. One of those dweebs just has to take the bait. I wouldn’t mind a little cash though. I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?” I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are. What’s up dude?” I was happy to see him. Cody was my roommate and my best friend. We were practically inseparable. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened. I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?” He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?” Cody sounded kinda hesitant there. Had he read about the rumors too? I don’t see why he’d have to worry. None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good. I was just making sure you were down to get some food. You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game. And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro. I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today. Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude. You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes. They’d probably fit you better.” He was right. As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game. If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros. Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal. I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro. On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before. And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him. I couldn’t help it though. I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday. Quite frankly, I deserved it. Thankfully Cody took one for the team. He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret. I had to give him credit. His tight hole is better than most girls’. I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight. I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining. After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro. This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover. Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention. It was like my mind was in a constant fog. My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely. After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice. Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo? That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. I shrugged it off. I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me. You know, AlterEgo. Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it. I didn’t actually know it was that rare. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars. I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends. I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

627 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 3 months

Note

baby daddy older art…. after his divorce he went on a wild night out, and slept with thing young hot thing he picked up at a bar. it was supposed to be a one night stand, but you get PREGNANT, and now sexy man has to be in your life FOREVER. begs you to keep it even though you’re young and have your life ahead of you, and if you do he will make sure you live in luxury for the rest of your life. you were going to keep it anyway, but his promise makes it so much easier. hes coming to every doctors appointment, he makes you put his number on speed dial, he brings you anything you ask, because you’re carrying his child. decided it’s easier if he lives with you, because he’s seen your apartment and he doesn’t want you or his kid living in such a place, and then he can be available at all hours of the day. he’s so good to you, so kind and sweet and good and he doesn’t have to do this at all, you can help but fall in love with him. but he doesn’t feel the same. it’s a strictly mother of his child relationship. he is very blatant about that. no blurring of boundaries, you are the mother of his child and that’s all. it’s purely practical why he lives with you, because if you’re both ok with it it’s best for the baby to have both parents. that’s all you think it is. you keep your love inside, because he’s such a good man, and to even be around him is a gift. he’s given you more than you could ever hope for, it would be selfish to demand feelings too. that’s what makes him so wonderful, he’s doing this all for a girl he doesn’t even love. and his child, yes, but richer men have done less for their children and the mothers of their children. little do you know, he has to prevent himself from touching you constantly, because you’re a young girl he’s gotten in trouble and he would be the worst man in the world if he also made you think you had to put out to stay with him. no, he had done enough. all he could do now was to provide for you and your child. until………

save me responsible art who accidentally knocked me up save me,,,,,, okay but imagine you're a few months into the pregnancy - you have a prominent bump now and parts of you are getting more and more tender and achey. your breasts for one, have gotten alot more sensitive.

you're in a mood over it - not snappy but just noticeably uncomfortable. when art comes over to stock your fridge like he's been doing, you're in nothing but an oversized shirt and some tiny sleep shorts. art already has his heart beating fast, pumping in his chest. he tries to stay respectful, notices how you're nit wearing a bra and feels his cock twitch. he thinks to ask you about what's got you looking so blue as a way to distract him from your body but it ends up doing the opposite.

“my chest.” you tell him, frowning. his eyes are drawn down despite himself. “pregnancy body I guess, they're just really tender and like… stiff.”

your nipples are certainly stiff, art thinks. swallows. concern nips at him. he knows it's unavoidable, but he doesn't want you in pain.

“are they hurting you?”

you nod, reaching up to cup them yourself and art tries not to choke on air. you wince.

“its like a sore muscle or something. squeezing them feels good but I feel like I don't have a good enough grip.” you flush when you realize you're essentially fondling yourself in front of him and drop your hands. “sorry. it's not your problem. I'll live!”

you usually love having him around for as long as he'll stay, but you're in such pain you just wanna take an advil and take a nap. he doesn't deserve to hear your bitching.

art feels bad. this is half his responsibility and he has to deal with 0 of the aches and pains. hed siphon it from you if he could. he works his bottom lip between his teeth, face already turning pink before he even says the words.

“I could help.”

you blink at him, confused at first. “help?”

arts ears are red now. his fingers flex at his sides. he imagines them on your tits and has to inhale.

“I mean - my hands might. they might feel better. if you want, obviously. I just hate to see you in pain.”

so that's how you end up with your back to his broad chest. leaned back as his hands hover at your waist over the shirt. you're all flushed, both of you, but you reckon his hands really will help. they're so sturdy looking. and you remember how they felt on your bare skin. those slender fingers, those palms. with that in mind you place your hands over his and slip them under your shirt - “direct contact will probably help more.” you explain, half because it'd true and also because it's an opportunity to feel his hands again - and you won't waste it.

arts whole body is burning. hot. he says, “right.” because his brain is rather fucking blank the second his hands make contact with your skin. you're so warm and soft. just like that night. except his baby is inside you now.

he cant help it. he has to feel over your bump. skims his palm over the taut muscle of your belly where it extends out. he's kind of awestruck.

“have they kicked?” he thinks he'll pass out if he feels it.

you shake your head. “I'd tell you if they did. I know you'd want to feel.”

his heart warms. he caresses your belly. “I would.” he confirms gently. “I want to be there for everything.”

you bite your lip. sigh when his hands start trailing up your body. you dont know if he's purposely being sensual about it, or if he's just being respectful about the way he handles your body. it feels so good. it feels natural. his palms cup the side of your tits first, and you gasp.

“sorry.” he says - starting to pull away and you quickly shake your head.

“no.” you tell him. “no it feels good - dont worry about being too gentle. it's alot of pressure …. “

he breathes out and touches you again. grips you'd breasts in his hand and tries not to lose his mind. he's doing this to help you. you're in pain. this isn't about him.

but god, you're so fucking soft. he can feel your flesh squeeze between his fingers. feel the stiff peaks of your nipples. he massages your tits like that for a second, just cupping and pressing against your tits with slight pressure, steadily building the more you sigh in approval.

he's so big behind you. big chest at your back big hands groping and gripping your fat and heavy tits.

“that feels so good.” you tell him, and if you have a whine in your voice well it's his fault for having such good hands.

“im glad.” he chokes out. fuck. he's throbbing in his jeans. hard and thick and he's remembering how your tits felt pressed against his bare chest when he'd been inside you- deep in your tight wet little cunt - you'd been so vocal under him, sweet and cloying and he vividly remembers how the nipples he's currently pinching, felt in his mouth, under his tongue. remembers them bouncing in his face when he'd had you a second time, on his lap, riding his cock so fucking eagerly.

his brain is all fuzzy with the memories of that night. the message becomes less about relieving you of any pain and just about feeling your body in his hands. you can feel his pecs move against your back as he breathes in and out - his touches becoming less hesitant and more demanding - he squeezes getting more aggressive and dominant. sexual.

your cunt throbs, your little clit having a heartbeat. you've become so fucking - horny lately. you have to touch yourself everyday - your hormones all over the fucking place. being touched like this isn't helping. you feel soaked and wet between your thighs. downright sticky with it.

you want to reach down and rub yourself. the pounding of your pussy has become even more painful than the throb in your breasts earlier.

“im so horny.” you say - the confession ripped from your chest. said kinda desperately, hopelessly. arts hands pause on your tits and you lean back against him, pushing it, testing. “it hurts so bad, art. all these pregnancy hormones - no matter how much I touch myself it's never enough. I need to be filled.”

“jesus.” he leans his forehead against your shoulder. he tries to find that thin thread of control, but he can't. it's gone. probably broke the second he felt you in his hands again. “you can't say things like that….”

“but it hurts.” you whine. shift around. “hurts right now.”

you sound near tears and fuck, he fucking hurts too. he's been holding himself back for so long, ignoring his needs - resiting you. he can't even remember why.

“c’mere.” he tells you, and then he's turning you around in his lap, nd you're straddling his lap, feeling the hard length of him through your clothes and he kisses the gasp right out of your mouth. you moan into each other. his hands grip your ass, rock your tender little pussy against his cock and the friction makes your eyes roll back.

“please.” you gasp against his mouth, your belly just big enough to put and inch of space between you. your hand tugs at his jeans - “please make it better - I need your cock -”

“the baby -” he pants but doesn't stop you from yanking his jeans down, lifting his ass to help you, even.

you shake your head, “that's not a thing.” you giggle - “and it helps with - with all the pain I'm feeling - promise -”

all he has to do is slip your sleep shorts to the side like panties - because you're not wearing any - and sink you down onto his cock - his head falls back when he feels that melting pot of a pussy around him. sucking, tender, soft, tight - squeezing him so fucking good.

he grips your ass even harder - “your pussy is so good, baby - “ he plants his feet, braces to bounce you on his dick- “im gonna make you fucking cum.”

#ask #frens <3 #tehehe #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut

572 notes · View notes

emphistic · 3 months

Text

Forget-me-nots

A/N: call me Nick Cannon the way im out here rawdogging this fever

<- Series m.list

“Hey, babe,” you said, catching Sukuna by surprise. You placed your hands on the back of his gaming chair, “I’m gonna go on a walk. D’you wanna come with?”

“I’d rather go for a run, but God knows your slow ass wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Sukuna removed his headset and placed it on his desk, before following you out of the room.

If he had kept his headset on for just a little longer, Sukuna would’ve heard the protests and complaints of Gojo. The white-haired man was utterly disappointed at Sukuna for leaving in the middle of a game, who was going to carry him now that Sukuna was gone?

Sukuna looked you up and down, watching you as you put on your shoes, and let out a scoff, getting your attention. “You’re forgetting something.”

You met his gaze, “Uh huh, go on.”

“A jacket, dumbass. A jacket.”

You waved your hand around, dismissing his suggestion. “Don’t be silly, Sukuna. It doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“That so?” He raised a brow.

“Mhm.”

“It’s literally dark out, babe. Who are you trying to impress?”

The two of you continued on your way out of the complex without putting an end to your usual lighthearted banter. The sky was clear of clouds when you made it past the front doors; and cool air immediately hit your skin. Okay, maybe Sukuna wasn’t wrong in reminding you to layer up.

But, despite his demeanor on the exterior, Sukuna was far from cloud nine. Was that selfish of him? To truly have everything, and yet, still want more? He managed to get himself a loving girlfriend, not to mention, one that was exceptionally beautiful, both on the inside and outside. He should be content; he should be satisfied. But how could he? When guilt gnawed at him every second, every minute, every hour?

Sukuna was afraid, deathly.

He could tell you about the bet, but it was inevitable that you would leave him right after. Or, he could choose to keep silent about the bet for the rest of his life. But that would mean Naoya Zen’in having a leg up on him, and that was no good.

Sukuna couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at your face, admiring your elated expression. He liked the sound of your voice, and hearing you laugh. The thought of you being gone plagued his mind, and he knew he would be a dead man walking if that nightmare became true.

Things truly could not be worse for the pink-haired man, who felt utterly pathetic. He felt vulnerable, and weak. Completely opposite of the image most people portrayed him as. Which is quite amusing, to say the least.

Sukuna was at a crossroad, but it was clear he wasn’t choosing either path. Maybe it was the worst choice, maybe it was the best choice, but Sukuna knew that doing nothing was probably the most impactful choice, and so he decided to let God play out his fate, leaving him to wait day and night, never knowing when you would find out and his world would flip upside down.

To bet something is to “risk something, usually a sum of money, against someone else’s on the basis of the outcome of a future event, such as the result of a race or game.” Sukuna knew that, when he was drunk at that damned party. Sukuna knew that, when he signed up for this. Sukuna knew; he wasn’t stupid; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

“—Nobara was telling me, after the party, about my . . . complexion, or, I don’t know. My skin was apparently glowing—”

“Are you a virgin or something?” Sukuna cut you off with a laugh, turning to look at you. And, not that he had any knowledge in the field, but, with the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the wind, and with the way the moonlight casted upon your face, illuminating your best features, you looked just like a cinematic masterpiece.

You gave him a pointed look, as if to say, You would know, and again, Sukuna laughed.

“It’s called afterglow, babe. Science-y stuff, I figured you would already know, but I guess not.”

“Can you go one second without being rude?”

“You’re funny; don’t get your hopes up too high,” Sukuna ruffled your hair as you both continued down the dimly lit street.

It was a quiet, peaceful night. There would usually be something happening a block away, maybe sirens in the distance, kids playing around and screaming, but there was not. Maybe that was a blessing, maybe that was a curse, but it left you and Sukuna both to your own thoughts, and that was comforting enough.

“Is everything okay? Did you have a long day?” you asked, breaking the overwhelming silence. You turned to look at Sukuna with worry written all over your expression.

Sukuna had been tense ever since he got home, like a heavy weight had been placed upon his shoulders. You thought it strange; your boyfriend was a carefree man. He was easygoing and laid back; he knew how to start up a conversation, get everyone’s mood up, but this. . . This wasn’t Sukuna.

Whenever you two went on walks or runs together, sure, there’s a silence, but it was never like. . . Like something was wrong. It was never like this.

“Hm? No, I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about, that’s all. Don’t worry for me, ‘kay?” Sukuna gave you a smile, but it only tightened the knot in your chest, your concern doing the opposite of diminishing.

Truth was, you didn’t know what to think. And if you had to be honest, you couldn’t say your mind hadn’t wandered to the idea of Sukuna being unsatisfied with your relationship. Was he upset with you? Did he think you too much? You shuddered just thinking about it.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna watched as your eyebrows furrowed, and you chewed at your bottom lip. It was a habit of yours — the latter, and Sukuna noticed you only gave in to it whenever you were anxious or deep in thought.

“Hey, I was thinking, how about we go out sometime?” asked Sukuna, out of the blue.

You two hadn’t been on a date since the baseball game, and that was a while ago. Sukuna missed spending an entire day with you, and was desperate for something fun to take his mind off of the bet.

“You make it sound like we haven’t even kissed yet,” you covered your mouth, trying, but failing, to stifle a giggle.

“What else did you want me to say, huh?” Sukuna humored you, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to lift the tension.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Do you want to—,’ actually, I have no idea. How do you ask someone on a not-first date?”

“That’s a good question,” Sukuna added. “Now that I think of it, I’m not sure.”

“Eh, whatever. Any other way is totally better than yours.”

“Now who’s the rude one, hm? Do you want to go on that date or what?”

You laughed, “I’m only teasing, ‘Kuna. Of course I do; I don’t even know why you’re asking.”

“It’s polite.”

“You? Polite? Hilarious.” You placed a hand on Sukuna’s arm, but he pulled away, feigning to be hurt by your words. But you knew he was just trying to joke around.

“Awh, baby, don’t be sad. How can I make it up to my handsome, handsome boyfriend?”

“You can’t.” Sukuna turned his head away from you, hiding his grin.

You didn’t take no for an answer, and stood on your tiptoes in order to plant a wet kiss on Sukuna’s cheek, even going as far to voice a Mwah! sound.

When Sukuna still didn’t look at you, you started to wonder if he was genuinely upset. But when he abruptly turned around to smash his lips on yours, all other thoughts in your head completely vanished and you melted in his arms. Placing your hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you kissed him back just as fervently.

One of Sukuna’s hands wandered down your middle to the small of your back and rested just above your behind.

With your boyfriend’s lips on yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and his murmuring of sweet nothings every now and then, all previous worries and concerns of yours were no match. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

“You look good,” Sukuna said, a sultry look in his eyes as he shamelessly checked you out.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He shrugged, “I try.”

“So, where are we headed?” You asked, immediately after entering your boyfriend’s car.

Sukuna hadn’t told you anything since he asked you out. Only thing he said was, “Look pretty for me, like you always do, and bring a jacket or something.” But since he knew there was no way in hell you were going to listen to that last bit, he already knew he was giving you his hoodie if you needed it.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know,” said Sukuna, as he started driving down the road.

“Oh, yeah? What, you gonna drive me to a secluded area and chop off my head or something? Is that why you’re being so lowkey about all of this?”

“Would you like that?” Sukuna quipped, turning to look at you as he pulled up to a red light.

You laughed, “I don’t know; I haven’t tried it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It wasn’t long till Sukuna and you arrived at a crowded space overshadowed by the large buildings beside it. Said space was filled from corner to corner with food vendors and other small shops selling trinkets, clothes, toys, et cetera. There was music booming from speakers located all around, and the air smelled like a variety of food that had you salivating on the spot. Not to mention, the beautiful array of string lights above all the stalls, giving an authentic sense and feel to things.

Families, friends, couples, and individuals walked through the streets of the area. Carrying toys that lit up or made music with a simple click of a button, holding small paper plates stacked with food, bargaining prices of intricate garments, or simply conversing with their companions. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, gossip, jokes, whispers.

The exciting, fun-filled atmosphere of the place was surely popular among its customers. And, even taking one look at it all, you knew you were bound to have endless entertainment and enjoyment here, tonight.

“What do you think?” Sukuna asked, noticing you had gone quiet. His voice was barely above a whisper, saddened by the idea of you hating it. He thought you might’ve liked something like this, that’s why he picked this place. But maybe his judgment was—

“It’s—I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful, and the food smells amazing,” you smiled, looking at Sukuna.

Unbeknownst to you, the pink-haired man let out a sigh of relief upon hearing your answer.

“I used to go here all the time with Yuuji back when we were little; he loved the oyakodon. I don’t know if they still have the same one he preferred.”

“We should take a picture, babe. Make him jealous that we’re having a better dinner than him.”

Sukuna laughed, “You’re starting to sound like me. I think I’m rubbing off on you, squirt.”

“It’s only payback since he ate the last of my Häagen-Dazs. I was saving it,” you grumbled, still holding a grudge about the distant memory.

“Sure, sure.”

Sukuna snaked an arm around your waist, directing you to a red, striped stall. Smoke flying from the back of it as people fried and cooked and did whatever. “Jakoten?” he suggested.

“Obviously.”

If there was one thing you learned while being with Sukuna, it was that he was an eater. He wasn’t picky, no, quite the opposite, really. He could eat literally anything he got his hands on. Sukuna had a strict diet — being an athlete and all that — but he had his off days, where he could eat anything he pleased.

And, although you are a little less “wild” compared to him, you two often shared interest in the same dishes. Like jakoten, for example. But that’s a simple one, most people like it, so that’s not much good of an instance.

Sukuna and you waited near the front of the food stand, and when it was time and your order came out, Sukuna helped put a cupped hand under your chin, catching all of the tiny crumbs in his palm.

“Good, right?”

Your reply came muffled, as you chewed on the fried fish paste. “Mhm.”

“Where do you want to go next?” Jakoten was delicious, Sukuna couldn’t deny it, but you would be wrong if you thought that was enough to satisfy his hunger.

“Hm, we should go and see if they have tonkatsu. I’m kinda hungry for a main dish now.”

Together, you and Sukuna walked hand in hand around the people-filled space, seeking out different meals to try. Contrary to your main mission — finding a filling dish, you and Sukuna both had your fair share of small appetizers and sweet treats. When you two decided unanimously to find a table to sit down at and enjoy your dinner, you weren’t aware of how difficult of a journey that was.

To say the place was packed was an understatement, and most people didn’t even try to find seats, instead opting to stand and walk the whole time. After getting hundreds of steps in just to come out fruitless, you and Sukuna gave up on even the idea of sitting down.

“You know, I was thinking,” you began, while picking at the greens on your plate, “we should totally get a bowl of noodles, and recreate that scene from Lady and the Tramp.”

“We totally should not.” Sukuna shook his head, an unamused look on his face as he bit into a Japanese type of skewered chicken.

“C’mon, it’ll be cute. And, and, we would get to kiss,” you pursued.

“Is kissing you supposed to tempt me?”

“I—How dare you; you know what, don’t talk to me.” You turned away from a laughing Sukuna.

“Aw, sweetheart, I was just joking. ‘sides, who would pay for your food if you walked away from me?”

You turned back around.

Pleased with himself — having gotten your attention back, Sukuna gave a boyish smile, “That’s more like it,” before swinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling, “Don’t, ‘Kuna. You’re going to make me drop my food.”

“So cold. Your boyfriend’s giving you kisses and you tell him to stop? That’s a new low, even for you,” Sukuna feigned a hurt tone, but remained smiling all the while.

“Mm, yeah. Sulk all you want, you were the one who refused my kisses first. Don’t you dare forget.”

“You’re really never going to let that go, are you? Ah, I know, would this,” he pulled out a wad of cash, “change your mind?”

Sukuna had seen you eyeing a ramune-selling vendor ever since the both of you arrived. Of course, after being around you for so long, he was quick to learn that ramune was one of your weak spots. You were a fiend for anything sweet, after all. And the popular carbonated drink was perfect for the current weather.

Seeing your eyes widen to saucers, Sukuna knew he had won you over.

“Just, get me one, too, alright? You’re not the only thirsty person here.”

As you began to walk in the direction of the stand, Sukuna abruptly pulled you back, “Actually . . . they might have soju, so get me a cup of that instead. You know the kind I like.” And with that — and a final kiss to your cheek, Sukuna sent you off.

It didn’t take very long to acquire your drinks, as the line was pretty short seeing as most people were starting to leave the area considering the late time. On the other hand, it did take you a fairly drawn-out amount of time to find Sukuna. For he wasn’t in the same place he was before; Sukuna was now standing in a much more secluded area. And, he wasn’t alone, either.

The blond dude, who hosted that party, was standing in front of a very tense-looking Sukuna. To passersby and the naked eye, the two men might look like they were simply a pair of friends conversing. But to you, you noticed Sukuna’s clenched jaw. You noticed his arms, crossed over his chest. You noticed his eyes, usually holding a light to them, were dark, and Sukuna was glowering.

You assumed they started talking a little while after you left Sukuna to go shopping, and, as strong as your morals were, you couldn’t help but listen in to their conversation.

“—I’m surprised, I didn’t foresee a chance to meet you tonight, captain. And, another date? You’re really scoring, aren’t you? Though, I can’t say I expected less from the Ryomen.”

“Look, Zen’in, I told you — a million times, actually, I’m done playing this stupid game of yours. Grow up, or, better yet, find something else to entertain your fucked up brain.”

“Woah, didn’t mean to hit a nerve there. I was just about to ask — since we’re already here — if you wanted your cash now, or later. Wouldn’t want to intrude on your little date.” Naoya let out a low laugh, “You know, you’re really starting to drain my bank account. First kiss, two dates, and you fucked her? Man, you’ve outdone yourself.”

With each sentence that man spoke, your jaw only dropped lower and lower. Your chest tightened, and it felt unbearably suffocating to breathe. Tears threatened to spill at any second, but you still weren’t sure if Naoya was lying, and making all of this up.

God, let this be just a nightmare.

Sukuna couldn’t have. . . Sukuna wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do something like that to you, right? He wouldn’t use someone, all for a silly bet.

Heat rose to your face, as emotions bottled up inside of you. You didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Sad? Betrayed?

When the blond noticed you standing only a few feet away, and snickered, “Whoops, looks like I am interrupting something.”

Naoya flashed you a fake smile, before turning back to Sukuna, “Take care, Ryomen.” He pressed multiple hundred dollar bills onto the pink-haired man’s hand, and took his leave.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed you before Naoya said something, and when he saw your face, hurt written all over your features, his eyes softened. He tried to take a step forward, but with every step he took, you took two backwards.

“Sukuna, I—I don’t even know what to say to you,” your voice cracked, and Sukuna swore his heart shattered right then and there at the look on your face. “Is it true? — the things he said?”

It pained Sukuna, to see you hold out hope. Hope for him. Hope for your relationship. He was undeserving of such grace to be bestowed upon him, and couldn’t say anything but, “I’m sorry.”

Your expression morphed into that of confusion, and then into one of frustration and anger. You couldn’t believe Sukuna just threw away everything you two had, shared, dreamed of, all for some money and a stupid bet.

“Was nothing we had real to you? Was everything just a big ole lie you fed me so that you could see some more zeros at the end of your already large enough fortune? . . .Sukuna, answer me.”

Your voice got softer as you spoke, till it was just above a whisper. Your breathing was uneven, and came in gasps. This was all too much for you to wrap your head around.

“I trusted you, I gave you everything. You saw me vulnerable, you saw me naked, you . . . you—” You weren’t even aware when it started, but tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, and even wiping them away with your sleeve didn’t help.

All the while, the man who brought you so much joy, and now, so much pain, could do nothing but stare back at you in silence. His eyes were empty, the light gone. The man you loved, gone. Sukuna didn’t try and defend his stupidity, he had no reason to. He was in the wrong, and was — rightfully so — being berated for his doings. Sukuna loved you, but pride was a much stronger feeling than love.

“I thought you changed, Sukuna. I thought you matured, and grew up, and learned, but . . . God, I was so wrong. You’re nothing different than the boy who tormented me in high school, aren’t you. But, I don’t understand. . . What did I do to you? What did I do for you to—to treat me like this? You willingly accepted to be paid to take me out?”

“Was I not enough for you, Ryomen? That you felt the need to be rewarded for staying with me?” Your voice was so, so soft; it sent a pang through Sukuna’s heart.

In your eyes, Sukuna now looked so different, after having learned what you did. He was really nothing but a man. A man whose pride and dignity and ego took the best, and worst, of him.

“I can’t believe I even trusted you. But, you know what, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. It doesn’t matter what I did. Anything regarding you doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You’re not sure what took over you at that very moment, but you do know that throwing a drink at a man does contribute to getting your emotions out. “There, you can have your soju, you can have your money, you can have whatever you want. Good bye, Ryomen. And good fucking night.”

You had no way home; Sukuna was the one who drove you two here, and you both knew that. But you didn’t care. As long as you got away from that man you would be okay. You would be okay. . .

At that very moment, after seeing you storm away from him, and into the crowds of people — who appeared shocked to see a woman with mascara running down her cheeks, — Sukuna understood the term ‘significant other’. He realized you were his other half. You completed him. But now. . . You were gone, disappeared, left — forever, if he didn’t do something about it. Sukuna wasn’t whole. Hell, he wasn’t even half. He was nothing, nothing without you.

It wasn’t like Sukuna to cry; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

As the days went on, Sukuna couldn’t have been more stupid as to think you would talk with him after a week’s time, and that everything would go back to normal. He wanted this to be a nightmare. But oh, how wrong he was. For days upon days upon days, you greeted him with nothing but silence.

You blocked him on all social media, you premeditated routes to avoid him on campus, you deleted his number, you did everything to erase the face of the man whom you called the love of your life from your mind. The both of you went from texting or calling each other almost every night to complete radio silence. It drove Sukuna to the brink of insanity.

“—I’m just saying, you should go tell her you’re sorry. I mean, that was a really fucked up thing to do. And, even coming from you, I’m surprised.” Yuuji popped another potato chip into his mouth as he lounged on his older brother’s sofa.

“Don’t you think I’ve done that already? She hates my guts, Yuuji, and—and I don’t blame her but. . . Right now, she thinks I’m a dickhead who just used her for money. But that’s totally not true.”

Yuuji raised a brow, as if to say, Are you sure about that? And Sukuna sighed, plopping down beside his brother.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I technically was using her, but only at the very beginning, but everything after our first phone call was real, genuine. I didn’t get into this whole bet thing to hurt her, I was just trying to prove Naoya’s bitchass wrong and maybe make his wallet lighter at the same time. . . I really, really love her, Yuu—”

“Y’know, I’m not a big fan of listening to your drama-filled life, but I’m also not very keen on hearing you be a sap.”

Sukuna, outright ignoring his brother, continued on with his speech anyway, “God, this might be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.” He ran a hand down his face, exasperated.

“It is.”

Sukuna shot him a pointed look, and the younger boy only shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude, I’m pretty sure your girl broke things off permanently. Besides, there’s not much you can do to redeem yourself, anyway. Betting on a relationship is a pretty shitty move.”

“Do I look like I don’t know that?” Sukuna grumbled, stealing a handful of chips from Yuuji’s bowl.

“Well, you could’ve at least explained yourself while you had the chance, instead of just saying you’re sorry. I mean, poor girl, you faked a relationship with her and that’s all she knows.”

Sukuna — deep in thought, held his head in his hands.

“I’m sure if you tried to give an explanation she would at least hear you out. Eh, it might not even be too late to get her a bouquet or something. Whaddya know, I heard girls liked those kinds of things, when you get them their favorite flower and stuff.”

Yuuji paused, “You do know her favorite flower, right?”

“. . .”

“Man, I’m an optimistic person at heart, but this is just. . . You might be a lost cause, ‘Kuna.”

Sukuna had a lot of hope. Key word: had. As in, used to have.

Attempt no1:

They say Forget-me-nots (also referred to as Scorpion Grasses) represent true love, and respect or, at least, something of the like. But, the flower also — when gifted to someone — symbolizes that you’ll always hold them in your heart and in your thoughts and in your mind. The flower could additionally be interpreted to suggest fidelity, and being truthful, genuine, to someone you love.

Now, Sukuna knew you were smart. And he never doubted that fact, despite all of his previous teasing and joking of that. But he had never wished for someone to have knowledge about the meanings of flowers more than he has at this very moment.

It’s funny, one can laugh, but it’s true that Sukuna spent countless hours researching different flowers and their archaic all the way to their modern meanings just so he could prove maybe he wasn’t that much of a dick, after all.

But maybe, he should’ve put a little more effort into the planning of his execution rather than the organizing part of it.

Sukuna knew you were avoiding him, even going as far as changing your daily routes to classes even if it meant walking farther distances. He was more impressed than offended at how dedicated you were to the whole “Never-Seeing-His-Face-Again” bit.

There really wasn’t much he could do to be able to see you in person, since you blocked all contact with him, but . . . Sukuna did happen to think of one way he could meet up with you.

While he may not have been the best boyfriend, Sukuna was still . . . decent, sorta, if you put aside the whole bet crisis. And, even if he couldn’t remember the purpose of your Student Council meetings, he did remember the directions to where your briefings took place. Call him a stalker or serial killer or whatever, it doesn’t change the fact he drove you to and from those damned meetings.

Pacing to and fro outside of a library was already strange enough; being covered in tattoos and having pink hair did not help with the amount of stares Sukuna received, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Sukuna gripped the bouquet of Forget-me-nots — and other flowers, but it was mainly filled with Forget-me-nots, like his life depended on it.

He went over his speech — that he had previously practiced with Yuuji the night before — over a hundred times in his head. But when he suddenly heard you call out his name out of confusion, all that he managed out was a plethora of garbled “I’m sorry’s” and “Please’s.”

“Sukuna? What—what are you doing here?” you asked, bewilderment written all over your features as your eyes wandered down to the enormous bouquet in his hands. Being greeted by your ex-boyfriend right after finishing a meeting was not on today’s Bingo card for you.

“I—I know the other night was . . . a mess,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “but I didn’t get to explain myself and—”

“No, it’s okay, you have nothing to explain. Everything was a lie; everything you said was a lie; everything we did was a lie. See? I get it; no need for your clarification.” You shook your head, and began walking down the street to your next destination.

Even after knowing Sukuna for so long, you were a fool for thinking you could “outwalk” him. The male had no intention of letting you leave without you hearing him out first, and he was able to catch up to you within just a few strides.

“Can you just let me talk? For a second?”

You quickened your pace, trying your hardest to get him off your tail, but he just wouldn’t budge. Doesn’t this count as harassment?

“There’s nothing for you to say, Sukuna; I’m not wasting my time with you on this.”

Sukuna murmured your name, “Please, there’s more to the story than you think. I didn’t accept the bet to hurt you, I. . .” His voice trailed off as he wondered what to do next, but he suddenly remembered the bouquet and shoved it into your arms.

“What is this?” Your face morphed into one of incertitude, your voice softening as you examined the bouquet, but still, your pace never slowed.

“Special flowers, for a special girl.”

You rolled your eyes, again, quickening your pace; you were now speed walking while holding a comically large bouquet. Sukuna was finally not the only one being stared at, though he didn’t revel much in that fact.

“Don’t say that. You know we’re not together anymore; we’re over. Are you ever going to get that through your skull?” You finally stopped in your tracks, and turned to look at Sukuna — half because you were out of breath from walking so fast and half because you wanted to see the expression on his face.

“We don’t have to be; c’mon, I want to make things right—”

“Sukuna! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” A high pitched voice called out, out of the blue.

You both turned your heads to see who it came from.

“You never texted me after I gave you my number last week. Don’t tell me you’re shy; there’s nothing scary about this girl,” the short brunette giggled.

In truth, Sukuna had no idea who this was. Probably just some rando who hit on him after seeing him play basketball.

“Lady, I don’t even remember your name—”

But the girl had already caught up with Sukuna and looped her arm around his, acting all friendly and whatnot. Sukuna looked at you for help, but you merely scoffed, amused with the sight, “You shouldn’t have to make things right in the first place. You chose this, don’t you remember?”

Exhaling, you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Nobs, I think I might take a break from the dating scene, for a while. I mean, I’ve only recently begun to be able to look at Sukuna’s face without breaking down in tears.” While you tried to appear better off, your voice gave it all away. You weren’t completely over him yet.

“But, you’re hot; you’re young. This could be the perfect opportunity for you to make Sukuna regret losing you.” Nobara tried her hardest to get you to go to this party with her; she knew about your recent breakup, of course, but she was apparently too scared to go on her own, since Maki was unavailable.

“If Sukuna’s going that just gives me all the more reason to not go,” you stopped shoving ice cream in your mouth for a second to really get your point across.

Nobara sprawled across your bedroom floor, miserable, but not as miserable as you. She started thinking about not going to the party after all, but she had been looking forward to it all week! Ugh, going alone is the most “Loser thing” ever.

You paused your eating, and thought to yourself, If Sukuna’s really desperate to explain to me and apologize, he must be in his feelings, so he probably won’t go to the party.

“Ah, you know what, maybe I can go to that party, after all—”

“Really? Oh, my God! Yes!” Nobara immediately jumped up from the floor and threw her arms around you, trapping you in a hug.

“I’m still stuck on why you’re so happy. I seriously do not get what’s so great about this party.”

“Everything, duh.”

“Whose house is this, again?” you asked, once you and Nobara pulled up at the address you put into the GPS.

“Uh, dunno. I’m pretty sure Yuuji does, though; he got me the invite.”

At the mention of his name, your mind immediately went to his brother. Which was your first mistake, since tonight was supposed to be fun, and help you forget about everything that went down.

“Oh, so they’re in the same year as us, then?”

“Mm, probably. C’mon, what are you stalling for, let’s party!” Nobara dragged you out of the car and continued dragging you until you both arrived in front of the door.

Upon entering, you noticed the house was . . . nice — definitely not a mansion, unlike someone else’s, but it was the size of a typical “party house”. It looked sorta old, but it wasn’t rundown, so maybe people just used it a lot for large gatherings like this.

Did you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven? No. Were your protests overlooked? Of course. Did you sit down in the circle? Yes. Yes, you did. This was now your second time playing the game, and your opinion of it hadn’t changed at all. Being surrounded by drunk or high college kids instantly soured your mood, and you almost regretted agreeing to join Nobara.

A brunette girl, whom you recognized as the girl from yesterday, spun the bottle first, and the game commenced. What’s different about this house is that it has multiple closets, so the game progressed pretty quickly, with several couples being in their respective closets at once.

When it came down to your turn, you spun the bottle, though, not without some hesitancy, at first.

1 . . .

2 . . .

3 . . .

The empty bottle went around the circle three times before it landed on . . . Sukuna? What the fuck? You hadn’t even noticed he was here. This happened last time, too. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this game? Is it cursed or something? God.

There was visible and audible shock amongst the crowd.

“Didn’t this happen at Naoya’s party?”

“Yeah, it did!”

“That’s crazy.”

“Look, I know this might not be the best situation to say this but—”

Despite your misgivings about doing so, you went in the closet with Sukuna anyway. And after locking the door behind him, Sukuna turned to you with a desperate look on his face.

Attempt no2:

“I’m giving you seven minutes, because that’s all the time we have in here anyway and also because I’m bored and curious as to what you think is a valid apology.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s enough for me. . . I know — that from the moment we met, it started off bad. Beyond bad. Horrible, even. But I want to make things right between us. Because, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And, I fucked things up. I followed through with Naoya’s bet when I was drunk and out of my mind. I should’ve ended it the next day but I didn’t; I wanted to prove to Naoya I could take you out. Because . . . I’ve liked you for a long time, probably since high school, even. And I know I never expressed that in a good way, but that’s only because I never realized it myself. So, seeing him just dangle the money in front of me, I just—I just thought of the money as a nice ‘incentive’ or something.”

“That’s a weird thing to think.”

“Yeah, I know. And I was stupid to think that that justified what I was doing. But, everything after our first phone call was real, I swear. Nothing we did together was fake or me just using you to get money. But, I won’t deny that that doesn’t change the fact I was an asshole—”

“You are an asshole.”

“Okay, that I will admit. Yes, I’m an asshole. But, I’m sorry. I’m a sorry asshole. Heh.”

“Did you just laugh at your own joke?”

“I—uh—” Sukuna took in a deep breath, “I know you could have as many me’s in your life, and hate them all the same. But I’ll only ever have one you. And that’s all I need. So please, I won’t ask for you to take me back; I don’t deserve that, but please, I just want you to hear me out.

“You can punch me, kick me, block my number and delete it, but please, don’t ignore what I’m saying to you right now. Know that I’m sorry — though sorry doesn’t quite cut it, but please know. Know that I love you. Know that I’m completely devoted to you. Know that I will kiss the ground with which you walk upon. Know that I love you, for fuck’s sake, and will wait for you to accept that — you don’t have to love me too, just accept that I love you. Please, know.”

Sukuna’s voice was soft as he spoke with such earnestness you almost wanted to feel guilty. You knew what he did was unforgivable. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if you wanted to just forget all that had happened and go back to how things used to be between you two.

You would be a terrible liar to say you hadn’t missed Sukuna, and although he was a stupid asshole, his words proved he did nothing with ill intention. He agreed to the bet because that was the extra push he needed to be able to ask you out. He couldn’t have done it by himself, out of fear or anxiety or whatever. It was an impossible thought — the idea of Ryomen Sukuna being scared of rejection, but nobody was superhuman. Everyone has emotions.

Speaking of which, maybe it was an emotional choice to take a step forward. Maybe it was an illogical choice to finally meet Sukuna’s eyes since you two entered the closet. Maybe it was an impulsive choice to wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug, with your head resting on his chest. But, either way, you felt it was the right choice.

At first, Sukuna was tense, surprised at the sudden embrace. But, he remembered it was one he longed for, ever since that fateful night, and it didn’t take long for him to return the hug, wrapping his arms around your torso.

Through silent, unspoken words only the both of you shared and understood, you two basked in the moment of finally getting your love back. Sukuna had more words to say than he could speak. You had more feelings to share than you could show. The time you two spent apart was excruciatingly and regretfully (on your part) long.

On both sides there was an absence of something fundamental; whatever you two built while together was gone. But now? There’s not much to be said except for the light returning to those crimson eyes that you so loved.

It’s enigmatic; you don’t know what possessed you to speak up — your voice muffled due to burying your face in Sukuna’s chest. But you knew it was partially because of how long you spent bottling up your emotions: anger, sadness, regret, longing. All for one man, and one man only.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your stupid brain, that managed to apologize whilst using math as metaphors. I hate your dumb smile, which still stuns me even after everything. I hate your annoying voice, which is the only thing I can fall asleep to. I hate your hair, which stands out in every crowd I enter to avoid you.

“I hate your motorcycle, which even the rational part of my mind still imagines hearing the engine of. I hate your hands, which I undeniably long to feel in my hair. I hate your way of talking to me, which I can never get bored of, no matter how hard I try. I hate when you lie your way out of the littlest of things. I hate when you’re not around, and I have no one to tell me jokes that don’t even make sense. I hate that you think you can just win me over because you got me flowers knowing they have a specific meaning.

“I hate that I hate you. I hate that I still love you.”

Hearing you sob your heart out while laying everything bare for him, Sukuna couldn’t help but place a kiss on your crown, burying his nose in your hair. After all, Sukuna had a feeling you were just listing parts of him you loved. But either way, he didn’t mind. This was simply the start of everything reverting back to normal, something both you and Sukuna longed for. And, —

In the end,

Sukuna didn’t want anything. He wanted everything. He wanted you. (you were his everything.)

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒

A/N: Thanks for all the love and support I’ve received on this series!!, it was definitely a pain to finish and every one of your comments and reblogs and likes definitely helped me get through writing this <3

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lordbrainsnatcherr @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura @xiraxdl @sterzin @catobsessedlady @alwaysfreakingout @uhnanix @ssetsuka @wrldtups @lovra974 @rzcnlb @piercddprincess @satoru2716 @bananaminn @tomiokasecretlover @bigraga-sk @villainsevilandhot @5seos

#its COMPLETE finally #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen x reader

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celaenaeiln · 11 months

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I literally can't take it anymore. I need to get this out of my system. This is a hate-rant about why almost every single thing Tom Taylor has written is wrong.

First and foremost is the bimbofication of Dick Grayson. Tom Taylor loves to write him like this idiot who doesn't think at all. Being cheerful does not mean being dumb.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"You seem unusually contemplative"? All Dick does is contemplate!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

His mind is always running!

Nightwing (2011) Issue #13

Nightwing (2016) Issue #38

I just picked a random issue from all of these comics and in every single one of these, Dick's planning, thinking, and strategising constantly.

Tom Taylor literally treats him like he's stupid or something.

Also the degradation of his abilities

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

A vigilante for 20 years. Who has faced assassins, hitmen, psychos, surprise attacks, metas, and you're telling me he didn't know that a untrained kid snuck up and stole from him?

He forgot who he was, he didn't forget where he lived! Even when he was Ric Grayson, Dick had procedural memory. His battle instincts stayed with him.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #52

"Then...I didn't even know what I was doing. I took him down--took him apart in seconds."

This man is a vigilante machine when he was amnesic. Why the heck would Dick ever let his guard down?

His robin reference

Nightwing (2016) Issue #92

Even Bruce in Batman: Hush has said it-Dick was the best. His skills were the best of anyone he's witnessed which is one of the reasons why Bruce let him be Robin in the first place.

This scene is so wrong that there's a robin scene that came out before this in direct opposition of this Tom Taylor Shitshow.

Robin & Batman Issue #1

This was actually pre-robin. Bruce had him do a solo-trial run to see his skill before he made him Robin and this was the result. Compare that to Tom Taylor's scene and the result is humiliating. For Taylor.

Tom Taylor's version of trying to show that Dick loves the people comes off as him hating crime-fighting. RIP the whole Robin firing drama and Nightwing birth i guess.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"We could have avoided all of this if we'd just stayed in and eaten kibble."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

Dick would rather die than stop crime-fighting. After Blockbuster's first attempt, his life was hanging on by a thread and he still continued crime fighting.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #91

After Blockbuster blew up his apartment, this is the single-minded determination Dick had to continue crime-fighting. This is him at one of the worst lows of his life but he refused to give up but now? He has everything and Dick wants to ignore the murder of a child to stay inside and eat kibble which - what the heck? I know he's seen as a happy character but him finding dog-food desirable is too far!

Also the idiocy of which Tom Taylor had Barbara calling the cops in Bludhaven for a stolen wallet. Newsflash! This isn't her first rodeo here.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #81

Nightwing (2016) Issue #24

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

Given how Dick's easily defeated enhanced metas and "very good" fighters, him falling down the stairs is a little to absolutely impossible to believe.

Another thing I love about Dick that Tom Taylor deciminates is his grace. Dick is the most graceful person in DC. His balance easily matches Selina's enhanced cat powers.

But yet. You have.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #83

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

yeah. okay.

Taylor's motorbike scenes of Dick make me so mad. The boy is a pro at crazy. It's one of his best traits because he does the wildest stunts and he pulls it off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #93

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

He lands on his feet. He grabbed a villain mid-air, crashed into a window, and was perfectly fine. Actually no, he's not fine because he's worried about his bike's paint job.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #24

He just sailed over a whole crowd of people and started kicking butt like what he just did wasn't extraordinary - which for him is just another tuesday.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #95

yeah, tell 'er Dick.

He doesn't need someone to hold his bike.

One of the worst things in Taylor's run is how Blockbuster went down. It suddenly reminded me of Selina's stupid ideology which is why I think I got so ticked off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #96

Blockbusters' thugs loyalty to him isn't a make it or break it deal. He's one of strongest criminal organisations and the knowledge that he owns one of the worst prisons that he could easily put his underlings into would've instilled fear into his thugs, not freedom. Furthermore Blockbuster takes good care of his people that don't piss him off. He teamed up with Nightwing in the scarecrow era in Nightwing (2016) because someone was messing with his people. He's extremely intelligent and superstrong, and he's not just going to be brought down by the knowledge that he owns a prison. It's Bludhaven. If he didn't, then there would be something suspicious given that he runs the city. It's the way Taylor dumbs down Bludhaven's villains that gets to me. Imagine him writing Batman (2016). It's like saying, "yeah the Joker was just a little misguided but he found the right way again after a stern talking to by Batman."

Nightwing is a big name.

When Dick first came to Bludhaven, one of the police officers was like we don't want your crazy here or something. Also Bludhaven loves Nightwing. They want him.

So why is everyone pretending like they don't know who he is?

Nightwing (2016) Issue #90

The police, the citizens, the villains-all of them. Dick fought Brutale and beat the crap out of him way back in 1996 comic. He's a Bludhaven regular. Just because Dick forgot who he was doesn't mean anyone else forgot him. Amnesia doesn't work that way.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #54

A whole team of Nightwings were formed during Dick's amnesic period because of how badly he was needed and missed. It's almost like the Tom Taylor run is set in an alternate universe.

I ran out of image space but what the absolute fiddlesticks is up with Dick being scared to jump. It better be a manipulation tactic but at this point I think Tom Taylor doesn't even know that Dick is manipulative.

#dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #blockbuster #ric grayson #bludhaven #tom taylor #when's the next writer coming in

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slavghoul · 11 months

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Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful.

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through?

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #prequelle era

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loves4ge · 4 months

Text

office hours

nanami kento x gn!reader

workplace romance

you had to give it to him, the man was dedicated. you don't think you've ever seen nanami kento not working. it was actually kind of disconcerting. made you want to almost invite him for happy hour. almost. you looked at your little office desk succulent, the small mug of markers and pencils, and a tiny picture of you and your little cat.

you thought it was quite plain, but compared to nanami's near-empty desk, it might as well be festive.

"did you send over the email yet?" that was nanami. he asked you politely, in a measured voice that was distant without being rude. you turn to face him, god, he looked good in that tie. your mind processed his question slowly, as you just stared at him.

"um, sorry- the email? what e- oh! yeah, i sent it. sorry, i'm feeling a bit scatterbrained, i suppose." you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. nanami would not be invited to your funeral. you'd die a second time if that happened.

"alright then." and that was it. the quota of your talking time with nanami today was up and you'd have to survive on that sentence to fuel your crush on him. the gravelly tone in which he said alright, you could almost imagine how he'd sound like when he would say sweetheart.

god, you sounded psychotic.

"i'm not a psycho. i'm not a psycho," you repeated in whispers, typing your keyboard with aggressive strokes.

the clock struck 12, and people started filing out of the office for lunch. you texted a friend to see if she could join you for lunch but fate likes to kick you at the worst times possible; she was going to lunch with her coworkers.

your coworkers were nice, but you'd rather not spend a minute more with them unless at gunpoint. even then, you'd probably weigh the pros and cons. you'd love to have lunch with nanami, but after he turned your first two invites down, you never really built up the courage to ask again.

you stood up, making sure you had your wallet on you. you glanced at nanami; he was still seated. pursing your lips, your fingers curled into a fist out of hesitation.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" you asked, an awkward smile painted onto your face. lord have mercy, your nerves were so visible, it was painful.

"i do." you immediately thought of another place where he could say that phrase, with you standing opposite him—you were psychotic.

"oh, well. guess you can't keep me company today, haha." you wanted to close your eyes out of sheer embarrassment. who says haha?

"that's not true. i could, if you wanted me to." your eyes shot towards him. suddenly, your mouth was dry.

"uh, well. so you'd like to have lunch with me?"

"yes, i'd love to." oh my god, he said love.

"you're sure?" he cracked a slight smile at that, and you were sure your heart was going to burst. in fact, there was 20% chance you were already dead and this was your reward for suffering through a lifetime of humiliations. you weren't sure if this was an appropriate time to pinch your arm to check.

"yes, i'm sure. you have any place in mind?"

nanami kento was going to kill gojo satoru for being the inconvenient piece of shit to ever live. not only did he have the most unserious "emergencies", he also had them at the worst possible times.

first, it was when his beautiful coworker, the one with a blue-potted succulent, invited him for lunch. nanami had noticed them when it was their first day at work, their desks being so close to each other and all. and who wouldn't notice them? nanami certainly had.

the second time nanami had to help with an emergency, it was when you invited him to dinner. this was three weeks after the first invite, so it was obvious that you had worked yourself to ask him. god, it killed him to turn you down.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" he turned from his desk to look at you. this was a month after the dinner invite. he didn't have any plans for lunch today. he was behind on work, actually. he needed this lunch hour to catch up on things. besides, he had a big breakfast. he could always get something quick to eat at his desk from a convenience store.

"i do."

he was going to kill gojo satoru, right after he took you out for lunch.

#sage -> writes!#jjk #jjk fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujustu nanami

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ham1lton · 4 months

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013 with charles!

013. a great ballroom during an elegant party w/ CL16.

— part of a series of drabbles! <3

one day after classes, you had come home to see an unfamiliar elderly woman sitting with your mother in your small flat. your mother had placed her cup of tea down on the coffee table and introduced the lady as your grandmother, and as the current queen of the small kingdom of genovia.

thanks to that one night, you were now here at a genovian ball held in your honour but instead of being out on the floor and mingling with the guests, you had hid in an alcove. a side-effect of becoming the crown princess means a makeover. your hair had been styled to frame your face, and you were wearing more jewels then you’d ever seen in your life. it was a bit much but it’s not like anyone had asked you how you felt about it.

one day you were attending college, crushing on carlos, who was your best friend’s older brother, and now you were the only heir to a kingdom you hadn’t even heard of before.

before you could think about your circumstances any longer, someone had slid themselves into the alcove. you screamed.

“wait! wait! sshh! please!” a hand covered your mouth as your eyes widened in shock. you’re gonna die in an alcove and around five minutes away from your security. your introvert tendencies are going to kill you. this is the worst day of your life.

“don’t kill me! please!” you say, fighting his hand.

“what?” he asks, voice filled with shock. “i’m not going to kill you!”

“you’re not?”

“no!” you can hear an accent when he speaks. “i’m just trying to hide from my responsibilities. i didn’t want you bringing attention to us. this is my hiding spot when i come to genovian balls.”

“are you from here?”

“no. i’m from monaco. my mum is the monegasque ambassador to genovia.”

“explains the accent.” you say. you can’t see him but he stands slightly tall as he leans against the wall opposite you. “i’m y/n.”

“y/n?” his voice is shocked. “y/n, as in the crown princess y/n?”

“indeed.” you sigh. “that is me.”

“what are you doing hiding away? isn’t the queen looking for you?”

“you’re hiding too. isn’t your mother looking for you?”

“touché.” he laughs. “i guess we’re both running from our duties tonight.”

“so, what’s your name. you know mine and i’m at a disadvantage now.”

“charles, charles leclerc.” he laughs. “i never would have thought in a million years i’d be here with you. this alcove is usually empty.”

“is being here with me a bad thing?”

“oh! no! god no! it’s just unusual. who else can say they’ve been here with a princess.”

you chuckle at his response, feeling a bit more at ease with charles's lighthearted demeanor. "well, charles leclerc, i'm glad to have some company in this unusual situation."

he smiles warmly at you, the brightness of his teeth glinting in the darkness. "likewise, princess. i have to admit, this is definitely a first for me."

you both share a moment of quiet companionship, enjoying the brief respite from the grandeur of the ball. it's a strange feeling, finding solace in the presence of a stranger amidst the opulence of royalty.

"perhaps we should head back before we're missed," you suggest reluctantly.

charles nods in agreement, offering you his arm as you both make your way back to the ballroom. as you step into the light and the music surrounds you once again, you can't help but feel grateful for the unexpected connection you've found. you turn to communicate this to charles, only to be shocked into a stupor.

“what is it?” he asks as you stare at him. “something on my face?”

he was very attractive and your face heated up with embarrassment at the fact you accused the very handsome stranger of attempting to murder you. god, he put his hand over your mouth. was your makeup smudged? did you look okay? you had the telltale signs of a crush forming, and you were transported back to high school all over again.

you were definitely calling your best friends about this later tonight.

you shake your head, trying to push aside the embarrassment of your earlier reaction. "no, it's nothing. just... lost in thought for a moment."

charles gives you a curious look, but doesn't press further. instead, he offers you a reassuring smile before leading you back into the bustling ballroom.

as the music swells around you and the guests continue to dance and mingle, you find yourself stealing glances at charles when you think he's not looking. despite the initial shock of your encounter, you can't deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at the prospect of getting to know him better.

the only thing you miss are the glances he sends back.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

author’s note: princess diaries au with charles as ur love interest, carlos as lily’s brother and lando as lily. spoilers! charles and reader end up getting married and he becomes her trophy king <3 also, two people requested this prompt!! hope u both enjoyed it <3

#ham1lton’s drabbles 🝮#formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

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wheels-of-despair · 2 months

Text

Evil Woman and Baby Bro vs. The Worst Summer Vacation Ever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman and Baby Bro are off to see their old man in sunny Florida! Against their will. Armed only with well-concealed snacks and metal mix tapes and unacceptable attitudes. Send help. Contains: Lots of Gareth the Grump, a sucktastic step-family, sweet gifts from Eddie, pining, forced family fun time, a wicked sunburn, a daring escape, an emotional reunion, a hospital visit, a happy ending. Words: 6.7k

Your brother doesn't ask you for much.

Leave him alone. Grab him a soda. Stop being gross. (Well, that one's usually directed at Eddie, too.) But in general, he's pretty easy to get along with. You'd never actually tell him this, lest it go to his already big head, but you like him. Genuinely. He's a good baby brother.

So when he asked (begged) you to accompany him on a family vacation (court-ordered) to Florida (oh, the humidity!) with your father and step-mother and her two brats…

"He said please," you explain to Eddie. He sits on the opposite side of your couch, arms and legs crossed, glaring at you. (Yes, the thought of bringing him with you had crossed your mind, but your old man wouldn't even pretend to consider it. Even if you tried to pass him off as one of Gareth's friends and not the guy who does unspeakable things to you whenever you're left alone for ten minutes.)

"You're leaving me, the love of your life, alone for two whole weeks. To go to a place you don't want to go to, with people you hate…" his eyes somehow narrow more, "because Gareth said please."

You heave a sigh and lean your head back to stare at the ceiling. You've been through this. Yes, you're a legal adult and don't have to abide by government-enforced visitation requirements for children of divorce anymore. Yes, you hate your father and his replacement family and the traveling and the beach. But you love your brother. You don't want him to suffer alone.

"Alright, I guess I'll allow it."

You raise your head to see that his vicious glare has been betrayed by a twinkle in his eye and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh and crawl to him. He opens his arms and stretches out his legs, and you lie on the couch together instead of staring at each other across an empty cushion.

"It's just two weeks," you remind him, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. "And it's the last time. If all goes well, I may never have to see the old man again."

Eddie sighs and holds you a little tighter.

"You're not gonna like… fall in love with some big buff surfer dude with a nice tan and decide not to come home, are you?"

You snort. "Baby, you know I like 'em scrawny and pale."

"How dare you, I am not… wait, do you think I'm scrawny?"

"Nah," you smile, sticking your hand under his shirt and rubbing the belly that's filled out beautifully since you started feeding him actual food. "You're perfect."

"You keep that in mind when Brad and Chad try to make their move," he mumbles into your hair.

"Oh, there's two of them?" you tease. "Are they twins? This… this might change things. Hang on, let me re-evaluate. Two big buff twin surfer dudes." You draw a 2 with your finger, just above his belly button. "One pale nerd." You draw a 1, slowly dragging your finger down his happy trail. He shudders. You glance at the clock.

"Y'know…" you begin, letting your fingers trace his zipper and the growing stiffness it's barely concealing. "We've got half an hour…"

Day One

"I'm gonna miss you so fucking much."

"I'll be back before you know it," you mumble into Eddie's chest. You didn't think it would hurt this much to leave him behind. But here you are, squeezing the life out of him like it's the very last time. Two weeks without him is going to feel like an eternity.

"It's time to goooo," your mom calls from the car. She and Gareth have been waiting with the windows down while you said goodbye to Eddie (again) but it would appear that her patience is beginning to wear thin.

"Gotta go," you sigh, pulling back and looking up at his gorgeous face one last time. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Eddie recites the landing time of your return flight and assures you that he will be here, in this driveway, waiting for you to get home.

"Love you," you whisper.

"Love you more," he counters, leaning in for one last kiss.

He walks you the few steps to the car and opens the back door for you. You get in. He closes it. You turn back to face him as the car pulls away; your eyes don't leave his until you turn the corner and your driveway disappears from sight.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling empty and alone, while your mother and brother chat in the front seat. You can't believe you left him behind. Two whole Eddie-less weeks. You haven't gone more than a few days without seeing each other since you met.

You reach into your bag and pull out the mix tape he'd given you this morning. "If you come back here a pop fan, I'm going to be very upset with you," he'd teased. You stare at the paper insert he'd decorated for you, and then let your hand close around the box. You wish it were his hand instead.

The trip to the airport, the flight, and the landing were a bit of a blur. Your mother teared up as she said goodbye. The plane was cramped, and even the eardrum-blasting mix tape Eddie made you wasn't powerful enough to drown out the sound of multiple crying babies. Getting there was the easy part. The real adventure began when you and your brother got off the plane... and saw a taxi driver holding a cardboard sign with your names hastily scribbled in Sharpie.

"If you were to make two kids who didn't like you come to visit you in a place they didn't want to go to, don't you think you'd at least bother to show up and get them?" Gareth grumbles.

"Baby brother, you're looking at it all wrong. Would you rather spend this ride in a roomy cab with a total stranger, or crammed into a backseat with the evil step-siblings?" He answers with a smirk.

The cab ride took almost an hour, and passed in silence. After shooting each other odd looks meaning things like "are we going to get murdered?" or "at least there's no small talk" you stared out the windows and took in the scenery. Florida is not nearly as neon as Miami Vice would have you believe. You passed strip malls and houses and palm trees. Very exciting.

The driver pulls up to the curb in front of a rental house near the beach and exits the cab without turning off the engine. You take this as your cue to get out. He moves your bags from the trunk to the sidewalk while the pair of you stretch, then gets back into the car and drives away without a word.

"Guess he got paid up front," you muse, watching his taillights grow smaller.

"Great conversationalist, feel like we should've tipped him for that," Gareth grins.

"There they aaaare!" your step-monster squeals from the porch, making you both wince. "Come in, we've got so many fun things planned!"

"Kill me," Gareth grumbles under his breath.

The reunion goes about as expected. You're escorted into the kitchen for a lovely feast of weird organic hippie food that makes both of you queasy. (You've both stowed away plenty of snacks in your luggage.) You're grilled on each school subject and your nonexistent extracurriculars, and then forced to sit through a recap of everything your angelic step-siblings have accomplished since you'd seen them last. Honor roll! Perfect attendance! Soccer trophy! Scout badges!

You pick at your lunch and endure the bottomless bragging until you're escorted to your rooms.

"Girls are in here, and the boys are down the hall!" the step-monster chirps.

You both freeze.

"We always bunk together," you protest.

"You're not hiding out under headphones and listening to your Satanic music the whole time like you did over Christmas," your father chimes in. "This vacation is about family bonding."

"We're as bonded as we're gonna get," Gareth argues, crossing his arms boldly in defiance. You're letting him pick the movie and the snacks on your first movie night back home.

"If you're going to be difficult, I could just send you home."

"Is that an option?" you ask.

"Because we choose that," Gareth adds.

"Can't we all please just--" the step-monster begins.

"IN!" the old man roars.

You trade smirks and part ways.

You unpack your suitcase in the pink room with the two twin beds and listen to the step-sister (what is she, 9? 10?) yap excitedly about whatever random thoughts cross her mind until dinner. Which sucks even more than lunch did. After dinner, the whole family gets to clean up together and play a thrilling game of Monopoly! (Barf.)

You make the old man proud by volunteering to be the banker. It shows initiative! Perhaps a career in finance is in your future! Little did he know, it was so you could slip Gareth extra play money under the table. He owns almost the whole board by the end. The little ones are quite frustrated by all the rent they have to pay.

Tragically, Garethopoly is called before the broke little angels give in to the tantrums that had been brewing all night. At 8:30 (wow), you're instructed to put the game away and get ready for bed.

You put on pajamas chosen specifically for this occasion; boys' boxers and a stained Hellfire Club shirt. Your cellmate, looking like a proper princess in her frilly nightgown, eyes you warily. Good. You sit on your stupid pink bed, turn on the seashell lamp, and pull out one of the six paperbacks you brought along.

Your eyes won't focus on the words, but you pretend to read in hopes of being left alone. There are so many things you'd rather be doing, and places you'd rather be. You should be arguing over shitty horror movies at Family Video with Eddie right now. And getting a pizza.

God, it's only been one day of hippie food, and you're already fantasizing about pizza.

The step-sister shrieks when Gareth enters the pink nightmare of a room.

"No boys allowed!"

"Chill, kid, I'm just making a delivery," he rolls his eyes.

"My name is Ashley, and this is the girls' room!"

The attitude behind her declaration makes it the funniest thing you've heard all day. You disguise your laugh as a cough. Gareth ignores her and tosses a cassette to you. You pick it up curiously. When you notice Eddie's handwriting, your heart soars.

"Eddie told me to give that to you before bed," he sighs, then furrows his brow and launches into his best Eddie impression: "'Not at the airport, not when you get there. Right before bed. You hear me, little drummer boy?' Kay. I did it. Be sure to tell him that your tape was delivered at the appropriate time."

"Will do," you laugh. "Thank you."

"Yup," he says, cutting his eyes at the step-sister who's still glaring at him with her covers pulled up to her neck. For modesty. He rolls his eyes again and leaves.

"What's that?" she asks after he's out of sight.

"A tape."

"What's on it?"

"Probably a mix," you shrug.

"What kind of mix?"

You're spared further questioning by the step-monster coming in to tuck her little angel in. How sweet. You pop your headphones on and pretend to listen until the lights are out and the kid quiets down.

And then you press play.

"Gareth, if you're listening to this, I promise… you will regret it," Eddie rumbles, low and threatening. You've never been so happy to hear someone's voice in your life. That's your Eddie. It's like he's right here with you. You'd rather be there with him, but you'll take what you can get. "I'm warning you, man. This tape contains shit you absolutely cannot unhear. You will be scarred for life. This is your last chance. Rewind the tape, and pass it on like you were instructed to. Right before bed. Thank you for your cooperation."

You bring your hand to cover your mouth so laughter won't escape. He waits a beat, then changes his tone.

"Hey, baby," he says smoothly. Tears prickle at your eyes. "If you're missing me half as much as I'm missing you, you're probably hurtin' pretty bad. But it's okay. I'm here." Tears stream down your face and drip on your pillow. "Here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna pause the tape and think of an answer. And then you're gonna hit play again, and you're gonna laugh, because I've predicted exactly what you're going to say. You ready?" You nod. "You just nodded, didn't you?" You smile and nod again. "See, I know you better than you know yourself. Now… how was your day?"

You press pause. Shitty. The plane was crowded and the ride was bumpy. It's hot and muggy, and you're rooming with a kid you don't like, and you don't want to be here. You want to be there with him, cuddled up on his couch or in your basement or in the van. You want to go home. You press play.

"Wow, that sucks. Screw that Florida weather, and your dumb-ass step-family." You smile. "It's gonna take so much work to counteract this horrible vacation. We're gonna have to hole up in the trailer and eat nothing but junk food for a solid week to undo this. You in?"

Absolutely.

"Knew you would be. What do you think I'm doing right now?"

You press pause and think. Watching TV and/or jerking off. Play.

"Don't say jerking off, you pervert."

He didn't say he wasn't, he just said not to say it. He's jerking off.

"I am not!" He does that goofy little chuckle he does, and you wish you were close enough to feel it vibrate through you. "Okay, I might be. I'm lonely, dammit." You hear a paper shuffle. "As you might have guessed, I've tried to script these out and time it so I've got enough to keep you Eddie-fied until you get home. So it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough to remind you that I'm here and I miss you and I'm NOT JERKING OFF while I wait for you to come home. Well, not the whole time, anyway. That's about it for tonight, but uh… I'm gonna end every night with a song. To lull you to sleep. Because that's the kind of music we're into, obviously."

You close your eyes and hug your walkman to your chest, wishing it were him instead.

"This first one needs no introduction, so!" He clears his throat and starts singing… to the tune of Black Sabbath's "Evil Woman". "I miss that look of evil in your eyes, that thing about not jerking off was a lie, sorrow will be me until you're here, not sure what Ozzy's saying there… Evil Woman, please come play your games with me!"

Eddie stops singing and starts laughing. "Okay, that's it, you've been sung to sleep, now please do wicked and kinky to things to me in our dreams." He laughs again. "Turn the tape off after the 'love you', because you're not allowed to listen to tomorrow's until tomorrow. Kay? Kay. Good night, my Evil Woman. I hope your tomorrow sucks less than today. I love you. Press stop. Now. Now! Now? Now!"

You wait a beat and press stop, leaving the headphones on. What if you're not ready to say goodbye? Even for 24 hours?

Day Two

"Hey, baby." You press pause and let the feeling of calmness wash over you. You've been looking forward to hearing his voice all day. Play. "How was day two? You didn't forget about me already, did you? Is Gareth keeping those pretty surfer boys away from you like I asked? Tell me everything."

Pause. Today sucked. At least most of the first day was spent traveling with someone you like. Why did the old man even want you here if he was just going to be a dick to you both the whole time? Those brats were up your ass every second, asking too many questions and watching your every move with their beady little eyes. They went through your bags when you and Gareth hid out on the balcony for a moment of fucking peace and turned your contraband in to the authorities. All your food. Even your friggin' aspirin. You'd both received a long-ass lecture on chemicals and toxins and personal responsibility and how unhealthy habits shorten your lifespan. Which didn't sound too bad right fucking now. You were hungry. You couldn't sleep. Those fuckers dragged you out of bed at 6am, and for what? "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a family healthy, wealthy, and wise!" Psychos. Absolute psychos.

Play. "Wow, baby. That fucking sucks. Want me to come get you? 'Cause I'll do it. I'll hop in this van and speed my ass down to… where are you again? Doesn't matter, I'll find you."

Your chest aches.

"Ready to be lulled to sleep by the comforting voice of your handsome lover?" Always. "Alright, here goes." He clears his throat. "Your body's empty now as I hold you… wait, that's a pillow. Now you're gone, I miss you, but I told you, I remember bath times and morning wood, you best come back to me, without you I'm no good. I love you to death! I love you to death!"

Megadeth's "Loved to Deth," only better. Eddie laughs to himself when he finishes. "G'night, babe. Hope tomorrow's a better one. Love you."

Stop. You've never felt more lonely in your life. Taking off your headphones and glancing over to confirm that the step-brat is asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can. You need air.

You walk down the hallway toward the balcony, and aren't too surprised to find Gareth already there, on the wicker sofa staring out at the ocean. You sit next to him.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles.

"Me too," you whisper.

"How are we supposed to survive 12 more days of this?"

"By not letting them get to us. Just remember… we get to go home soon, and be happy, with people we like. These assholes will continue to be assholes, wherever they are."

Gareth heaves a sigh. You'd hug him if you didn't think he'd pretend to gag.

"I don't wanna go back in there. That kid's fucking creepy. I woke up this morning and he was just laying there, staring at me."

"Oh my god, the girl was doing that too!" you whisper in outrage. "What is wrong with them?!"

"Fuckin' Children of the Corn," he grumbles. You snort.

"Well… we probably won't get away with it for more than one night, but we could stay out here until the warden drags us back inside," you suggest.

"Fine by me," Gareth groans, scooting down on the cushion and putting his feet on the coffee table. "Is this improper?" he asks in a bad British accent.

"Nah, we were raised in a barn, it's fine," you grin, moving to do the same. You knew you'd both catch hell for not sleeping in your assigned cells in the morning, but for tonight, you'd take fresh air and Gareth over a creepy kid and a hard twin bed.

Day Three

"Hey, baby. Congrats on surviving three days without me! Your prize is coming home ASAP for some sweet lovin'." Eddie laughs at himself. "How was your day?"

Pause. Fucking sucked. You woke up to yelling about not being in your beds for your 6am wakeup call. You ate a bland breakfast and were dragged to the beach for a family photo op. Staged photos of all the loving siblings bonding. Building a sand castle… that your father actually built, because it needed to be impressive and photo-worthy. You all had to gather around it and smile and pretend to be working on it while the step-monster snapped away. Eating healthy snacks on an ironed picnic blanket. Playing in the ocean… where the playful splashes from the step-brats got so much saltwater in your face, your eyes were too red for more photos. You looked like drug addicts! It was disgraceful! Family fun time would have to continue tomorrow.

After that, you huddled under an umbrella until time to go inside. You and Gareth had applied sunscreen multiple times throughout the day, but still got a bit of a burn. This trip is un-fucking-bearable. You'd give anything to be in your dark basement with Eddie, far away from these douchebags and the burning Florida sun. Play.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs. "I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how much these people sucked. No wonder you'd rather be at home with me." You'd do anything to trade this hell for sixty seconds of being home with your Eddie. "Ready for your song?" You nod. "People gonna make ya wonder if you're right, keep ya wide awake and worried late at night. Why don't ya tell 'em to beat it? Why don't ya tell 'em to eat it? Just a bunch of clowns, don't let 'em grind ya down!"

Motorhead's "Grind You Down."

"I know I didn't change anything in this one, but I don't think I needed to. I hope this song gets stuck in your head for the rest of the trip. Keep it playing. Don't let 'em grind ya down. That's it for tonight, babe. Hope tomorrow's better. Love ya."

Stop. You stare at the ceiling and grasp a handful of blanket, wishing it were Eddie's hand. You imagine hearing the roar of his van in the street and sneaking out and running away from here until you eventually nod off.

Day Four

"Hey, baby. How was day four?"

Pause. You couldn't find your sunscreen this morning. You'd torn the house apart, desperate for that high SPF you'd bought especially for this trip, and the step-brats finally found the bottle on the porch. Maybe you dropped it in your hurry to get back inside yesterday, you thought. You slathered it on as fast as you could, during a lecture about holding everyone up, and returned to the beach.

They kept you so busy staging bullshit for the camera, you didn't notice the problem until it was too late.

It was not your sunscreen. The step-brats had dumped your sunscreen out and refilled the bottle with lotion for a fun prank. The giggly little bastards finally confessed after your third re-application of the day. You and your brother were already burnt to a fucking crisp. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The demon children were given a finger-wag and forced to skip dessert. (Cantaloupe, what a cruel blow.) You and Gareth were told to stop being so dramatic about a little sunburn. It was a harmless prank, they said. This is what siblings do, they said. Nevermind the chills and the headache and the unbearable fucking pain. It's just a harmless prank! Play.

"Those bastards. Do you want me to come down there and fight them? 'Cause I will. You know I will." Yes, please.

"Okay, this one's extremely rewritten to make up for yesterday's. Sorry-slash-you're welcome. Here we go: "Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun."" Tears prick at your eyes. He's rewritten Dio's "Holy Diver" for you. "Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely." He laughs, but the tears spill down your burning cheeks. "Not bad, right? Watch your back, Weird Al. Weirder Ed's coming for you. Well, that's it for tonight… talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you."

You rewind and replay the song. It's one of his absolute favorites. The fact that he rewrote a perfect song just for you makes you melt. Or maybe that's just your insides reacting to your outsides being fried.

"Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun. Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely."

Gotta get away. The next line would be "gotta get away".

You lie there on your hot, scratchy sheets and think about escaping in order to get your mind off of the pain. What if you… and then you… could you actually pull this off?

When you're sure everyone's asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can and creep down the hallway to the boys' room. Gareth's not in his bed. He's not on the balcony. You stalk quietly through the house, no idea where he might be in this strange place.

He's standing in front of the fridge with the door open.

"You okay?" you whisper.

He jumps back and gasps. The bottles in the door rattle. He closes it softly, but you both look in the direction of the bedrooms and listen closely for stirring. You relax when you hear nothing.

"Scare the shit out of me, why don't you," he grumbles, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. "No. Not okay. I'm hungry. I hurt. Everything fucking sucks. I wanna go home."

Your brother's not much of a crier these days, but his eyes look suspiciously shiny in the moonlight shining through the windows. It fills you with rage.

"Let's go."

"What?" he asks.

"Let's fucking go."

You stare at each other for a moment.

"You're serious?"

"Dead fucking serious. We don't want to be here. That dickhead only wanted us here for a photo op, so he can show everyone what a great parent he is. They're not just gonna let us sit here for the rest of the trip. Wherever they go, they're gonna drag us along too. Burns and all. So let's fucking go."

"Let's fucking go," Gareth echoes, pushing off the fridge.

"Pack your shit, I'll meet you back here in ten," you say quietly.

"More like three," Gareth smirks. "I never unpacked my shit to begin with."

You grin at each other, even though it hurts your fried faces, and take off toward your bedrooms.

You're packed in no time. You make a quick stop in your dad's bedroom, holding your breath while you extract a credit card and a few bills from his wallet. He snores away, rigid and on his back like he learned how to sleep from a textbook on how to mimic a human. The step-monster sleeps like a corpse, hands clasped on her stomach and mask covering her eyes. They're not even touching. You and Eddie could never.

You slip out of the room and find Gareth waiting for you in the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Born ready."

You step out the front door and let it close with a satisfying click. Adios, bitchachos.

"Now what?" he asks.

You stare at the dark, empty street.

"Guess we walk," you grin.

"All the way back to Indiana?"

"To a bus stop or a cab that will take us to an airport, smartass." If you weren't both in pain already, you'd smack him. He smirks, and you start walking.

The further away from those people you get, the better you feel. When you get to the highway, a cab pulls over. You didn't even hail it. It's like it was meant to be. A woman in her fifties, named Linda, takes you to the nearest airport… which is fifteen minutes away from the rental house.

"Why did he have us hauled halfway across Florida in a cab when we got here, if there was an airport right here?" Gareth asks when it comes into view.

"This one's more expensive," Linda supplies. "I can take you to that one, if you'd prefer? Might save you a few bucks."

"That's okay," you smile. "We need to get home as soon as possible. Our father can spare it."

You thank her for the ride and give her a hefty tip that makes her face light up.

"You kids have a safe trip! And put some aloe on that sunburn!" she calls out her window as you enter the airport.

You approach the desk and talk to a pretty blonde about the first flight to the Midwest. You slide the credit card across the counter and secure two tickets to Chicago on a plane that leaves in an hour.

Day Five

"Did we actually pull this off?" Gareth mumbles, gazing lovingly at the ticket in his hand.

"Hope so," you mumble, taking it from him and putting it in your pocket for safekeeping. Little brothers, no matter their age, are not to be trusted. "Let's find the gate, then find something to eat."

"Hell yeah."

You walk for a while, and stop when the gate comes into view. You don't need to walk all the way down there just yet.

"That's us," you mumble, gesturing toward the gate in the distance. "By the time we eat, it'll probably be time to board. Let's roll."

You look to Gareth, but he's not looking at you. He's looking at the McDonald's sign. The golden arches shine like a light at the end of a miserable tunnel leading out of organic hell.

"Good choice, Gareth the Great," you smile. "Know what you want?"

"Everything," he practically drools.

You don't quite order everything, but the two of you devour a tray full of fast food - at airport prices, on the old man - like you've been starving for days. Which you have.

"Fifteen minutes until boarding begins," you note, sucking down the last of your drink and looking at your watch. "Let's hit the bathroom and call Mom."

You dump your trash and find the bathroom. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil. The burn looks so much worse under these fluorescent lights. No wonder you both scored free refills. You're going to peel for the rest of your life. If you ever see those brats again, it's ON.

You meet Gareth at the pay phones and drop a few coins in. But your mom's line is busy. You try again a minute later. Still busy. The clock is ticking. You call Eddie instead.

"Hawkins Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em," he says boredly.

"Hi, baby," you breathe, so relieved to hear him live.

"Well this is unexpected," he laughs. "Tapes not doing it for you anymore? Needed some of the real thing?"

You smile, but Gareth's impatient face reminds you why you're making the call.

"We're on the run, babe, and we need your help."

"The Munson Underground is always at your service, m'lady."

"I tried calling Mom, but the phone was busy. Can you tell her that we're on the 1:05 out of Tampa, and we should be in Chicago at… wait, does that account for the time difference?"

"You're seriously making a break for it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, the reality of what you're doing starting to sink in. "We couldn't take it anymore. It was awful, Eddie."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Gareth takes the phone before you can start crying on it.

"She'll be alright once she gets home. Which should be sometime in the next few hours. Will you hunt down our mother and tell her to pick us up?" He tells Eddie to get a pen, then relays the details of the ticket. "Kay. Here's your wife." He hands the phone back to you.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he says, voice calm and soothing.

"Okay," your voice cracks. "Love you."

"Love you more," he says. "Gotta go, I'm gonna go tell your mom in person since you can't get through. See you in a few hours!"

You hang up the phone and take a shaky breath.

"Ready?" Gareth asks.

"In a minute," you mumble, checking your watch again. You approach the information desk and ask for an envelope. You put your father's name on it, put his credit card and change from the cab ride and dinner in it, and seal it. The woman at the counter assures you that it will be held in the office for your father. You'll call and tell him where to get it when you're safely back home, where you belong. (Or maybe send him a nice postcard.)

You board the plane wordlessly, sinking into your seats with a renewed sense of urgency. You're not out of the woods until you're in the air. You watch the people filing on, wondering if your old man would be smart enough to figure out where you went. Or if he cared enough to show up and drag you off.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the plane takes off, and so does Gareth. You're in the sky. You're on the way home. Everything is going to be okay.

"We're free," you mouth.

"Fuck yeah," he mouths back.

You grin at each other and reach for your walkmans. Should you listen to the rest of Eddie's goodnight songs, or save those? You'll save them. One a night, those are the rules. You pop in the mix tape he made you and close your eyes.

You don't open them again until you land. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. The chills are getting worse. Your skin feels like it's going to crack if you move too much. Gareth feels it too, wincing and hissing as he gets out of his seat.

You gather your things and exit the plane with the rest. The blast of cold air conditioning feels nice on your hot skin as you step into the massive airport.

"Look," Gareth nudges you. You both regret it instantly, but you look in the direction he gestures to see your mom and your Eddie waiting for you. You quicken your pace.

"Holy shit," they say in unison as you approach.

You walk into Eddie, and his arms wrap around you. He's so warm, your body tells you to get away from him. Heat bad! Cold good! But you endure the discomfort, holding him tight and crying into his chest. You made it. You're home.

"Let me look at you," your mom orders, peeling you away from Eddie. "What the hell happened? Did you forget your sunscreen?"

Tears leak down your face, stinging as they go.

"Those little assholes dumped our sunscreen and replaced it with lotion," Gareth growls. "It's just a harmless prank, you're overreacting," he mocks in his best Dad Voice.

"Like hell," your mom seethes. "You're going to the ER." Gareth whines, but you expect this will be a nice documented event to bring up in court if the old man still insists on visitation after this debacle. You both agree to drink a full bottle of overpriced airport water in the car, in exchange for going to the hospital in Hawkins rather than the city. You want to go home, dammit.

Your luggage is collected, and you head out to the car. You and Eddie sit in the back, and you want desperately to lay your head on his shoulder and sleep the whole way home. But it's too hot. Your face hurts too bad. You settle on holding his hand loosely; your palm didn't get burned, at least. He uncaps your bottle every few minutes and reminds you to take a drink.

The visit to Hawkins Memorial Hospital doesn't take long. The nurse makes you both chug another bottle of water while you wait, and the doctor quickly diagnoses you with sun poisoning. You are sentenced to several weeks of aloe, rest, and staying indoors. No one in your party has any objections.

When you finally get home, Eddie helps you get your clothes off while your mom helps your brother. It's ten times harder and more painful than usual. He coats you with aloe and puts you to bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Your sheets scratch. Your skin burns. You can't stop crying.

"What's the matter?" he asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"It's stupid," you cry.

"Tell me anyway."

"All I want is for you to hold me but you're too hot and I'm a lobster and I'm going to crack and peel and die."

Eddie snorts, and you cry harder. He lies down in your bed, on the edge so he's not touching you. All you've thought about for days is in your grasp, and you can't touch him. It's cruel and unusual and it's not fair.

"I'm right here. The burn will fade in a week or two. Then we can get back to being all over each other and grossing everyone out, and all will be right with the world."

You let out a strange sob-laugh sound, and it makes him smile. A chill causes your whole body to shiver.

"How are we doing in here?" your mom asks from the doorway.

"Fine," you lie.

"She's crying and shivering," Eddie tells her.

"Traitor," you mumble.

"I brought painkillers and a glass of water," your mom says. Eddie sits up to receive her gifts. "Don't let her sleep until she drains that."

"Yes, ma'am."

You sit up long enough to take your pills and drink your water, then fall asleep next to the Eddie you can't touch.

You wake to the unmistakable sound of your mother giving her ex-husband a piece of her mind. Eddie's eyes are as round as saucers while you listen together; you've never heard her this mad before. There are curses, there are threats, and finally, the sound of a phone being slammed back onto the base. The house is plunged back into a heavy silence. You stare at each other for a moment, not daring to make a sound.

"If she ever yells at me like that, I'm gonna be crying and apologizing and trying to make it up to her for the rest of my life," he whispers.

"I've never heard her yell at anyone but him like that," you smile. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank fuck," he breathes.

"You guys awake?"

You and Eddie both jump at her soft voice in the doorway.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckles. "You're due for another pill and about a gallon of water. Would you like some pancakes with it? You slept through breakfast. And lunch."

"Sure," you answer, stretching and immediately regretting it.

"A fresh coat of aloe will make it easier to move," she advises.

"On it," Eddie says, rolling out of bed to get it.

"I'm gonna go see if Gareth managed to sleep through that, then I can fill my little fugitives in on all the trouble they've caused." She laughs to herself and proceeds down the hallway.

She recapped the phone call over pancakes. Your father got his credit card back… and a bill so massive, Gareth's likely off the hook for any remaining court-ordered visits. The old man ranted about you two ruining his family vacation, and hurting the step-monster's feelings, and ignoring the step-demons, and being surly and secretive the whole time, and stealing from him, and of course the cost of the plane tickets… but somehow, the icing on the cake was that you'd left the McDonald's receipt in the envelope with his change. "How could anyone spend that much money on garbage masquerading as food?!" You all had a good laugh over that one, then went back to bed. Doctor's orders.

For the next two weeks, you happily holed up in your dark basement with your brother and your boyfriend and sometimes your friends, watching movies and eating junk and drinking all the water you could hold. You still insisted on listening to your Eddie Tape every night, but with him next to you, your answers to the "how was your day" questions were much happier. After about a week, you declared yourself cleared for cuddling, and started to make up for lost time.

Gareth was so happy to be home, he didn't even complain.

Much.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x evil woman #whyyy yess i did write a self-indulgent almost-7k-sidequest with an annoying family i made up #those of you who watch the timeline will notice that this is the summer of '85 #aka the summer things start getting kinky #'cause evil woman has a lot of eddie deprivation to make up for

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under-sedationnn · 9 months

Note

Mike Schmidt x reader where she’s pregnant?

mike schmidt x pregnant fem!reader pt.1

summary: a day in the life with mike and abby as the reader navigates the ups and downs of the much dreaded (and much anticipated) third trimester.

“Mike, I'm going to be honest, there's no way I can tie my shoes.”

"Abby-girl! Come on, breakfast!"

I hear the sound of small, bare feet skittering down the hallway and halt to a stop at the edge of the dining table. Abby, hair still unbrushed and pajamas wrinkled, smiles at me from her seat by the window.

"What did you make this morning, y/n?" She leans across the table to see the bowl I'm holding, and I give her a sympathetic look.

"Oatmeal," I say, and she wilts slightly. "With nutella, and bananas! Made special for you."

I set down the bowl and she inspects it, picking up the spoon by the small end and poking at the slices of fruit. I shift on my swollen feet, and pray that she decides it's not poison, after-all. Besides, I need to eat something soon, too. And take a bath. And online shop for baby clothes, on clearance.

"I guess it's fine," she mutters, but digs in anyways.

"Well," I start, heading back into the kitchen, "I bet if you are a super star today that Mike will take you to get pizza tonight. And if he says no, I'll tell him the baby said we need it."

She smiles widely, and I pour myself a small cup of coffee. I sit down across from her at the table, and prop my feet onto the seat beside me, settling my coffee cup onto my bump to rest. Abby is fully invested in eating her oatmeal now, and I anticipate the need for a snack when she finishes.

Settling into domestic life with Abby and Mike wasn't difficult, one could say it was the exact opposite, but there are ups and downs. For one, I had to drop myself into a semi-stepmom situation, and pretty soon afterwards found out I was going to be a mom for real. But Abby is a good kid, and Mike is the kindest man I have ever met, and we're making it work day by day.

"So, Abs," I say between sips, "what are we feeling we want to do on this glorious day of all days, Saturday?"

She thinks for half a second, and opens her mouth to answer when the door begins to unlock. Mike steps into the living room, backpack slung over his shoulder with deep bags under his eyes. He smiles when he sees us nestled in our little corner of the room, and shuts out the bright morning light behind him.

I move to stand, but he puts his hand out to stop me.

"Woah woah woah, remember what the doc said, no unnecessary walking, right now. How are your feet feeling by the way?" He leans down to kiss me on the forehead, the cheek, a peck on the mouth, and moves to put his backpack and keys by the door.

"Eh, they're doing okay, but they definitely don't feel great," I respond, and he kneels down beside me.

"Want me to take a look?"

I nod my head, and he peels my socks off. The swelling is a little better, but I still hiss slightly when he pokes at the top of my foot, and the pit stays in my skin.

"Not the best, but not the worst," he says, not too sure of himself, "but you're not doing anything today, you need to rest."

I sigh. "Mike, you just got off of a shift, I know you're exhausted, and the house needs to be cleaned. There is no way I'm going to let you-"

"There is no way I am going to let you clean the house today, or do anything that is going to make you feel worse." He moves his hand to my stomach. "We're in this together, remember? 'Til the very end."

I place my hand over his own, "The very end, I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, what's first?" He kisses my fingers once and stands up. Abby joins him in watching for my answer.

"Breakfast, please."

"Agreed." He smiles and turns to the kitchen, presumedly to make us each an equally bland bowl of oatmeal.

"What were you saying you wanted to do today, Abby? You never got a chance to finish what you were saying, sweetheart."

Her bowl is empty; she wipes the leftover nutella from her lips, and moves towards the fridge to get out some milk. "One of my friends at school is having a birthday party today and I wanted to go." She pours herself a precariously full glass of milk from the carton, and slowly walks back to the table.

"You can still go Abs," says Mike, "and I could drive if you want me to."

"Well, her mom is carpooling for other kids and said she could come and get me," she adds between gulps.

I look at Mike over the kitchen bar, and he smiles at me slightly. "Abby, do you have her mom's number? I can call and see if she'll come and get you."

"Sure! Hold on, it's in my back pack." She hops up from her chair, stumbling in her excitement, and races to her room.

"Mike, if she goes, we could have a day all to ourselves."

Not that we don't love having Abby around, but a day alone would be well-deserved.

"Yeah, we could take a nap." He chuckles, and brings our breakfast to the table. Oatmeal, with just a little bit of nutella.

I nod my head in agreement as Abby races back to the dining room and shoves a piece of paper with a phone number in Mike's face. He calls, talks for a moment, and places down the phone while saying, "Abby, go get dressed, she will be here in 20 minutes." She turns on the spot and speeds down the hallway, once again.

We give each other a silent high five, and look forward to a day of relaxation together.

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i'm going to be honest, i kind of want to continue this blurb into a second part where the day continues. i was really enjoying making this into a small, domestic fic and I didn't want to just make it about the pregnancy but the life that it would lead to WITH mike (which includes abby).

thanks for reading!!! <3

#josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie

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builtbybrokenbells · 9 months

Text

CAPITAL VICES | ENVY

Envy: the intense desire to have something that someone else possesses.

Masterlist

Listen while reading: Poison - Alice Cooper

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), dom/sub, sir kink, praise, degradation, bratty sub, lots of dirty talk, name calling, overstimulation, forced orgasm if you squint, drinking, swearing, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakups/breakups, mentions of hookups, mentions of substance/addiction/withdrawal, mentions of divorce/bad past relationships, mentions of death/dying, mentions of loss of a parent/grief, guilt, regret, depression, general sadness, anxiety, jealousy/possessiveness, very brief mention of guns, sorry if i miss any!

😘 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The haze of smoke in the room was becoming overwhelming, and even though it would normally be enticing, now it seemed nothing short of a nuisance. A basket of fries sat in front of you, ketchup lazily pooling next to the pile of fried food. Although originally put there for a dipping sauce, now it’s only purpose was to make the fries soggy and even more unappetizing. Your hunger seemed to have fled you, but in truth, never really existed in the first place. You only convinced yourself to order it as an attempt to resume some sort of normalcy to what life was like months ago. A triple whiskey sat in front of you, deliciously tempting, but the exact opposite of what you needed to feel better. Ray approached you, a knowing look in his eye and his usual, raggedy towel slung over his shoulder.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He leaned on the countertop, looking down at your untouched order. “Missed ya.”

“Yeah, I guess it has.” You chuckled, swirling your ice around your glass. “How’ve you been?”

“Livin’.” He replied, taking a long look over your face. “And you?”

“Oh, you know.” You forced a smile onto your lips, beginning to realize that coming out was the worst thing you could have done. “Working, sleeping, and working some more. An exciting life I live.” You neglected to mention the days of wallowing that had come before your arrival at the bar and the horrific heartbreak you were experiencing. Now that you did not have Jake to occupy your time, you had decided to return to your weekly Friday night routine; drinking yourself into oblivion at the bar and falling asleep alone. What used to be so fantastic was now gut-wrenching, and the thought of returning to an empty bed was killing you.

It had been about a week since your blowout with Jake, and he did well to heed your wishes. Not once had he tried to reach out, and neither did you. As the days dragged on and no contact was had, you slowly started to understand that the relationship was over, and all you could do was mourn what was once so beautiful. Instead of trying to fix things, you thought it was easier to tend to your wounds in seclusion and move forward with your life instead. You hadn’t even so much as looked at a picture of him or spoken his name, and you didn’t plan on it. If you knew one thing about healing, it was that doubling back only ever made it hurt worse.

You missed him, but not nearly enough to lose your dignity by begging for him to come back. If he did not want you, and sex was the only thing you were good for, so be it. He got his fill, and you would not lose any more respect for yourself by running back to him and trying to get him to see you were worth more than that.

“Not spending time with that guy who was with you the other night?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he waited for a response.

“No, definitely not.” You gave a chuckle, shaking your head. “Waste of my time, Ray.” You reminded, forcing him to recall your many drunken ramblings about men.

“He do wrong by you?” He asked, trying to get to the bottom of your quiet brooding. You shifted in your seat, taking a long sip from your beverage.

“No,” you shook your head. “I started it.” You confessed.

“Don’t think you’d be this upset if he didn’t do anything wrong.” He said, polishing the rims of a few glasses that just came from the dishwasher. You shrugged your shoulders, finding the familiar burn of the whiskey comforting. Finally, you seemed to find some sort of connection to the version of you that lived before Jake, even if it was through cheap liquor and the company of an old bartender.

“He did, but the blame is still on me. He might have done wrong, but I was the one who let him.” You let your eyes focus on the grain of the wood in the bar counter, finding it easier to avoid eye contact.

“Darlin’, I think it’s time you stop blaming yourself for everything. What others do to you isn’t your fault, and you’re allowed to be mad at someone other than yourself.” He sat another drink in front of you, noticing you were already running low on liquor. “That one’s on the house.”

“Four daughters really taught you a thing or two about advice.” You gave a solenn smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“Four daughters gave me a lot more than good advice.” He chuckled, wiping down the table as he spoke. The fatherly tone sent your heart into agony. He was so proud of his children, and nearly every time you visited the bar, you heard about all of their accomplishments and struggles. It was a beautiful thing to see a father love his children so dearly, but you could not refute the jealousy that plagued you every time you listened to the stories.

It was not jealousy over the fact you did not have a good father and they did, because in your opinion, your father was the best one in the entire world. You were jealous that yours was not around to speak such admiration about you to others, and he was not there to pat you on the back and speak his own advice. You missed him with a fervor, and in the last week, it was more intense than it had been in a very long time. You wished so badly that you could have your dad by your side, speaking truth about the stupidity of boys and speaking praise about how you were better than what Jake made you feel.

Your mother, of course, could do all of the same things, and your sister too, but it was not the same. Missing your father was the most difficult thing you had ever done, and it made you want to seclude yourself until the pain passed through. You did not want to reach out to the rest of your family for the same formalities; he was the only person who could truly make you feel better, and it had always been that way. You were angry that he was not here to help you through what seemed like your biggest heartbreak yet, even including the broken marriage that crumbled before you ever grew into an adult.

The heartbreak Jake had caused was violent, devastating and above all, deadly. It came about in such a way because your feelings for him creeped up on you, silent and unforgiving as you fell hopelessly in love with him. You had never got along with anyone else so swimmingly, and nobody else in the world had ever made you feel like he did. Most of all, it hurt so badly because he was the last person in the world you expected to hurt you.

He was the first person you trusted enough to know such intimate details about your life, and the first person in which you opened up to without a paralyzing amount of fear. You knew that you had done wrong, and you should not have let your past experience define what could have been with Jake, and if you could, you would take it all back in a heartbeat. You wished you had the ability to respond without all of the defenses you built up so high, and you wished that you could have swallowed your pride enough to realize that all he wanted to do was care for you. You loved Jake more than you ever thought you could, and if you had the chance to do it all again with the same outcome, you still would.

You knew that his response was due to his own hurt, but it did not take away from the things he said to you. You hurt him so much by rejecting him so bluntly and without hesitation, and you regretted it immensely. Jake was the last person you wanted to treat so poorly, because he was the first person to show you kindness at the hands of another. But, when you thought about his harshness for too long, a wave of nauseous overtook you and tears filled your eyes. You had hurt him, but he had hurt you just the same. You did not want to blame him for his actions, especially knowing that they came from a place of pain, but you could not choke down the bitter taste of his insults. If he could change his mind so quickly, you worried that maybe he thought that way all along.

The hurt also stemmed from your complete transparency with him. You opened up, told him more than you’d ever told anyone else, and moments later, he threw your relationship back in your face and denounced it to meaningless sex. To you, the sex was all but meaningless, and you truly thought it meant just as much to him. After the months of shared nights and memories that would stick with you for a lifetime, you hoped that you meant more to him than sexual gratification. You poured your heart out to him, telling stories of a failed marriage and a dead father in hopes that he would keep it safe and maybe in turn, take some weight off your shoulders. It was incredibly difficult for you to tell him so much, especially when you dedicated your entire life to keeping it hidden. It killed you to know that he would turn into a stranger again even after knowing you so well, and that your biggest secrets were in the hands of someone who you no longer wanted to know.

You were so caught up in your internal brooding that you didn't even notice Ray leave your side, nor did you hear the chime of the bell sound above the front door. It was not like you would have turned to look anyway; your interest in anything other than getting drunk was greatly lacking, and worrying about what others were doing would only hold you back from your intentions. If you found yourself concerned about the happenings of everyone else, it was take too long to get to the level of drunkenness you aspired to be, and you would have to stay at the bar far longer than you wanted.

You were a creature of habit, and despite your lack of desire to be at the bar, you needed to feel like yourself again. The only way you could do that was to carry on as if Jake Kiszka never stumbled into your life at all.

Your second drink was threatening the end when you felt someone take a seat beside you. You would not have turned to look if they did not extend a warm greeting, and even then, you wished you had ignored it.

“Hey, Josh.” You forced a smile, knowing that he was the worst person you could have encountered, only second to Jake himself.

“Fancy meeting you here, friend who is a girl.” You were certain that he had just reached out and stabbed you in the chest. The pain was unbearable, and it was nearly blinding. You kept your eyes glued to the glass in your hand, unsure if you could maintain eye contact without breaking down. Then, a fleeting feeling of fear ran through you. ‘Friend who is a girl’ was an awfully endearing term for someone who just broke his twin brothers heart. Either Josh did not know what transpired between you and Jake, or he was exceptionally good at hiding it.

“It is my favourite bar, after all.” You tried to joke with him, but it only made your chest ache with even more intensity.

“I knew there was a reason Jake suggested this place.” He chuckled, having an a-ha moment as he pieced the puzzle together. “It all makes sense now.” He gave an airy sigh, turning to the bartender to order a drink. “And one for her too, please.”

“Oh, Josh, no need for that-“

“I insist.” He was so similar to his brother that it was scary. As you waited for the drinks, you pondered his elusive words for a moment. From all that you knew about Josh, he did not seem deceitful in the slightest. If anything, he seemed like he was a terrible liar. Josh did not know a single thing that transpired, and you would be damned if you were the one to tell him.

Then, an evil idea infiltrated your sorrowful mind. If you pushed Josh in the right direction, he might have the answers to all of the questions you’d been wondering about in the past week.

Your sin had not only effected your relationship with Jake; now, it seemed to have an impact on every aspect of your life, including relationships with even the furthest of acquaintances.

“So Jake wanted to come here tonight?” You asked, trying your best to put on a mask of confidence. You yourself had never been very well versed in deceit, but you knew that it was your only shot at getting any real answers. God knows you would never reach out to Jake yourself, and his twin brother seemed to be the only chance at finding out the truth.

“Yeah, he was pretty adamant about it. I wasn’t sure why until I walked in and saw you sitting up here all alone.” He gave you a grin, turning to thank the bartender as he slid the drinks your way. “I’ll start a tab, too.” Ray nodded, raising an eyebrow at you, the expression full of inquiry. You waved him off, making it clear that you would stay to chat about it later.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a sip from your new beverage. He shrugged you off, the gesture small and nothing that was requiring of a thanks.

“Jake was sick all week, so when he asked us all to come out, we jumped at the chance. He skipped practice and everything, which is really unlike him. I’ve seen him pick up that guitar with pneumonia.” He chuckled.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know.” You breathed, realizing then that he took the separation just as hard as you did.

“I��m surprised you didn’t catch it from him. He was so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed. I went over to his place once, but he was asleep so I just let him be.” Josh had no idea, but you were indeed suffering from the same sickness that Jake had. Heartbreak was more deadly than any other virus, and the two of you were plagued with it. Apparently Jake had the same idea as you and was hoping for a peaceful night to drink the despair away. Or, he was plotting for the absolute opposite.

“Yeah, that is strange. He never told me he was sick.” You muttered, lying through your teeth. Of course he didn’t tell you he was sick; he hadn’t told you anything at all since the last time you saw him.

“So was this planned, or is he just pulling a classic Jake move and hoping he’ll run into you?” Josh raised an eyebrow.

“Definitely not planned, so it must be the latter.” You took another long drink from your glass, wondering when the whiskey would satiate the hurt in your heart. When the burn did not even come close to the painful ache, you worried that it might be permanent.

“Something on your mind, friend who is definitely not a girlfriend? You seem off.” You caught his eye, nearly laughing at his statement. He was correct, you were definitely not a girlfriend, and now it was unlikely that you ever would be. You hated the fact that the option was no longer possible, because being his girlfriend no longer seemed like the worst thing in the world. If anything, you almost liked the idea.

“Lots, but nothing important.” You admitted, knowing that you could never profess such feelings to the brother of the man you loved so deeply. Telling Josh before Jake would be blasphemous, and you could not bring yourself to involve him in the mess you made. Well, any further, anyway.

“I think it’s important,” he assured you, trying to hold your gaze in hopes that his eyes would speak the truth better than his words could. You gave him a soft smile, appreciating his kindness but painfully aware that you were undeserving of it. Once he knew the truth, you were certain he would like you a lot less than he did in that moment. You felt guilty that you were maintaining a conversation with him after hurting Jake so much, but you could not explain your need to talk to him. He was the closest thing you had to a friend, even if you did not know him very well. More than that, he reminded you of the boy you missed with such intensity. When you spoke to him, he gave that same sense of home, even if he was not the home you were in need of. He was the vacation while you awaited retirement.

“It’s just work stuff. Had a particularly hard client, and I’m just trying to forget about it.” You lied with ease, the dishonesty beginning to turn your soul black and your morals upside down. For your entire life, you valued the truth, and ever since you met Jake, it seemed like you’d forgotten all about it. You lied to him about your feelings, and now you were lying to his brother, too. You were unrecognizable, the sinful months beginning to morph you into someone you tried so hard to run away from. The devil worked fast, and you had not yet found the strength to tell him to stop. You worried that if you could not find the courage soon enough, you would never recover.

“I’m sure you’ll prove them wrong. If you’re as talented as Jake says you are, I’m not sure how anyone could be dissatisfied with your work.” His name sent another blow straight to your stomach.

When a hand was placed on his shoulder and his attention was pulled in another direction, you were thankful for the break. You needed a moment to regain yourself, and you could not do that with Josh’s burning stare and reassuring words pointed at you. The guilt was eating you alive, and you knew you would have to come up with an excuse to evade his company if you wanted to make it through the night alive.

When you managed to catch your breath and settle the erratic nature of your heart, a hand landed on your own shoulder. You looked back, hoping to find one of the other two boys that did not have any affect on you, but instead, you were met with a sinking feeling in your stomach and an emotionally heavy gaze. You couldn’t believe that he approached you first, but as you looked over at Josh’s smiling face, you realized that it was likely all for the appearance. So, in hopes of avoiding and awkward questions, you threw on your biggest smile of the night.

“Jacob,” you greeted, trying to appear comfortable under his burning touch and unwavering stare. There was an obvious hint of reluctance in his eye which easily confirmed your worry. He was only talking to you on behalf of hiding the truth from Josh. You expected to be greeted with anger, or even distaste for him catching you sitting with his brother, but it did not seem like he felt that way at all. If anything, you felt that behind the reluctance to speak to you, pain was pooling in his expression.

“Long time no see, sweetheart.” The pet name sent your blood cold. What once was so comforting and sweet now seemed like an insult, or a backhanded gesture to get the last laugh.

“Will she be joining our soirée tonight?” Josh asked his brother. The two of you shared a look, and eventually you turned to Josh with a small shake of your head. In that moment, he realized the depth of the situation and a sense of sympathy formed on his face. “I see,” he said, taking a drink from his cup to avoid the awkwardness of speaking again.

“Could I… would you mind… I’d just like a minute alone with him, if that’s alright.” You struggled through the statement, anxiety written all over you. You had no idea what you were doing, but you were too far gone to stop yourself, now. Something about Jake made it so difficult to think before acting.

“Oh, yeah, f’course.” Josh said, nearly tripping over himself to stand. “I’ll grab that booth over there. I’m sure Sam and Daniel will be joining us soon.” He said, not waiting around for a second longer. You watched as Josh disappeared, almost immediately regretting your decision to stay. After a few moments of awkward silence filled with background chatter and obnoxious music, you managed to turn to face him.

“Can you… sit for a minute?” You mumbled, embarrassed to be taking the step. You didn’t notice it, but he was overjoyed that you spoke to him at all. He did come to the bar with intent to find you there, but he certainly did not expect a friendly conversation from you.

“Sure,” he bit down on his tongue, holding back the term of endearment that was begging to be said. He took post in the stool that Josh had previously occupied, looking down at his hands for a moment to gain enough courage to meet your eyes.

You did not know what you were doing, only what you felt in your heart. Had you stopped yourself from speaking and thought about the repercussions, you would have realized how bad of an idea it was to talk to him.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, looking over at his face.

Maybe you even would have understood that apologizing was giving him the key to your heart again, which would inevitably land you just as hurt and broken as you had been all week.

Doubling back on your promise to stay away from him was essentially pointing a loaded gun at your head, and talking to him was equal to pulling the trigger.

“You’re sorry?” He asked, appalled at the thought of you apologizing. When you asked him to sit, he’d been preparing for the cruelest of insults and the worst of your thoughts. “No, angel. I’m sorry.” You has completely thrown him off track, and every thought he had while waking into the bar no longer existed. The only thing that mattered was your sad eyes and your heart that was splayed so delicately on your sleeve. The hurt was gone, replaced with the longing he’d been burying deep inside himself.

“You don’t need to be.” You shook your head. “Well, you do, but not nearly as much as I should be.” You did not have intent to rekindle the relationship, but you did want to settle the score.

At least that’s what you were trying to convince yourself. As you repeated it in your head, your hands were desperate to reach out for him and your body was aching to be held by him again.

“I shouldn’t have responded like that.” You let out a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts as you poured your heart out to him. “I, uh, I don’t like falling in love, and relationships terrify me, but you didn’t deserve that.” You had no idea why you were trying so hard with him, and no idea why you hoped that he would understand. You didn’t want to be with him, and you didn’t want him to feel like that was your intent. It was better left unsaid, but for some reason, you could not will yourself to walk away from him. Even more so, you could not let him walk away from you again. “I do care about you, Jake. I just don’t really know how to do that anymore, and when you said it so bluntly, it scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh.” He breathed, enthralled in the details of your face. He felt himself falling for you all over again, and this time, it did not scare him nearly as much as the last. You tried to deny it, but you felt the familiar gravitational pull pushing you towards him. You were enamoured with him from the minute you caught sight of his face. “I shouldn’t have thrown it on you like that. It was unfair, and I can see that now. I just… it felt right, and I couldn’t stop myself.” He admitted, almost appearing nervous as he tried his best to be transparent with you the same way you were with him. “I promised you, y/n, and I hate that I couldn’t keep it.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes darting to the whiskey glass in your hand.

“I guess I didn’t keep my promise very well, either.” You chuckled. “I couldn’t even admit it, even if we were playing house every day.” You sipped your drink, hoping that it might calm your nerves. When he looked as if he was waiting for you to continue, you did. “I care about you a lot, Jake. So much that it scares me. I felt it, too, and I don’t know why I couldn’t just say it, or at least respond with less… crazy.” You laughed. For the first time since he’d joined you that night, a smile crossed his lips, too. It was blinding, the kind that you couldn’t fake, and it warmed your heart.

“You’ve always been more than sex.” He confessed, profound and sincere. “You are worth the whole world and more, and I’m sorry that I said that. I didn’t mean it, but it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.” You were so relieved that you felt tears begin to prickle your eyes. For the first time since he walked out of your house that night, the world did not feel like it was ending. “And you look stunning tonight, as always.”

“Don’t push it, Jacob.” You giggled, feeling the need to lean over and kiss him. You held back, not out of fear of love, but because you worried he might not want it. There was no way you could stop yourself if he leaned in first, and the more the seconds passed, the more comfortable you grew with the thought.

“You remember the last time we sat here?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning into you so similar to how he did that very first night.

“How could I forget?” You rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure you were wearing the same, tacky dress pants.”

“And you were just as insulting.” He teased, but the look in his eye lead you to believe he was not hurt by your words. Instead, he seemed estatic to hear that same tone of voice again.

“Two condoms in your wallet?” You bit back a smile.

“Three, actually.” He corrected. “Was hoping I could find someone who I could keep with me all weekend.” The look in his eye darkened slightly, letting you know he was thinking of all the filthy things the two of you could get up to with three, uninterrupted days.

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.” You offered, pretending as if you weren’t thinking of the exact same things.

“Am I?” He challenged, leaning just a bit closer. “Don’t tell me I have to do this all over again.”

“A little courtship wouldn’t kill you, Jacob.” You swung your chair in his direction, facing him with the playful look in your eye he loved so much. “How bad do you want it?” You pressed further, leaning down slightly so he had a clear view of the cleavage your dress was allowing.

“I don’t even think I could make it to the bathroom, this time.” The seriousness in his tone was chilling, and in a moment of sheer irrationality, your hand reached over and rested on his. The moment contradicted all he had been afraid of, and although the gesture was small, it was more permissive than anything you’d done in the time you knew him.

He stood, moving towards you and capturing your face in his hands. With great intensity, he leaned down and placed his lips to yours. The kiss was heated, letting you know that he’d been thinking about it just as much as you had in the time spent apart, and neither of you wanted it to end.

For a moment, things seemed perfect.

But, you were far too grown to believe that perfection was possible, and your judgement was momentarily clouded by the yearning of your heart.

When you lived a lifestyle as sinful as yours, the devil had a helping hand in every aspect, and God did not have enough sympathy to grant you enough grace to allow for a moment of peace.

“Too much to say I missed you?” He mumbled against your lips, dreading the moment in which he would have to part from you. It was a phrase the two of you used often, and the answer was almost the same every single time.

“Just enough.” You replied, your heart begging to burst from your chest.

The problem was nowhere near resolved, and all you had done was found an island after being stranded in the ocean. It allowed for temporary relief, but not salvation.

“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“If we’re keeping score, I’d owe you plenty of drinks.”

“This is more than enough for me, angel.” He assured you, his lips still hovering over your own.

“One drink, then, and I’ll make it up to you later.” You offered, giving him a sly smile. The filthy invitation was subtle, but he could read you like a book. Filthy was the only thing the two of you knew, and it would not be easy to break out of it, even if you both committed to trying.

“Can we skip to that part? I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“So impatient, Jacob.” You let out a disapproving tsk. “I heard once that the wait makes it all the better.”

“What can I say, sweetheart. You always bring out the worst in me.” His thumb drifted over your cheek, the glimmer of love in his eye returning as if it never left. “Besides, I think we have a lot of time to make up for.” His other hand landed on your thigh, just below the ending of the skirt of your dress. The touch was light, but electrifying. You knew that you could search to the ends of the earth, and you would still never find anyone who even came close to Jake.

“Don’t get yourself worked up, honey. It’ll be a long night for you.” You reached out, your hand landing on his side as you pulled him closer.

“For me?” He raised an eyebrow. The two words sent a rush of arousal straight to your core, and for a moment, you thought you would allow him to fuck you right over the bar top if it meant you could have him again. “Careful, angel. Would hate to have to remind you of who’s in charge.” You squeezed your thighs together to satiate the ache that was steadily growing. He noticed the tense of your muscles under his hand, a wicked look in his eye forming as he realized the mess he was causing between your legs.

“A double whiskey, please.” You tried to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the words came out strained. You were desperate to change the topic, but he was never one to give up so easily. He tightened his fingers around your leg for just a moment, the familiar smirk growing on his lips as he stepped away.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He hummed as he took a seat again, waiting for the bartender to return to the two of you. “Just be sure that’s what you want.” He said, looking over his shoulder at Ray who was serving a group of older men.

“What game are you playing, Jacob?”

“No games,” he promised “I’m just saying, if you want something, don’t be scared to ask for it.” At his words, something inside you snapped. You stood, not the least bit worried about your bluntness, and gave him a hard stare.

‘Self-righteous prick’ you thought to yourself. ‘God, I love it.’

“Meet me in the bathroom.” You said, only loud enough for him to hear. Hiding a smile, he watched you as you stormed towards the bathroom, his eyes focused intently on your ass. With a shrug of his shoulders, he finished the last of your drink, waiting only a moment before he stalked off in the same direction, uncaring about anyone catching you two in the act. When he approached the door to the bathroom, he took a deep breath to calm himself.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but you swung it open and pulled him inside before his fist even had the chance to hit the wood. Before the door was closed behind you, your lips connected with his in a fervent embrace. As you attempted to push the door shut, your other hand was already unbuttoning his infuriatingly attractive shirt. His hands were on you, roaming every exposed inch of you and familiarizing himself with the feeling of you on his skin.

“And I’m the impatient one?” He smirked against your kiss, unable to hold back his thoughts.

“Shut the fuck up.” You muttered, finally managing to free the last button from his shirt. He reached up, tangling your curled hair in his fist and holding it tightly.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He warned. Just because he had missed you did not mean that he was willing to give up the control.

“Shut the fuck up, sir.” You repeated, making sure to annunciate the title with as much detail as you could. As much as you missed his company, you missed pushing his buttons far more. “Is that better?

“Do you want me to leave you here all by yourself?” He questioned, the dominance in his voice familiar and incredibly enticing. Perhaps you decided to misbehave just to see it again, because in that moment, you felt at home again. “I will, angel. I’ll go out and order a drink, and you can take care of that ache between your legs all alone.” Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him leaving you on your lonesome. “You don’t like the sound of that, do you?”

“No, sir.” You shook your head, focused on his erection that was pressing into your hip. You doubted that he would do as he said, but you still feared that he might.

“Then lose the fucking attitude.” He ordered, taking a step forward so you were pushed against the wall. “I missed you too, but you need to be good for me, okay? If we’re in here for too long, people are going to notice we’re gone, and then we’ll be in trouble.”

“Okay.” You breathed, agreeing and knowing it was best to get to the point as fast as you could. Avoiding an awkward conversation was in your best interest, and your best interest was his biggest priority. You watched him as he sunk to his knees before you, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress and hiking it up to your navel. His lips dusted over your thighs, the sight nearly sending him weak. It had been far too long since he had you like this, but as much as he would have loved to keep you there with him all night, he knew he had to hurry.

“Dressing up for someone, sweetheart?” He asked, letting his fingers trail over the black lace of your thong. He tried to frame his question as inquisitive, but you knew it ran far deeper than teasing you. He was wondering if you had plans to meet with someone else. The thought nearly made him sick, but he felt as though he needed to know the answer.

“No, sir.” You promised. He looked up, catching your eye and living in the moment of sincerity.

“So this is all for me?” He smiled.

“Always.” You reached down, cupping his cheek in your palm. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, feeling the warmth and wishing it could last forever. His fingers hooked through the sides of your underwear as he slowly pulled them away from your hips. He let the flimsy material fall to your ankles, his eyes heavy and clouded with desire for you.

“You’re too good to me, angel.” He purred, helping you free one leg from the thong. Instead of focusing on the other one, he guided the freed leg over his shoulder and placed a trail of sloppy kisses on the inside of your thigh.

The air between you was different, but in no negative way like you previously thought it would be. It was more passionate, more relaxed, and most of all, more loving. The confession of feelings did not change anything between you two like you feared. It only seemed to made the connection stronger, and so much better. You felt like an idiot for turning him away, and you regretted turning him down without a second thought. All that the two of you were doing was loving; the only difference from then to now was the words being spoken into existence. You cared much too deeply about the small word that held so little value, and not enough about the boy who found home between your legs. Now that you had him again, you vowed to never let yourself be so foolish again.

When his mouth connected with your core, you could not contain the pornographic moan that left your lips. A week to most was nothing, just a small amount of time that was easily forgotten. A week without Jake, however, was no less than torture, especially having left things so badly. The feeling of his tongue on you was addicting, and for the last seven days, you were a woman plagued with the worst of withdrawals. One hundred and sixty eight hours without his touch was excruciating, and ten thousand and eighty minutes without the grace of his presence felt worse than any hell that awaited you in the afterlife.

Any time spent away from Jake was horrible, and you never wanted to be apart from him again.

“Taste just as good as I remember, sweetheart.” He pulled away just long enough to slip in the comment, the husky tone of his voice sending your knees weak. “How fast do you think you can cum for me?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You breathed, already missing the feeling of his mouth. He should have phrased his question better; he was not wondering about your ability to orgasm, but rather how fast he could get you there. The answer was up to him, and he was nothing if not keen on a challenge. Without any further conversation, his tongue had found your clit once again, and this time, he was working with intent. “Oh, fuck.” You whined, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging at the roots.

The feeling of your fingers knotted in the locks of hair was exhilarating, better than any substance he could imagine. The taste of your arousal on his lips was like heaven, and he was a fool to have walked away from you. You were the best thing his hands ever had the opportunity to touch, and you were the only thing his heart desired. It did not matter if you were in the backseat of a car, or in a dirty bar bathroom, or even laid on the most expensive mattress the world had to offer; the moment was sacred to him, and it had everything to do with you.

He hummed against you, a wordless praise for the beautiful noises slipping past your lips. When you let his name mixed within them, he knew he would never hear a more beautiful sound. He was certain that the world could not offer any more than you, and his name would never sound half as pretty painted on someone else’s lips. He was unequivocally in love with you, and he no longer felt the need to run from it. This was where he was meant to be, foolishly happy and living with his head between your legs.

You let in a sharp intake of breath as he raised his hand to your cunt and slipped his fingers inside of you. Within seconds, he curled his fingers just right and hit the spot inside you only he knew how to find. He knew you better than anyone else in the world, but more than that, he was the only person who cared enough to know you so well. You were a mess, the sounds echoing off the walls adding to the sexual tension in the room and only driving him into a frenzy. Pleasing you had become his favourite pastime, and he was devestatingly good at it. Your hips bucked forward into his hand and his mouth, and you could feel him smile against you.

Driving you crazy had quickly become his trademark, and he was happy he could put the talent to use once more.

You were dangerously close, your walls constricting against him as you tried to fight the waves of pleasure. You body was sticky with sweat and your hair and makeup was likely ruined, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Jake, just like always. The knot in your belly was begging to unravel, taunting you further with every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. You hated how easy it was for him to send you in to such a state, but above all, you were thankful that he’d managed to find you amidst the chaos of the world.

As you began to descend into pleasure, the only thing you could think of was how grateful you were that out of billions of people, you were the lucky one to be able to have Jake.

If you told yourself that months ago, you would laugh and spit in your own face.

But the devil was a master at his trade, and this specific trade happened to be all things sex. It was impossible not to fall victim to it, even if it would eventually be the cause of your demise.

“Please don’t stop, m’gonna cum.” You pleaded, your grip tightening around the strands of hair tangled between your fingers. Your legs began to quiver and your mind quickly dissolved into desperate, obscene thoughts about the boy driving you mad. A particularly coarse moan tore from your chest, letting him know how good he was making you feel. Then, underneath the sound of your pleasure, so quiet that you almost missed, you heard him moan against you. It was filled with emotion, showing you all of him at once; the need for you, the weakness he had in regards to you, and the pure joy he felt from pleasing you.

And it sent you into absolute bliss.

You came hard, your body tensing as he held your hips tightly, keeping his mouth on you for as long as he could. He soaked up the pleasure, letting it settle heavily in his bones. It weighed him down with likeness to cement, forcing him to stay on the ground and live solely to please you for the rest of his life. As you came down, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His tongue was still focused on your clit and his fingers moved as if he wanted to force you into another orgasm.

“Jake, please stop.” You gasped, the sting of overstimulation infiltrating every nerve in your body. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pull his head away from you in reaction to the feeling. He did not stop, and he did not even show any signs of slowing. He wanted you to come again, and he wasn’t willing to back down. “Jake,” you tried again, but you knew that he would not stop unless you spoke the right word. A small part of you wanted to, but a bigger part of you wanted to continue. You had learned long ago that whatever Jake was willing to give you was worth more than anything else, and pain from him was worlds better than pleasure from another.

That was the funny thing about the devil; he forced your hand in believing that his torture was bliss.

He let out another moan against you, his cock painfully hard and strained against his pants. He needed you desperately, but not as much as he needed the taste of you on his tongue. It was more than a necessity; it was a matter of life or death. If he pulled away, he feared his heart would stop and his lungs would deflate.

“Fuck!” You yelped, your abdomen painfully tense and your mind swimming with nothing but a need to slow down. Still, he was like an addiction, and stopping was not an option. You too felt as though you would succumb to death if you had to go without him. He knew that despite your protests, you were close to the edge once again. Your body told him more than your words, and the rock of your hips against his hand and the way your walls clenched around his fingers, inviting them further inside told him all he needed to know.

The next orgasm that ravaged your body set your skin on fire and reduced your brain to mush. You could not speak, nor could you even force his name out. Your throat constricted alongside the rest of your body, and sweat began to bead on your forehead. Your hands were too weak to hold on to his hair any longer, and the only reason you were upright was because of his iron grip on you. This time, when you came down, his movements slowed with the beat of your heart. He moved his mouth first, and then his fingers followed. He looked up at your face, his chin glistening with wetness, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, slowly rising to his feet. You could not form an answer, instead only blinking at him as you tried to steady your breathing. But, your silence was enough of a response for him, and he guided you towards the countertop before you could even begin to recover.

Your head was still spinning as he bent you over the counter and unbuckled his belt. You watched him in the mirror as he spit into his hand, rubbing himself for a moment before he rested the tip of his cock on you. He caught your eye into the mirror, giving you a small smirk as he studied your fucked out expression. Your eyes were glued to his face, memorizing the details of him too, fearful that you might miss something. The seven days spent apart had done nothing but make you dread what life would be like if you never saw him again. Now that he was there, standing behind you with his hands on you, you never wanted to be apart from him again. You did not want to miss out on a single moment of life with Jake, and you felt stupid for not being able to admit it sooner.

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone low and filled with lust. “Do you want me?”

“I do,” you nodded, your voice raspy and your desperation evident. You caught his eye, a chill running down your spine at the expression he held in his gaze. His jaw was hard set and his nostrils were slightly flared. The sight of him alone was sending you feral, and you didn’t know if you could wait much longer. “Please, Jake. I need you.”

“You need me?” He taunted, pushing his hips forward ever so gently. The feeling of him inside you was thrilling, even if it was just barely. Only the tip rested inside you, and even though you both wanted to go further, the small action was worth more than anything else. You were certain Jake could give you anything, even including the smallest of gestures, and you would thank him until your lungs gave out from a lack of air. Any kindness from him was enough, and you were certain his injustices even bordered pleasure. He was everything, and you couldn’t believe he was yours.

“I need you,” you reiterated, giving him a look of desperation through the mirror. “Please, baby.” You tried again, feeling him push into you a little more. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing that soon enough he would not be able to resist the temptation. “You always make me feel so good.” He took in a sharp breath at your words, finally finding enough kindness to give you what you wanted.

When he bottomed out inside of you, he sat for a moment, completely still as he revelled in the feeling. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back towards the ceiling just enough to expose the muscles of his neck. His adams apple stuck out against his tanned skin, the glisten of sweat on him making the picturesque moment even more beautiful. His shirt was still on his shoulders, but all of the buttons were undone and his chest was bare, begging to be admired. You let your eyes trail all the way from his collarbones, drinking in the detail until your gaze settled on his navel. Then, your stare landed on the sight of his hips meeting yours, thinking about how the two of you fit together so perfectly that it was sinful not to indulge in the ritual.

You clenched around him, biting back a smirk as his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He let his hand drift up your back, settling in tight hold on your shoulder. “I missed that tight little cunt.” He muttered, finally meeting your eyes in the reflection again. Your stomach twisted into knots, your legs going weak again just at his words. Behind his pupil, you could see the streak of evil that so often ran through him. When your eyes went out of focus, you swore that devil horns sat atop his head much like the first night you shared with him, but this time they were not hidden in the blackness of night. They were in plain sight, and you did not even believe he was trying to hide it anymore.

It was almost funny, how you had been so scared of his hellish nature in the beginning, and now you had fallen in love with it just the same as the rest of him.

He withdrew his hips slowly and steadily, and then with the force of his hand on your shoulder, pulled you back down on him with a strength that made your head spin. A cry of pleasure fell from your lips as he made it a point to keep up the brutal pace. He was sinister, and that much was obvious, yet you no longer held a fear for his godless power. As time dragged on, a part of your soul had turned vile to match the evil of his own, and the two of you had become one. You could not point a finger at him and call him the devil, because you would have to point at yourself in the mirror and say the same. The wicked nature lived within the both of you, taking over and claiming your body as it’s own. You were possessed by the power, and the two of you ruled hell as one. The fate you feared awaited you was no longer terrifying, because you were now the power you once feared.

You cannot play Russian roulette with Satan, because only he would have the knowledge to create a game so sinister. He passed you the loaded gun, and you put it to your own head even with the knowledge that there was six bullets sitting in the chamber.

You were playing a losing game; after all, how could death itself fear dying?

“This is what you wanted?” He asked, the sound of skin on skin filling the room and leaving little room for anything else. “You wanted me so bad you couldn’t even wait until we got home.”

Until we got home. Insinuating that home was only a place where the two of you existed together, and that home to him was wherever you were.

And god, he was right.

That house was nothing without him in it, and the memories made before his time meant little anymore. He was home, and that house was just a shelter to hide away in until he was there to fill it with love. This time, upon the harsh realizations, you did not shy away from the idea. Instead, you welcomed it with open arms and a smile on your face. Jake was home, a place where you could hide away from the rest of the world. He was a hug after a long day, and a warm blanket after facing the violent cold. He was a place to put your sorrow down, and where you could let the walls of defence fall. He was not the only home you’d ever known, but he was the best one you’d ever known.

You wanted to tell him you loved him. The word was lingering in the air, the sweet taste dancing on the tip of your tongue and it’s soft hand was caressing your cheek. Instead, you moaned his name and told him how good he was making you feel. It was not the confession you wanted to make, but it was enough to satiate the craving until you were strong enough to speak the truth. Sex was the only way you knew how to communicate with him, but you hoped that with time, you would finally be able to speak the words he so badly wanted to hear.

“Shit!” You gasped, his cock slamming into your cervix and sending your thighs rocking into the countertop. You could already feel bruises forming, but you could not find it within yourself to care. When you returned home and took your dress off, it was serve as a reminder that he was real and you weren’t just dreaming of someone so wonderful. A loud slur of moans fell from your lips, and his hand came up to clamp around your mouth while he continued at the same, bruising pace.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” He reminded, but sounds of pleasure were seeping from his own lips. “Those are only for me. You know that.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but you could tell that he was getting close from the waver of his words. You let out a while, muffled by the strong hand anchored to your mouth. “I know, angel.” He sympathized, feeling the same way. “Cum for me.”

You did just as he asked, unravelling around his cock and dissolving into a mess below him. He watched your face in the mirror, studying every miniscule detail and searing it into his brain forever. He never wanted to forget what you looked like when you were experiencing such euphoria at his hands. He muffled every noise that slipped out, and he kept his rhythm until you relaxed against him. When your eyes fluttered open and flickered up to meet his own, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching his own climax. His hips stuttered and you felt him twitch inside of you as he painted your walls with his release. His stature faltered and he slumped over slightly, wrapping you in a blanket of warmth as his chest pressed against your back. He released his hold on your mouth as he pressed his mouth to the back of your neck, leaving a few gentle kisses on the exposed skin.

“We have a thing for bathrooms.” You breathed, looking at his reflection through heavily-lidded eyes. You couldn’t help but feel pure adoration at the sight of his face, knowing for certain that you would never see a more beautiful person.

“You know I can’t help myself around you.” He gave a lazy chuckle, straightening up as he pulled out of you. “Especially when you wear such slutty dresses. You could at least leave something to the imagination.” He joked.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind next time.” You laughed, pushing yourself up off the counter.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned, knowing that he’d miss it more than anything.

“That’s what I thought.” You smirked, moving to clean yourself off as best as you could. “So… we’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling at the question. “We’re okay, angel.”

“I… uh, I’d like to do that other part more often, too.” You confessed. He took a step towards you, wrapping you in a hug that expressed all he felt for you in his heart. He placed a kiss to your forehead, smiling against you at the thought of building a relationship with you. When he pulled away, he also took the time to fix the skirt of your dress. Then, he reached up and swiped away your smudged lipstick with his thumb. “Sex is great, but I really like spending time with you, too.”

“We can make that happen.” He promised, looking to you with an astounding amount of sincerity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that I said that stuff to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I will do everything I can to make up for it.” He cupped your cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry, too.” You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes for a moment to savour the innocent intimacy. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Jake. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

“I know,” he said, leaning down and placing a small kiss to your lips. Your heart fluttered and your stomach twisted with joy. Slowly, you began to overcome your fear, because you knew that even the scariest of things did not seem too bad with Jake by your side. “Did you… do you want to come and have a drink with us? I’m sure Josh is out of his mind with worry, now. He really likes you, and I think he’s been scared I was going to fuck it up.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, knowing he was right. “Do you want to come back to my house, tonight?”

“More than anything.” He nodded, the words rushing out of him with a long sigh of relief. “I’ll go and order us drinks. Meet me out there in a few minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, shooing him towards the door. The two of you had already been gone for a suspicious amount of time and you would hate for them to catch on to your act. Jake blew you a kiss as he stepped out the door, closing it gently behind him. You smiled, your cheeks dusting red as you swiped away any fallen mascara specs from under your eyes. You touched up your lipstick and combed your fingers through your hair, and by the time you looked presentable, you could safely leave the bathroom.

You walked out, first noticing Jake by the bar. You sent him a smile, trying to hide the excitement in your eyes as you approached him. It was strange feeling giddy over a grown man, like you were a middle schooler with an embarrassing crush. It was even stranger to know that it was not only reciprocated, but he felt the exact same way you did. You joined his side, smiling at Ray as he fixed your drinks. Jake tucked you safely under his arm, pulling you closer to him as his hand rested on your hip.

“Two double whiskeys.” Ray said, placing the glasses in front of you.

“Thanks darlin’.” You smiled, grabbing yours and taking a long sip out of it.

“Can you combine her tab with mine?” Jake asked, taking a drink from his own cup. You shot him a look protest but he paid you no mind. Ray gave a nod, looking to you as if to ask if everything was alright. You gave him a subtle nod, telling him all he needed to know.

“You head over, I just need to grab my jacket and stuff.” You told him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Sure thing.” He said, letting his eyes linger over you before turning to join his brothers.

“So it all worked out?” Ray asked, watching you collect your belongings from your chair.

“Seems so.” You shrugged. “I guess things weren’t as bad as I thought they were.”

“Don’t let him break your heart, darlin’.” He said, collecting the empty glasses littering the counters. “You’re worth more than that.”

“I won’t.” You promised, slinging your jacket over your shoulder and holding your drink tightly. “Thanks for being there for me, Ray.”

“I’ve always got your back.” He promised. “I might be old, but I’ve still got fight left in me.” You laughed at his words, nodding in agreement. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

“You know I will!” You called, turning to face the booth that the boys were occupying. Jake was just reaching the table as you began to walk over to join, but he did not sit down. Instead, he seemed to freeze in his tracks and after a few seconds, sent a nervous look over his shoulder at you.

Fear gripped you, but you continued walking towards him in hopes that you were misreading his expression. When you reached the group, you gave a smile to Sam and Danny, but they seemed to have to force their own in return. When your eyes drifted to Josh, he was looking down at his hands settled into his lap. Then, your eyes settled on an unknown girl who was sitting next to Josh in the booth, who was also making quick work at ogling Jake. You swallowed your pride, looking to Jake in hopes of a quick answer or reassurance that this situation was nothing but innocent.

Before he could explain himself, the nameless blonde stood from the booth with a grin on her face, leaning forward without any hesitation and placed a kiss on Jake’s lips. In truth, Jake did not respond, but to you it seemed as if he did. Your eyes were deceiving you on behalf of your broken heart. He placed a stiff hand on her hip, but not in any attempt to draw her closer. He was silently trying to stop her from taking it any further. He was straight as a board, his muscles tense and trying in every way to exude his distaste for the greeting.

When he didn’t respond with enthusiasm, she pulled away and with intent to cover her own bruised ego, shot you a look of daggers. You watched the two, unsure of what was happening, and completely unwilling to find out. The only thing you could do was laugh, and even that came out awkward and painful. It seemed stuck in your throat as tears prickled your eyes.

“Y/n,” Jake warned, taking a step in your direction and completely disregarding the woman who seemed so intent to get his attention. “Please.” He whispered, no louder than a pin drop. He wanted to explain before your mind got the best of you, but your decision was already made. There was nothing he could say to make you feel better.

The real reason he invited his brothers to the bar finally surfaced, and the room was heavy with the weight of his mistake. He’d been so intent to know if you were at the bar waiting for someone else because he had shown up with the intent to entertain another woman. The question was not one of inquire, but an admission of guilt. He had not invited the blonde girl out because he was interested in anything she had to offer; he had invited her to that specific bar on that specific night because he knew you would be there, dressed up and drinking whiskey while you pretended to be interested in the football game playing on the television. He wanted you to see them together, and he was betting on you having a jealous streak. He thought if he could make you jealous, you’d run straight back into his arms.

What he was not expecting was your warm welcome when he’d arrived, nor did he ever think there would be a heartfelt apology. Maturity had lost him when you’d broken his heart, and he wanted to play dirty. He was so immersed in you while you two aired out your thoughts that he failed to remember the other girl who was on her way to meet him there. You always triumphed when it came to anything or anyone else, but this time, your effect on him had been fatal. He dug his own grave and as he stood amidst the chaos he caused, he worried that he sealed it forever.

You wanted to throw your drink in his face, or to scream until your throat was raw and no more sound could be made. You wanted to tell him every bad thing you were thinking and call him every terrible name you could imagine. Instead of any of that, you seemed frozen in place. Your fingers were clasped around your glass so tightly that it nearly shattered under the pressure. Your lips were glued together despite the insults begging to break free. Your eyes held fire but they were calm, which was even more dangerous. He broke your heart once already, but this time, he’d torn it to shreds and discarded it like it was nothing.

There was power in walking away, and it just so happened that walking was your favourite thing to do.

“Enjoy your date, Jacob.” Your words came out clearer and stronger than you thought they would. You feared the familiar crack in your voice would sell you out, but not even that seemed to want to surface. Maybe it was afraid of your consequential anger, too. Your skin felt like there was a million cuts littering the surface, stinging with every pulse of your heart and stretch of your body. Your nerves felt like they were doused in gasoline and he’d thrown a match your way, igniting you without a second thought. He took a step towards you, but you took a step back and shook your head, shutting down whatever idea was running through his mind. He could see the shine of sadness begin to glaze your irises, and he felt equivalent to the dirt on the bottom of your shoe.

“Just listen to me for a second.” He pleaded, knowing that everyone at the table was watching the circus as it unfolded. Horror was not a good enough description for how everyone was feeling, and nobody knew what to do. Worse than that, nobody knew what to expect. The boys were watching you as if you would explode at any second, and god knows you wanted to. But, you were stronger than that, and he didn’t deserve such a reaction.

“Listen to what? I don’t care.” You said, shaking your head. “I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend, or if you weren’t ever planning on seeing her again after tonight, and I don’t even care if she was leverage to hold over my head. I. Don’t. Care.” Your voice was dangerously quiet. Although everyone was sitting right there, they could not hear a word the two of you were saying over the noisy bar atmosphere.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t care who she is, I don’t care what you’re doing, and I don’t care about you.” Much similar to his own experience, the heartbreak had turned you vile. You wanted to say whatever you could to hurt him, and you were doing it without insults and profanities. “Every time I start to think that you might be different, or I start think you mean what you say, you prove me wrong. Every fucking time. I’m done, Jake.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

For a moment, you considered leaving the bar, but you could not give him that much satisfaction. This was your bar, and nobody could take that away from you. You did feel reluctant about returning to your normal seat, knowing that you could not face Ray’s knowing stare and worried questions. Instead, you walked to the other end of the bar in the second bartenders section. You knew her, but not nearly as well as you knew Ray, and not nearly enough for her to show you any concern. You drank down the liquor in your cup, the burn achingly strong, yet not nearly enough to distract you from the sound of your own breaking heart.

You ordered another drink, feeling five sets of eyes lingering on the back of your head. Jake watched as you sat down, confused and hurt about your statement, yet knowing that he deserved it for trying to play such a childish game. He was pained to know he hurt you again, and he was pained to know that you would not respond to any attempts to apologize.

So, he did what he knew best, and he carried on as if you never hurt him at all. He snaked his arm around the other girls waist, giving a short apology for the confusion, and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. If you did not care, then neither did he. If he continued on, he thing that maybe you would be upset enough to confront him.

In that moment, the two of you meant nothing to each other.

Well, that’s what you were trying to convince yourselves, at least.

You were furious, wanting to go over there and blow up at him with every single insult you could think of, to hit him and scream and cry because he hurt you so badly. Instead, you allowed yourself to peek over your shoulder with just enough time to watch him kiss her. You felt like someone had just punched you in the stomach. The air was knocked from your lungs and you felt like you were going to be sick. His lips were locked with another girls while the remnants of his orgasm was still threatening to run down your thigh and yours was lingering on his chin.

That seemed to be the most sickening thought of all.

Jealousy flooded you, making your skin prickle with indignation. The next drink that was sat in front of you was gone almost as soon as it was placed there, and you decided it was best to order two at a time to keep up with the ache in your chest. You looked back over at him again, unable to resist the urge. You saw her laughing, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she smiled up at Jake. She was clinging on to whatever he was saying, clearly hoping he would take her to the bathroom and do the same to her as he did with you just moments before.

As you studied the scene, you knew that jealousy was not the correct term for what you were feeling. You were envious of the situation in the booth. You wanted to be wrapped around him, laughing at his jokes and making relationships with his brothers. You wanted what she had in that moment, and you wanted it with a fervor you’d never quite felt before. You could not call it jealousy, because you were not worried about her taking something that belonged to you. In truth, Jake was never yours. You had ensured that long before the night’s events unfolded. You could not be jealous about something that did not belong to you, and Jake did not and he never would.

Envy was a much better description, because quite frankly, you never would have what she did in that moment. You and Jake could not comprehend simplicity, nor could you find the courage to love each other openly. Even from the very beginning, you and Jake struggled. Whether it was bickering because you refuted your connection, or because you simply enjoyed the struggle, it had never been easy. You were green with envy over something you would never have, and what she seemed to be getting so easily. You were sick at the thought, and pained to know that you’d fallen hard enough to feel such devastating emotions.

You felt a tear slip down onto your cheek as you drowned your sorrows in whiskey. Sometimes, it seemed like your own personal holy water. Once the first tear fell, the floodgates opened and your cheeks were soaked with physical reminders of your own stupidity.

You were crying so hard that your shoulders were shaking with the heaves of your chest, and you could no longer see the glass that was held tightly in your hand.

Then, a gentle touch landed on your shoulder. It was unfamiliar, but comforting, and you felt like you knew who it was before you even turned around. His second hand landed on your other shoulder, and you leaned backwards into the touch until the back of your head landed on his chest. Once he knew you were going to be receptive of his touch, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly while you tried to swallow down your drowning sadness.

“Seems like you’ve been more than a girl who is a friend all along.” Josh hummed, his hold protective and his heart breaking for you.

“I’ve always been exceptionally good at lying to myself.” You rasped, raising a hand to wipe your cheeks clean.

“Mind if I sit?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t.” You sighed, sniffling away another sob.

“Well, I’ve always been exceptionally good at breaking the rules.” He shrugged, pulling out the chair beside you and taking a seat.

“That’s hard for me to believe.” You chuckled, looking over at him with puffy eyes and a red nose. You were in no state to be socializing, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You better believe it, mama.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile stuck on your lips as you processed the pet name. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, pulling a coin from his pocket and tossing it down on the table. He seemed to be the beacon of light in the suffocating darkness. His jokes and bright smile soothed your sorrowful soul, and you wondered what it would be like to be friends with him forever. With Josh around, you had a hard time picturing any sadness at all.

“For you, it’s free.” You assured him. “And this is a quarter. I’m not that steep.” You slid the coin back towards him, watching as he stopped it with his finger. Instead of putting it back in his pocket, he tossed it in one of the tip jars sitting on the bar top.

“I’m honoured.” He gave you a grin, breathtaking and beautiful, but so different than his brothers. For twins, their differences were staggering. “He’s an idiot, you know.”

“To each their own.” You shrugged, picking up a shelled peanut from the dish in front of you for something to fidget with. “Has he been dating her the whole time?”

“Her? No.” He shook his head, almost laughing at the thought. “She was the first girl who was just a friend, but she wasn’t really much of a friend at all. More or less just a girl.” He explained, swirling the ice around his glass with his straw. “I think I ran into her the first weekend we moved here. She was sneaking out sometime in the morning, and of course, I had to introduce myself.”

“Don’t know why I’d expect any less.” You chuckled, recalling the first time you’d ever met him.

“Some people never change.” He smirked. “After that, I never saw her again. Which was fantastic, because I didn’t really like her all that much. Definitely not as much as I liked you.”

“That’s good.” You smiled, waiting for him to continue. You felt honoured that josh liked you as much as he did. He seemed protective of his brother, and rightfully so. You wondered why he thought you were so good for him when all you ever seemed to do was cause Jake pain.

“I met a few girls after that, but they never stuck around. You, though? I could see it in his eyes that day. He never wanted you leave.” He leaned back in his seat, seeming like he was racking his brain for the best way to explain himself. “Usually, the girls leave before he even bothers to get out of bed. Then, he started talking about you all of the time, and I realized that this was more than just a drunken accident. When he wanted us to meet you, I knew he was head over heels.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” You replied, your distaste for his actions clear in your face. “But, I guess I’m not the best at it, either.”

“I never said he was good at showing it.” He laughed. “I love him, but it doesn’t mean I always have to agree with him.”

“True.” You nodded in agreement.

“I think I had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong when he came home last weekend and slammed his door hard enough to shake the building and then locked himself in his apartment for days. Maybe you and I were both trying to pry some information out of each other, earlier.”

“Sorry about that.” You buried your red cheeks in your glass as you swallowed the liquid down, ashamed of your actions.

“Don’t be, ‘cause I was doing it, too.” He said, admitting to his own guilt. “You don’t have to tell me about that if you don’t want to, but I’m all ears if you need it.”

“I’m the classic sob story, Josh.” You leaned forward, signalling to the bartender to make you another drink. She gave a thumbs up in response. “Divorcée, dead dad, a knack for self punishment and a plethora of commitment issues.”

“Wouldn’t call that classic. You’ve got quite the collection of pain.” He laughed, finding your blunt statement humorous. “Is that why you were so strict on being friends?”

“Yeah, I don’t do the whole dating thing. Divorce usually does that to a person.” You joked, dumping the last of your ice into your new drink and handing the empty to the bartender. “When I met Jake, I was pretty clear about that, but there’s something about him, I guess.”

“And about you, too.” He reminded.

“I thought Jake was on the same page, but we both seemed to blur the lines. We spent so much time together that it would be more strange for us not to fall in love.” You explained. “When he confessed that he had feelings for me, I panicked. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t think I was ready for anything to change. I hurt him, he hurt me, and neither of us were mature enough to apologize.”

“Until tonight.” He corrected.

“Yeah, but then he invited Barbie to drink with you guys.” You grumped, trying to fake cheerfulness as you said the nickname you’d pinned on her.

“May I add some insight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You caught his gaze, silently giving him permission to do so. “I don’t think he wanted Barbie to drink with us. I think he wanted you to drink with us, but he didn’t know how to ask. He invited her to piss you off, and that was before you guys talked it out.”

“He sure did piss me off, but he hurt me pretty badly, too.”

“I know, and I’m not defending him.” He wanted to make that abundantly clear. “He’s in love, and love makes him stupid. He doesn’t know how to deal with getting hurt, so he just… doesn’t. Or, he acts like a jerk.”

“You seem to know him pretty well.”

“We didn’t share a womb for nothing.” He grinned. “He’s my twin, but he’s also my best friend. I’ve been there through everything, and I’ve seen it all.”

“So you’re not just a brother of the twin kind, you’re also a friend that is considered the best.” You noted, tipsiness radiating from your statement. You liked the banter that always seemed plentiful between the two of you. It reminded you of your own sister.

“What do you think? Do I make a good friend?” He watched you closely as he waited for an answer. After a moment, you nodded.

“A great one, even.” He smiled at your words and you could not seem to ignore the blush of his cheeks.

“I’m not telling you to go back to him, or to forgive him. Although I would very much like for the two of you to be together, sometimes things just don’t work out. Jake’s a lover by nature, even if he tries to pretend he isn’t, and I know he’s cursing himself as he sits there beside her and not you.”

“Lover by nature?” You inquired, now oddly curious about his life. That was something you never would have pegged him for.

“Oh yeah,” Josh chuckled, the liquor clearly getting the best of him. “He loves to love, and he’s as loyal as a dog. When his last girlfriend broke his heart, he tried to put on this tough act and pretend that love wasn’t his thing. He did the hookups and the failed talking stages, and I think for a while he convinced himself he was truly happy with it. When he met you, I think he realized that happy was the exact opposite of how he’s been feeling for the last year or so.”

“She hurt him pretty bad, eh?” You asked, recalling the pained expression in Jake’s eye the last night you had all went to the bar together.

“That doesn’t even scratch the surface.” He grimaced. “I hated seeing him sad, but I was so happy that he actually left her for good.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him like that.” You didn’t even realize the words that slipped past your lips until it was too late. Josh gave you a sympathetic smile as you scolded yourself for letting such a thing slip.

“I know, mama.” He said, the sincerity in his voice astounding. “Why do you think I like you so much?” Your cheeks turned red at his comment, and you gave him a smile.

“I like you too, Josh.” You mumbled. “Thanks for talking to me. I feel a lot better.”

“I’m glad,” he said, looking past you and over at the pool tables. Sam and Danny seemed to be caught in a game that was headed nowhere. As he did so, you looked back at the booth where Jake was sat with the bubbly blonde. He had moved to the opposite side of the table, presumably so he could get a clear view of you and Josh. When you caught his eye that seemed to be glued to the pair of you, your suspicions were confirmed. You did not hold his gaze, nor did you signal that you even noticed him looking. Instead, you stood and brought Josh into a hug, thanking him for caring enough to check on you.

Envy was not a strong enough word to describe what washed over Jake. Yes, he wished he could be the one that your arms were wrapped around and yes, he desperately wanted to be the person who was listening to the tellings of your heart. More than that, he was furious that Josh thought he had the right to be that person for you, and he was broken at the idea of you allowing him to be. He was reaping the consequences of his own actions, and there was nothing he could do but suffer the wrath of the devil for the sins he had committed.

As you pulled away from Josh, you looked back to the booth and saw Jake leaning over the table to capture his date in a kiss. Your stomach twisted with disgust, and you felt frozen in place. The two of you were caught in a game of pain, but you weren’t even aware you were playing. You did not speak to Josh in hopes of upsetting Jake, but he was kissing her in hopes of hurting you. If you had to admit it, he was doing a fantastic job. Your pain was so loud that you barely heard Josh ask you to join them in playing a game of pool.

When he asked a second time, you mustered a nod as you fought back the urge to vomit. He led you towards the table, but your eyes could not seem to stray from the disturbing scene before you. Jake was fighting a battle that he did not need to fight at all. You had no idea what point he was trying to prove, and no idea why he had the sudden urge to stray further from the love you two were trying to rekindle. As you picked up a pool cue, you decided you did not care. When you lined up the first shot, you both knew you had already won.

He was like poison, drawing you in and burning you with every touch. You loved him so deeply even if you knew he was killing you, and it drove you crazy enough that you would even cause him harm just to hear your name on his lips. You couldn’t bear the thought of not having him, but having him too close always drove you to a bittersweet end. You knew it was time to give him up, but you did not know if you could do that at all. For certain, you knew you could not do it without one last fight.

Even as you tried to convince yourself that you did not care about his actions, the color green was bleeding from the walls. The haze of smog in the room had an emerald hue, and the green velvet of the pool table reflected exactly how your heart was feeling. You were certain that if you looked in a mirror, your skin would be following suit, too. Envy was written all over you, stemming from the unnamed blonde who was wrapped around Jake like he belonged to her. It also grew from the knowledge that Jake was letting her, as if he never had a promise to come home with you at all. You might not have seen it, but when it came to belonging, his heart only lied with you. He was yours, even if he could not express it properly.

What you didn’t see was the green vines that were tangling themselves around Jake’s body, slowly strangling the life out of him as his own envy took hold. He watched as you laughed with his brothers, drinking and carefree while you shot at the balls scattered across the pool table. He wished he could have what they did in that moment; you, with a smile on your face and a laugh stuck on your lips. He wanted you, and everything you had to offer, and he felt like an idiot for letting you walk away this time. He did not want to be in the booth with the girl that meant so little to him, and he did not want his lips on anyone but you. His regret was paralyzing, but his pride stopped him from apologizing yet again.

You were both dying as you stood, and suffering as you watched. Both of you had the power to change, but so much sin had infiltrated your lives that doing the right thing no longer mattered. Any moral, and any idea of right and wrong no longer existed, replaced with wicked evil and blind obedience to a higher power that would ultimately take your life. The devil watched as the two of you sealed your fate, laughing loudly as you walked yourselves into his trap. With one more deadly sin to go, he wondered if the two of you would ever realize your wrongdoing before it was ultimately too late.

The only question that remained was one of fate. How much sin could you commit before punishment was due? You were two people who had been sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment at the hands of your own godless morale, and you were so blind to your own stupidity that you had not even gone searching for salvation. Better yet, you had not even realized that you were in need of it. When the time came and you were ready to repent, the church would turn you away and laugh in your face.

Religion never seems important until you’ve engaged in so much sin that salvation is no longer an option.

you guys didn’t really think I’d be nice enough to let them stay together, especially with wrath as the last chapter? love you 🫶🏻😉

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