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powderblueblood · 5 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER SEVEN — WELCOME to the REAL WORLD, JACKASS

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summary: christmastime in hawkins brings a bunch of cherry bombs in the boy's bathroom, a trip down memory lane via seven minutes in heaven avenue, and the least likely trio this town has ever seen. content warnings: MINORS DNI i'm going to fuck you up and santa isn't real so we've got, smut including references to and descriptions of male and female masturbation, smoking, swearing, a pregnancy scare, era-typical misogyny and ANGST in the form of a flashback!!! word count: 12.5k. merry christmas babies

Dear reader, it takes you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without Eddie Munson.

Which, given his propensity for being an absolute neanderthal, is concerning.

Eddie Munson talks with his mouth full and plays his music too loud. He never closes a cabinet all the way. He walks through anywhere, literally anywhere, be it a store or the library or Ronnie’s trailer–leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He talks during movies and puts his feet up on the seats at the Hawk. He makes fun of the books you read, but always grabs them away from you to stare at the blurb on the back. He never finishes a cigarette all the way before lighting another one, which is just wasteful. He pretends to be good at holding his liquor, but he’s not.

He stands too close to you in places where he’s got plenty of room to move. He makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to. He holds the door for you in school, at the bookstore, getting out of the van, even though you’re more than capable of doing that yourself. He takes advantage of you when you’re in a good mood, like making you scratch his head as if he were a cat.

Sometimes he calls you ‘baby’, as if you don’t have a nickname already. As if you two are…

You lean toward the only mirror in the girls’ room with decent light, reapplying the red lip stain you’d taken to wearing– it was coming on Christmas, for god’s sake, and despite everything, you’re feeling festive. Quick. Lighter on your feet than you have been in a long time.

“Hey girl, could I borrow that?” an out-of-tune simper rings right next to your ear and you almost jump out of your skin, lipstick clattering into the sink.

“Jesus!” you say, and Eddie Munson cackles. You knock him back with a one-handed shove, face setting into that funny little grimace you’ve taken to wearing when he acts up– and he’s always acting up. You’re gonna get wrinkles if he doesn’t cut it out. “What the hell are you doing in here? Hair in your eyes make you miss the sign that says girl’s room?”

You know that’s not true, because you were the one that just about tied him to a chair in Ronnie Ecker’s trailer so you could trim his bangs last week.

This is a fuckin’ violation of my human rights, Lacy!

Every time I’m seen with you, people think I’m out walking a goddamn Briard. Hold still!

“So, hot off the press, newspaper girl,” Eddie says, leaning against the yellow porcelain, “One, I am literate, much to everyone’s shock and awe. And two, someone threw a bunch of cherry bombs down the john in the boy’s bathroom and the place is fucking Hiroshima, but wet and kinda shitty smelling. So we all got told to use this…” He gestures around at the clean-ish tile. “...salon of iniquity.”

“Was it you?” you ask, plucking a cigarette from the soft pack he’s offering you.

“Huh?” He scrunches his brows, leaning with a lighter ready. He’s taken to doing that; cigarette at the ready, lighter at the ready, low-grade explosives at the ready, probably.

“The cherry bombs, was it you?” you say through a reel of blue smoke.

“For once, no,” Eddie sighs, head slumping forward like a Peanuts character, “Some other gorgeous, anarchistic genius got the jump on me.”

“Oh, god,” a frown sets in; you pick up your dropped lipstick and in its wake, ash into the sink, “There’s no other bathrooms on campus you animals could use?”

“Nuh-uh. Unisexuality, baby, it’s the way of the future,” Eddie tells you, fanning out his hands like P.T. Barnum.

A beat. You think. This bathroom, the unofficially allocated senior bathroom, the one you and the rest of the Hawkins in-crowd had been using since sophomore year, got crowded at the best of times. The fumes of Aquanet were a definite health risk, but that’s an occupational hazard when it comes to being a girl. You add boys into the mix, nay, couples into the mix–

Damn.

“We’re about to witness the conception of so many toilet babies.”

Realization dawns on Eddie, his brown eyes flaring. “Oh shiiiit. I never thought of that.”

“The band geeks alone, Eddie,” you whisper, head tilting toward him all scandalized-like, “We’re gonna show up at our fifteen year reunion and every single one of these suckers is gonna have their own little freshman clones.”

“Spare a thought for Heather Holloway.” Eddie’s face, a mask of mock concern, makes you roll your eyes.

“Why?” you scoff, not a fan, “She doesn’t inspire many.”

“Objection. Her implants do.”

You turn to face him fully. “J’excuse?”

“Swear to god,” and his palms are up, “Just saw her in Chemistry.”

“Good? Bad?”

“Conical. Jayne Mansfield.” Aaand his hands are gesturing, animatedly. Crassly. Pervily. “Take your goddamn eye out.”

“Wow. Christmas came early.”

“Christmas ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be coming early…”

“Ew.”

Eddie smirks and flicks his cigarette into the sink, hitting the faucet to wash it away– there were at least three good drags left in that, you think.

“Heather H, first one to get knocked up in the Great Bathroom Insemination Project of 1984. Mark my words.”

“And you think you’re in with a shot?” Your tone is dripping in sneer.

Eddie regards you for a moment, so you know something deeply annoying is about to happen. His voice goes all serious, barely above a whisper, as he closes space between you like he’s trying to beat a draft.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Lacy baby.” His hands brace either side of the sink you’re standing at, trapping you against him. See? No respect for boundaries. But– Hm. Not… that annoying. “Oversexed teenagers sharing the same bathroom– at Christmas, with all that mistletoe around and shit.” His eyes, searching you with a glint that’s s’posed to be provocative. You, elbow propped up by your folded arm, puff a plume of smoke into his face. He doesn’t even blink. Smirk pursing his lips up. The two of you have established a rhythm. “Anything could happen.”

“Ew, what the hell are you doing in here? This is the girl’s room.” Enter some upstart underclassman, and Eddie’s peeling away from you.

“You didn’t see the biblical flood on the second floor, Pippi Longstocking?” His voice is big and booming and bouncing off the tile, making the underclassman cringe. “Forcible takeover. This is my house now.”

“God, shut up, freak.” She shuffles by the two of you to a vacant stall with a look you recognize– she’s so telling her friends about those two trailer park abnormos just about copulating in the bathroom later.

“Great choice!” Eddie exclaims, door of the stall slamming, “I warmed the seat for ya!”

—

“Watch where you’re going, you almost milled down that stroller!”

“I wouldn’t need to go so fast if you two, freakin’ Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Priss Ass, didn’t insist on getting to this place before it closed!”

“We wouldn’t need to rush if you hadn’t spent all freakin’ afternoon at goddamn Lipton landing getting all– all–”

“All?”

“--toked up and shit!”

“Market research, Ecker! And, I’m gonna remember you said that! Later! When you want to get all toked up and shit– woah!”

Listening to Ronnie Ecker and Eddie Munson bicker in the front seat while you balance on a drum stool in the back of his van, clutching onto Ronnie’s passenger seat for dear life– no better way to get into the spirit of the season. You’d be joining in the milieu if you weren’t currently suffering from major motion sickness.

Eddie takes a harsh pull into a parking spot outside of Family Video and–“Go, go, go!”--you three load out like soldiers, locked on the target. He takes the lead, swinging the door open for the two of you ladies, but a voice calls out from the counter before Ronnie can even get a toe over the threshold.

“Oh, no– no way, no way!” Steve Harrington’s yelling from the helm of the ship, waving his hands. “We are– fifteen goddamn minutes away from close, I can’t do this tonight!”

“Highly unwise of you to turn away paying customers, Harrington!” Eddie gasps, Ronnie ducking under his arm.

“You guys come in here and spend honest-to-god hours talking shit in the aisles and– and you never even rent anything!”

“Well, your luck’s about to change!” Ronnie says, and Steve regards her with a mask of total confusion because, well, it’s likely he’s never heard her speak directly to anyone other than Eddie before.

That’s when you roll in the door under Eddie’s arm-arch, color rising in your cheeks that’s not from the cold.

“I am deeply reconsidering my association with you guys.”

“Tough shit.” “Find another trailer park.” “You love it. You love us. You’re obsessed.”

You pinch both of your hands towards them, the universal action to encourage zipping it, and cast a glance towards Steve. His shoulders relax. His vest is green and garish and a terrible color on him and… he’s wearing elf ears. And he’s Steve Harrington. And your stomach clenches, though it’s more muscle memory than anything else.

“Hey, Steve,” you smile, soft and small and not really all that there.

“Lacy. Hi.” He does smile at you, after a beat. “You responsible for these assholes?”

You hadn’t seen him since the night of his party, that grand inferno that had landed you here, standing between Eddie and Ronnie and feeling not entirely awful about it. Well, you hadn’t exactly seen him then either, except for a flash when Eddie was dragging you out of his house.

So, y’know, the blush is entirely justified.

“She’s bankrolling us,” Eddie says, closing the door to keep the heat in and speaking just to break the tension. True, too– you’d scored a part time gig at The Bookstore after a confrontation with the eagle-eyed Ivana regarding certain missing copies of Little Women, The Woman Destroyed and Fear and Trembling. You assumed you were working off the thievery, which you never directly admitted to and she never directly accused you of– but then, she paid you.

Ivana, it turns out, is incredibly pro-workers rights and even more incredibly anti-Hawkins gossip mill. Which works out a treat for you. The bookstore’s become more of a haven than it had been before.

“Can you scatter already?” you direct two thirds of your threesome towards the stacks. “Let’s make this breezy, I feel a wave of mortification rising.”

“No. I was promised in-store bickering,” Eddie says, rooting himself to the spot. You catch a weird flash of– something in his eyes. Ronnie, with her unlikely band geek strength, groans and yanks him toward the horror section. “It’s my favorite part! It’s like the pre-show!”

You take to the counter, gingerly, shyly. Why are you shy? Why, all of a sudden, after showing your ass in such a spectacular bruise-garnering fashion, are you shy to speak to Steve Harrington? Is it because Nancy’s dropped a tidbit here and there that he’s not exactly great boyfriend material? Is it because you sometimes secretly think, good, I hope you two are having a terrible time, even if you and Wheeler are making baby steps towards a friendship?

Is it because you never forget the first person that called you Lacy?

Fuck knows. Some of that.

“So you’re… what, hanging out now?” Steve asks, gesturing to the twin dipshits. There’s a bite in his voice from a former incarnation of Steve Harrington, one with (somehow) bigger hair and an unchecked ego. It doesn’t all shed at once, you figure. He’s sloughing it off and there’s still some left over, judging by the way he’s staring at Ronnie and Eddie.

You look over your shoulder to them. It would be so easy to deride it, right– only due to my unfortunate proximity to them, yes or girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for a ride these days or it’s community service, I swear.

But you don’t. You turn back to him with a pinchy little smile. “I’m this close to getting them to let me play tambourine in their band. Can you even deal?”

Steve, after a beat and a brow furrow, sort of half nods. “Think I kind of… get that.”

You’re about to answer when another body comes barrelling in through the back.

“Just wanted to let you know, dingus, that I just got off the phone with Keith–you remember Keith, right, our manager who is currently in a war of words with our boss trying to keep this place open–and your little stock-take fuckup has cost us, like, weeks of manhours in work and–” Robin Buckley, complete with a light-up Santa hat, stops dead. Counts every person in the room. Shakes her head like she’s in a dream. “What is…”

“H–hi Robin!” Ronnie calls, her voice all squeaky– due to the scuffling headlock that Eddie has somehow managed to put her in without you and Steve even noticing. “Don’t worry, we– we’ll be out of your hair in a second!”

And Robin– wait, is Robin kind of… blushing? She backs down immediately, putting her Family Video branded binder flat on the counter. “Yeah, no… that’s totally okay, take your time!”

You look at Steve. Steve looks at you. You quirk an eyebrow like– is that, is she… And Steve shrugs like, don’t ask me, sister. Pleading the fifth. Saving Robin’s dignity.

But you’re still you and you’ve been bugging Ronnie about her situation for weeks so you hold up a finger.

“What are you two idiots arguing about?”

“Black Christmas–” “Silent Night, Bloody– ow, Ronnie, don’t pull hair, you girl!”

A swivel back to Robin, who is totally pink-cheeked. “We need a professional to settle this.”

Her mind seems to stutter like a badly wound tape. Oh, she’s suckered. “Uh– uh, Black Christmas, for sure. Not exactly the coziest thing to watch, but–”

“We’re not cozy people!” Eddie yells, Ronnie coming at him with arms like weed whackers.

“--but Margot Kidder, right?” you poke, goddamn Jimmy Page and John Bonham for the Midwest set slamming into the counter on either side of you.

“Olivia Hussey,” Ronnie says breathlessly. Eddie seems to have winded her somehow. “That’s– she’s cool–I heard she was in this–”

“Exactly!” Robin lights up, excited, “She– she played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet–”

“Wait, don’t you see her boobs in that movie?” Eddie jerks in.

“Yes,” Robin and Steve chime in unison. And glance at each other. Telling.

Ol’ Munson there snaps his fingers. “Sold.”

“But not in Black Christmas,” you say, almost gently, so as not to… let him down?

Eddie rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward your shoulder. “I’m a man with an imagination, ain’t I?” he rasps. You pretend-shudder.

“Okay, let’s do Black Christmas and– you got a copy of The Thin Man?”

Blink-blink goes Robin, like a cartoon. It’s nearly audible. “... like, the William Powell, Myrna Loy Thin Man?”

Your turn to roll your eyes. God, you guys love to roll your eyes, huh? “Is there any other?”

“Like the black and white movie. You’re sure? I just didn’t think it’d be your–”

But Eddie cuts right through that assumption that’s making an ass out of you and Robin, because he knows. He knows because you’ve made him sit through Double Indemnity at the Hawk, scolding him for putting his feet up (god forbid, right!) and you’ve even threatened to drag him to some Buster Keaton retrospective that’s playing there after the holidays. He keeps thinking, man, if Wayne Munson ever comes across this girl, he’s a goner, and then he remembers why that won’t be happening any time soon.

“She’s a freak.”

You regard him with a tight smile. Kind of a thanks, kind of a fuck you. Kind of your thing.

“I’ll watch it when these bozos pass out.”

—

Something’s gotten into Eddie.

You three are absolutely basking in the glory of your one night of freedom– see, Granny Ecker’s away on a weekend hotel stay in Indianapolis with one of her special friends from the Hawkins Senior Center. Which, on the one hand, gross, Eddie never ever wants to think about Granny Ecker getting lucky no matter how happy for her he is. But on the other, in the words of her beloved granddaughter–

“God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes!”

Eddie has stolen Granny’s usual spot, the kick-out recliner that seems to sag more with every movement. You and Ronnie are bunched onto the little two-seater together, with Ronnie shyly suggesting that you paint her nails (black, how totally hardcore)– now, Eddie knows this move. This is so she can distract herself from the bonafide creepiness of Black Christmas because while she tries to put on a brave face, Ronnie’s eyes for horror movies are way bigger than her stomach. She’s all nerves. It’s why she’s such a good drummer.

As you’d predicted, by the time the movie ends and you all clear the six pack that Eddie had procured, Ronnie’s nodding off– but Eddie is determined to stay wide awake. You make a move off the couch and she grumbles, having narrowly avoided propping her head on your shoulder. You move to arrange her in such a way that she’s sleeping Nosferatu style, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I spent an awful lot of time on that polish and I won’t see it ruined, not on your account,” you chide, real quiet. Ronnie’s not listening, she’s pretend honk-shooing. Eddie, on the other hand, is.

He likes you like this. You’re sweet to Ronnie, in your prickly little way– making her flustered with your misdirected flirting, bonding with her about things so far out of the realm of his male understanding. Being a girl with her. It’s occurred to him that Ronnie, in her testosterone-soaked world of current comrades, might actually need that. Like, she’s friendly enough with Jeannie and that Vickie girl from band, but they’re not people she’d go out of her way to make a case for so’s that Granny Ecker will let them stay for dinner.

Which she’s done for you. Once or twice now. Which you’ve nervously accepted and even ruined your manicure for, by insisting on washing up the dishes. Eddie dried, because of course he did, because the Ecker trailer is the only place close to home that the two of you can hang out.

You’re, like– friends.

Which is horrible.

Eddie tosses you a cold can of soda from the fridge. You catch it, hands basketing above your head.

“Power forward.”

“Cheerleader.”

You lean over to the TV to swap the tapes out, insistent on watching your dumb little black and white movie. As you do it, your skirt lifts a little bit and–

Eddie’s gotta break eye contact. Stare at the floor for a second. Cock jumping like the fucking mole from whack-a-mole.

He almost hits it.

You bitch, are you wearing thigh highs?

“You need to pull trig, Munson?” he hears you from the kitchenette, clicking the video player’s play button. “You only had two beers.”

God, maybe. Was the room spinning? “Smoked a lotta weed today.”

“Right. Lipton landing,” you smirk. Ronnie’s derisive little nickname for Reefer Rick’s place. “Are you gonna get over here and snore through my movie or not?”

I do not snore, or some muttering of a similar fashion comes out but he’s doing exactly what you tell him to do. He can’t help it. Brain function gone all freaky from that flash of flesh squeezed out the top of your– yeah.

Eddie lands on the floor next to you with a little groan. Your eyes flick between him and the now-empty recliner.

“What are you doing down here?”

Oh. Busted. “I’m a gentleman, Lacy. Take the damn seat.”

Your face screws up in that silly way it does whenever he talks sense to you but you don’t wanna hear it. Brat. “No. I like to sit right up near when it’s something I really want to watch.”

A shrug of your little shoulder as you wrap your arms around your knees like a kid. Face illuminated by the greyscale on the television. Skirt rucking back against the carpet. Fuck.

Eddie lets out an unsteady breath, crawling forward to lie on his tummy. Closer to you. “You’re gonna get square eyes if you keep doin’ that, dorko.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist…” but you say it in this half-hearted, distracted way, eyes on the screen.

“Y’know, if you–” Eddie starts, eyes on the lace top of your–yes indeedy–stockings.

“Shut up,” and you tap him on the shoulder. “I love this part.”

Your hand stays there as some fancily dressed chick totally eats shit in the bar of some hotel or something. Christmas presents flying everywhere as she falls.

Women and children first, boys.

Say, what is the score anyway?

Oh, so it’s you he was after.

Hello, sugar.

Your hand stays there as you’re totally mouthing every single word, you true-blue nerd. Eddie, completely at a loss of how to react to this other than gaze, gaze, gaze at you, snaps his teeth at your hand.

You, so completely embroiled in Nick and Nora’s white hot banter, gasp at the near-bite and swipe at his head. Eddie dodges the blow by rolling onto his back, hair fanning out on the Eckers’ rug. He grins up at you, and all of a sudden the rise and fall of his chest in that worn-out Alice Cooper shirt is very distracting.

Pretty girl.

Yeah, she’s a very nice type.

You got types?

Only you, darling–

“--lanky brunettes with wicked jaws,” you say, beat-for-beat with William Powell.

“Talkin’ about me?” Eddie says, lips peeling back, eyebrows quirking.

“Not in your wettest, wildest dreams, Eddie Munson.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what happens in those dreams. It’s filthy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s twisted. It’s disgusting.”

“I bet.”

His hand is absent-mindedly stroking his chest, shifting the hem of that t-shirt up a little bit. Brushstrokes. You remember that? Eddie Munson has a happy trail like–

“You’re so nice to me. It’s so fffffucking hot.”

“How wildly out-of-character,” you scoff, and he laughs, and you shift in your spot the teensiest bit. Eyes back on the screen, back to safety.

From here, where he’s lying, Eddie has a fully illustrated view of the flash of skin up your skirt. Now that you’re not looking at him, he’s looking at it. Swallowing back saliva. Ignoring Nick and Nora.

It’d be simple as pie to walk his fingertips along the rug and brush up against you there–oops–by accident or design. Feel how soft that skin is. Feel that heat radiating from your–

“It’s alright,” he hums, eyes flicking to the ceiling. Otherwise, all the blood’s gonna drain away from his head and he’s going to fucking die. “I know I’m not your type anyway.”

Your head lolls to your other shoulder, exposing a flash of your neck. It’s sorely missing a tongue running along it, he thinks, breath shuddering a touch.

“You wouldn’t know my type if it hit you with an eighteen wheeler.”

“Can Steve Harrington drive an eighteen wheeler?”

Lolling your head back in the most exaggerated form of exasperation, you groan. “God. The way you talk about Harrington, I’m willing to put money on the fact that you have a crush on him.”

Eddie shrugs, hand resting on his sternum. You had your hand there once, you recall.

“I got prescribed one on the first day of freshman year, just like everybody else. But it wore off.”

“Sure about that?” Your eyes narrow.

“Sure as I am that I saw you makin’ googly eyes at him at the Family Video tonight.” Eddie crosses his own peepers for effect. Your attention darts back to the screen.

“I was not–”

“You can just say it, Lace.” His face is a twisty little smirk, if you’d care to look. “Regardless of how utterly pedestrian it might be.” That was a dig at you, by the way. That was an almost eerie impression of you.

“The things I felt in seventh grade don’t really have a lot of gravitational pull on me anymore,” you shrug, not giving. Because, when you think about it, you don’t have to give. It was a baseless kind of thrill, seeing Harrington tonight. One hit wonder. “He’s a cute boy. Reminded me I have a pulse. Nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie’s quiet for a few seconds, flicks his eyes up to watch the TV from upside down. Nick places an ice pack on a drunken Nora’s head.

Hmm… what hit me?

The last martini.

He smiles as you smile, and he wonders if you’re thinking of the same thing he’s thinking of.

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Funny you mention seventh grade…” Eddie trails off, tugging at the rug underneath him.

“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?” Your voice is distant again.

“Little bit of both.”

“Why?”

Well, he thought you might be fucking with him, but– “... God, you really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” He sees your brow pinch, he’s getting to ya.

“Not a fucking clue.” No give, no glory, eyes on the peeling ceiling.

“Remember what?” You’ve snapped your neck and are looking down at him now, thirsty for him to fucking spill it already.

“Total–” he blows a raspberry, “--blackout before freshman year, right?”

“Eddie.”

His name makes him sit up. Pavlovian, sure, and he’s trying to deny the fact that he’ll do just about anything you say when you call him Eddie in that slightly-tinged sour way and not Munson like you’re writing him off. He’s trying to deny that. He swears.

“Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party.”

You two are shoulder to shoulder, him facing the couch, you facing the screen, his breath warming the bare skin of your off-the-shoulder top which is an insane thing to be wearing in the dead of fucking winter, but praise Jesus hallelujah you’re wearing it. Your expression is unimpressed.

“... yeah?”

“We played Seven Minutes in Heaven.” He lays that out a little too plain for your liking. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven at a thirteen year old’s birthday party is like the non-denominational Hora for pseudo-white bread Christian teenagers, at least in Hawkins. Everybody does that shit. But hold on.

“... you were there?”

“Fucking obviously, dimwit, that’s the setup to the whole story.” He sighs in a puff, and he’s very close to you. Chin almost on your shoulder like that night at the Quarry. “Tommy Hagan ripped into me for like, fifteen full minutes because my spin of the bottle landed on you.”

Confusion is a disease and you’re terminal. “That was… not you.”

Insistence is a disease and Eddie’s fatal. “Yes. It so was.”

“That was John Hudson-Wasserman.”

“That was not–,” Eddie full on splutters, like slapstick splutters, reeling his head away from you, “you’re gonna get me confused with John Hudson-Wasserman? The guy who was like, pathologically obsessed with the Kennedy assassination? The guy who moved to Des Moines like, two weeks after that party?”

Then you’re spluttering back all of a sudden. Everything you two are doing is contagious. “His parents named him after John F., can you blame him? –actually, I can totally blame him, that was bizarre.”

“Lacy.” Well, the way he says that straightens your spine. “Use that pretty little brain to think for a second, huh? There’s one unmistakeable detail I bet I can get to jog your memory.”

But you’re already there. Activated. Like a sleeper cell.

“Your hair was all buzzed off. You had that bandage on your head.”

“I did. And you asked me what was under it, and I said–”

A hole. They cut out a part of my brain so I’d be– The Wheeler’s linen closet was tiny and you were breathing in lavender detergent from all angles.

The boy in front of you, scrawny and angry, had an aura around him like a firework. You knew it was dangerous, but you wanted to look closer.

–less of a freak? you finished. Such was the accusation du jour for this kid.

Less of a danger to society, he said, chest puffed. They let me keep it in a jar. Just in case shit gets really real and I need to shove it back in.

You don’t quite know what to do with that. Like. He is so weird, and his hair is unevenly shaved and he’s got little cuts and scratches and scabs all over him. Like he’s been running through brambles. He looks like a kid someone found in the wild.

Did you name it? you ask, finger drawing circles on a nearby towel. Your jar brain.

Eddie Junior, he told you, crossing his arms.

Aren’t you already Junior? Shouldn’t it be Junior Junior?

His jaw hardened. No. I’m Eddie.

You nudged forward on your toes to get a better look at the bandage– he was taller than you. It lumped out of his head, unmissable. Nothing to be done about it.

He seemed to cringe away from you.

Don’t try anything, skank.

You bounce back onto your heels.

I wasn’t, asshole. We don’t have to do anything– just… like… did it hurt?

He paused for a full ten seconds (you counted) and swallowed real hard. Eyes wide as hubcaps, and dark, and frightened. He craned his neck toward you a little.

Then the door swung open, Tina Burton standing there hand-in-hand with an irritated-looking Steve Harrington. Time’s up, losers!

Al hadn’t asked if it hurt, when he beat the crap out of him for doing something so stupid. Wayne hadn’t even asked if it hurt, when Eddie came back from the hospital like a dog with its tail between its legs.

You were the first, and you were the last, and it was before everything. Before you were even Lacy.

“What happened, anyway?” you ask. Soft. Like that last time.

Now, in retrospect, Eddie sees the error of his ways.

“I lit all my hair on fire with a butane torch.”

“You what?!”

“It’s not– entirely my fault! I think I saw someone with hair on fire in an X-Men comic and I thought, y’know, that’s an achievable look.” That’s a severe understatement. It was Johnny Storm from The Fantastic Four and Eddie believed that he could be like Johnny Storm only more badass and maybe with like a sick motorbike. What, you’re telling me you didn’t go through a pre-teen-to-mid-teen phase where you were secretly convinced you had superpowers? Smarten up.

“And how high–”

“Yeah, okay, I was also hitting a Reddi-Wip can like crazy.” The nitrous oxide did not help these delusions.

“Why the big bandage?”

“Eh, I got some, like, bitsy little burn. Total overreaction.”

“Do you have a scar?” Before he can answer, you’re parting his hair, right near the place you remember that bandage being. Eddie freezes, your frigid fingertips searching his scalp. You are… very close.

“Uh– no, I don’t.” He gulps, avoiding looking at you directly in your bright, curious little face. “Can I tell you something truly fucking dumb?”

“Wouldn’t be out-of-character for you, that’s for sure.”

Deep, deep breath. Fucking shit fucking goddammit fuck. Balls. “I regret it.”

“The hair thing? Yeah, you’d think–”

“No. Not kissing you.”

“Oh.” Your hands drop from his skull but don’t exactly leave his hair. Just kind of wound in there, hovering, the way you feel like you’re hovering now.

“You asked me if it hurt, and then I was gonna– but then, fucking Tina–” Eddie says, eyes dashing to you in these minute little glances. Away, back, away, back.

“Fuckin’ Tina,” you breathe.

“--and Harrington.”

“Ah.” You shut your eyes. He didn’t notice you were wearing green eyeshadow until right now. “The square root of the problem.”

“Huh?” Barely heard it. Too busy looking at the glitter on your eyelids. The way your eyeballs shift around underneath.

“You’re totally lemon sour bitter with Harrington because you think he made you blow your shot with me.” You open your eyes with a squint.

“That is so not–” Break a spell, why dontcha! But then, Eddie takes a bite. “Actually, if you pop-psychology that, there might be somethin’ there, but… I regret it because I didn’t just–”

You cut in. “Go for it.”

“Shoot.” He confirms.

“Power. Forward.” You emphasize, lips curling.

“Cheer. Leader.” Eddie says, gravel in his voice.

Do you know that your hand is still in his hair? Like, are you physically aware of it? (Answer: no.)

Nick. Nicky?

What.

You asleep?

Yes.

Good. I wanna talk to you.

Your head swivels back from the screen. He watched you look away, dart your tongue out onto your lip, look back at him.

“Eddie.” There’s fizz in your voice.

“Yes, Lacy.” He wonders what flavor.

“I think…” and you finally extract your hand to lay it in your lap. Withdrawing, willing to be shot down, but you’re you and you know that you won’t be. “We could make a case for making up for lost time.”

Eddie’s mouth has become very dry. “... meaning that…”

“Eddie, I think that you should kiss me like a seventh grader– eighth grader? So weird, why did Wheeler have eight graders at her bir–”

“Lacy. Back on track, please,” which is another horrendously pin point perfect impression of you. And he needs to be sure that you just said what you just said and that isn’t the ghosts of Lipton landing talking.

“We should try it out. An honest-to-god, never-been-done-before Seven Minutes in Heaven kiss. I happen to think it’d fix something in you.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs.

“No, I’m serious!” And it is kind of fizzing out of you, and you might not be entirely just talking about him for this next part, “I think you’re holding onto a lot of pent up energy that may have just gotten even more pent since we became, y’know–”

“Zoo animals with parallel enclosures?” Eddie says with an arching eyebrow.

“Wow,” you swallow a breath. “That really sounded like me.”

“I’m afflicted with a Lacyism from time to time.”

“Is that like astigmatism? Because you should get that looked at.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist?”

“Eddie.” Your voice, coming from your face, which is all dappled in the unserene technicolor glow of the Eckers’ Christmas lights, highlighted by the blaze of the black and white on TV. You make it look like stained glass. He would walk into oncoming traffic– “You trust me, right?” He would go and play on the freeway if you asked him to.

Eddie, Christ, he’s got to gather himself. Like the sweat gathering on his palms, he thinks, great work ethic, I need some of that. He gets a bright idea, brighter than those twinkling lights. “I think I need full authenticity in order to make this experience worth it.”

“What?”

“We need to find a closet.”

It’s pretty much a hard no on whether or not the Eckers have a linen closet (you’re a long way from Maple Lane now, babe), so it’s agreed that you’ll give Granny Ecker’s wardrobe a shot. You follow Eddie in there with tentative steps, like you can almost feel her watching all the way from the Best Western in Indianapolis she’s no doubt staying in. Trespassing is bad, yadda yadda, but it’s also exciting.

It’s exciting, being in here with him.

He glances back at you, eyes a glimmer in the darkened bedroom. “After you,” and he flourishes a hand toward the open closet.

You two are so not seventh graders anymore– heads bang against hangers, you’re kind of melting into a lot of denim and fleece and you… you don’t have much breathing room. No lavender detergent, just the beer-and-old-weed-sweet smell of Eddie Munson pushed close to flush against your chest. The scent of that shampoo you both use caught somewhere in the middle.

Your breathing is so shallow, you feel like you might be having an asthma attack. You don’t have asthma.

“Tight,” he says, and knits his brows, “I mean–”

“Cozy,” you correct, unsure of where to put your hands.

“We’re not cozy people.”

“So let’s do this,” you attempt to smooth your face into something resembling nonchalance, “Kiss me like a seventh-or-eighth grader, Eddie Munson.”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. A smile keeps flicking and dying on his lips. Heart about to burst out of his chest because of how weird this is, because of how weird you are, because of how– how–

Eddie knits his fingers behind his back in an imitation of you, your girlish pose, and leans forward. About ninety percent, just in case you decide this was a stupid idea, or you don’t like the look of his face up close, or– or–

You close that perfect ten. Your lips feel like flower petals. Light. Baby-soft. Crushable.

It’s so chaste and it’s so innocent. It’s so the diametric opposite of the two of you, brash and harsh in your diverging, abstracting ways– waving only to meet in the middle. It’s pretty, like you are, and Thumper-from-Bambi-thumping-his-foot nervous like he gets around you.

You pull away a fraction, and Eddie swallows a sound. To save face, he is about to say something– I give it a six or that’s what I’ve been missing out on this whole time or you flap that mouth an awful lot for someone who doesn’t know how to use it, something equally goading. Something that would make this… normal.

Until you take his bottom lip between yours. And it’s wet there. And it’s warm. And your lips are so, so crushable–

Eddie’s fingers unweave and find your arms, find your waist. Slow, slow, he takes it slow because he could scare you and he doesn’t want to scare you. You’re curving into him, lips slicking against his, and then his tongue licking it’s way into your mouth which you just fucking open for him and it’s so good–

–and he tastes like salt and smoke and he holds you like he’s anchoring himself against you. Your hands wind on up, up, up his chest, catching on his t-shirt where his chest is (duh duh duh you fucking idiot), where his heart is thrumming under that smatter of a tattoo you got caught staring at that night in his trailer. It’s all you’ve got in you not to tug it up and off him, but Christ, no, because you need to keep kissing him. It’s so nice, it feels so nice, kissing him, when was the last time something felt as nice, that’s all you can think with sensation seeping through your body like a sugar rush. Hands move to either side of his neck and he makes a noise.

Your fingers, fishing hooks in his hair, pulling him closer and closer to you.

The heat. Of his body. Matched only by the heat gathering in the cherry pit that lives in your stomach.

And he needs, god, Eddie needs it fucking bad. It is a lot of things. It includes your tongue so far inside his mouth that you can taste the Tab on his uvula this time. It includes more of your tits pressed against him, so he can feel if your nipples have hardened under his touch. It includes this moment, just this moment, just kissing you as your body winds around him–

But then you pull back. Before he can whisper the little, “No…” that’s coming like a reflex, you cover his mouth with your hand. The mouth that’s all slick from kissing– you.

Jesus Christ. You had really done that. The stupid, idiot both of you.

“Guys?”

Eddie, dizzy and down-the-rabbit-hole tipsy Eddie, gets the impulse to lick your hand, to take your fingers in his mouth and just start sucking, but he doesn’t do it. Because he has now snapped to the fact that that’s Ronnie Ecker calling out for you.

The two of you, twisted around each other like snakes in her grandmother’s closet.

“Go,” you hiss– no, you breathe. He was just expecting you to hiss. But you’re breathy and unsure about the command you’re giving. Still, you jerk your head.

Well, Eddie’s pretty hard up about telling you this, but, “Can’t. Need a sec–” Like, can’t you feel that?

Eddie’s standing more than half to attention, pressing in between the both of you.

You let out a jagged breath that sounds like oh, fuck, and it’s not the kind of oh, fuck he was hoping to hear and his heartbeat stutters.

And then you’re gone.

Eddie stands there, hands held aloft around the ghost of you that was there, that was right there and kissing him. Like you meant it, like it wasn’t an experiment or a joke or a dare or anything other than what you wanted. You wanted him. You wanted him. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he breathes into his hands, dragging them down his face, his lips, the smell of you still lingering around him. “Oh… I am so fucked.”

Kentucky fried fucked.

You make your way back to the living room on trembly legs, reaching for every steadying surface, attempting to destroy the evidence of a swollen mouth and Munson-finger ruffled hair. You find Ronnie sitting upright on the couch. Nick and Nora have nearly solved the case. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a mask of your face that could easily lie to her.

“Munson had to pull trig,” you say, and it’s not steady enough for Ronnie to not call bullshit.

But she doesn’t. Not outright anyway.

“He okay?” she asks, nearly wary.

“I don’t know. Could be comin’ out of both ends, I don’t know,” you start scrambling around for your bag and your shoes and your coat and not your right mind because you left that back in the closet, somewhere between Eddie’s teeth and tongue. “Look, I hate to ditch on you, but my mom–”

“She’ll be on your ass,” Ronnie says, measured like a cup. “Sure. Go on. I’ll think about calling 911 if he chokes.”

Breathing out some piss-poor rendition of a thanks, you dip out of Ronnie’s and past his van and all the way back the lot towards home.

It’s freezing. You’re not. For once.

When Eddie finally reappears from the closet, Ronnie is sitting in the exact same position. Except this time she looks somewhat judgier– maybe because it’s easier to be judgier toward Eddie than it is toward you. Some kind of girl politico he doesn’t understand.

“You feel better?”

“Huh?” Eddie says. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Do you feel better. Lacy told me you had to barf.”

“I… I guess.” Eddie has already cashed in his once-in-a-lifetime lie convincingly to Ronnie Ecker voucher.

“She also told me you maybe shit yourself?”

Alright, well, that was unnecessary. “Alright, well, that was unnecessary.”

“I guess I was just hoping that…” she sighs, crossing her arms, “... that you weren’t puking and shitting yourself…” she sits back against the couch, “... when you were making out with her. In my… bathroom?”

He really does consider leaving out this detail. “Granny’s closet.”

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“She’ll know. She’ll kill me.”

“Oh, she’ll kill ya,” Ronnie mutters, “And then I’ll go to work on ya.”

—

You two have got to stop fucking each other over like this.

Fucking each other over, conceptually, actually, is interesting. Because Eddie’s done a whole lot of fucking you over in his mind since that closet. Sliding your panties aside and fucking you with his tongue, polyester lace of your stockings creating static against his hair, sparks snapping off your inner thighs as you rub against his nose.

Following you back to your trailer and fucking you with his fingers against the cold, metal exterior, your nails digging into his neck and your voice stabbing his name into his eardrums.

Pulling you into his lap in the driver’s seat and tearing through the cotton of your underwear with sheer animalistic fervor, making you lean back against the steering wheel as he sucks your tightened nipples, cock safe and warm in the slick, deep wet of you.

Somethin’ like that. He didn’t sleep much this weekend.

Mind stuck on the one track, your lips smacking against his. Now in fabulous 3D!

In every single one of these fantasies, too, his idiot sap ass is whining your name fifty billion times more than you’re whining his– so much so that it breaks the fantasy barrier and he’s crying, “Fuck, Lacy-yy–,” into his limp pancake of a pillow, cum careening down a fist that should have nerve damage by now.

He is exhausted. And to make it worse, he hasn’t seen you.

He hasn’t even been avoiding you this time. So that’s all on you, you bitch.

“You bitch…” he mumbles, head resting against the cold brick of the newly-unisex senior bathroom, which has become a hellhole in no time. First period on a Monday is usually an okay time to get a bit of peace and fucking quiet, though, because everyone else is at least making an attempt at starting the week off on the right foot.

But not Eddie. Not worn out, prick-tired Eddie.

And not whoever is doing a horrible job of hyperventilating in the stall next to him.

“Excuse me?” a breathless voice says. He thinks he kinda recognizes it but–

Then, ew! Some gagging, some violent coughing, a little ugh, Jesus, please not again–

Eddie slides out of his stall and knocks on the next door– and it swings open with ease.

She’s crouched over the cistern–gross, fucking gross–and tears are streaming down her peachy cheeks, catching on her pointed chin.

“Christ, Wheeler. S’matter, you pregnant?”

Nancy Wheeler’s eyes flash in a flare of rage, a choked scoff spitting out of her. She’s about to fucking cuss Eddie out, it looks like, which he kind of wants to see, but then whatever straw that’s holding that together snaps and she lets out this wild sob of total incredulity.

Ohhh, as much as he would love to bolt out the door like it’s not his problem, Eddie realizes that this has now, somehow, somewhat become kind of his problem.

—

“I gotta talk to you.”

Ronnie Ecker appears like a lightning flash, knocking you clean out of your reverie of slowly crawling fingers and lips and teeth and guilt that had been plaguing you all weekend.

You had spent most of the last forty eight hours staring into the middle distance, ready to glue upright nails into your shoes and walk on them for penance. You fucking stupid slut. Kiss me like a seventh-eighth grader, Eddie Munson. You unbelievable fucking cowshit. See, because, okay, do you know what you’ve done?

You’ve taken the first real friendship you’ve possibly ever had in your life (save for Phoebe, God rest her soul that moved to Saskatoon) and completely entirely fucked it sideways, and sure, you’ve also spent a lot of the weekend thinking about other things getting fucked sideways, like you since you’re now cursed with the knowledge of the vague suggestion of the outline of Eddie Munson’s dick but moreso, foremostly and mainly you want to fucking take a swandive off the edge of Sattler’s Quarry.

Addendum– there’s too many quarries in this fucking county.

A ping-ponging of guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-slinking your way to first period the long way that’s only now broken by Ronnie Ecker coming down on you like an Acme anvil.

Meep meep.

She knows. Of course she knows.

“Ronnie,” you whisper, eyes following her as she lands herself into the aforementioned Munson’s seat behind you, “I can explain…”

“Don’t!” There is this vigor, this knife’s edge in Ronnie’s voice that is terrifying and kind of thrilling but mostly scary and having been in the presence of Granny Ecker even those few times, you knew she always had it in her.

You recoil. A little.

“If Eddie wants to be a fucking moron about you, please can we just let him, and not–” Ronnie’s mouth clamps closed like a Muppet’s might. Like she’s physically trying to calm herself down. “Look. I really like being your friend.”

Oh, Christ, your heart. “I r– I–”

“You’re dogshit with the emotional stuff, I get that, but I’ve been friends with that asshole so long that wearing my heart on my sleeve is like, second fucking nature so I’m not and I’m pissed off, frankly, that there’s a chance of him coming between, like… us.”

You and Ronnie. You, and your friend Ronnie. “Oh, it’s–”

“Because technically, by absolute technicality, I was your friend first, okay? We were lab partners first and I thought we had a vibe goin’ in Biology and I was the first person you wanted to talk to at the Hellfire table even if it was a thinly veiled ploy but you’re so good at ploys and you’re such a piece of work and you’re so funny and I wouldn’t know what Ponds cold cream actually does if it wasn’t for you. Fuck.”

“Granny’s a soap and water girl.” There’s a fluttering in your chest and a thickening in your throat. You swallow big, and you think you might actually start– “This doesn’t mean I’m gonna try fencing, Ron.”

“But it’s fucking cool, even if we do it with sticks.”

You take her in, baseball cap shoved over her coiled hair, darned-all-to-hell sweater sagging out under her overalls and you really feel like something is about to bust out of your chest. Your honest-to-god friend, Ronnie Ecker.

“Miss Ecker, last time I checked, that’s not your assigned seat.” God, Kaminsky’s such a relentless dickwad.

“I’m having a conversation,” Ronnie says, with the kind of as-yet-unheard volume from her that makes the rest of the class go ooooh!

Jesus fucking Christ, have you turned Ronnie Ecker into a bad girl?

“I don’t give a shit!” rumpled Kaminsky says, slapping that dusty chalkboard duster full of dust, “Have it in detention.”

“Hey! That’s–”

But if you can do one thing for Ronnie. “No can doozy, Mr K, Miss Ecker has a prior commitment.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not you again,” he mumbles not-quite-under his breath. “And what is that? Lacy?”

Before you can even say the words peer tutoring, none other than Eddie Munson is barrelling through the door. He stops comically short at the top of the classroom, gesturing to Ronnie in his seat like what the fuck?

“Lacy!” he eventually says, and he’s breathless and flustered and just like you imagined him in–

“Munson, what in the name of the goddamn Father Almighty–”

“Weekly Streak–” and guy is just snapping his fingers, blinking wildly at you, “–thing!”

You stare on in a state of confusion until you spy Nancy Wheeler right in your eyeline, right through the open classroom door. Her little face streaked with tears, and god, she looks like shit, and she’s beckoning to you with a flutter and a fury.

“No, of course!” a little murmuring, uh, shit, and you hurry to the top of the classroom, slamming the homework that Kaminsky’s obviously going to ask for on his desk with a rattle.

“Kaminsk, my man, the future of print media is forever in your debt!” Eddie calls, ushering you out the door and into the echoey hallway.

“What is going on?”

Both Eddie and Nancy shuffle you down the hallway, avoiding the monitors (rat finks!), dipping under the east stairwell. A great stairwell. So much illicit shit has happened in this stairwell and you have an itemized list of it all, somewhere in your brain. The kind of person people tell things to.

Nancy’s just full tilt gulping like a fish out of water, and Eddie’s all, “Wait, shit, are you gonna barf again?” and you’re all, “Answers, please, tout suite!”

“I’m late.” Nancy’s voice doesn’t even tremble. She’s that scared.

“Fuck.”

“Very?”

“Extremely.”

“You’re sure?” you press, and suddenly you’re the kind of person that grabs Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders.

Her lip trembles. “I mean, I haven’t–”

“Well, we gotta. Right now.” And it occurs to you that Eddie is just standing there, a polite enough distance away that he’s involved but kind of not involved, but respecting the space that you two need. How does he know how to do that? How does he always know the right… “Eddie.”

He snaps to attention, mouth all serious and eyes all eager. You want to kiss him again, but this shit is not about you.

“We need a ride to the drugstore.”

The three of you pile into Eddie’s van, him insisting on doing the honors of opening the passenger door for you again, and Nancy quietly requesting that you share the passenger seat with her. You two are squished together, her spindly thighs overlapping yours. Denim versus dark suede. There is a very tense silence in place the entire van ride there, Nancy digging her nails into her palm and Eddie nervously thrumming against the steering wheel. The tape deck plays resumes mid-play– Metallica’s Ride the Lightning.

For your part, you experience a harsh zoom-out moment– Nancy, who you’ve learned is almost as strong-headed as you, just on a better moral track (lawful good versus chaotic neutral, you think Eddie once framed it), is stranded. She’s the eldest sibling to that little shitstain Michael and Holly, who’s a baby so to you has no discernible personality, and her mother is kind of an airhead and her father… you don’t know shit about, but it’s Hawkins, so dads. The responsibility of everything seems to fall on her all the time, and you can only be so resourceful as a teenage girl in a town like this. Especially when the other teenage girls seem to, at best, keep you at arm’s length, or at worst, ostracize you.

And Nancy had lost Barbara Holland. Who, when she mentions her, is talked about with such a glow that’s followed by such a wave of sadness that it nearly takes you under too.

She misses her so much. She misses her best friend so much.

Barb should be the one dealing with this. Not you. Which sounds like you’re shirking responsibility. But really, it’s because you don’t know if you fully deserve the privilege of helping Nancy.

Truth is, Nancy would probably be okay, handling this on her own. Sure, it’d be another inch of depth added to the chasm of loneliness building in that poor girl’s psyche, but she’d do it, because she’s Nancy and she handles things.

Just like you’re Lacy and you handle things.

But however Eddie Munson ended up as part of this situation… he brought her to you. Because he knew you’d know what to do. So she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Because Eddie doesn’t want people to do things alone.

You only really have that impulse if you know how terrible it feels.

And if you don’t see kindness as a weakness.

Which Nancy doesn’t. And Eddie doesn’t. And you… don’t want to, anymore.

You reach and peel Nancy’s fingernails from the grooves they’re digging into her flesh. You don’t even look at the half-moon marks they’ve made. You just glue her palm to your palm and web your fingers. And over the frizz of Nancy’s perm–the nice kind, salon kind, the kind that doesn’t stink of egg–you look at Eddie, just as he glances at you.

He smiles, small and unsure and wavering. You bite your lips between your teeth and try the same.

“Shit, I don’t think I can go in here.”

The van has skidded into an inconspicuous (but not entirely, because have you seen that fucking vehicle) place near the drugstore.

“Why?”

“People– the pharmacist knows my mom and everything,” Nancy shudders, “There’s no way that people won’t have something to– fucking say.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and you give him a look like, welcome to the Nancy Wheeler Actually Swears Club. Care for a canape?

And y’know, you could argue so what. So what if people have something to say. You’re young, mistakes happen, the world keeps turning. But one skip in a perfect twelve-inch record of reputation like Nancy’s can make her life a living hell. You know that.

Shit, she knows that– you weren’t not aware of that stroke of creative genius vandalism that went up on the Hawk marquee that one time.

And it would shatter Nancy’s mom’s heart. And while you don’t have the same time of day for her, Nancy really loves her mom.

Once you’ve ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely.

That moveable feast motherfucker was onto something.

Click, and Eddie’s glovebox pops open in a clatter of tapes and a one-hitter and other ephemera. You reach in, retrieving sunglasses you’d left in here a little bit ago.

“So let’s give ‘em something to talk about,” you say, sliding on the shades.

Nancy clutches your arm, eyes wide and searching. “Lacy.”

You shrug, like it’s nothing. Except nerves have started nibbling at you. “Spot me a ten. What am I, a goddamn Rockefeller?”

“Not anymore,” Eddie Munson grins at you. Sun breaking through the bleak midwinter. The nerves cease their nibbling.

—

The tension doesn’t exactly ease when you make a beeline for the drugstore (particularly because you’ve just accepted a goddamn miniature hero’s quest and he’s a little… well, he’s not not watching your ass as you walk away, let’s put it that way).

Eddie and Nancy Wheeler are still absolutely enormous universes apart. Not even the same species. He doesn’t mind keeping it that way. This right here is just, like… the right thing to do.

He moves to turn the radio down, figuring that the thrum of Fade to Black might be a little much for her right now. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for–”

“No, it’s okay.” Wheeler smiles that flat, priss smile reserved for the barest of polite gestures.

Eddie nods, propping his elbow against the window, cupping his face in his hand. He keeps kind of sneaking sidelong glances toward Wheeler, because– well, had you told her anything? About… Seven Minutes in Heaven? Does she even remember that, from her birthday party all that time ago? He knew that you two weren’t exactly tight, but were well on your way to getting tight, but not as tight as you are with Ronnie and certainly not as tight as you are–or were–with him and Jesus Christ almighty, he’s got to find a synonym for the word tight.

“You… play Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Wheeler asks all of a sudden.

Eddie glances down– he is in fact wearing his Hellfire shirt. She’s a sharp one, that Nancy.

“I dabble,” he says, a derisive little chuckle that’s not all-the-way mean spirited.

Wheeler bobs her head. “My brother, Mike,” she says, and he sees now that it’s an effort to keep her nerves steady, “he loves it. Like, he’s totally obsessed. Him, and his friends, they’ve got their own little party going. Majorly long campaigns, very involved.”

“Campaigns, parties. Using terminology like that, I’d say you’re something of a dabbler, Wheeler.”

Nancy chuckles. “I– may have dressed up as an elf for one. Or two. When I was way, way younger, though.”

“Well, your brother– Mike?” Eddie checks and Nancy nods, “Once he gets to high school, why dontcha tell him to look up Hellfire. Could be the best-worst decision he’ll make for the next four years of his life.”

“Right, because you’ll be passing the torch,” she says, grinning.

“And possibly to a Wheeler. Oh my stars and garters,” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest in mock-shock.

Wheeler laughs and, okay, maybe she’s not so bad.

“Shoot, we have movement.” And out you come, holding the Advance pregnancy test over your head, gleaming and victorious– but Eddie and Nancy flap their hands, willing you to put that fucking thing away! We’re being subtle!

Climbing back in the van, you announce, “Alright, so the good news– no doctoral interference, obviously. The wonders of modern medicine, everybody give thanks to Johnson and Johnson, et cetera. The bad news– who knows of somewhere we can steal–” you glance back at the box, “--thirty glorious uninterrupted minutes of time?”

“Lacy, I can just–” Nancy starts, but you stop her short with a tap to the head.

“And have you sitting in class all day with your guts churning because you don’t know what’s up or down that spout? I think the fuck not. We’re doing this now.” This is out of the goodness of your heart, you swear it is.

But there might be a fraction, just a generous sliver, that still loves the drama.

Like Steve Harrington, it’s not an immediate shed of the ego. It’s a slough.

“Well, my place is a no-go,” Nancy tells you, shrugging into herself. “My mom will definitely be home.”

“Ditto,” and your mother is the only person you know that loves gossip more than you do. Besides Eddie, of course.

After a beat or two of wondering silence, Eddie raises a hand. “I may… have someplace… we can go.”

—

How many cherry bombs does it take to make a boy’s bathroom look like the bombing of Dresden?

“So fuuun fact, turned out that some nerd swiped a hunk of sodium from the Chemistry lab and just blew this mother to shit,” Eddie brightly informs you and Nancy as the two of you pour over the instructions for the pregnancy test kit.

“While everyone was distracted by Heather Holloway’s implants, you mean?” you murmur, scanning over the small-sheet size booklet.

“Streets are saying she was an accomplice.”

Holy fuck, these instructions were involved. Nancy stands clutching the little rectangular tray that her pee is supposed to go in, nailing Eddie with a look beyond normal categorical nerves. “You’re sure no one’s gonna come in here?”

He shakes his head. There might as well be police tape all over the door of this bathroom, that’s how off limits it is. “It’s cold, it’s broken, it smells gross. Maybe some people are using this place to huff paint, but I can guarantee, Wheeler–” and he bends a little to meet her earnest eyes, “--I will bark like a fucking rabid dog to clear ‘em away if I need to.”

Nancy nods shortly. Jerk, jerk. She disappears into the least dilapidated stall with her pee rectangle.

“God, she is so scared,” Eddie murmurs to you, crossing his arms.

You’re still studying the instructions. This shit has droppers and test tubes and color changing strips, oh my. “Pissing shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

Wrong.

“Guys.”

“Yes?” “Yeah, Wheeler?”

“I’m a little, ahem–” Bladder shy. Perfect. Awesome. Not that you guys aren’t going to be shacked up here for thirty minutes anyway, but that’s only after Nancy Wheeler goes number one and you, like, mix up the pregnancy oracle potion.

Shit. “We’ve gotta do something to like, make her chill out–” Eddie half-mouths at you.

“Yeah, but she’s so high strung, that’s like–” a spark hits you. “Wait, have you got anything on you?”

“Fresh out. Waiting on a shipment from Lipton landing.”

You smack him, not even thinking, and he winces. “And all that shit you were smoking the other day, that was–” “That was market research, babe, and I told you that–”

Nancy clears her throat from inside the stall. “Please, don’t quit bickering on my account. I’m only trying to figure out whether or not I need to start rehearsing lullabies.”

Damn Nancy, Eddie mouths and you almost laugh. Wait.

“Nance, what’s your favorite song?”

“Huh?”

You shake your hands. “Like, the song you absolutely cannot go without hearing? The one that makes you feel, just–”

“Ticklish?” Eddie suggests, the paragon of knowledge, the pinnacle of your annoyance. You thump him again. “I need a safe word.”

“Um– uh…”

“C’mon, Wheeler, the song that makes you feel just… awesome and chill and on top of the fucking world, c’mon!” Eddie encourages, kicking detritus around the bathroom floor.

Nancy eventually, eventually mumbles something.

You pivoting around on your heel by the sink. “Louder, Wheeler, I wasn’t born with sonar.”

“It’s– it’s ‘Just What I Needed’.”

What? Eddie mouths to you, arms binding across his chest.

“What, like– The Cars, ‘Just What I Needed’?”

A pause from Nancy’s end. “... yeah.”

You know this song. You know that song, right, it’s like duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW… Shaking yourself out, you brace up like a boxer heading into the ring.

“Gimme a lead in, Nancy.” Holy fucking shit, you’re really doing this. Nancy hesitates, probably because she can’t believe any of you are really doing this.

A mumble… “I don’t mind you comin’ here…”

“--and wastin’ all my time!” you jump in, “”cause when you’re standin’ oh so near, I kinda lose my mind…”

Visions of a plush lilac bedroom, yours, and a mountain of clothes and makeup and drained wine cooler bottles on the floor. You, standing on your bed in your socks and shorts, vamping– Tina and Carol singing hairbrush backup, Nicole on air guitar and Cass smoking out the window. There were flashes of this, you know, when it wasn’t all boiling vitriol and subtle shivving and one-up-manship. When you and those girls that you wished you weren’t near but knew you needed actually felt like friends.

A memory like that makes you feel empty.

“It’s not the perfume that you wear,” oh my god, “It’s not the ribbons–in–your–hair,” is he really, “And I don’t mind you comin’ here– and wastin’ all my time!”

Why the fuck does Eddie Munson know this song?! Your jaw drops open, your eyes go wide and your feet stamp against the tile like a goddamn kid. Yes! Yes! Amazing! You’re both so fucking out of tune, like there is absolutely a reason he does not sing a single note in Corroded Coffin but by god alive, you’re giving it everything you got in that fucked up boy’s bathroom.

Eddie’s so much better at it than you are, pouring every bit of obnoxious showmanship into it that he possibly can– complete with pulling you in for a fully nonsensical dance number. You spin into him, crashing into his chest with a clumsiness you never thought possible, laughing so hysterically that you can barely get the words out. He’s holding the reins, and holding that falsetto so badly you think the mirrors will shatter.

Your skin is buzzing, your heart is hammering and Eddie is pressed against your back and you are both scream-singing to the door of Nancy’s cubicle– “I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed! I needed someone to feed– I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed I needed someone to–”

“Pee! Pee, you guys, I’m peeing!” Nancy’s voice, bright and high from actually laughing, rings from the busted toilet.

You and Eddie erupt into a triumphant yell, him shaking you like a rag doll against him. The laughter peels away and then it’s just kind of him, looking at you from over your shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around your waist. His lips, a little cracked. Breath a little labored. Lashes still so long. You nearly–

The door flings open and he jumps away from you first. Nancy heads toward the sink and you resume the position, helping her figure out the Chemistry play set that holds the answer to how the rest of her life pans out. Thirty whole minutes, they’ve got to wait.

Nancy notes the time on her watch.

She even suggests that you guys can go at one point, but Eddie reminds her that a) he’s keeping an eye out for paint huffers and b) “... y’know, maybe it’s not so great to…” “Do this on your own,” you finish for him. Nancy nods, silent and grateful and so fucking nervous.

At about the seventeen minute mark, when you and Eddie have smoked four cigarettes each and Nancy has tried a puff of one (“Nope,” she hacks, “still totally vile…”), Eddie tosses this stink bomb between you two. Nancy has excused herself to stand with her head against the cubicle door. Something about calming her nerves. Coming up with a plan. Something to tell Steve, no doubt.

So it’s just you and Eddie, you sitting on the edge of the sink and Eddie rhythmically kicking the wall.

“You ever wanna be a mom?”

“Jesus, what a time to land that one on me.” You almost make a joke like you haven’t even stuck it in me yet, but that’s in bad taste. And implies a yet.

Eddie smiles over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. Stupid. Stupid eyelashes. “Grounds of relevance.”

You pinch your lips between your teeth. “... fine. But, I fully reserve the right to change my answer given the fact that we are eight-shitting-teen years old.”

He points to the cubicle and mutters, “Well, she’s seventeen.”

You, wide-eyed at his dumbassery, mouth I know!

“Okay. Sorry. Go.”

“Fuuuuuck no. No babies pour moi, merci, c’est bon, au revoir!”

Eddie turns to lean against the wall, propping one leg up. God, but he does lean great.

“Why?”

“Genetic fate.”

“Huh?”

A sigh flutters out of you, shoulders slumping forward. “A certain… how do you say, thread of assholery runs through my family, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Eddie nods sagely and you kind of want to punch him for it. “Daddy issues. Right.”

“Uh!” A hand flies up in your defense. “Let who among us here without them cast the first stone.”

From the cubicle, Nancy calls, “Not me.”

Surrendering, Eddie grumbles, “Yeah, not me either.”

“Glad we agree.”

There’s another tick and tock of silence, and you get the distinct feeling of something being pried open in the atmosphere.

“... whatever happened with your dad, anyway?”

Ah. The million dollar question. Whatever happened with your dad, so-called upstanding member of the Hawkins community, poor little poor boy done rich, scaling his way up the ladder of property management in this delightful little Midwestern enclave?

“Not a big fan of the news, are we, Munson?”

He seems to grimace at you tugging on his surname. “Print’s too small.”

“Taking offense to that,” Nancy chimes.

“It was the big ‘E’,” you say, kind of not into bantering about it.

“‘E’... ‘E’... ‘E’...” Eddie kicks the wall on each utterance. Possibly forgetting that he could also be the big ‘E’, if he wanted. You wonder if, just in terms of size…

“Embezzlement, Eddie,” you cut that thought off cold.

His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting under his shaggy bangs. “Shooooot.”

“Score.”

“What all did he, like… embezzle?”

The raising of the hackles is not entirely intentional. “Y’know who’d be able to answer that question, Eddie?”

But he sees it. He calms it. In unison, you both shrug, “Al Munson.”

Boom! Cubicle door flies open again. You’re starting to think that Nancy might just love making an entrance. Lot of flourishing happening here. Not entirely unlike Eddie in that way.

“It’s time.”

Each and every one of you beeline to where the test is set up on one of the sinks. Nancy gingerly plucks the offending strip from the test tube and Eddie, a man with money on his mind, asks another million dollar question. “So how do you know…”

You grab the instruction leaflet that you’d been tearing corners off of, making it look nearly moth-bitten. “Wait, it’s white, right?”

“It’s white,” Nancy whispers.

“It’s not, like… off blue, or…”

“No, that is white,” she’s trembling. “Is white– is that good, or– I can’t remember.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” you breathe, peeking over the paper, “Congratulations. You are nobody’s mother!”

She emits a shriek like nothing you’ve ever heard and barrels straight into you, near knocking you off your feet with a strength you didn’t know this little waif was capable of possessing. Her arms wrap boa constrictor tight around you, her words bubbling over like a shook up can of pop. “Jesus Christ, I’m so relieved, I just– I–!”

“You’re relieved?!” Eddie yells, ringed hands tearing down his face, “I’m way too young to be an uncle! Fuck! Thank god!”

Nancy chokes out a laugh through her tears, tears of relief, thank god and– and you don’t know if it’s selfish and you don’t know if it’s possible but you hope… you hope that’s helped close the chasm. Just a little bit. That she didn’t have to do this all alone in a shithouse bathroom that smells like sulfur and piss.

Breaking away from you (damn, you wish you knew how to hug), Nancy straightens herself up. Not that she needs to. She’s a pretty crier, that bitch.

“Just one more thing, you guys.”

“Anything,” you say before you even know you’ve said it.

“This is… between us, okay?” her eyes dart from you to Eddie, and you both take a step closer to her. Ceremoniously, Nancy holds out her two pinkie fingers. You link. Eddie links. His finger looks comically large compared to hers– and yours, when he reaches and hooks it around your unsuspecting baby finger.

“No one can know. No one needs to know.” There’s that headstrong Wheeler reserve you’d been missing.

“Cross my heart,” you proclaim.

“Hope to d– well, I don’t hope to die, that’s a little dramatic–”

“Eddie!” you both bark, varying degrees of amusement. Yours is on the lower end. “Swear on something real,” you push.

He hesitates a moment, then gives Nancy a look. “Alright. Swear on Hellfire.”

“Swear on Hellfire,” Nancy grins all tight, and kisses her right hand, hooked into Eddie’s finger. “Lacy?”

“Swear on Hellfire…” You mumble, rolling your eyes and kissing your Nancy’d hand. You need to swallow, first, before you tug your hand that’s hooked into Eddie’s toward your mouth.

And he does the worst thing. He leans down to meet your gaze, suckering you right in as his lips pout. They’re hungry. You’ve met those lips. “Swea-aar,” he sing-songs.

“--on Hellfire, okay,” you scoff, half-laughing into the little kiss.

“Ha!” Eddie barks, so fucking loud that it jumps off the walls. “Trick! You just made a deal with the devil, ladies, so I hope you enjoy eternal damnation at the hands of yours truly!”

Dumb as he is, Eddie might be right. If the way you’re looking at him is anything to go by.

author's notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS. WE GOT IT WE DID IT WE MADE THEM KISS WE MADE THEM REALIZE SOMETHINGS NOT ALL THE THINGS SURELY BUT IT'S. IT'S SOMETHING. IT'S A START! on to the fun bits, like the jokes in the christmas crackers - absolutely obsessed with the mental image of eddie munson's bangs grown too long and he looking like this - cherry bombs down the john is a reference to the classic prank but mostly to american graffiti my beloved. later in the chapter, eddie says that some kid just threw some sodium down there which is something i read about on this reddit thread when researching cherry bombs. domestic terrorism at hawkins high! - p.t. barnum is that mfer that the greatest showman is based on. horrible man! not a fan! - heather holloway's jayne mansfield titties got me thinking about the jayne mansfield-sophia loren photo which has its own wikipedia page??? anyway, lacy coded! - black christmas is a stunning christmas horror film from 1974, which is loosely in part based on a bunch of murders that happened in the westmount neighborhood in montreal, quebec. fun fact, i just moved back from mtl after living there for a year. anyway black christmas kicks ASS - lipton landing is 100% a juno reference. big up my king elliot page - the thin man is one in a series of fantastic lil films from the 1930s all about nick and nora charles, a married couple that get drunk and SOLVE CRIMES. i'm not doing it justice by describing it that way but myrna loy and william powell are the royals of married banter and i model everything i write after their rhythm, more or less. - you're trying to tell me eddie munson didn't do whippets as a kid fucking wise up - one of my personal precious favourite recurring jokes in this series is 'who died and made you my x' and baby. i love a recurring joke - ronnie saying "oh she'll kill ya. then i'll go to work on ya," is a special reference because a) it's from my favourite film of all time, ocean's eleven and b) ayo edebiri, who i've fancast as ronnie ecker, has an ocean's eleven tattoo. we are sisters and also wives! - meep meep! - all i could think about when writing about how guilty lacy was - another metallica needle drop!!!! - pregnancy tests in the 80s really were that insane and involved! there's a great scene in glow (rest in fucking PEACE! gone but never forgotten) of alison brie's character using one, and here's more of the history - maybe the best needle drop of this whole series imo - finally peeped into those daddy issues. look forward to more of that and with that my hellcats, i wish you the merriest of holiday seasons wherever you find yourself and whatever you're doing. i will be back after the christmas break because i have to fully wreck my bank account and see every single person i have ever known and drink every espresso martini on dry land. sorry if there's typos in this, i have been labouring over it for... ever. reblogs, comments, likes and asks are always appreciated and i love you so much it's bordering on criminal! thank you!!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #published by powder

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

Hii, i came on here after months and i immediately fell in love with the i like you couple..

i’m gonna be true to my angst loving ass and ask: how do we have to imagine the situation when kook lashes out with words? do you have a little snippet or something for that maybe or obviously you can just simply answer it’s up to you:) is he mean mean and how does oc deal with him during those times?:|

AN: Haha, warning for angst, obviously. -Masterlist

He knows he's being unreasonable. He should just apologize that he forgot, and move on with it- but for some reason, it's been growing over his head, out of his hands. The jokes of his supposed 'friends' at the gym about his new 'barbie' girlfriend, the fact that he's dealing with jealousy for the first time, and now, you just being reasonably upset over the fact that he knew he had to pick you up from work today, and simply.. didn't.

He doesn't even know why he didn't do it. He just felt too shitty to really get up from his couch.

"Are you even listening to me right now?" You whine, and at that, he snaps.

"I'm not, no, because it's really hard to keep up with the amount of words you're spewing right now." He bites at you, and you're visibly taken aback by his tone. "I get it, I fucked up, jesus christ yeah you had to walk home for once, get over it! Next time get yourself a fucking cab maybe, I'm not your personal slave!" He scoffs, leaving you in the kitchen by yourself, while he himself locks himself in the bathroom to shower, and maybe calm down.

Fucking hell, he'd never yelled like that before. Especially not at you.

He feels like shit as his mood starts to shift underneath the warm water from the shower, guilt creeping up on him. He knows you can't do your drivers license because you're terrified of driving yourself- and yeah, maybe that's why he used that fact to hurt you. He also knows you're insecure about asking things of him- so yeah.

Now that he thinks about it, that was a low blow.

But he just wanted you to stop being so mad at him, he just wanted to have you be quiet for once, because he just couldn't take anymore today.

But he knows it's wrong to be like this. Especially with you, his fucking girlfriend. You had every right to be upset at him, and he deserved the way you were mad at him. Hell, you didn't even curse at him once, he just realized, you were so fucking gentle in telling him that you are disappointed- you never said you were mad at him for not picking him up.

You were just mad that he didn't say anything, making you worry if he was okay.

Fuck.

He dries off, get's dressed, and reemerges from the bathroom with a shameful stance, ready to apologize-

when he notices his apartment is empty. You've left, and he didn't even hear you leave, meaning you must've made sure he didn't notice. A text is sent to you, but he decides to try and call you straight after- but you don't pick up.

Another text is unanswered. Read, but never replied to.

The next few texts over the course of the night don't even get a 'read' anymore. He knows he must've hurt you to ignore him like that, because usually, you'll make your emotions known. You're bold and honest and open, it's what he loves about you- and right now, it terrifies him.

He wants you to shout at him. Yell at him, curse him out over text, anything.

But even the day after, you refuse to acknowledge any of his attempts at communication- even a knock on your door being ignored.

He really fucked up, didn't he?

"Pretty shit being ignored, hm?" You say behind him, putting the heavy looking grocery bags down next to you. He can see the way your fingers are red- they must be hurting bad from the weight of the bags having to be carried all the way from the store up here to your apartment. But even now that he's here, you slap his hands away from the bags when he tries to help, taking them from him instead. "You're not my slave, stop acting like it." You snap, not sparing him a glance as you take your bags inside, his hand quickly reaching out so the door can't fall shut.

"I'm sorry I said that-" He shamefully admits, quietly so, as he watches you unpack the groceries and put them away.

"hmhm." You just hum, still not looking at him.

He wants to say something, but he can't- he doesn't know what he should say, what he can say to make you feel just a little better. So he turns around, when suddenly, your hands slap your babypink kitchen counter.

"So now you're just gonna fuck off?" You say, loudly so, finally looking at him. "That's it? Just leave her be and she'll crawl back eventually?" You accuse, and he shakes his head. "Then what? What's the plan here?!" You yell, and he feels like a little kid getting scolded.

"I don't know what else to do." He whines a little, unsure, uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be in this situation, that's true- and usually, he would do exactly what you accuse him of. Leave, and hope that once he feels better, people will come back to him.

"You're my fucking boyfriend!" You whine, turning around to have your body face him. "I don't know, fucking hug me, or hold my hand, or give me a fucking sign that you care about me!" You say, voice cracking a bit. "We talked about this, Jungkook. I need things like that, I-" You swallow, hard. "-I need, like, something. Give me anything. I feel horrible right now." You beg, and at that he walks towards you, holds you close and sways you from side to side a bit while you hide your face in his chest. "I really love you, but that was mean.." You whimper, and he nods.

"I know." He agrees. "I'm sorry. I really am." He tells you again, and you nod, trying to break free again- but he doesn't budge. "No- you're right." He suddenly says. "I don't.. ever really hold you. I don't make any effort at all." Jungkook sighs, realizing what's been making you so uneasy since the beginning of your relationship. "I just.. I guess, hoped it would turn out okay. That my life is gonna.. stay the same, just with you in it now." He offers, and you cling a bit to the back of his shirt. "But that's the lazy way. And I should stop being lazy."

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult." You mumble against his chest. "I try not to be so clingy-"

"No, be clingy." He disagrees. "You've been... adjusting all the time. All up until now. If anything, you were forced to be my slave, not the other way around." Jungkook realizes. "And that.. needs to stop. I'll be better from now on." He promises.

"I don't want you to change-" You start, but he shakes his head again.

"'I'm not changing." He denies. "I'm gonna adjust, just like you did for me. I love when you're clingy, and loud, and dancing around in the morning, and when you send me weird pictures of dogs you meet every day." He chuckles. "I want to, you know.. aahrgh this is so fucking weird-" He complains to himself, and he laughs.

"No no no, go on, you're doing great." You joke, laughing along.

"I wanna.. you know. Call you stuff." He admits, and you lean away at that to look at him.

"Like, during sex? Geez we've not even had sex yet-" You start, but he shakes his head, ears red, clearly embarrassed.

"No, like.. you know. You call me stuff all the time." He tries again, and you suddenly seem to realize.

"Oooh, like Baby? Babe? Hot guy?" You say, and he nods.

"I don't wanna call you the last one but you get the point." He shrugs, and you nod.

"You don't have to, you know." You say, your arms now resting around his neck. "We can just do small steppies." You shrug.

"I know, but I want to." He admits. "It's just.. hard for me. So, I don't know.. please be patient with me." He carefully asks, and you suddenly smile, pulling him down for a quick peck on his lips.

"I can do that." You nod, before you part from him, dancing towards one of the grocery bags. "Now.. let's eat some icecream!" You laugh, and he shakes his head with a smile.

Happy that he's finally got you back.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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saltydkdan · 8 months

Note

Hello Salt man! You seem like an unhinged enough weeb for this question:

I’m going to be the president of the anime club in my highschool this year and have no fucking idea what I should do for activities and shit.

Any ideas? If not, that’s perfectly fine too!

(Also thank you for reblogging my Peppy drawing it made my day ^^)

No problem! I loved the art

I think it’s pretty obvious for an Anime club to watch Anime, however that shit is basic, and I have some unhinged ideas.

Trivia (the least unhinged)

—Make a trivia game on PowerPoint, or on Kahoot that feature questions based on various popular anime. Get specific and weird for the harder questions.

Anime Debate Club

—(be careful with this one because depending on the group it may get heated lol)

—At the end of a meeting, choose to random anime characters

—Tell members that they can pick sides on which of the two would win in a fight, then between meetings, bring together their arguments for why, they have to have actual citation and examples of the character’s powers, or reference specific canon material

—Bonus points if one of the debate teams puts together a PowerPoint slideshow on a character’s power set, or the other characters weaknesses

—Have a judge award points for valid arguments, but have them be cracked out of their minds about it (For example, awarding points to “Comedy” characters, like if an Osumatsu-San character surviving a Ki blast could be funny? That’s a point towards them. LMAO)

NOTES: Obviously the characters chosen cannot be Goku, Vegeta, Saitama, or in general overpowered characacters. Also, having completely fucking insane match ups, or wildly specific match ups is recommended. Like Bobobo VS Dio Brando from Jojo. Or General Tao from Dragon Ball VS Gojo.

If the fight is extremely one sided, just make a list of all the ways that one side would fucking dominate because that shit is fucking funny LOL.

Weekly Book Club but for anime

—This isn’t really “unhinged” but I recently did a manga book club with friends weekly and it was super cool to meet up and discuss the chapters of a particular series and such

—You can do this for anime and assign a set number of episodes, OR do manga and provide a way to read it online

—Rotate out series every so often so people don’t feel like they’re focusing all their attention to a single series the entirety of the year

—This could be a fun thing to do casually between meetings and to talk about a little at the start

Pitch your favorite

—Have people make a short presentation on PowerPoint to pitch their favorite series that’s 3-5 minutes each, or whatever depending on how many people you have

—If you wanna make it funny make it so they HAVE to include both Pros, AND Cons about it. (Like for One Piece: PRO would be the amazing worldbuilding, and a CON would be that Oda cannot draw women)

Make an Epic OC

—Force people to design OCs for a specific series for that week. If they can draw and want to, they can draw them. If they can’t draw? Make it a stick figure, or a shitty drawing a child would make. And have them make a small write up about the character and their powers.

—This can easily be taken seriously, or just have them make an overpowered self insert, all of it is fine

Anyway that’s all my ideas! Hope this helps or inspires some of your own unhinged ideas

#saltydkdan #salty asks #anime club #anime

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jostyriggslover96 · 8 months

Text

Someone Unexpected

Summary: Kira (OC) and Jack met through mutual friends (Nolan Patrick and Nico Heiser) unexpectedly one summer. Feeling an instant connection, they decide to go on a date. Nerves take over as the two set out on what might be their first date of many. **This is a continuation of Kira & Jack from Summer Rituals, it might be helpful to check that out! *Kira's thoughts have been italicized.

Part of the HEART FIRST Series

Note: Thank you so much for all the love on Summer Rituals, I am super excited to continue Kira and Jack's story! All of your support means a lot to me! I have a lot planned with them, if you want to be tagged let me know.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, past relationships

Word Count: 6k

Life can be surreal sometimes with the way things fall into place. There is this saying about dating that I’ve always hated, ‘you’ll meet someone when you least expect it’. That saying has always set me off because it's never been true. I have spent my fair share of time alone and in relationships with shitty guys; yet, I have never met the right one when I’m not looking for anything. That is, until now.

To say I didn’t expect to meet anyone, let alone Jack Hughes on what seemed like a normal summer day was an understatement. I thought it would be a quiet day on the boat where I could read and Nolan could fish. When I showed up at the docks this morning, there he was in all his glory. Despite being completely enamored with Jack from the moment our eyes locked, I kept a safe distance from him when we all got on the boat. If Nolan invited him, I’m sure he wouldn't be an asshole, but I’ve been hurt one too many times to let my guard down. The last guy though, he did a number on me and it took a lot of time for me to heal. Between the cheating, body shaming, and belittling I experienced with my ex I learned to be very wary about trusting men. Even though it's been two years since I left my ex, I’m just starting to feel like I’ve found myself again.

As a protective factor, I kept my distance from the starry-eyed forward and focused my attention on ensuring Nolan didn’t hit any other boats as he backed out of the marina. Still, I didn’t think anything would come from meeting Jack until he sat down beside me and asked me about the book in my beach bag. That question started everything…the perfect day spent getting to know the perfect guy. I explained to him that the book isn’t really a normal book, but it’s actually a collection of poetry.

“So the poems all flow together, but they aren’t about the exact same thing,” I tried to explain to Jack as I thumbed through the book to show him some examples. He was surprisingly eager to listen to my explanation of what was probably one of my favorite collections of poems. Normally guys don’t really care much about my interests…but maybe Jack is different.

“Okay, and they’re all about milk and honey?” Jack questioned while he processed what I was saying. I let out a hearty laugh at his statement; not because he was way off, but because he actually cared. A smile crept across Jack’s face, “what’s so funny?”

“Milk and Honey is the title, but not really the theme,” I smiled while crossing my legs to lean closer to Jack, already starting to warm to him. “They’re about relationships and healing actually.”

“Oh, that actually sounds pretty good,” Jack mirrored my movements, shuffling closer to me on the bench we were sharing.

“Thanks for caring,” I said softly, shooting Jack a more timid smile. Feeling myself retreat to my meek demeanor.

“You like it, of course I care,” the words slid out of his mouth so naturally. Jack Hughes might actually be different.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about anything and everything. Movies, music, food, some horrific stories I had from my time as a bartender. We even got into deeper topics too; what it was like growing up in Toronto for him, why I decided to get my first degree and my second, what it was like growing up with two brothers, my differing thoughts on only having one brother, and of course, hockey. Despite being apprehensive when I first met him, he was quickly knocking down the walls I built around myself to stay safe.

“So I originally wanted the number 6, but someone already had it when I came to the team,” Jack explained to me after we had been spending some time discussing what it was like being drafted and playing his rookie year.

“How did you come up with 86 then?” I asked as the sun glinted on my sunglasses. It had been a long afternoon on the boat, but we didn’t care. Jack spent the whole time talking to me, even ignoring the offers to try out wake-surfing when the guys asked.

“Well Quinn wears 43 so I wanted something that tied me to him,” he smiled softly as he tucked his wavy hair behind his ear. The wind was starting to pick up as he attempted to keep his flow at bay.

“He must mean a lot to you,” my fingers brushed his arm as I instinctively reached for him to offer some form of reassurance. Sparks shot through me like lightning as we touched for the first time. As I glanced down to where we connected, Jack reached forward to tuck the stray hairs that had fallen in my eyes. Warmth went rushing to my cheeks as my eyes darted back to his, he was watching me closely.

Shaking his head, as if he was in a daze, he refocused. “They both do, just don’t tell them that,” he joked, his laughter sent fireworks through my body.

Somehow he could be so serious yet sarcastic at the same time. The conversation with him just flowed, it felt so normal. He felt so normal with me. I never imagined that someone who is considered a rising star in the NHL could be so normal with me. Nothing felt fake or ingenuine, it all felt natural and comfortable. Feeling this way with a guy was a completely foreign feeling for me. Jack Hughes was a completely unexpected addition to my life, but even in the 10 hours I’ve known him it is beyond clear to me that he is someone unexpected that I was meant to meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long day out on the water, everyone was happy to get out of the sunshine and back to Nolan’s cabin. Despite being initially hesitant around Jack, we had bonded so much on the boat that we were basically attached at the hip. He even came with me when I stopped by my families’ cabin so I could change into some clothes for the evening. In the 5 minutes we were in the cabin, Jack was practically glued to the wall of family photos. He kept shouting questions to me while I was in my room, “Kira is this you in the Mickey ears?”. He was surprised to find out that I used to be a dancer, knew how to play hockey, and that I have a niece. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as I gathered my things, Jack actually seemed passionate about learning more about me. He’s the first guy, probably ever, who has made that effort with me.

Jack and I walked back to Nolan’s cabin hand-in-hand, which captured the stares of our friends. I knew why my friends were surprised, I honestly haven’t shown any interest in another guy since my last breakup. I’m also not usually one for PDA, but there’s something about Jack that pushes me out of my comfort zone. We settled on a giant lawn chair big enough for two around the firepit and got cozy while everyone got ready to roast hotdogs. This was a typical summer night at the lake that I’ve always loved, with the welcome addition of Jack by my side.

As the night carried on, there was a slight chill in the nighttime breeze that sent shivers down my spine as I watched Nolan tend to the fire. Sensing my sudden chill, Jack pulled me into his side as we shared the plaid tattered blanket that was in the bed of Nolan’s truck. My body froze for a second at the sudden closeness of Jack, normally I was not one for any cuddling or closeness to any guy, let alone someone I just met. Yet as I gazed up into Jack’s soothing blue eyes, I relaxed almost instantly into his warmth. Our friends have been giving us both strange looks all day, clearly shocked at our instant connection. Cuddling under a blanket by the fire was sure to raise some eyebrows.

I didn’t care at all though, completely oblivious to the smirks and pointed looks of our friends as Jack and I settled into comfortable conversation while we roasted marshmallows for smores. Talking to Jack was so easy, maybe because I’ve never met a guy this interested in my life before. We spent the evening chatting about college, hockey, family, travel plans, and much more long after the sunset. We were so caught up in each other, we didn’t even notice that most of our friends had trickled inside or out to the dock.

Taking the final gulp of my beer while Jack told me a story about the lake house he was planning to buy with his brother, I finally noticed that Jack and I were alone by the fire as I set the bottle down. Glancing around over my shoulder to see where our friends had gone brought the same realization to Jack’s attention. Silence filled the air between us for a moment, tension buzzing between us like electricity.

“Soo…,” Jack trailed off as a smile graced his lips. “Guess they ditched us,” he smirked as my lips turned up into a smile to match his.

I let out a slightly nervous chuckle while I regained my bearings. Jack made me nervous, but not in a bad way. Not in the way I was uncomfortable with, but in a way that excited me. “Guess so, jerks,” I joked sarcastically. Jack let out a boisterous chuckle that sent fireworks right to my heart. I would love to hear that laugh for the rest of my life. Jack’s laughter didn’t last long as a serious look that I didn’t recognize graced his features.

“Actually, I was hoping to get you alone tonight,” Jack stuttered. He started scratching the back of his neck while fiddling with the ends of his hair. Suddenly I recognized the signs, he was nervous. It was actually quite sweet watching his demeanor shift.

“Oh yeah?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to explain himself further.

“Uh yeah,” he nodded for a moment. “Kira, there’s something I want to ask you.” His speech stopped as he waited to gauge my reaction.

“Go on Jack,” I encouraged, reaching for his hand that was resting on my shoulder to give it a squeeze.

With my reassurance, a smile formed on his lips once more. “Well, I was wondering if…” he paused to take a breath and perhaps gain some confidence. “Would you like to go out on a date with me?”

As the words left his lips and the sound met my ears, shock fell upon my face. My mouth went dry as I scrambled to find the words to answer his question. When was the last time someone asked me on a date? How do people usually respond to these questions?

“Shit, I freaked you out. I know we just met…” he trailed off. My shock was obviously spreading to him in the form of insecurity as his eyes dropped from mine. My mind continued to race as I struggled to find the words to convey my feelings on the matter. Oh god, what if he regrets asking me out?

“I’m not freaked out,” the words tumbled from my mouth without thought. Jack’s eyes lifted from my tattered black converse. “Surprised maybe, but not freaked out,” I commented while sending a warm smile his way.

Jack’s smile mirrored mine once more, god he has a beautiful smile. Moment of truth, time to answer a question that might change my life forever. “I would love to go on a date with you,” I let out a shaky breath as relief filled my body once more.

“Really?” Jack beamed.

“Absolutely Jack,” happiness filled my entire body like a tingle as I watched the gorgeous hockey player’s excitement grow.

“It’s not too soon?” He rebounded quickly.

“Jack, not at all,” I let out a breathy chuckle. “Would I say yes to anyone who asked me out on the first day we met?” I paused for a moment as curiosity filled his eyes. “Definitely not, but there's something different about you, Jack Hughes,” I commented as I stared longingly into his eyes.

“There’s something different about you too Kira,” his voice was but a whisper as he leaned closer to me to brush a few stray hairs behind my ear. His eyes darted to my lips before meeting my gaze once again. Before I could nod in silent permission that he could kiss me, Nolan’s deep voice shook me from my thoughts.

“Yo Kira, your car is blocking Jayden in,” Nolan shouted as he approached us from the cabin. My eyes rolled back as Jack dropped his head in defeat. I let out an exasperated sigh, fucking Nolan.

“Okay, I’ll move it,” I called back before smiling softly at Jack once more before throwing the blanket off my lap and pulling myself from the chair. I guess I’ll have to wait for our date for another chance at a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A whole 12-hours have passed since my late-night cuddles by the fire with Jack and with that, our first date grew closer. 12-hours felt like an eternity since I last saw Jack, I miss those blue eyes and his smile. Neither Jack nor I wanted to wait long to have our first date, so we planned to have it the very next day. Since I was the resident expert at the lake, I planned our date because I know all the good spots. I also have my family cabin to myself for the week, meaning there won’t be any more interruptions from anyone else, especially Nolan.

As the clock struck 2, I nervously climbed into my hatchback feeling my heart race as I pulled out of the gravel-road makeshift driveway by our cabin. The drive to Nolan’s cabin was short, mere minutes, this didn’t help ease my nerves as I stopped in front of his cabin. Getting out of my car, I rounded the front and leaned against the passenger side to wait for Jack. As I was waiting I started nervously picking my nails, a bad habit I picked up many years before. Pulled from my thoughts as I heard the cabin door swing open, I glanced up and was graced with Jack’s heartstopping smile.

“Hey beautiful,” He smiled as he jogged down the few stairs on the deck and pulled me in for a hug before I could react. Inhaling for a moment as I felt his warmth, my nostrils were met with the soothing smell of his cologne, which could only be described as hot boy cologne.

Recovering from my initial shock, “don’t flatter me, I’m just in comfy clothes,” I retorted. Jack pulled away from our hug, I felt disappointment creep into my bones wanting to pull him closer once more. He eyed me skeptically before glancing down at my outfit; I was sporting lavender leggings with a matching sports bra and a loose white crop top.

“You make comfy clothes look good,” his voice filled with desire as he leaned in once more. He was so close that I could feel his breath dancing across my skin. “You look beautiful,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my cheek and pulling away. My hand shot up to my cheek, skin burning from where his lips once were.

Shaking myself from my momentary trance, I dropped my hand from my warm cheeks. “Well, let’s get going. You’re going to love this hike, it’s my favorite,” I commented as I made my way back to the driver's side to hop back in the car.

“Nice ride,” Jack commented as we were buckling in. Glancing up at him I sent him a warm smile as I started the vehicle before putting it in drive.

“I mean, it’s no Range Rover but it gets me from point a to point b,” I chuckled as we moved away from the cabin. Jack and I chatted comfortably on the short drive to the hiking trail, discussing the lake and its cutesy shops. I was focusing on the road but the few times I glanced over at Jack I caught him staring; he would always look away quickly but I did notice blush creeping up his neck. Maybe he had the first date jitters too.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly the rest of the short drive, I turned into the parking lot by the trail, relieved to see there weren’t any other cars parked. That meant the trail would be quiet, which is perfect for a first date. We both got out of the car as I made my way to the trunk to pull out the small backpack I brought with me. Jack offered to carry it as I reached back into the trunk for the bug spray.

“Did you use bug spray?” I asked softly. Jack scrunched up his face, clearly unhappy to see the repellent.

“No, I hate that stuff,” he mockingly gagged as I shook the can at him. I let out a laugh, my nerves slightly easing at his distaste.

“Well, unless you want to be eaten alive, I would use it,” I commented as I stepped back from him to spray myself down. Once I was done I handed him the can which he reluctantly accepted.

“This is necessary?” he questioned as he hesitated with the spray.

“Welcome to Canada,” I joked as I nodded my head. He sprayed himself with the bug protectant before tossing it back in my trunk. We locked up the car and headed over to the start of the trail just off the parking lot.

“So, you bring a lot of first dates here?” he teased. My cheeks felt flush as I glanced up at the hockey player who was towering over me. After staring into his eyes for a moment I determined that he was joking, we’re still figuring out these quirks about each other.

“Only the ones who are worth it,” I shot back as we started making our way onto the trail. “So my family normally comes on this trail every summer. It’s not super long or uphill but there is a gorgeous lookout point about halfway through,” I explained as Jack and I matched each other's pace. He seemed to enjoy my explanation, listening eagerly when I told him the story of how our family dog jumped into the pond on the side of the trail when she saw a butterfly one year.

“I see why you like this hike,” Jack commented. His voice was a little shaky in a way I didn’t recognize. “Worth it for the bug spray,” he chuckled. I let out a snicker at his clear hatred of bug repellent.

“You lived in Canada before, this can’t be your first experience with bug spray,” I teased. As we continued on the trail I started picking at the hem of my shirt, noticing a few rouge strings pulling away from the material.

“Doesn’t mean I like it, it feels greasy,” he scoffed. I nodded in agreement, he wasn’t wrong. As we rounded a corner venturing deeper into the trees, I stepped over a large tree root.

“Just be careful,” I commented, glancing up at Jack who was staring at me intently. “There are a lot of roots to watch out for…” I trailed off. Just as I was warning Jack about the trail I caught him catching a tree root with his shoe out of the corner of my eye. As Jack started to tumble down I instinctively reached out to grab him with both arms. He gripped my arms tightly as he went down on one knee, his cheeks were red when he met my gaze once more. “Are you okay?”

He took a moment, “Yeah, just my first time walking,” he joked sarcastically. I threw my head back in laughter for a moment before helping him get back on his feet. “Good to hear your laugh,” he smiled as he brushed himself off.

“I did try to warn you,” I feigned, throwing my hands up in mock defense.

“I just meant, you seemed…tense earlier,” he commented as he tried to gently find the words to point out my nerves. Pursing my lips I debated in my head for a moment, do I tell him?

“I’m a bit nervous,” I hesitantly replied, deciding to go with honesty.

Jack let out a long sigh of relief, “So am I, first dates ya know?”

“Oh I know,” I agreed as I felt the tension melt away from my body. Just admitting to the nerves helped relieve them.

“You have nothing to be nervous about Kira,” Jack’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side as we started to walk again.

“Oh yeah?” I questioned, glancing up at him in uncertainly.

“Yeah, I like you,” he stated matter of factly, so sure of himself. I do love the confidence, he’s not even cocky at all.

“I like you too,” I feel a smile spreading across my face as I glance at the ground making sure we don’t take a repeat tumble. We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, Jack’s arm still wrapped around me tightly. “So, are you going to hold onto me for the rest of this hike?” I teased.

“I’m not falling again,” he joked sarcastically. I echoed his laughter, feeling bold I wrapped my arm around his lower back as we continued walking. We spent the rest of the hike with our arms wrapped around each other, not caring that doing so slowed down our pace significantly. We just enjoyed being close to each other, it felt comfortable. The silence in the trees was filled with our discussions about our favorite summer memories with our families, he shared a lot about his summers in Michigan and I feel that I grew to know him even more with those stories. Despite being so hesitant yesterday, Jack was easily proving that we could have a normal connection despite his hockey superstardom.

After our hike, we planned to head back to my cabin for dinner. As we parked out front and pulled ourselves from the vehicle an idea crept into my mind. “Still feel greasy from the bug spray?” I questioned as he shut my car door. Nodding his head vigorously he swiped some of the bug spray off his arm as evidence. “You know we could go for a quick swim?” I gestured to the water just off the cabin. My family was lucky enough to have a lakeside cabin with a private dock that I spent most of my summers sitting on.

“I don’t have my swim trunks,” Jack commented hesitantly. I smirked at him for a moment before I started toying with the bottom of my shirt.

“That’s never stopped me before,” I teased before pulling my crop top off and tossing it at the hockey player. Jack’s eyes were wide for a moment as he mentally processed the shock from the shirt hitting him in the chest. He was quiet for a moment as I stared at him, hands on my hips waiting for his response.

“Yeah, I’m in,” he shrugged as a playful smile grew on his lips. We both quickly shed the rest of our clothes before we were left standing with him in his briefs and me in my underwear. Thank the gods that I chose cute underwear today. We both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, I had to try very hard to not openly gawk at his abs. Damn, he is gorgeous.

After taking in all of his beauty, a sly smile crept onto my face. “Race ya,” I shouted without warning as I took off for the water. Jack chased after me as I shot across the grass and to the wooden dock. I should’ve known he would be faster than me, I thought as he quickly caught up to me. He grabbed me around the waist, lifting me off the ground to spin me around. I couldn’t help the fit of laughter that spread through me as Jack twirled around while I was safely in his arms. “Jack, put me down,” I playfully smacked his shoulder as he carried me towards the edge of the dock.

A mischievous smile crept onto his lips that let me know that it was payback time. “Put you down? Are you sure?” He taunted as he held me over the water. I clung to him tightly as nerves spread through my body. He better not.

“Jacky don’t!” I pleaded as he swung me over the water haphazardly. He was obviously having a good time with this, laughing as I clung to him like a fearful koala bear. “Jacky please!” I begged.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” his voice dripped with sarcasm as he set me down on my two feet. I instantly stepped out of his hold and crossed my arms over my chest, inadvertently pushing my boobs up which caught Jack’s attention. Smirking as I noticed his distraction I quickly shifted all my weight forward and shoved him off the dock; I knew it was deep enough to be safe, having jumped off this dock my whole life.

“Shit!” he cried out as he stumbled backwards into the water, fully submerging beneath the surface. He emerged within seconds, a pouty look forming on his face. “That wasn’t very nice,” he whined. I chuckled, crouching to my knees to lean over the edge of the dock.

“Sorry Jacky,” I mirrored his pout. Before I knew what hit me, he smacked his arms against the water to splash me. Letting out a small scream as the cold water hit my skin, “meany,” I pouted.

“Sorry babe,” he teased but I didn’t care. Hearing the pet name shot butterflies to my heart and maybe elsewhere. He reached his hand out for me, which I naively assumed was to pull him out of the water. Using all of his strength, he pulled me off the dock and into the water as I crashed into him. Pushing my hair out of my eyes and sputtering water as I emerged from the surface, I gave him a playful shove.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I huffed as I sent some water splashing his way.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” he said between fits of laughter.

“Oh yeah, very funny,” I scoffed as I treaded water. “I thought you liked me,” mock sadness filled my voice.

“Babe, I like you, like a lot,” Jack commented as he swam closer to me, catching me with his arm and pulling me to his firm muscular body. My hands rested on his bare chest as I felt the butterflies once more. There we were staring into each other’s eyes on a beautiful summer day in the water. I couldn’t help but feel this wouldn’t be the last time this happened.

“I like you alot too,” I smiled softly. “But only if you stop splashing me,” I followed up quickly as I traced random shapes on his chest.

“Deal,” he snickered. We spent the better part of an hour swimming around, laughing, inevitably splashing each other more, and drying off in the sun on the dock. Our conversations continued to get deeper as we surpassed the surface level aspects of getting to know each other. He listened intently while I explained why I wanted a career where I could help people. I couldn’t hide my smile as he described having his dreams come true when he was drafted, hockey clearly brought him so much joy. We spent time discussing different sports we loved playing, and even more importantly, the sports teams we loved watching.

Our conversation never died down or got boring, I never want this date to end. After a while, my stomach started to grumble. I decided it was better to get started on supper before I got hangry as I shifted from Jack’s arms and pulled myself to my feet. Offering my hand to him to help him up, “how do you feel about steak?” I asked once he was on his feet towering over me once again.

“Like you might be my dream girl,” he smiled as we wrapped our arms around each other and walked off the dock together.

“Good, I might need your help with the broccoli though. It’s pretty tricky,” I joked sarcastically knowing it would get a rise out of Jack. Jack stopped dead in his tracks, stopping me with him.

“Did Nico tell you about that?” his voice was full of embarrassment. I smiled and leaned into him, wrapping my other arm around his waist as I nodded.

“I think it’s cute though,” I reassured him as he let out a sigh of relief as we stopped to collect our clothes before heading inside.

Once we were back in comfortable dry clothing, we got started on supper. Jack was surprisingly helpful in the kitchen, washing the lettuce and putting together a salad with my guidance. He was incredibly impressed that I could work a grill as well as I could and gave me endless compliments on my steak. Even joking that I needed to come live in Jersey to cook for him during the season. The dinner conversation was comfortable as we chatted about my plans for my final year of school, my tattoos, what it’s like to travel so much in the league, and our surprising shared love for fantasy football. Jack very passionately described all the fantasy leagues he is in while he cleaned up the whole meal. He insisted I sit down while he washed the dishes because I cooked such an amazing meal.

“A man who does chores, you truly know the way to my heart,” I joked as he topped up my glass of wine and started cleaning.

When everything was dried and put away, I felt dread seep through me, not wanting the night to end. I suggested we go sit on the dock to watch the sun set, an opportunity that Jack eagerly jumped on. So we dragged deck chairs down to the dock and comfortably settled in as the sun made way for the stars.

We sat in comfortable silence, my feet dangling in Jack's lap as he traced shapes on my ankles over some of my tattoos. He broke the silence first, “This connection is crazy.”

“Hmm,” I hummed as I tore my gaze away from the sun setting on the water to pay attention to Jack.

“The connection between us,” he reiterated. “I don’t know how you feel, but it feels strong to me,” he commented as his hands stilled on my legs. His gaze was soft, reassuring.

“I feel it too, feels like we’ve known each other way longer,” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as I leaned back in my chair. “I feel comfortable with you.”

“Me too,” he smiled while giving my leg a little pinch, maybe to reassure me. I have never felt so comfortable with a man this quickly, not in any of my past relationships. It feels like there is this force pulling Jack and I closer, it’s what’s made our connection so strong. This feels so different for me, maybe he’s different from the other guys. I have a feeling he is. “Kira?” Jack’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I let out a shaky breath. “You okay?”

Nodding silently, I try to muster up whatever courage I have within myself. “I was nervous today,” I start, Jack nods encouraging me to continue. “I was nervous because…” I pause for a moment and take a deep breath. Jack pulls me from my chair and into his lap, his arms feel like home. “Well, my last relationship ended quite badly. He really hurt me, I think intentionally and it’s just…just hard for me to open up to people,” letting out a shaky sigh as the words tumble out of me. It feels freeing actually, getting all that out, so it isn’t a secret looming over me.

Jack shifts me in his lap so I can meet his eyes, “I don’t know what happened in your last relationship, but Kira, I promise you I will never do anything to intentionally hurt you,” his words pierced my soul as his thumb grazed my cheek. “I can’t guarantee I won’t fuck up sometimes, but I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His eyes were locked on mine as I melted into his touch. “I know you will Jacky, I feel comfortable around you,” my voice is small as my eyes break from his and dart to his lips. He seems to pick up on my gesture as he takes my face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Jack asks gently. I bite down on my lip to try to hide my smile as I nod my head. Time stops as Jack leans down to connect his lips to mine, his lips are warm against my own as they move in unison. Jack’s tongue ran across my own as I granted him entrance; he tastes sweet, like the wine we were sharing earlier. Our lips locked for a while before we both pulled away for air, huffing as we did so.

“That was…” I trailed off, resting my forehead against Jack’s.

“Pretty damn amazing,” Jack finished my sentence. We stayed like that for a while, foreheads resting on one another; the sunset in the distance long forgotten.

“You know,” Jack’s voice broke through the comfortable silence. “You got to plan our first date, it was cool to see your favorite spots,” his breath tickled my skin as we remained close.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I smiled as I pecked his lips gently.

“This just means that I need to plan a date where I show you my favorite spots in Michigan,” he smiled as a playful energy danced through his eyes.

“Bold of you to assume there will be a second date,” I teased. Jack threw his head back in laughter, enjoying the playful jokes we were already comfortable sharing.

“If you’ll have me,” he pouted jokingly.

“Oh I guess, if I must,” I mocked, unable to hide my smile.

“If you must,” Jack scoffed as he brought his lips back down to mine. Resuming our passionate makeout session, pulling away a few minutes later we were both panting like teenagers with no stamina.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go on another date with you,” I commented as our lips were still attached.

Jack smirked against my lips, “Good, glad I could convince you.”

“You are very convincing,” I said before pulling him in for more. We spent the rest of the night kissing and cuddling underneath the stars, enjoying each other’s company and growing closer than I ever imagined.

It’s hard to believe this was only our first date, everything is so comfortable between us. Feeling hopeful that there would be another date with the gorgeous hockey player, I can finally smile when thinking about meeting someone when I least expect it. Jack truly came into my life when I didn’t expect it and I hope that he’s here to stay.

#jack hughes #my writing #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #nj devils #new jersey devils

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girlgroupshots · 1 year

Text

The Producer - PART ONE

pairing: male oc x jessica jung word count: 3.3k summary: An unproven producer is tasked with creating a successful group. Shenanigans ensue.

When you answered the phone in the middle of the night only a few hours ago the last thing you expected was to be standing in front of an office building. The call had come from your uncle saying he had an opportunity for you and that you needed to catch a train to Seoul in the morning. Now as you waited for him to arrive you could only guess at what kind of ideas had popped into his head. As far as successful businessmen went he was certainly on the – well, eccentric side. On the other hand, you had little to your name other than a business degree, a shitty office job and dreams of one day being a successful producer.

"Nephew!"

Before you could contemplate any further a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to greet your uncle who you hadn't seen in some months only to be slapped on the shoulder and pulled into a hug before you could even extend your hand.

"How are you, my boy?"

Park Jongmin. A man in his sixties who could have retired in his forties if he wanted to. He made a fortune in the early years of the South Korean technology boom and hadn't looked back since. However, for all his wealth and success he was largely known as an enigma or just strange depending on who you asked. Adding to that image was the fact that he decided to create a music label a few years back despite having no expertise in the field. Truth be told he wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.

"I'm good, uncle" you responded once you had finally managed to free yourself from his grasp. "I was surprised to get your call, I thought something bad had happened."

He laughed off the concern, apparently not seeing the problem with receiving a vague call at 2 a.m. in the morning.

"You know me; once the wheels in my brain start turning I can't rest until I see it through to the end."

"Have you…slept yet Uncle Min?"

"Of course not! In fact, I'm only on my fourth cup of coffee."

You could only shake your head in response. This was who Uncle Min had always been so it shouldn't be surprising that old age hadn't changed his demeanor. If anything he seemed a bit more loose than he was back in the day. A man who said and did what he wanted with little care for the judging eyes of society. Though perhaps that was a luxury of wealth. It was an enviable disposition to have, especially these days. Not to mention it had always made for entertaining holidays with the family.

"So, uh, is this your label building?" you questioned, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Why yes, yes it is. It's beautiful isn't it? I like to think it has a quaint, personal feeling."

You looked back to the building and you couldn't say you disagreed. By the same token though, it didn't seem to be anything too special. A three story building with a decent amount of width to it. It's key features were the tall glass windows that framed parts of the building. It was certainly quaint but not exactly holding a candle to the grand designs of some of the bigger companies.

"Not everything has to be grandiose" as if reading your thoughts your uncle interjected. "If there's forty-floors how are people going to connect? It's the interwoven relationships that build a good company."

As a business major and officer worker with far too many hours logged you were tempted to disagree with that notion. But then again who were you to disagree with someone who had made millions?

"Well, are we going to stand out here all day or shall we head in? I can give you the tour, you'll love it."

You nodded and led the way to the double door entrance. Your uncle was still being coy about why he had asked you to meet him hear of all places instead of his regular offices or his home; in fact he hadn't addressed it at all. Definitely not suspicious. For now you'd just have to go along with this ride and find out what was waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. Whatever it was he certainly seemed excited about it. Or maybe that was just the four cups of coffee coming through.

"...Our building is separated into three levels" you tuned back into your uncle's speech as he took the lead, "The first is where all the music production takes place. Recording booths, mixing rooms, anything a producer might need to get that perfect sound is available at your finger tips. I'm sure you'd find more than a few toys to your liking in there."

Producer? Recording booths?

"The second floor is where our artist spend a lot of their time. There's a lounge and kitchen for anyone to use and we have our practice room there as well. We also have two free rooms if anyone wants to use it for homework or whatever the kids get up to."

Way to sound your age, uncle.

"Lastly, the third floor is where we have all our offices for staff and management. That's where you'll be spending most of your time. Now I know – "

"Wait, what?"

"-- it mind sound a little weird being at the top but trust me it's a great space."

"Wait, Uncle, what do you mean where I'll be spending most of my time?"

"Please, nephew, save all your questions for the end of the tour."

You could see the mischievous glint out of the corner of his eyes and knew he was getting a kick out of this. He wasn't going to let you get a word in and even if you did it seemed he was intent on ignoring any questions you had. Meanwhile your anxiety was rising by the second. Just what had this old man done?!

Anxiety aside, the building was impressive. Everything was state of the art when it came to the technology and all of the furnishings were modern and neat. That said you did notice the building felt particularly...empty. If you remembered correctly from what your mother had told you, Uncle founded this label a few years back. One would think by now it'd be brimming with staff and artist coming in and out. Maybe he had given them day off so he could give the tour? As flattering as it was that seemed like a complete waste of a work day. And of course asking about it now would net you no answers.

The tour finally came to an end on the third floor, the management floor as he had put it; which was also void of any personnel.

Your uncle led you into a rather spacious office that you assumed to be his. He gestured for you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs against the wall and seated himself next to you. His eccentric demeanor seemed to fade a bit and It seemed like now was the time to finally get some answers.

"I know you have a number of questions for me" Uncle Min started, "But I also know you're a very smart young man. I'm sure you've begun to piece together why I asked you to come here today."

Not really, no, but I could take a swing in the dark.

"You want me to work here for you? Uncle, I appreciate the thought really, but honestly...I don't want to take any handouts."

You remembered when he was first starting the company your mother suggested asking for a position. Any reasonable individual would have jumped at the opportunity, hell there were a number of college graduates that would kill for such a connection. For you though, it had just left a weird taste in your mouth. You could call it pride or stupidity, it was likely a mix of both. Now, despite having questions as to whether that had been the right decision, you felt obligated to stick to your original sentiment.

"You're a stubborn man, just like your father was" he chuckled softly as he patted your hand, his tone wistful as if recalling an old memory, "But you should know I didn't make my fortune by taking no for an answer."

"I'll be honest with you, this hasn't been my most successful venture. In fact, everything thus far has been a net loss. Fortunately, I've funded everything myself, there's no board of directors or investors to answer to. But even I have to acknowledge when something is a lost cause."

Your jaw had loosened a bit, your ears not quite believing what they were hearing. You had always had a vision of your uncle as the supreme businessman, a genius who made no missteps. Yet here he was admitting that something he had poured who knows how much of his own money into possibly being a failure. In a way it was surreal.

"But the people that do work here, the trainees who have trusted us with their dream, they deserve a real shot. A chance to see it through before I call it quits" Uncle Min focused his gaze on you and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him quite so serious. More than that he seemed genuine, even vulnerable as though he were speaking from the heart. "I don't want you to simply work for me. In fact, in a way you won't be. I want you to run this company. Produce a successful group and help fulfill their dreams."

"..."

"I know what you're thinking. Why me? Why not someone more qualified? Now I could tell you it's because of your work ethic, I know you won't take this lightly. And your potential both as a businessman and a producer; both of which are true. However if you really want to know why I'm offering it to you it's because it's what my gut is telling me to do."

"Uncle, I'll be honest with you, I’m starting to think that might be why you lost so much money in this."

You both shared a laugh, the tension in the air easing slightly. Leave it to Park Jongmin to hand a company over to his nephew on a gut feeling.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you so you don't have to give me an answer now. But think about it. I'd like you to meet the staff and girls as well; they really are good people."

You could only nod your head in acceptance despite your apprehension. After all, this was my uncle and he was offering an incredible opportunity, even if misguided. If nothing else you owed it to him to give this your full consideration.

"Alright! That's enough of the serious stuff!" Uncle Min abruptly stood up, "Do you want a coffee? I could go for one myself."

You laughed, "Uncle, I don't think you should be drinking anymore coffee today. It can't be good for your health."

"Bah, you sound like your mother. If I only did what was good for my health I'd get nowhere in life!"

Now that was the uncle you were familiar with.

"Mister Park!"

You had just exited the building when you heard someone calling out. You turned my head to see a petite brunette, dressed in a blazer and cream skirt walking towards you with a couple of binders in her grasp. You were fairly certain you didn't know her. You’d definitely remember seeing a woman like that.

"Miss Jung! You have impeccable timing as always."

"Oh? And you're flattering me, you must have had your third cup of coffee."

"Fourth, actually."

"You know you really need to cut down on that."

As the two conversed you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost, or worse: an awkward third wheel between two good friends. At the risk of making things worse you cleared your throat to make your presence known. As if he had actually forgotten about you, your uncle's attention was jump started.

"Ah, right! Jessica I'd like you to meet my nephew. Nephew, this is Jessica Jung; she's been in charge of this project for me. No one knows our trainees better than her."

"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you" you extended your hand to her.

"Likewise. You should know Mr. Park has talked you up quite a bit. I hope you decide to join us."

Oh, she was good.

Her tone and demeanor alone mixed just the right amount of professional and personable. Unlike yourself, you could see why uncle would hire someone like her.

"This is perfect. I was going to contact you later and ask if you could introduce him to our girls. He hasn't made a decision yet but I want to let him get a feeling for everything we have to offer."

A pearl smile was offered in response as Jessica nodded, "I'd love to. We can set something up tomorrow if you like. Or we can get started tonight if you’re free for drinks?"

It took you a second to realize that you had been brought into the conversation. Straightening your posture you nodded, “Uh, yeah. I’m free for sure. We can definitely do drinks.”

“It’s a date then.”

As you watched her pencil you into her calendar, you couldn’t help but wonder just what you were getting yourself into.

“What I can’t figure out is why you don’t just throw your hat in the pile. You clearly have this down pat.”

You voice was raised as you spoke to your ‘date’. Partially to be heard over the music that was currently playing, partially because you were already two drinks in and feeling a slight buzz. Thus far you hadn’t actually learned much about the business. If anything, the two of you had spent more time getting to know each other. Which wasn’t the worst thing, especially if you were going to potentially be working alongside her.

“There’s a difference between managing people and producing a group. Or even running a company,” Jessica said, drink in her hand. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But you had to have thought about it? Doesn’t it piss you off my uncle just brining me in off the street.”

“Well it didn’t but now that you mention it…”

“Okay, wait, wait. I take it back,” you put your hands up in surrender. “But still, you’ve got to feel over-qualified for your job, no? From everything you told me it sounds like my uncle would be lost without you.”

Jessica gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and took a sip of her drink. “In his defense, he pays me my worth. Besides, it’s not all about power and status. I’ve got a soft spot for those girls as much as I hate to admit it.”

You wondered if the alcohol was making her sentimental or if it was making you dense. Maybe it was a bit of both because you still found yourself asking questions. “But –”

“Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to get out of here?”

You stopped short, the question practically evaporating out of your mind. Jessica raised her eyebrow, looking at you expectantly.

Well then.

Jessica had barely gotten the key out of her door before you were on her. You cupped her face, kissing her – or at least trying to kiss her. There were times when you kissed her nose or landed on her chin, eventually settling for attacking her neck as she kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Immediately, you pressed her up against it; her skirt riding up her slender thighs as they parted for you.

“This is…probably going to be bad…for our potential work relationship…”

“Stop talking about work and start fucking me.”

Her bluntness caught you off guard but you’d be damned if it wasn’t attractive. And she said she couldn’t be a boss? If she gave orders like that she’d have a whole office in line in no time. She certainly had you standing at full attention in more ways than one. Following her orders your hands moved, fumbling with your pants to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. The cab ride back to her place had been heated to say the least, to the point that your fingers had slipped inside her pussy and your cock was practically begging to be freed from its constraints.

As you finally obliged it, Jessica hooked a leg around your hip, drawing you closer so that your tip was pushing against her soaked entrance. Needing no further invitation you pushed forward, your mushroom head pushing past her folds. Immediately you felt her walls constricting around your cock deliciously.

“Fucking tight,” you panted.

“Did you expect otherwise?” Jessica taunted.

A taunt you knew better than to respond to, even after a few drinks. Instead you focused on stuffing her with the rest of your length. Her leg flexed tighter around you the more you pushed in until you were buried to the hilt inside of her. You wallowed in the sensation for a moment because, wow. It might’ve been a while since you had any action but you didn’t remember anything like this. Slowly you began pumping in rhythm, fucking her against her apartment door.

“That stretch…it’s so good…” Jessica’s arms clung to you, her head falling forward.

Any thought of maintaining a professional relationship to avoid problems in the future had gone out of your mind. All that remained was pleasure, or rather the pleasure you were getting from sliding in and out of your potential co-worker. A mindset that Jessica clearly shared. She lifted her other leg, locking it around your waist and giving you the freedom to fuck her harder and faster. Incoherent words began falling from her lips but you were too focused on your task to try to decipher them. You had one job and that was driving her over the edge before you inevitably blew your load.

Jessica’s nails dug into your bicep and if it weren’t for the fact that you hadn’t even taken off your jacket she’d undoubtedly be leaving red marks all over your skin. If this was how she relieved stress from her job then maybe you’d have to second guess your hesitation. Although, when you were balls deep inside of her, waking the neighbors each time her ass hit the door, it likely wasn’t the best time to be making such decisions.

“Cum…Going to cum…” Jessica managed to get out.

You increased your efforts, pounding into her to make sure she went well and truly over the edge. The way every limb clung to you as her body shuttered in orgasm told you that you had succeeded in your task. Her pussy clenched around your length as you fucked her through her orgasm; inviting you to join her in euphoria. It was an invitation you’d soon take her up on.

“Jess…where do you want me to…?”

“Inside…” she muttered, barely coming down from her high and still clinging to you.

That was all the okay you needed. You slammed your hips into hers, her back hitting the wall as your release surged through you. You were fairly certain you were seeing stars as you spilled your seed inside of her. In that moment you weren’t two professionals. You weren’t even two potential co-workers. You were just two well-fucked strangers who had unloaded a pound of stress.

When your cock finally stopped twitching your let go of the breath you were holding. Jessica was already breathing deeply, clinging to you for a moment longer before she finally unraveled herself from you, the mixture of juices seeping out of her.

“If that was an interview you would’ve gotten the job.”

“...Wait, that wasn’t an interview though, right?”

Jessica let out an airy laugh, running a hand through your hair. “No, that wasn’t an interview.”

author’s note: another series so this is a fic i never published from a while back. originally it was meant to be a more wholesome series but we’re putting that aside from now bc fck it. if it seems a bit wonky it’s because i’m editing it from being a first person POV to second person as well as doing updates to my old writing. WITH ALL THAT SAID if you’re just looking for smut there will be plenty.

#snsd jessica smut #jessica jung smut #jessica smut #male reader #tumblr getting rid of horizontal breaks is a criminal offense

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penguin--rat · 6 months

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cardiomyocytes and connective tissue @nopanamaman

I’ve wanted to do a fic like this for some time now, a ‘thank you’ letter to PAFL and its community of sorts. I’m happy I finally got around to writing it:)

I wasn’t sure whether I should do this or not, but, hey! It might make someone feel a bit better!! Or, reading the fic will. That’s enough reason, I think, and you don’t have to read this, of course, no matter who you are.

First of all, I want to talk about PAFL a bit.

The first PAFL song I listened to was PiP. I saw its thumbnail when listening to some other music youtube, and so, I listened to it. Oh boy am I glad I did:) I remember thinking how cool it is that someone's making songs for their OCs and that people are interested in them. I could see so much love for the characters in it. I was so happy when I discovered there were more songs like that!! This was around when Comfort Zone had first come out, a week or two after at most. That was two years ago. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I love PAFL. I genuinely love that songs haven’t been coming out much lately. Like, there’s media that comes out weekly and sucks shit. I’m glad Ferry is taking their time with this!!! Even if all we get each year is one song, that’s cool, because the community is wonderful and we also get doodles and art and now patreon stuff.. yippee yay… !!! And even if we didn’t. who the fuck caressss!!!!! I love coming up with AUs and OCs and theorizing with my friends!!! the time between songs gives us time to do all that:)

The characters are so charming. Every member of the cast has been a fave of mine at some point or another. They’re all so, real! I love them! I love how they fuck up and I love how they get fucked over and I love how they get exploded and killed and shot and hugged and saved and helped!!! They’re human… might not make sense, but i rlly do like them…

It’s so neat looking back at older songs and seeing how stuff’s changed. The art style, the music, it’s all so nice to look back on. Even if I wasn’t there for it.

And don’t even get me started on the worldbuilding.. Everyone say thank you to Boris Strugackij and Arkadij Strugackij for making roadside picnic and inspiring Ferry to make this… so lovely and neat. wonderful. I have not read it myself, but I might, just to be able to make my own pafl OCs more swagger..

So. This fic.

I can’t mention two years ago without at least mentioning my depression.

I can’t remember most of last year, speaking truthfully. Parts of 2021 are also fuzzy. Depression and anxiety are terrible, would not recommend. This feels cheesy to say, but it does get better!!! Slowly, unsteadily, it gets better!!! I don’t mean for this part of the post to be a ‘feel bad for me’ thing at all. Do not. I am safe and healthy now and I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.

Is life good now?? Sorta, but what matters to me right now is, I’m happy!!! It feels so surreal. I never thought I’d be like this. A part of me wants to be angry, to get depressed again about how I could have been happy all this time. But I won’t!!! Because then I’d spiral and forget another year, and, I don’t want that!

Which is so cool!!! I can like, fucking, do stuff now!! I can throw away the bad thoughts, embrace the good ones, encourage myself!!! I do things!!! I go outside and goddd dude that’s so good!! I go outside!!!

I’m doing stuff! I’m drawing, writing, cleaning my room, taking care of myself!!! If I didn’t stay alive to enjoy these small joys, what am I even here for??

And I’m alive!!! I’m here!!! I made it, I’m here, writing this on 10th november, 2023, and I’m ALIVE!!!! How cool is that???

And yea, the world is shitty, it sucks ass, but, my friends don’t!!!:3 and that’s more than enough for me… SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS!!! I LOVE YOU DUDES!!!

Moving on:

It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m here now only to PAFL. But, what I can say is that it’s been a wonderful crutch for me!! It’s been something to focus on, something silly, but also something I can relate to, and something that inspires me to make my own stuff! I’d most likely still be here, were it not for these silly songs.. but, not sure I’d be as alive as I am now! Unsure if my heart would feel right in my chest! And I wouldn’t have met my amazing friends!!!! Everyone here is so nice.

Dima may be a bit OOC in this fic, and that's because! This fic is based on my own experiences, which, i don’t think is bad…

I could talk here forever about how it gets better. Butttt to be quite honest I don’t wanna lol. I just wanna say, Thank you! to Parties are for Losers, for being cool.

(Though I also wanna say, don’t put Ferry on a pedestal, they’re human, we all make mistakes, all that stuff.)

Ok time to go back to my manly Sergei ways and never talk about emotions ever again. or as anya would say: FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!

#pafl #parties are for losers #fanart #fanfic #DOUBLE COMBO #anyway. love you guys #mwah!#pafl dmitry

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moonsgemini · 10 months

Text

seeking arrangements - iv

summary: With just two days left of before the wedding the celebrations continue. Going to a bachelorette & bachelor party when you’re a fake couple might cause some issues. Especially when Lola can’t seem to stop taking tequila shots & the liquid might have given her too much courage.

warnings: escort!rafe x oc, alcohol, angst, insecurities, fluff, thomas (he deserves a warning), shitty family, kissing

wc: 5.1k

an: I’m gonna be real I kinda hate this part, I feel like I lacked in every aspect lol. But it is done, & there’s two more parts to goooo. ALSO HELP I cannot get my comments to work. Like I can’t reply to people or comment on other peoples posts. It’s on in my settings I’m pretty sure so idk what I’m doing wrong.

series masterlist - previous part

“What’s on the agenda today?” Rafe asked before taking a bite of his bagel.

Lola was sitting next to him squinting at her laptop. She may have had the week off from work but she couldn’t help but try and catch up on some pieces that needed to be read. She hadn’t felt focused enough the last few days to try and squeeze in any work because she’d been so anxious. After the engagement party and the boat day she felt a lot more relaxed. Rafe managed to put a sense of calm over her.

After they got home from the party they spent the rest of the night in bed watching another movie. This one was Rafe’s pick. He made her watch The Godfather, but they didn’t really pay too much attention. Lola kept asking questions during the film and of course Rafe answered all of them. Never once did he get upset at her for talking during the movie, something Thomas hated that she did. The conversation ended up leading to them talking about everything. Rafe opened up a lot more to her and she felt closer to him.

It scared her because it meant that even if they continue to be friends after this she’ll never have him in the way she wants. When this whole thing began Lola was unsure about it because what if she got caught but she never thought that there’d be a possibility she’d fall in love with the guy. Of course it had to be Rafe that she reached out to, the most perfect guy.

“Ummm we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties today. Girls are going to one bar and guys are going to another,” She turned to him giving him a weak smile. This is the first time they’ll really be separated from each other.

Rafe groaned, “I have to be with those frat boys all night.”

She threw her head back laughing, “They aren’t that bad. Well except for you know who, he’s that bad.”

“Oh they are that bad sweetheart,” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Except Harry, he’s been pretty decent. I don’t know why you ran with these crowds.”

“Please I only saw them when we came here because they’re all my sisters friends or Harry’s. They met them in college.”

“Explains why you and Tabitha are the coolest,” Rafe smirked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully turning back to the laptop in front of her.

“So that’s why my ears were ringing,” Tabitha said as she walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning to you Tabs,” Lola grinned watching her cousin pour herself a big mug of coffee.

Rafe chuckled, “Went a little too hard yesterday?”

“Possibly,” She rolled her eyes and grabbed the supplies for a bagel.

“Hey you better be able to go out later I’m not doing that alone,” Lola scolded.

Tabitha sat in the seat in front of her, “Relax I’ll make it. Takes me back to college, drunk every weekend.”

“Okay so what am I supposed to do with these guys for a whole night?” Rafe was not excited at all for the bachelor party. Ever since the boat conversations he’s been trying to avoid them. Everything was a dick riding contest to them.

Tabitha waves her bagel around, “Just get drunk, talk about sports too.”

“Getting drunk does sound promising,” he shrugged.

Lola laughed, “You can also talk about finance, you know they love that stuff.”

Tabitha nodded her head, “I’m always having to tell Andrew to shut up when he starts giving me financial advice.”

“I definitely don’t need financial advice. Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have many friends. The less friends or people close to you the better,” Rafe shrugged.

“You two really are made for each other,” Tabitha said looking between the two with a playful grin.

Lola had come up with a plan. Maybe it was a stupid plan and would end horribly or it could go amazingly. She was going to go out and take a few shots to earn that liquid courage before ubering home if Rafe was back and then try to seduce him. She couldn’t stand being around him and not be able to touch him.

Of course they did subtle stuff to convince her family, but it was never enough. When he’d place his hand on the small of her back to guide her around the engagement party her body felt ablaze. Her fingers itched to run through his hair and pull him closer. They hadn’t kissed since the boat and her lips ached for his. She missed his soft touch, the things he would make her feel with something so simple as his hand on the back of her neck.

Sleeping next to him at night was the hardest. He slept shirtless and it was incredibly distracting. There had been moments where she’d wake up to his arm around her, his nose tucked into the back of her neck. Rafe knew what he was doing, he’d blame it on him doing it in his sleep. He was really like half asleep and she just looked so cute and soft laying there he couldn’t help himself. If she moved away or anything he would have pulled away but she never did.

He was very disappointed that he wouldn’t really get to hangout with her tonight when their time playing boyfriend and girlfriend was almost over. He’d rather spend the day at the beach with her than drinking with a bunch of guys he didn’t know.

He was sitting outside on the deck going through his emails while thinking about the girl that was inside. Lola insisted on making margaritas for them to pregame. They didn’t have to leave until six so they had time to just relax. Lola came out with glasses and a pitcher of the alcoholic drink.

“Woah there cowboy, we’re gonna finish all that?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Well we can try, or it will just go to waste.” She smirked shrugging. Sitting down next to him she began to pour the watermelon margaritas into the glasses. He smiled at her just looking at her. Rafe liked watching her just do stuff.

“What?” She asked with a nervous laugh. His blue eyes made her nervous because when he looked at her she felt like he was actually looking at her. Not the girl everyone thought was weak because of her breakup. Not the girl that lets everyone walk all over her.

He shrugged, “Nothing, just like looking at you.”

She looked away from his tense gaze, a small grin forming at her lips. It was hard to deny the fact that he didn’t have an effect on her, “You’re too much.” she said because it was true. Everything about him was so overwhelming.

“So Rafe what’s your next job after this one? Or should I say who is your next job?”

He adjusted in his seat. Scrunching his nose as he looked out at the backyard, “Uh no one right now. I-I don’t know I’ve been thinking of retiring.”

“Woah really?” She looked over at him a bit shocked.

“Yeah this week has given me a new perspective you could say,” he took a drink from his margarita.

“How so?” She asked her voice quieter now.

He shrugged, “I guess I just realized I want more. I don’t want to be a paid companion anymore, I want to be just a companion.”

Butterflies of hope flew around in her stomach. Lola’s delusions were starting to get the best of her. Maybe it’s because of me, she thought. Rafe takes her silence as not a good sign.

He feels like maybe he had said too much and scared her away, “Uh so I’ll probably try and get myself out there more. Ya know when we get back to the city. Find a girl finally go on dates.”

The butterflies were crushed at those words. Find a girl. Those words hurt her but she couldn’t show it. Rafe could read her better than anyone even though he’s only known her for a month. Her furrowed brows and the way she couldn’t look at him gave her away. He knew what he said hurt her, maybe he had been reading everything wrong.

She cleared her throat to try and get rid of the lump in her throat, “That’s uh great Rafe. I-I think that sounds great.” She smiled at him the best she could. Lola started chugging the rest of her margarita not really in the mood to sit and drink with him.

He watched her with concern. Rafe wanted to shove his words back into his mouth to get that pretty smile back on her face “Lola I..”

“I-I’m gonna go and get ready now. I’ll see you in a bit okay Rafe,” She gave her another fake smile before walking back inside.

“Fuck,” He muttered rubbing his face out of frustration with himself.

The whole time Rafe felt like he thought he knew what she wanted. She had even asked to just be friends after this. He didn’t want to overstep and tell her the real reason why he wants to give all this up. It was because of Lola, he wants her by his side. He liked the way she made him feel and he loved the person he brought out in her. He loved protecting her from people who don’t deserve her.

Lola was beginning to think her plan was going to end horribly. Especially after what he had said. She felt like things were maybe going somewhere with him. She has had more fun the whole week than she’s had her whole life. And she knows it’s because she’s had him by her side.

She looked over herself in the mirror. She felt hot, she felt like she could go through with her plan to seduce Rafe. Yet it wasn’t enough because that voice was still in her head telling her that he doesn’t like want her more than a friend. Or even possibly more than a client. Her outfit consisted of a black mini skirt and olive green long sleeve that had a small pink bow in the middle of the square neckline. She also wore black boots that made her legs look longer, her makeup and hair were done. She felt amazing on the outside but on the inside her insecurities were starting to take over her thoughts.

Rafe had been in the shower while she changed into her outfit. They hadn’t spoken much since he came back to the room. Things seemed a bit tense, a sort of unspoken tension between them.

Lola was switching purses to one that would better match her outfit when Rafe opened the door to the bathroom. He stepped out in nothing but a light blue towel around his waist. His chest and stomach still slightly damp from the hot shower. He had been looking down at his phone. Lola looked up at him from where she stood and gulped at his appearance. He was not making this easy.

“What should I wear? I’m guessing polos and khakis is the bar dress code,” He smirked putting his phone down and going to his side of the closet to look through the shirts he brought. He glanced back at her and stopped skimming through his shirts. He wished she didn’t look so incredible, how was he supposed to spend the night away from her when she looked like that.

He looked her over his eyes moving slowly taking in every detail, “You look unreal,” he said once he met her eyes.

Lola gave him a shy smile as a blush creeped up her neck, “Thank you, and uh you should just wear a button up and some black pants. Casual but nice.”

He just nodded his head only half paying attention. Rafe couldn’t concentrate when she was standing across the room looking like his future wife. He snapped out of his thoughts at the word wife. She was really doing something to him if he was thinking about marriage. He looked through his shirts and decided on a green jacket and black carhartt pants. Grabbing his clothes he went back into the bathroom to change.

Lola felt like she could breathe again. Having to watch the muscles in his back flex as he grabbed his shirt was too much. Especially since his skin was sun kissed from the day before she just wanted to run her hands all over him. He walked out of the bathroom and she clenched her fists. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“You look handsome,” Lola said as she started to think about all the women that would get to see Rafe tonight. Jealousy took over her as she thought about how she couldn’t be by his side all night to show people that he was with her.

“Thank you sweetheart.” She was going to kill him.

“Alright lets go,” She sighed and began walking out the door.

“I’m not going go drink tonight so I can drop you off and even pick you up,” Rafe said following behind her.

“Okay, you decided on not drinking?”

“Yeah I just don’t really feel like being drunk with a bunch of people I don’t know. I also want to make sure you’re safe,” He shrugged and opened the front door for her.

Lola turned to him before walking out the door. Standing almost toe to toe, he was much taller than her. She was feeling intimidated but she tried her best not to show it. But like always he could read her so easily. He could see the her fingers twitch and her breathing pick up a little more.

“You’re kind of frustrating Mr. Cameron,” She said with a sigh, her eyes squinting teasingly at him.

“What am I doing?” He asked pretending to be clueless.

She ignored him not wanting to answer him, “Come on we can’t be late.”

The drive there was comfortable quiet. The tense atmosphere from earlier now gone. Rafe pulled into a parking lot on the main street and parking. He had been struggling since he first saw Lola. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

There were a lot of people on the main street going to the different shops, restaurants, and bars. It was a popular area in the summer. Rafe walked around her to walk on the side closest to the street, and hgrabbed her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the throngs of people.

“Where are we going?” He asked her following her lead.

“The girls are going to Porter’s and the guys are going to Birdie’s. Porter’s is right there,” She pointed at a bar a few shops down, “And then Birdies is across the street.” She pointed at another bar on the other side of the street.

“Ah so we’re close to each other,” Rafe smirked liking the idea that she’d be close by in case she needed anything.

“Mhmm I think all the girls are there already.”

“If you want to leave early for any reason call me okay? I’ll be right over,” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Okay Rafe,” She smiled. Once they got to the front of the bar the bridesmaids immediately spotted them since they were all sitting on the patio out front.

“My favorite couple!” Penny shouted as she saw the pair walk up.

“Took you guys long enough. I wonder what you guys were doing that made you laaaate,” Tabitha said teasingly.

“Tabi!” Lola exclaimed.

Penny turned to Rafe, “Hurry and let your girl go so we can get drunk!”

“Alright alright,” Rafe said and turned Lola to face him. He cupped her cheek, “call if you need anything. Have fun and be safe.”

“Always,” She said breathlessly because his eyes kept going down to her lips. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t be more excited.

Rafe leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips, he didn’t want to do too much since they were in public but he wanted to show everyone that this was his girl. He pulled away only to go in one more time, she smiled against his lips.

“Rafe,” She laughed pushing him away playfully.

“Sorry babe couldn’t help myself,” He shrugged with a lopsided smile that made her want to kiss him a million more times.

“I’ll see you later,” She squeezed his hand before pulling away to walk onto the patio.

“Bye,” He waved at her and all the other girls who had been watching them.

“Byyye,” They all said in synch with laughs

Tabitha turned to Lola as she sat down next to her, “Girl that man is obsessed with you.”

“I really hope so,” She laughed. The girls not knowing the way she really meant it.

“Okay ladies lets drink!” Penny said clapping her hands, “Tonight in honor of me we’re having tequila!”

“This is going to be the best night!” Olivia laughed excitedly.

Rafe arrived to the bar the guys were at, he walked inside and spotted the group around a table in the back. He walked over and Harry immediately spotted him.

“Rafe! Dude you made it,” Harry said getting up to greet him.

“Of course, just had to drop off Lola.” Rafe walked over to the empty seat between Mateo and Josh. Thomas say directly in front of him.

“Hey what’s up man,” Josh greeted followed by the rest of them Thomas only nodding at Rafe to not some completely rude. Rafe found it amusing how much he pissed Thomas off. He liked it.

“I’m gonna go get another round. What are you drinking Rafe?” Josh asked him.

“uh just water, I’m driving tonight.”

“Shoulda ubered man.”

It was nearly midnight now and Rafe wanted to leave. He had bern having a good time for a while but now all the guys were pretty drunk and he just wanted to be with Lola. He hadn’t heard from her all night which he took as a good sign. The guys were playing pool now, some of the single grooms men were flirting with some women at the bar.

“You ever miss that?” Harry asked him as he lined up his stick with the white ball.

“What? Flirting?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah like picking up girls at bars.”

Rafe shook his head, “Not at all. I like Lola a lot.”

“I feel the same about Penny. Guess it’d be bad if I didn’t since we’re getting married,” He laughed patting Rafe on the back.

“You guys are sooo whipped,” Thomas laughed.

“And what about it?” Harry slurred.

Thomas shrugged his hooded eyes meeting Rafes, “The same boring girl forever? The same average pussy forever? noooo thanks.”

“I’m convinced you’ve never actually talked to a woman. I think you just like women who don’t like you,” Rafe shook his head with a smirk.

“Hey all girls love me. Look at me,” He stood straighter and smirked. Rafe wanted to hysterically laugh but he held it in. He started to feel a vibrating in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and saw Lola’s name across the screen.

“Saved by the bell,” He said before walking away to a quieter area, “Hello?”

“Rafeyyyy,” Lola sang on the other end of the line.

He shook his head with a fond smile on his lips, “This is him. What’s up sweetheart?”

“I’m ready to go Rafey. I wanna see you,” She said breathlessly.

For the last few hours the girls had moved to inside the bar where they drank too many shots of tequila and danced. Penny even did karaoke at some point. Lola was actually enjoying herself and she might have enjoyed it too much. She was definitely drunk by now which meant her plan to seduce Rafe sounds like a very good plan.

“God he’s just so hot,” Lola said her chin resting in her palms as she leaned on the bar. She was currently talking to the bartender and Tabitha.

“He is incredibly hot,” Tabitha agreed, “You should see him, he’s like one of those stone statues of the guys with the abs.”

Lola laughed loudly, “he does look like that. Beautiful. You know he’s a really good kisser.” Her brain started to get even fuzzier as she thought of the kisses from earlier.

“Call him girl, get your man.” Tabitha encouraged as shebsaw the look in her cousin’s eyes.

“I will,” That’s when she had decided to call him and let him take her home.

“You’re drunk huh?” He asked with a teasing tone.

She faked a gasp, “I would want to see you even if I weren’t drunk thank you very much. Especially when wow,” She sighed dreamily, “Especially when you look the way you do tonight.”

Rafe had quickly and quietly bid goodbye to the guys as he all but sprinted out of there to get Lola. He knew she was drunk and he didn’t want her to go outside by herself.

“I’m coming sweetheart, did you have fun?”

“Very much of it,” She smiled to herself.

“I’m outside now,” He as as he was getting closer.

She squealed, “Coming!” She hung up the phone and ran outside before Rafe could even made it to the walkway up to the bar doors.

She ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, “Missed you.” Lola nuzzled her head into his neck breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“I missed you,” He had hugged her back and was stroking her hair with one of his hands, “Let’s get you home babe.”

“Kiss?” She asked looking up at him with those doe eyes. How could he say no? He was eager to do anything for her, to please her. He was there to fulfill all her needs how could he ever deny her?

“anything for you,” He mumbled leaning down and kissing her. He wanted it to be a soft kiss but when her fingers went into his hair and tugged him closer he couldn’t hold back. She kissed him hard and he was of course going to reciprocate. Their lips moved together in perfect synch yet a little messily. She wanted him and it wasn’t just because she was drunk.

Rafe was reminded of what she had been doing earlier when he started tasting the tequila on her tongue. He pulled away and kissed one more time softly, “Let’s go home.”

She nodded her head in a dizzy trance. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Lola wrapped her arms around his waist and happily hummed. She was practically leaning her whole body weight on him and it wasn’t even phasing him.

“So how many shots did you take huh?”

“Ohhhh just a few. And a couple tequila sodas.” She laughed.

They reached his car and he helped get her in, making sure she didn’t hit her head. He buckled her in, she just watched him with a dopey smile. Rafe jogged over to his side.

The ride was once again filled with comfortable silence. Mostly because Lola had fallen asleep. Rafe heard her light snores and smiled to himself. Once they got back to the house Rafe rushed over to get her. He ended up having to find her house key and then carry her inside.

He was glad he didn’t drink tonight because he gets to spend the night taking care of Lola. Once he’s walking through their bedroom door the girl in his arms starts stirring awake. He laid her down on the bed as she opened her eyes. Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“Rafe you brought me up,” She mumbled and sat up on the bed. The sleep had sobered her up a bit. Enough to remember to take her makeup off and brush her teeth.

“Of course I did. You need anything?” He sat next to her rubbing her back.

“I’m gonna wash my face,” She mumbled rubbing her eyes, “Can you get me water and ibuprofen please. It’s in the cupboard on the left of the fridge.”

“I’ll be back,” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her head. He went downstairs to get whatever she needed. Rafe also took it upon himself to make her a grilled cheese and bacon knowing she hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day. The greasy food will help her feel better in the morning.

Lola washed her face and brushed her teeth. Feeling more sober and clean. She hadn’t drank that much in a while and now that she was older it hit her harder and worse. She went to her dresser to look for pajamas. Her eyes lit up when they came across the small floral tank top and matching boy short underwear. They were long enough to be considered very short sleep shorts. The part of her brain that was still a little drink was screaming at her to pick that set.

Her plan from earlier coming back to her. She didn’t think twice and grabbed them going to change. Lola looked like she was barely wearing any clothes, just what she wanted. If Rafe felt something for her then he would make a move on her or not reject her if she tried first. And she was almost positive that he did feel something for her. She fixed her hair a bit and put on some more lotion and deodorant.

“I brought you food too,” Rafe said as he entered the room. When she heard him shut the door she stepped out of the bathroom.

He looked up at her and froze. There she was standing in front of him in practically nothing. His hands were itching to touch her. The curves of her body and her pretty bare face were doing too much to him.

He cleared his throat and looked away going back to pulling the covers back, “I uh made you a grilled cheese and some bacon.” He motioned to the food on her nightstand. She smiled at him and mumbled a thanks. Lola walked over to her side and sat on the bed.

As she ate Rafe put on a movie for her before he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. While he was gone Lola was giving herself a pep talk. She could do this, she’s almost 100% sure that he won’t reject her. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. She quickly finished her food before he came out and got herself ready adjusting her pajamas and her fixing her hair.

He stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but sweatpants. Lola took a deep breath as he sat down next to her.

“You feel better?” He asked looking over at her.

“Yeah I am, thanks for the food.” She turned to lay on her side, holding up her head on her hand.

He mimicked her position, “You’re welcome, how did your night go?”

“Hmmm it was good. The girls are crazy. I miss you though wish I had you by my side,” She said trying to give him her best puppy dog eyes.

Rafe swallowed hard, “Yeah? I missed you. What’s tomorrow’s plan?”

She shuffled closer to him, “Tomorrow we have family brunch and then rehearsal dinner. Then it’s the big day.”

He reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “Easy last couple days then.”

She sighed deeply, “mhmm can I ask you a question?”

“Always.”

“So do you make all your clients feel like this?”

He tilted his head questioningly, “Like how?”

She shrugged looking at the white sheets under her, “Like they’re the only girl in the world.”

Rafe’s heart had started to pick up speed the closer she got. He didn’t know what game she was playing but it was a very dangerous one. He looked at the tv afraid that if he looked at her any longer he would do something he would regret.

“I think I like only making you feel that way,” He mumbled as he continued watching the movie.

“Rafe?” Lola asked in whisper.

“Yeah?” He finally turned to her and she was a lot closer than before.

Instead of answering him she cupped his face and leaned in kissing him softly. Slightly hesitant in case he didn’t want this, but then he cupped her face and pulled her in harder. She sighed satisfied with his response. Rafe felt like his lungs were going to explode, she was so suffocating in the best way. He grabbed her thigh and pulled it so that she was now on top of him. The very minimal clothes they had on made them be even closer.

Lola tugged on his hair as she arched her back slightly to get closer to him. Rafe ran his hands all over her, touching wherever her could. This was much better than he imagined. Yes they’d kissed a few times but it was never just them and it wasn’t like this.

When Rafe’s lips moved down to her neck he came to a realization. She had been drinking earlier and he’s pretty sure she’s at least tipsy still. He pulled away gently resting his forehead against hers.

He cleared his throat and quietly spoke up, “Sweetheart I can’t.”

Lola pulled away a little. Confusion taking over her features, “I-I thought you..” Her face flushed in humiliation. Had he read his body language wrong? Had she interrupted his words wrong?

“No no Lola I want to, but you’ve been drinking and I think you should be sober. I don’t sleep with drunk women,” Rafe tried to reassure but his last sentence made her nauseous.

She sat back farther, “But it’s me Rafe. It’s not some random client that paid for you.”

Rafe laughed softly not really reading the tension in the room. He thought she was just messing around, “Babe you paid for me.”

Lola rolled her eyes and got off of him, “Yeah you’re right, I’m really tired.”

“Lola,” Rafe said knowing something was wrong.

“Rafe I’m tired can we just not,” She mumbled as she tucked herself under the covers. Her back towards him so he couldn’t see her biting her quivering lip. Had Rafe just been doing all of this and acting this way because it was his job? She couldn’t blame him but Lola swore she saw something between them for just a split second.

Rafe watched her for a few seconds before turning off the lights and laying back. He had fucked it up somehow and he was going to do everything possible to make it up to her.

He had to fix it.

tags: @rosal1nd , @magicwithaknife , @f4ll-for-you, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @loveu-always , @weareatthebadlands

(if you would like to be tagged or removed let me know!)

(also if you already asked me & I missed you I am so sorry pls send another message)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x oc

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bloodynereid · 8 months

Text

Reapers & Ravens

<< prev | chapter ii | next >>

pairings: jordan li x oc

tw: canonical violence and gore, mentions of mysterious vought pills, mentions of death, asshole dad, iffy morals, seizure

description: the story of a girl. a girl cursed by compound v to live a life without touch.

a/n: yayy it's finally posted! if u haven't read chapter one yet I would recommend that or else you'll be kind of confused. also i still haven't watched ep4 or onwards so if there are any mistakes plotwise i'll try to change them when i can. can't wait for you all to see vic's progression as a character oh and her dad is portrayed by chad michael murray. enjoy and lmk if u want to be added to the taglist <3

Blood. So much blood. It was basically singing with unaltered power. I had to hold myself back from just totally pressing myself against all the pool next to me. It was dark out now, and yet we were all still sitting on the stone steps right outside the crimefighting school.

People in neon yellow hazmat suits clinically cleaned up all that remained of Luke. I wanted to shout at them to stop to just let me experience that little sliver of power again, but I kept quiet and made eye contact with Andre. He had a whole aura of grief surrounding his very being.

The medical people had helped clean me up and had given me a spare pair of latex gloves as well as a collection of the school merch that I changed into. The plastic material itched against the soft skin of my hands. The cold burn lingered on the periphery of my brain. As if it was just waiting for me to absorb more and more life force.

Everything was thrumming around me and since all my clothes had been confiscated for cleaning I had no way of getting to my pills. I buried my head between my palms and tried to take a calming breath. No need to start freaking out and do something stupid… like taking a literal blood bath.

“Uh Miss Oaks. We found these in your jacket pocket, they looked important.” I look up to see one of the paramedics holding out the little packet of pills. I snatch quickly from her hand and drily swallow one of the neon green monstrosities.

“Thanks.” She nods and turns back to the ambulance, everything starts to calm down in my brain when I see Cate collapse. Her sobs seem to puncture the very fabric of relaity and tears start to form on my eyelids.

What kind of person wanted to bathe in her friend’s blood? I asked myself and rivers of water started to flow down my cheeks as a shudder shakes through my body. This year was off to a horrible start.

Finally we were released from whatever quarantine they put us in and before I followed Marie to the freshman dorms, I encased Cate in a quick hug.

“I have no idea how you must be feeling right now but all I know is that I’m sorry. If you want to get drunk and watch shitty tv shows I’m only a text away.” Cate’s small grateful smile shined through her tears as she thanked me quietly before we released each other and went our separate ways.

Jogging slightly I caught up with Marie as she pulled the door to our dorm open, she held it for me as we both stepped into the hallways which felt more oppressive and prison-like than usual.

“You okay?” I finally ask, breaking the silence when we reached our floor.

“Okay? Do you really think any of us are okay after that?” Marie basically burst out and looked at me incredulous.

“No… I just fuck I can’t- people are hard to figure out ok. I just- honestly I don’t know anymore.”

“Yeah me neither. Sorry for snapping.”

“Don’t worry about it, I think we’re all entitled to not being calm after everything.”

We nod at each other and when we get to our respective dorms she looks at me as if she’s contemplating saying something else but ultimately decides against it. She just lets out a loud sigh and pushes her dorm door open.

I push mine open as well and suddenly a cloud of incense hits my face. A hand grabs my forearm and pulls me quickly into the room before slamming the door shut.

“Uh… Gemma? What is going on?”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I tried to get through the barricade but they didn’t let me through even after I explained who I-”

“Woah slow the fuck down Gemma. I’m okay, not hurt at all and you need to calm down. Come on deep breaths.”

We stare into each other’s eyes as I try to slow my roommate’s panicked breathing, every single breath we take together seems to get her a little more level headed.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah sorry, I really should be doing that for you.”

“It’s fine, Gem, now what the hell is with all this incense?” Her tinkling laughter adds to the calming atmosphere that the incense smoke had already start to create.

“Oh umm it helps destress me. When I realized I kind of went overboard I also realized you can’t open the windows.”

“Oh my god only you Gem. Well at least it smells nice.”

“Do you need anything by the way? I’ve got a horror movie lined up and I bought some stuff from Vought-a-Burger.”

“Uh yeah sure just let me get changed into something more comfy.”

“Of course. I’ll set it all up on my computer.”

Stepping towards my closet, I grabbed a pair of neatly folded pajamas and my softest cashmere gloves. Pulling the stupid latex gloves off I breathed out a sigh of relief. A migraine was starting to form at the base of my skull and the cold fire that had started to fade away suddenly came back full force.

I didn’t want to risk taking another one of the pills so soon after ingesting the first one that I just let my power hit me full force. A few seconds later, the cold fire seemed to erupt out of my hands quite literally setting them on fire. It didn’t burn, instead it was like someone had poured alcohol all over my hands and lit it with a match.

The fire stayed lit for a minute before it dissipated. The same second that the fire disappeared, so did the cold burn. I felt completely normal - even slightly refreshed. Weird.

Replacing the GodU merch with flannel pajamas and cashmere gloves, I jumped into Gemma’s bed and we settled in to watch classic horror movies. I felt the night’s trauma settle in more as the minutes of the movie ticked down. I wasn’t a stranger to death but I felt so utterly helpless - there was no way I could have helped. Nothing could have been done. Nothing could have been done. I let the mantra repeat over and over in my head, trying to shake off the overwhelming guilt.

Nothing could have been done.

It was the first official day of school and so far it was completely normal… other than the fact I had somehow made the top 10. Granted I was #7 but still - one of the first freshman to ever make the top fucking ten. Andre got the top spot and Marie also had made it into the rankings just below me. It was embarrassing how obvious Vought was being with their campaign.

What absolutely fucking sucked was that Jordan had been bumped down to 5… it didn’t make any sense since I literally saw how banged up (for a supe) they had been after fighting Luke, they was the one who saved out lives - I just stood around and did nothing.

I was sitting in the commons after making sure to drop a bundle of daisies next to the memorial. They were my private way of mourning Luke, even if they had been amongst the things left for Brink. Scoffing, I watched the rest of the student body act like vultures as they were fucking clout chasing at a damn memorial.

I turned up the volume of my headphones and laid down on the soft grass. The blades of grass pricked at my exposed ankles as the clouds danced past my face. Calm in the eye of the storm it seems.

My cloud watching was rudely interrupted by my phone’s ringtone stopping my music and incessantly going on until I fished it out of my jacket pocket and slid the ‘accept call’ button without really taking notice of who was calling me.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Oaks, your daughter is on the line.” The familiar voice of my father’s PA (or rather employee with benefits) rang through my headphones. Fuck me.

“Thanks Margot. Hello Vicky.” I fought a sigh and bit the side of my cheek - hard.

“Hi dad. How’s it going?”

“Good, good. The new movie seems like it’s going to make some money.”

“That’s great! Are you on set right now?”

“No, weekly massage appointment, remember?” As if I didn’t know that the massage appointment was actually code for, I scrunched up my nose in disgust at all the times I had accidentally walked in on him during one of his “massage appointments”.

“Right yeah, sorry. It’s been a hectic few days.”

“I actually called about that, congratulations on making the top 10 sweetheart, you better start working hard. First freshman in history! Well other than that other girl, what was her name? Natalie, Renee-” The little flame of happiness in my chest was slightly diminished because of the insult that always seemed to follow the compliment.

“Marie dad, Marie.”

“Right, yes. Anyways I’ve got to go, the masseuse is calling. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure da-” The line cut off before I could even finish my goodbyes, he really got on my fucking nerves sometimes. My music came back on full blast after the call finished and I tried to ease back into my calm state when yet another interruption decided to arise.

This time it was a gaggle of freshmen who had their phones pointed at my face and I could dimly hear them all gushing about being my best friend. Okay break over. Rolling my eyes I jumped up from my position on the floor and quickly made my exit from the scene.

The only place that I knew would be a good hideout was my dorm but Gemma was supposedly prepping for her first Performance Arts class, which I definitely did not want to interrupt and so that left… the library. But before I could even think of making my way over there I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

It was a message from Margot, stating that I was needed for promo materials at one of the auditoriums. Great, just perfect. I didn’t bother to respond to her text but started moving in the opposite direction of the library.

The heels of my boots click against the cement paths as I fiddle with the clasp on my gloves. The white leather glided over the metallic clasp as I hurried up the stone steps to the Performing Arts building.

Grabbing the silver door handle and walking into the studio, it was as if the neon backdrop exploded my retinas. Before I could even blink, I felt someone grab my arm and drag me over to a makeup chair.

“Oh thank god. We had no idea where you were, we had to get your father’s PA to message you and that already took enough of our time.” The frantic but familiar voice of Courtenay Fourtney greeted me as a bunch of random people seemed to appear out of the shadows, each holding some kind of makeup or styling instrument.

“Uh sorry.”

Suddenly I saw an ungloved hand start coming towards my face but just as my hand was about to grab the person’s forearm the damage had already been done. The soft pads of their fingertips grazed my cheek and energy started pouring into my body. I caught a glimpse of a childhood memory before a scream rang out from one of the other makeup artists.

“Goddammit, someone wheel her out or something and go get some water, I don’t need any more fainting. Did no one get the memo that you can’t touch her unprotected?” I was still trying to recover from absorbing an entire person’s life when, now gloved, hands started to touch my face and add makeup.

“Is she dead?” I ask, my voice slightly wobbly, as someone starts putting blush on my cheekbones with a slight shake in their hand. I hadn’t absorbed someone in a while so it was like a huge kick to my system - then the realization set in. Great another death. Not my fault, but even after all the years of telling myself that it’s not my fault I could still feel that spark of greed. To just keep taking and taking and-

“Yes but we had them all sign a waver now wait where the hell is the other girl? Claire? Claire!” Courtenay went off into the shadows as someone thrust a garment bag into my arms when my face was finished getting touched up.

“Change into this.” I nodded but before walking over to one of the changing stalls. I sneaked a look at my makeup - not bad. After I slipped on the turtleneck and slightly oversized cream suit, I grabbed the Vought pills. Another one couldn’t hurt right? The itch had come back from last night and no more accidental deaths would be good.

I popped one of the neon green pills and smiled at myself in the mirror. Time to be a hero.

“Hey Andre!” I shouted over to where he was talking to his dad, a relieved smile overcame his face even if his eyes were still filled with a clear dark emptiness.

“Wow Victoria Oaks. I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been? How’s your dad?”

“Hi Mr. Anderson. It’s good to see you. Dad’s doing well, I’ll be sure to get him to call you soon.”

“Yes please do. I’ll leave you two to talk.” He sent a wink to Andre before taking out his phone and walking out of the studio.

“Everything okay? I know how he can get.” I asked Andre, giving him a slight reassuring pat on his arm.

“Yeah, yeah we’re fine. Umm actually could-”

Before Andre could get on with his admission our little conversation was interrupted by the opening of heavy doors and Marie walking in - where she was immediately swarmed by Courtenay.

I felt a wave of sympathy rush through me, Andre and I had been in the public sphere ever since we were children. We knew who was trying to hustle us and what exactly we needed to do to get higher ratings but Marie was totally new to this.

“Uh sorry what were you saying?” I snap out of my little daydream and look over to Andre who was also starring over to where Marie was being handed the interview script.

“Just that uh… Luke, he said something to me before he you know,” I smiled sympathetically at him and nodded slightly urging him to continue. “Basically he said that my dad had something, but just now when I asked him he looked at me like I was insane.”

“You mean that-”

“Everyone quickly, places please.”

“We’ll talk later!” Andre nodded at me as I jogged up the steps and started to pose for my solo pictures. Andre watched on until Marie joined him after getting changed into a frankly stunning outfit.

About an hour later we were finally released from the clutches of Courtenay Fourtney - with a promise to be on time for the interview that night.

The three of us walked between the trailers, Marie with her hands clutching her backpack like a lifeline, Andre vaping and me taking bites of a random cupcake I had stolen from the tiny craft service table.

As we walked I could hear the shutters of people’s cameras, we posed for a few selfies and I blew some kisses to some of the cameras.

“One thing I’ve already learned, you can literally say anything to them and they will still take the picture.”

“That’s why you say yes to give the illusion of choice.” Andre answers with a slightly bored tone, I hum in agreement next to him as I take another bite of the strawberry frosting. This was a damn good cupcake.

“Did you learn that from your dad?”

“Did Luke say something to you about my dad?” Andre stuttered out and my interest suddenly peaked, we hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss what he told me right before the shoot.

“He just said ‘The Woods’.” A strange chill traveled along my spine when Marie’s mouth finished forming the words, they seemed strangely familiar but also foreign. I tune back into the conversation as Andre tells Marie what he told me before the photoshoot.

“Well good luck with that.” I finish my strawberry cupcake and look back at Marie with an incredulous expression obviously painted on my face.

“Marie? What? That’s it.”

“Look I don’t see how this involves me okay? I went out with you guys once, I don’t know you.”

“Marie, that's a flimsy excuse, come on. I barely knew Luke-”

“Exactly, you don’t need to get involved with this either Vic. He tried to kill us, remember?”

It’s not like I didn’t understand where Marie was coming from but this was important. A person killed himself right in front of us and she’s acting like it isn’t her problem. I let out a sigh of indignation.

“Andre, look let’s not push her into this, okay?” He looked at me slightly betrayed before looking back at Marie.

“Marie, I don’t think you get this. He’s dead. I guess you don’t have any problem stepping over him to get to the top.” I let out a soft gasp at Andre’s words, ok that was taking it a little too far but before I could rebuke him, Marie narrowed her eyes and spoke with a much angrier tone.

“That shit at the club, where you nearly killed that girl. I was going to get expelled for that, did you know that?”

“Of course not, I didn’t ask for that.”

“No you didn’t. You just get everything handed to you on a silver platter, because of your dads.” She shifted her face so she was now staring into my eyes, “Everyone knows who you are and are ready to cover for their precious supes, I don’t have shit. So don’t blame me when I try to have at least a little self preservation.”

I was about to call out to her when she started walking away from us but something stopped me. I wonder sometimes what would have happened if my dad wasn’t my dad and I had these powers. I probably would have ended up in one of those orphanages for dangerous supes. A shudder once again runs through my body - I had heard enough horrible things about those places to know how grateful I should be.

“So are you going to help at least?” Andre asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Am I your friend?” Andre’s signature smile graced his face in return to my sarcastic remark and he linked arms with mine.

“You headed for crimefighting as well?”

“Yup, I got an update to my schedule during the shoot. I’ll be joining you in the junior class.”

“How did you manage that?” Andre asked as we posed for a few more selfies before heading through the large doors.

“No idea, but I’m sure it was dad. He texted, no, his PA texted right after the change.”

“Venice still around?”

“What? Oh no, she was like 5 PAs ago. Have we really not talked in that long?”

“I guess so, scary thoughts.” I snorted at his remark when we finally arrived at the junior crimefighters class. He dramatically pulled the door open for me. “Age before beauty.”

“That comment makes zero sense, I’m literally younger than you.”

“Exactly.” A loud and offended gasp left my mouth when I finally stepped into the class.

“Rude. Hey Jordan.” She seemed to shake out of their daydream when they looked up at us from her seat.

“Oh hey guys. Didn’t realize you were taking this class Vic.” I took a seat next to her and Andre sat down to my right after shooing off one of the other juniors.

“My dad made some calls supposedly?” They just narrowed their eyes and nodded at me.

“Right.” The flirty Jordan from last night was nowhere to be seen and I could quite palpably feel that the air around her felt heavier than normal. It was like a storm was brewing on the horizon.

“Jordan, look - I’m really sorry about Brink. I’ve only ever met him at some random premieres and book signings so I… I- fuck I’m not good with the whole emotions thing but if you ever need anything…”

Jordan after the end of my long spiel of stuttered phrases looked honestly really surprised. I cringed, emotions are not a thing that was ever promoted around supes. We were made of steel. But I felt like I needed to say something but before she could answer, either to rebuke my speech or to say thanks. The dean Indira Shetty walked into the room and smiled at us.

“Professor Brinkeroff died the same way he taught: a hero…” I spent the entirety of her speech switching between staring at my gloves and at Jordan. Their left hand nervously tapped against the plastic table. I was drawn out of my, admittedly a little creepy, staring by the door loudly opening. Everyone in the classroom turned to look at who had appeared in the middle of the dean’s speech. It was Marie.

“Hi sorry I’m late.”

“I’m Dean Shetty. It’s a pleasure to meet you, please take a seat. We’re letting Ms. Moreau and Ms. Oaks audit the junior-year classes. What you and Andre did, it’s obvious you belonged here.”

A pang of discomfort hit me like a freight train, I knew being a supe meant exploiting what you can to get to the top but it still felt horrible. I closed my eyes and willed myself to focus for the rest of the class.

I stayed behind after class to make sure that I would be able to be caught up with the material, Dean Shetty seemed more than accommodating and actually gave me a list of further reading I might be interested in for superhero psychology.

I was busy organizing the new papers and my laptop, that I didn’t realize I had bumped into Jordan until I had pain radiating around my shoulder where we collided.

“Shit sorry, we really need to stop meeting like this.” I said when I finally met his eyes.

“It’s uh fine. Look, I just wanted to say thanks for that in there.” A sigh of relief escaped my body, okay great they weren’t angry at me.

“It was nothing really. I did mean it though if you need anything at all don’t be too scared to ask.”

“Actually… if you wouldn’t mind could you tell them what I did when you have your interview with Hailey Miller. I would really fucking appreciate it. I tried talking to Marie but honestly I don’t know if she will do it and my rankings are all fucked right now cause of the trustees.” My eyebrows shot up, I didn’t have time to look over the script so I thought that they were going to at least be mentioned. Quickly fishing out my phone, I scrolled through all the news coverage Godolkin was getting. Not a single fucking mention of Jordan.

“Shit yeah of course. I haven’t really checked the script or the news I thought that… wow Vought really fucking sucks more than I already thought they did.” Jordan lets out a slightly defeated laugh and runs a hand through their hair.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah sure, I usually wing these interviews anyway. It’s fun to see my dad’s PR people become all frantic when I say something slightly off script. That’s actually how I came out as pan.”

“Oh fuck right, I remember that. It was all over the news. Those fucking headlines oh my god.”

We both started laughing as I remembered the insane things the gossip papers printed. I had always had a rule of not searching myself up online but that whole thing basically stopped me from looking at any news altogether.

Jordan and I walked over to the cafeteria, falling into an easy conversation, almost as if we had known each other for forever. It was like we were surrounded by a sort of bubble, all of our issues and grief seemed to dissipate for a while when we just got to talk about everything and anything.

After spending the day going to classes, talking to Andre and Jordan and working through some of the reading the dean recommended, I emerged from my studies to find my phone blowing up from some random freshmen group chat I had been added to.

Quickly silencing the messages I didn’t bother to knock as I burst into my dorm room with a heavy sigh. Only to find 2 Emmas lying on Gemma’s bed. One of the Emmas seemed to have been furiously crying because her eyes were rimmed with red and the other was holding her tightly. They sprang apart the second they heard the door open and the one that had been crying looked between me and the other Emma with a surprised look on her face.

“Hey? Umm you okay Emma?” I asked, venturing a guess as to who had actually been crying.

“Uh yeah. Umm sorry is this weird? It’s definitely weird. I’m just going to-”

“Woah, Emma relax. Vic is like the least judgemental person ever right?” Emma shifted into Gemma a second later and looked at me with a pleading look on her face. Emma slowly sat back down on the bed and watched me, as if calculating the easiest way to get out of the dorm.

“Yeah, look I don’t know what happened. But whoever made you feel like this can instantly be dead, you just need to ask.” Emma let out a deprecating snuffle while I started to take off my gloves, when she realized what I was doing her eyes widened comically.

“No, no! It’s okay, no need to kill anyone.”

“You sure? Cause there was already an incident today…” I answered in a teasing tone and made a whole show of twisting my now ungloved hands in an overdramatized fashion.

“Yeah please don’t kill anyone for me. I’m guessing you haven’t seen the video then?” Ah the group chat blow up must have been associated with whatever Emma was talking about.

“Uh no?”

“Somehow it astonishes me how famous you are and yet you have absolutely no clue about current events.” Gemma says as she tosses herself back against her assortment of pillows. Seeing as there was no more danger of Emma flying out of the room, I stepped away from the door and threw my now cramped bag onto my bed and settled into the bean bag that Gemma kept on her side of the room.

“Here I would rather you just see for yourself instead of me explaining it.” Emma tossed me her phone as I pulled my gloves back on. Over the next few minutes, my heart sank lower and lower in my body. Who the fuck did this girl think she is?

When the video finally finished I looked up to the pair, who were now entwined in a position very similar to the one I had found them in. A too wide smile started to adorn my face.

“Are you sure I can't just kill her half way?” They both snorted even if they did look a little scared about the expression on my face.

“Look for real though, Emma I’m really fucking sorry about it all coming out like this. It should have been on your own terms or not at all. Either fucking way you are a badass and never ever let anyone think you are less than what you are, okay?”

“Aww you guys are going to make me start crying.” Emma stuttered out as tears started trickling down her cheeks, a grateful smile shone through - like a literal ray of sunshine had entered the room.

I started making my way to the interview way later than I probably should have but friends mattered more than stupid tv appearances, even if I had promised Jordan. Strangely enough I saw Andre a little ahead of me before he stopped and turned to look at the Lamplighter School. Tilting my head in question, I watched as he debated with himself for a second before walking towards the doors.

My interest peaked so I decided to follow him… it’s not like they could start the interview without two of the three ‘Guardians of Godolkin’ - okay yeah that was a shitty name. I followed behind Andre as quietly as I could until suddenly he stopped. Right in the middle of a hallway.

A second later he swiveled around and used his power to grab any of the metal that was embedded into the material of my clothes and pulled me towards him.

“Woah woah, Andre dude it’s just me.” I said before he could pull me too far, I walked out into the harshly lit corridor with my hands held up in an innocent gesture.

“Fucking hell. Victoria, what the hell are you doing here?” He asked hurriedly, sounding incredibly annoyed.

“I don’t know maybe if you bothered telling me why the hell you are sneaking into the fucking crimefighting school I wouldn’t be so suspicious!” I responded in the same harsh whispered tone.

“Ok fine you’re right. Come on, I'll explain on the way.” As we wandered through the hallways Andre showed me the video that he found on Luke’s phone, as I heard more and more of the message the same eerie feeling spread through my bones.

“I know what he’s talking about.” We had arrived at Brink’s door when the message stopped playing and I handed Andre back his phone.

“What?”

“I don’t know it’s like this feeling. All I know is that it’s bad, really bad.” Andre looked at me with a slightly worried look on his face.

“You don’t think that…”

“Fuck I don’t know Andre. Vought has been up to some weird stuff but I remember my life at least I think I do… you know what, let’s not worry about that now. Let’s figure out how to get his brother the hell out of there.”

I felt like I was in some kind of spy movie as Andre quickly navigated Brink’s computer to pull up the files from The Woods. I had been assigned to look out so I stayed closer to the door until I started to hear the loud footsteps of the school’s campus security.

“Andre hurry the fuck up!” I slid under the desk and squeezed myself into a ball to allow Andre to hide under it as well, but he stayed up there quickly taking photos. In the last second, just as the door swung open he dropped down under the desk and silently closed the computer with his powers.

I could hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears as the security swarmed into the room, it felt like every breath I let out would attract their attraction and then Andre’s phone rang… he tried to turn it off but everytime he declined the call it just lit up again.

He looked at me pleadingly as I watched him, feeling absolutely frantic. This is bad. This is very very bad. Thank whatever god was out there that his phone turned off. I was about to let out a loud sigh of relief when I realized they were all still here. We weren’t out of the woods yet.

After another minute of tense silence the security team left with a click of the door and my entire body relaxed onto the side of the desk. The curdled up position was already starting to hurt my back when Andre looked at me, echoing my relief.

“Fuck that was close.”

“Too close… you want to follow them don’t you?” Andre just shrugged with a sheepish smile, I let out a breath through my teeth and banged my head against the side of the desk for good measure.

“Fine, okay. We should probably go now.”

“Right yup.”

Andre and I tried to be as quiet as possible as we followed the security team through the grounds. Thankfully we had actually been training for this our entire lives… to be clear we trained to follow criminals not Vought security employees but with all this new information they might as well be the same thing.

The team finally came to a stop at the bottom of a stairwell, I leaned carefully over the railing making sure that I wasn’t too easily seen when a janitor appeared. Oh that’s not going to end well.

It seemed like my prediction ended up ringing true because a few seconds later the man was on the floor. Throat slit open and blood pooling around him. Andre let out a sharp gasp while I just bit my bottom lip - not letting any sound come out.

Andre’s slip up cost us, the murderer looked up from his task and we moved quickly away from the stairwell.

“Let’s go, Greg will clean up later.”

We both let out a sigh of relief, this night was probably doing horrible things to my blood pressure… did supes even have high blood pressure? Before I could finish whatever strange train of thought my stressed out brain decided to conjure, a security guard came up behind us.

Andre quickly shoved his gun into the wall as I tried to tug off my gloves but before they were even half way down my palms, a piercing wail seemed to drill into my brain.

“AHHH.” The ringing caused me to clutch my head in agony, my face scrunched up in pure and utter pain. I ended up falling backwards on the stairwell as the sound just seemed to get louder and louder and louder.

“Did you know supes have a wider range of hearing than us? Like dogs.” The man’s condescending little voice was the only thing that seemed to stop the utter pain of the ringing. Fuck.

“Hey Bob! Turn it off.” I was too busy feeling like my brain was leaking out of my ears to pay attention to the distant voice that had suddenly appeared. And then it stopped. Sweet, beautiful, wonderful relief.

It was serenely quiet for a second or so before I finally got my bearings again. When I looked up I found Cate instigating what seemed to be flashlight oral sex…? What the actual fuck. I carefully got up by gripping onto one of the metal railings.

“Oh god Cate my savior.” The blonde turned to look at the pair of us with a smile on her face which instantly dropped as she tried to get down the stairs.

“Andre… Vic. We- we need to go.”

“Cate! Cate! Your eye! You’ve been pushing too much.”

“I’m fine… I’m fine.” That was the moment that she fainted, she fell right into my arms and Andre’s. We carefully placed her on the floor and I ripped off my sweater, placing it under her head as she convulsed.

“Shit, shit, shit. Cate! Cate!”

“CATE!” I screamed out as I moved the bundle of clothing under her head but she didn’t stop convulsing. She couldn’t stop.

so yeah... hints at trauma and shit from vic's past - do be easy on her tho she has gone through enough accidental deaths to basically be desensitized at this point. ALSO I wanted to focus more on her supe side this chapter, hopefully that shone through cause like most other supes she has an ego the size of a planet lol - that's partially why she followed andre at the end instead of doing the interview

it's also funny to me that this poor girl has absolutely no idea what is going on with anyone else's backstory like the audience or the reader in this case knows more about everyone than she does

lmk what u think <3

taglist: @neapolitantoebeans @scorchedfangirl @losers-club6 @vvyuqi @bubblebuttwade

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nightmare-viper · 2 months

Text

The Anniversary (18+)

Pairing: Randy Orton x OC(Ola Kaminski)

Randy and Ola had been doing this dance for years at this point but, now it was time for the finale.

Where I found the GIF

Tags: @alyyaanna, @jeysbvck, @daddywrasslin

Randy sighed as he glanced at his phone again while he waited for the food. Still no response. He knew that today was going to be rough but he hoped for at least a text back. He furrowed his brows slightly, he hated when she isolated like this. She had enough friends where she didn’t need to. He thanked the lady when she brought him his food before driving back to the arena where the buses were. Sarah apparently couldn’t get ahold of her either, hell of a time for her to have to commentate for Smackdown. And also a warning that if he made Ola upset at all, Sarah would kill him. He walked up to the door of Ola’s bus, knocking on it.

Ola was currently buried in a pile of blankets while some sappy romance movie played on the TV. She had tossed her phone, somewhere, after reading the messages from Sarah and Randy. Sarah, of course, was worried about her and Randy had asked about going for dinner. She simply didn’t answer either of the messages. She didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. Ola just wanted to wallow in her sadness in peace. She frowned as she could’ve sworn she heard a knock on her door. She paused the movie, slowly sitting up before getting up completely when she heard a knock again. She walked to the door, opening it before raising her brow in confusion.

Ola crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe,

“Randy….why are you here?”

Randy took in her appearance, she definitely had been crying and clearly wasn’t even entertaining the idea of leaving her bus considering her shorts and cropped tank top,

“You never answered me. So,” He held up the bag of food, “I brought your favorite?” She blinked in surprise before a small smile appeared on her lips and shook her head.

“Fine, only because that’s one of my all time favorite chinese food places.” She stepped aside, motioning for him to come inside. Randy followed her in, shutting the door before setting the food on the table.

“I’ll be right back..” Ola disappeared to her bedroom while he set their food out and grabbed utensils. She came back out, pulling her hair into a ponytail,

“You want wine? Cause I could go for some….I know, not a great combination with our food.” She brushed by him, to grab the wine and one glass, pausing for his answer.

Randy shrugged, he was already here, why not?

“Sure, not the weirdest we’ve ever had.” He smirked a bit as she rolled her eyes and opened the wine, filling the glasses. “Don’t remind me.” He laughed slightly as he took a survey of the main sitting room before sitting at his chair. She had not planned to move today at all huh.

Randy glanced at the tv, before pointing at it with a fork, “It’s really that bad…?” The movie Ola had on the tv was terrible. She scrunched her nose at him as she took a few bites of her food and sip of wine.

“It’s just the anniversary of when the guy who supposedly loved me decided to just dump me out of the blue and leave the company? Yeah, I’m still a little hurt, Randy.” She paused and looked at him before looking back at her food.

Randy watched her as he ate and frowned, alright, true. He couldn’t blame her. The way Cody had ended their relationship had been shitty. All because Ola refused to leave WWE, not after she was finally getting a push and accusing her of having something with him. That something being that apparently everyone thought Ola and Randy were dating because of their natural chemistry. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that to be true. He’d been harboring some type of feelings for the tiny blonde and pink haired woman for years now but Cody had beat him to the punch. So he pushed it down and away, he had been happy for them, truly. However, he had seen red when Ola had come to Sarah’s room sobbing with her bags and trying to explain what happened. It took the others to stop him and Sarah from knocking sense into Cody.

They ate silently for awhile,

“Did you at least tell Sarah you were okay? She was messaging me all day, asking questions.” That got a small smile from the tiny woman. “I did answer her shortly before you knocked, yes. So she knows that I’m not dead.” He nodded and drank more wine as he sat back, studying her.

While she was distracted eating, he ran his eyes over her form. Damn it, even like this she was stunning. It wasn’t helping that her crop top clung perfectly to her chest and the shorts she had on, could count as a second skin. He took another drink of wine and looked away with a small shake of his head, maybe coming was a mistake.

Ola took a drink before sitting back and looked down,

“Thank you….for this and coming over.” She rubbed her arm with her hand, “I know how I get and just, “ She looked up at him, a warm smile on her lips, “I appreciate it.”

He stared at her for a second before laughing a little, “I don’t think you need to thank me.” He shook his head and leaned on his elbow, “I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t try something.” She snorted before she laughed softly,

“Fine, fine…” Ola shook her head as she stood, starting to clean up the food containers. Randy followed suit and helped her put the leftovers away, before filling their glasses again.

Ola paused and leaned on the counter, scratching the back of her head,

“Hey….Randy..?”

He was moving to her couch, setting their glasses on the side table before raising a brow as he looked at her, “Yeah, what’s up?”

She played with the end of her ponytail as she walked to stand in front of him. God she hated how small she was compared to him. Her 5’2” frame looked comically small next to his giant 6’5’ frame. She hadn’t initially noticed how tight his shirt was but now it was hard to miss. The pants he was wearing looked great on him too. She bit her lip,

“I know this is a big ask but ... .would you mind staying the night here…? Now that you’re here, I don’t want to be alone again.” She glanced up at him, this shouldn't be embarrassing but for whatever reason it was.

Randy stared down at her, swallowing as he watched her. Fuck she was so fucking small. He cleared his throat again before smiling,

“Not a big ask at all, Ola. I don’t mind crashing here.” She beamed up at him and wrapped her arms around him, well the best she could,

“I really appreciate it….” He carefully put his arms around her and rolled his eyes a bit,

“Ola you’ve known me for how long…? We’re watching a less shitty movie though” Her smile turned sheepish as he pulled away and sat down on her couch, grabbing the remote. She huffed softly at him, grabbing her wine and sat beside him as she took a drink.

Randy decided on some action movie, it wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either.

“I’m not going to complain about that. This movie was actually the worst.”

Over the course of the movie, they had both finished their wine. Ola was pleasantly loose and had snuggled close to Randy out of habit. It wasn’t unusual for them, though to others, maybe it did look suspicious. She hummed softly as he stretched his arm over her shoulders, tucking her close. The man was a walking furnace, and she was grateful since she was always freezing. She paused and studied his features as the flashing from the movie made different features stand out. He was really handsome, especially when he was relaxed. He glanced at her, smirking a bit,

“I know I'm good looking and all but, a picture will last longer. Don’t you have enough of them around here…?”

Ola rolled her eyes and smacked his chest,

“Fucking hilarious, you come up that yourself?” Which just made the larger man laugh as Ola turned to the movie, watching the screen.

Now it was Randy’s turn to stare. It was bad enough that she was pressed to his side and he could smell her shampoo and perfume. He was internally grateful of the blanket over him, the pants he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. He swallowed as he looked her over again…fuck. He shouldn’t have done that. Of course, it was chilly in here and that’s why she was pressed against his side. She wasn’t wearing a bra….of course not. She was lounging alone for hours. His throat suddenly felt dry and the room suddenly was stifling.

As if on queue, Ola looked back at him with a puzzled face,

“You alright…? You don’t look okay” She took her hand and brushed it against his forehead as she frowned and leaned closer to him slightly.

Randy swallowed harshly again as he watched her lean in and felt her fingers brush his skin. He leaned forward himself slightly, realizing how little space was left between them. He had a decision to make finally. He slowly took her wrist and pulled it away from him, which just confused Ola more,

“Randy…what…?” His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back again and now it was Ola’s turn to swallow roughly.

She watched his eyes and bit her lip. Was today when, whatever, had been brewing between them over the years finally boiled over?

She flicked her eyes to his and back to his lips.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Randy pressed his lips to hers and groaned as she threw her arm around his neck. Ola groaned softly into the kiss as she pressed herself closer to him as he pulled away. He grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap, dragging his gaze over her body. She shuddered in response, shifting her hips and using her hands to steady herself on his chest. She knew she was flushed and it only darkened as she felt him below her. Her head was fuzzy and she flexed her fingers against his chest. Holy shit.

Randy kneaded her hipster before pulling her in for another kiss. This one was more desperate, hungry. He wanted to devour her, make her his. Ola gasped as he slid his hands to her ass and pulled her against himself. She moaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her hand slid to the back of his head and her other one fisted his shirt in her hand. Ola’s senses were being assaulted. He was so much. So big…everywhere. She could feel his hard cock straining against his pants where she sat. She gently rolled her hips against him and Randy growled into her mouth. He pulled back, kissing down her neck,

“Do that again…” He breathed as he gripped her hips harder, there would definitely be bruises but she didn't care. She did as she was told and rolled her hips once more, making herself gasp as he growled against her neck. He trailed one hand up her stomach, reveling in the way her muscles twitched under his touch. He left a trail of kisses down her neck, until a spot made her inhale through her nose. Randy smirked against her skin and sucked the skin there, a bruise already forming, while his hand traveled up and cupped her breast. She whined softly, arching into his touch as he ran his thumb over her nipple through her shirt.

Ola tugged at Randy’s shirt when she whined,

“This needs to come off…” Randy smirked but complied as Ola leaned back enough for him to toss the shirt aside. She smirked slightly and ran her hands up his stomach, scraping her nails against his skin. She reveled the goosebumps that trailed behind her nails. He groaned in his chest,

“Hold on to me..” Ola squeaked and clung to him as he stood up, making his way to her bedroom. He pushed the door open, quickly kicking it shut behind him. He plopped her down on her bed, making her gasp softly. Randy covered her form with his body, kissing up her stomach. She hooked her legs around him as he kissed up her neck. With his hand, he cupped one of her breasts, kneading it, and making her shudder. Randy played with the hem of the shirt, Ola took the hint and arched her back so he could pull it off. It went flying into the darkness of the room.

She met the kiss with a ferocity. Ola’s nails dug into his bicep and back as they fought for dominance. He pulled back with a groan as she nipped his lower lip, her fangs catching as they pulled apart. Her eyes met his, the pupils blown, and she swallowed roughly as he licked the blood from his lip.

“Holy shit…” He breathed before he groaned out loudly as he cupped both of her breasts, swiping her nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and arched into the touch. Taking the hint he bent his head down, taking one of the nipples into his mouth and sucking. Ola gasped loudly, tightening her legs around him and involuntarily bucking her hips against him. Randy growled while he sucked, his other hand moving to her hip to steady her as he rolled his hips against her. She groaned as one hand trailed down his arm, gripping his bicep and her other hand shot to the back of his head as she met the roll of his hips. He let go of her nipple with a wet popping sound as he met her lips in a hungry kiss.

“Oh princess….we can play that way.”

She opened her mouth to say something but he left a trail of kisses and sucked bruises down her neck and chest before he sucked the other nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it. Ola let out a squeaking noise before she grabbed the back of his head,

“More, fuck, m-more..” He flicked his eyes up to her before popping off her nipple. He held her close suddenly and flipped them. He kissed her as he sat them both up and helped her re-adjust so she was straddling one of his thighs, She steadied herself and looked up through her lashes at him as he smirked.

Randy kissed under her ear before nipping her earlobe,

“I want to watch you fall apart on my thigh.” He whispered in her ear. She bit her lip but wrapped her arms around his neck as he set his hands on her hips. She set a slow pace, rolling her hips against his muscular thigh. She gasped softly and her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed across her neck.

“Eyes open..” Ola groaned but opened her eyes to look at him, which made him smirk. As she quickened her pace, one of his hands remained on her hip to keep her steady while the other roamed up her back, thighs, any exposed skin before ending back at her breast. He lowered his head to a nipple again while the other tugged at her other nipple.

Ola’s brain felt like molasses, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion but the sensations were making her whole body burn. She knew she sounded like a whiny mess as he continued his menstrations as she bucked faster and harder against his thigh. It had been too long, far too long, and she was being devoured by him. Her moans started to get breathier as she felt that band in her lower stomach tighten and burn red hot,

“F-fuck, “ She whined out loudly when he nipped her nipple, “I’m…fuck, so c-close..” She could’ve sworn there was a glint in his eyes at that. She knew her nails would leave marks as she clawed at his shoulder and bicep as she neared her edge.

“Come for me princess,” He kissed up the center of her chest.

That was all she needed.

Ola’s eyes rolled back as a broken gasping moan left her lips as her orgasm crashed into her like a freight train. She slowed her hips as she rode it out, reveling in how she could feel his muscles contract in his thigh. Her whole body was buzzing and every nerve felt like it was on hyperdrive as she leaned back, panting and looking up at the ceiling.

Randy growled lowly as he watched her ride out her orgasm. He thought she couldn’t get more beautiful, he was wrong. He held her upright so she didn’t fall back as the high of her orgasm wore off. She looked back at him, with a dopey smile,

“Holy shit…” He smirked before he kissed her again, before she pushed him back on the bed. She stared at him and ran her hands down his chest and stomach, digging her nails in and leaving a trail of red. She hummed softly before she looked at him and crawled off his lap. He leaned up to watch her with a raised brow. She smirked as she slowly, painfully slowly, dragged her shorts and panties down her hips.

Randy had to hold back a groan as he watched and he could swear he could see a sheen on her panties from her previous orgasm.

“Figured I don’t need those anymore…” She walked slowly back to him, before resting her hands on his thighs, running them up to the waistband of his pants. She teasingly played with the band, snapping it against him a few times before she slowly slid his pants down his thighs and groaned in her throat. She wasn’t expecting that. All the years she roomed with the man, she never knew he went commando. She bit her lip as his cock slapped against his stomach. She also wasn’t expecting the size, well, she had an idea. The man used to talk a big game and honestly with his size she’d be shocked otherwise.

Randy watched her, completely hypnotized by the events unfolding in front of him. Had he ever thought that he’d actually be in this position? Younger, cockier him absolutely thought so but him now, not even slightly. He had gotten content in their relationship as it was. He kicked his pants away, a cocky smirk crossing his lips as Ola looked stunned. His ego was still there, he couldn’t help it. He watched as she took him in her hand, using her thumb to press on the underside as she pumped him slowly,

“There’s no way in hell this is fitting in me…” She muttered, her cheeks flushing red as she looked at him. Randy’s eyes involuntarily fluttered as she used her thumb to swipe over the head of his cock. He gently grabbed her wrist as she shot him a confused look. Slowly, he stood up before scooping her back up. She gasped and clung to him as he pinned her to the bed. She locked her legs around him the best she could as they both groaned and bucked against each other. He panted against her neck,

“Oh, I’m going to make it fit…” he ran his tongue over her skin, “Shit, i need to be in you.” She scratched the back of his head as she moaned softly,

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Randy growled as he pulled back, he grabbed his cock and pumped it a few times. He slid the head of his cock against her slit, gathering the slick from her previous orgasm on the head. She whimpered when he stroked against her clit before he aligned with her hole. He looked down at her as she bit her lip as he pressed the head of his cock into her. Both of them let out a loud groan in unison. Watching her expressions as she gripped the blanket beneath her as he continued to push into her. He swallowed as he kept himself from slamming home. He wanted nothing more than to push himself all the way into her tight cunt and fold her in half, claiming her for himself. But the rational part of his brain kept it slow.

Ola’s hips arched as Randy pushed farther in. He was fucking huge. Or she was really tiny. Or most likely both. She screwed her eyes shut as she focused on feeling every inch of his cock as it entered her. She heard him growl as she involuntarily clenched around him as he filled her. She couldn't help it…it had been awhile and the way he filled her. Randy tapped her thigh,

“I said, eyes open princess. Don't close them again.” She groaned but pried open her eyes again. She was met with a smirk and a glint in his blue eyes, “good girl.” Ola clenched around him again at that and that just made the man's smirk grow. Shit.

Randy leaned down and nipped her earlobe, “Does my princess like to be praised?” He let out a chuckle, deep in his throat as he heard her swallow. Randy pressed kisses along her neck,

“You're taking me so fucking well. I knew I could fit in your tight cunt…” he hissed as she clenched on his cock again and seemingly pulled him in more. “You're so hungry for me aren't you?” He laughed against her skin and she let out a squeaking noise, avoiding his gaze. He leaned back, running his hands down her body before grabbing her hips and looking over her form. Fuck he never thought he'd have her like this.

Randy rolled his hips experimentally, earning a gasp from Ola and he smirked. He set a steady pace, learning the rhythms of her body as he explored her chest with his mouth. Ola let out little gasps when he grazed that spot in her. She grabbed his face and brought him up for a sloppy his as she panted against his lips,

“Randy….” She slip her thumb over his lower lip, “fuck me like you own me.”

Randy's brain blue screened moment at that. Was she serious? He stared at her and that was the confirmation he needed. He leaned back, folding her legs to her chest,

“You asked for this.”

Randy set a brutal pace as he held her ankles, keeping her in place. He revealed the broken whines and moans that left her throat, the way she clenched around him and the way her cunt seemingly sucked him in deeper. And the way her chest bounced with each thrust. He groaned loudly before leaning down again, pulling her close to him. He needed to feel more of her. He needs to devour her.

Ola's eyes rolled as he pressed close, the angle perfectly hitting that spot inside her. She clawed at his back, shoulders and arms, knowing damn well that there would be marks tomorrow.

The room was filled with the filthy sounds of sex. Randy's growling and groaning, Ola's whining and moaning and the wet slap of skin on skin.

She clung to him tighter as her moans grew louder in his ear, “I'm…shit…Randy I'm so close…” he groaned as she tightened around him again, he slid a hand between them, finding her clit. She gasped and arched into him more as he rubbed her clit with his thrusts. The heat popped in her belly as he grabbed his face and kissed him, sloppily, moaning huskily against his lips as her second orgasm of the night crashed into her.

Randy panted against her lips and he tightened his hold on her, his thrusts getting sloppy as he rode her through her orgasm. He buried his face against her neck and let out a growly moan as he buried himself deep and came inside her, rolling his hips slowly as he rode out his own orgasm. They both slumped down, breathing heavy as Ola skated her nails over Randy's back as they caught their breath. She smirked as he sat up on his forearms and looked at her, a sheepish smile on his lips,

“How are you feeling?” Ola snorted and kissed his nose,

“You moron, I feel great. I'll be sore as all hell tomorrow but it's worth it.” She kissed him gently as he slowly pulled out of her, making her whimper at the loss of the fullness feeling. He leaned back slightly and groaned in his chest watching their combined fluids leak from her. He took two fingers, scooping it up and pushing it back into her making her whimper slightly,

“It stays in there.”

Carefully, he scooped her up and walked to the bathroom, setting her down gently as she used the counter as support. She gasped when she looked in the mirror while he got the shower ready. She trailed her fingers over the bite marks on her skin and shook her head. She was so glad she didn't need to be on tv for a few days,

“What the fuck Randal?” He chuckled at that and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing under her ear,

“Sorry, I couldn't help myself.” He laughed as she slapped his arms and muttered ‘unbelievable’ under her breath as she broke away and into the shower. He chuckled as he examined the damage she had done to him, oh yeah, her nails had done a number on him. He stared at the claw like marks down his back and smirked,

“And you yelled at me.” Which earned her tossing a wet washcloth at his head,

“Just get in here you idiot.” He laughed loudly but complied.

#randy orton #rko outta nowhere #randy orton x oc #oc x randy orton #wwe x oc #oc x wwe #oc: ola kaminski #wwe

32 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 7 months

Note

WAIT CAN WE HAVE THE FIRST TIME JAX SAW REGULUS CRY PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

(bonus points if they comfort him)

Fic O'Ween Day 4: Dead End, or three times Regulus almost cried in front of his friends and one time he actually did. Thanks to @noots-fic-fests for compiling all these amazing submissions, and to @lumosinlove for a tragically beautiful Regulus <3 Jax, Kris, and Vanessa are OCs of mine!

TW for injury, and canon shitty treatment at the hands of the Snakes

Regulus was really good at not crying. Not crying was the easiest thing in the world. Instead of letting himself get worked up until he spilled over, he could just…not do that. He could swallow it down. Choke it back. The problem was that once he started crying, he couldn’t stop, and since nobody would care either way, it wasn’t worth the effort and embarrassment. He was a grown man. He’d been through worse.

Worse than a B minus, at least.

He was pretty sure.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered mildly. “And yourself?”

Jax’s mouth turned down at the sides. “Uh, can’t complain. What’s…what’s going on?”

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to close the tab of his failure. “Preparing for the week.”

“Right.” Jax didn’t sound like they believed him. Unfortunate. He used to be a much better liar.

“I always do that.”

“I know.”

Odd. He hadn’t expected them to know his habits. It had only been three months.

“You seem—” Jax broke off, setting their bag down on the floor with an unusually delicate touch. They leaned against the edge of their desk and gave him a funny look. “Do you want to talk?”

Regulus’ gut twisted on reflex. “About what?”

It came out too harsh—they shrank back slightly, shoulders drooping, dark eyes flicking away. He should apologize. He should.

“What would you like to talk about?” he tried instead.

“Dunno.” That was another thing he was getting used to: the way people started speaking just to speak, to fill the silence. Jax rarely second-guessed their words. Even now, they shifted their weight from one hip to the other only once before beginning again. “I was at the gym this afternoon.”

A strange thing to note. He waited for them to continue; when they didn’t, he mustered an encouraging noise.

“So if you’re ever interested…”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well, I—if you’re interested—”

“Why would you want that?” What was it about college that made people so vague?

Jax gestured at him with one hand. “I don’t know! You’re in good shape, I guess I figured you were there anyways. And it seems dumb to go at different times when we live together.”

“But then we don’t have to argue for the shower.”

Regulus wasn’t always good at facial expressions, but even he could read the exasperation (though not irritation) in the set of Jax’s eyes and mouth. “I want to spend time with you,” they said bluntly. Kindly. Almost like Sirius, without his awkwardness. They tilted their head to look at him. “You don’t have to, but we haven’t had a lot of time to just hang out. I’m going for a shared hobby here, man.”

Hobby. Regulus didn’t recall the last time he worked out for fun. Never, probably. Running out his feelings on a treadmill made him less likely to curl up under his blankets in a screaming possum ball, but it wasn’t necessarily fun.

In his periphery, his computer screen dimmed. His heart went with it when he wiggled his computer mouse and the reminder of everything bad in the world glared back. “I don’t know if I can,” he said carefully. “I just failed out of English, so I should probably focus on that.”

“Wh—” Jax’s eyebrows shot toward their hairline before knitting in the middle. “How do you know that? It’s not the end of the semester.”

Regulus jerked his chin toward the screen. They followed his gaze. Looked back at him. Back to the computer. Back to Regulus.

“You’re looking at me like that explains everything,” they finally said.

“It’s a. Um.” Bitterness filled his mouth. “B minus.”

“And?”

Are you stupid? Regulus bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. “It’s a B minus,” he repeated. “And so they’re going to kick me out.”

Jax let out a long breath, as if they were holding many things back. Regulus didn’t like it when they did that. He’d feel much better if they just told him they pitied him outright. “That’s not…no, that’s not how that works. Reg, no professor will fail you out of their class because of a B minus.”

The part of his brain that had been running through various explanations when he inevitably slunk back to Sirius’ doorstep came to a sputtering standstill. “Excuse me?”

“Dude, that’s not even a failing grade.”

Something next to his lungs began to shake. “Explain, please.”

“A C is considered average. You’re above average. Do you know that?” Jax’s concern crept back into their face. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Average.

Above average.

He had been screamed at for above average. Lived in terror of doing his best and being found lacking for above average.

The fury was white-hot and all-consuming, and unexpected enough that he had to blink several times in quick succession to clear the burning from his eyes.

“Reg?”

“Excuse me,” he muttered. He tried to stand and found he couldn’t so much as twitch for fear of combustion.

“Hey.” Jax’s voice gentled. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kindness was the cruelest thing university could have given him. It was too-tight shoes and a necktie done just wrong on game day. Regulus felt his nostrils flare around a few deep breaths. A pulsing rod blazed just behind his eye. “You didn’t. Sorry. Yes, we should work out together sometime. Text me when you’re free.”

He stood on unsteady feet, left the dorm, and began to walk.

II.

“Don’t move, don’t move—”

“Shut the fuck up and do not touch me.”

The pain was overwhelming. Regulus’ temple throbbed from the force of squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel them all there, crowding him, closing in with their worry, holding their breath because he was angry and scared and angry because he was scared and scared because he was angry and in pain. And in pain.

He could work through pain. He had done it so many times.

Breathe. His chest didn’t hurt. His shoulders didn’t hurt. His stomach didn’t hurt. The throbbing below his waist could wait until he had taken a few deep breaths.

“Reg?”

Analyze. His leg was too hot and too cold at the same time. Everything below his left hip echoed his pulse, but his shin had a special kind of searing to it. His palms, too. Someone’s fingertips hovered at his pulse point and he twitched away. They stopped. They left him alone.

Do not cry.

The corners of his eyes were too wet in the gentle breeze.

Step Three: Do Not Cry.

“Reg, are you alright?” Kris’ reedy voice should have grated on him.

“I’m fine.” His voice wavered, but did not break. He unclenched his fists and flexed them, wincing at the sting of scraped skin. He took a sharp breath and wiggled his toes—no immediate pain. His leg muscles constricted when he told them to, relaxed when he breathed out.

Move on.

He went to bend his knee and immediately heard four people stumble over each other to stop him.

“You’re fine,” Jax said near his right ear. “But also, please don’t do that.”

Regulus opened one eye and frowned up at them. “Pick one.”

Jax hesitated a half-second longer than his patience. Regulus muttered a curse under his breath and sat up, grimacing at the carnage. The heels of his hands were trashed from the concrete; they would need full gauze, without a doubt. The gash running down his shin bled freely onto his (favorite) jeans and was beginning to seep out onto the ground. He sighed. “That’s not ideal.”

“Can we help?” Kris asked, all big eyes and bigger heart while he fiddled with the zipper of his first-aid kit. “I’d prefer to get a bandage on that before you move much, but we need to wash it out.”

Regulus tried to keep the judgement off his face. It seemed rude. “That’s not necessary,” he said. “But thanks. Pardon.”

Standing turned out to be a bad idea after all. The first bit of weight made his entire bad leg buckle and he narrowly missed crumpling on the ground for the second time in five minutes. Pain lanced up to his hip; Regulus dug his hands into the sidewalk to anchor himself, and when that only made it all hurt worse, settled for a handful of measured breaths.

The touch to his shoulder blade was featherlight. “Let me help,” Vanessa said softly.

Regulus hesitated. Better up than on the concrete, he supposed. He just—what if she couldn’t hold him?

She waited for him to nod before holding a hand out for him to take. Deadlift calluses and a firm grip reminded him just enough of Leo to not pull away when she braced her other hand behind his elbow and hoisted him upright, catching him when he swayed into her. “Easy,” she soothed. “Take your time.”

Regulus felt himself buffer, eyes fixed on her. Thick, dark hair drifted into her face in tiny wisps where it escaped her ponytail. She frowned down at the jagged rock that had cut into him like it personally wronged her.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The upset vanished from her round face when she looked up again; there was a light squeeze to his torso. He got his weight under him, and yet she didn’t let go. Vanessa’s hold didn’t falter as they limped their way down the sidewalk, supported on every step.

He caught Jax’s eye as they turned toward the engineering building and found them already smiling.

III.

It’s a dumb movie, anyway.

That’s what Regulus told himself, listening to Clare sniffle while Kris watched the screen in openmouthed horror next to him. Jax’s description had been vague at best—something about a house and balloons and an old man’s emotional support Boy Scout.

But here they were, five minutes in, with no sign of balloons, Boy Scouts, or emotional support to be found. Just utter devastation and the inevitable march of death in spite of overwhelming love.

Goddamn mailbox, he thought. This whole problem could have been avoided if those two didn’t love each other to the ends of the earth. Which, of course, only made him think of Sirius’ ability to love with his entire heart and he really hoped Remus didn’t die first because that would be such a nightmare for everyone involved and oh, god, Sirius was going to die someday and leave him there—

“I forgot about this part,” Jax whispered in the darkness of the dorm. Their voice was only just loud enough for Regulus to hear over the movie.

He exhaled, and was surprised by how shaky it sounded to his own ears. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” they said sympathetically. “Fuckin’ Pixar. Need a minute?”

Regulus shook his head.

“ ‘Kay.” They sat quietly for another few seconds. A shoulder pressed gently against his own. “Let me know if you do, though.”

+1:

On an unassuming Thursday in April, it happened. The hammer came down. The other shoe dropped. Regulus’ luck ran out, the final bits drip-drip-dripping out into the ether and leaving him in a dead end of his own making.

In a way, it was inevitable.

“Holy shit,” Kris said, quiet and stunned and slower than Jax had ever heard him. His green eyes were blown wide; what had been a comfortable sprawl across his mattress for over an hour was now tense, the catch of breath before a scream. One airpod sat snug in his ear. His phone was lax in his hand and utterly innocent from Jax’s side of the room, save for Kris’ look of growing horror among his confusion.

“Kris?” they ventured. Kris remained silent. Jax’s pulse kicked. “What happened? Come on, man, that’s ominous as hell.”

“It’s Reg.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat and fell right into the canyon below. “What?”

“He’s—” Kris’ mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t…”

“Is he hurt?” Their phone was here somewhere, buried under their notebooks goddamnit their mother was right about the organizing bins— “Kris, is he hurt? What happened?”

“He’s famous.”

They stuttered to a stop with their hand buried in the mess of their backpack.

“I think—I think he is? Or was. Or something. Hey, did you know he played hockey?”

Jax stared at him, then shook their head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come see this.” Kris finally looked up, motioning them over with his head as if he couldn’t let go of the damn phone. “Come here, c’mere.”

“Are you seriously about to make me watch a Tik…”

“Regulus, do you have any comments on the rivalry being set up between you and your brother? Does it get in the way of your personal relationship with Sirius at all, being on the Lions and the Snakes?”

“My brother’s got a dirty game—”

Jax didn’t hear the next few words. They were a little too concerned with the sudden absence of the floor beneath their feet.

“—don’t endorse that sort of hockey.”

“And your personal relationship? How about Thanksgiving?”

“What personal relationship?”

Jax closed their eyes. It wasn’t enough.

“As far as I’m concerned, he might as well stay away with the rest of his pack of cubs—”

“Stop.”

Light music halted and left the room in the soft rattle of their ancient radiator.

“This isn’t—stop,” they repeated, though Kris had long since abandoned his phone on the sheers. His pale hands were pressed against his mouth. Jax felt their skin crawl. “This isn’t right. I’m not watching that.”

“He looks sick.”

“Yeah. Jesus, yeah.” Something was wrong in that video. Regulus’ bright, clever eyes were emptier than a scoured pot. A scrape marred his cheek. The violent green of his uniform—jersey, maybe? Or just a shirt?—washed him into a greyed-out version of himself. His hair was cropped harsh and short above his ears, hardly a curl in sight.

Someone was laughing in the background of the video. Jax didn’t like the way he looked at Regulus. There were too many cameras and microphones shoved into his space; Regulus wouldn’t like that, either.

“He doesn’t talk about his brother that way.”

“No,” Kris agreed in a murmur. “No, he doesn’t.”

Not that Regulus talked about his family often, but on the rare occasion it came up, Sirius was always the first one he mentioned. Jax had met him back in September—tall and broad and handsome, with a barking laugh and a voice that carried. Regulus gravitated to him like a magnet, though Jax wasn’t sure it was a conscious habit.

What personal relationship? He might as well stay away.

Kris was right. He did look sick in that video.

“Can you…” God, this felt wrong, but they had to know. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

Kris’ sideways glance made them swallow convulsively. Nevertheless, he picked up his phone.

Search: Regulus Black

Buzzfeed: NHL DROPOUT APPLIES TO…

ESPN: Regulus Black: Where Is He Now?

NHLWorld: Black Jerseys 70% Off—Everything Must…

Hockey Daily Magazine: Broken Contract and Rumors of Court!

#BlackBash

#RegulusBlack

#RegulusBlackSnakes

#BlackSlytherin

#BlackBrothers

#Playoffs2020

#AllStars2020

“Holy shit…”

NHLNews: Player Abuse in Sly…

#RegulusBlackCollege

#RegulusBlackSiriusBlack

@ hockeypalooza: I’m sorry but Regulus Black was the best player that team had ever…

@ slythlife: Black better not show his face in slyth ever again I stg

“When was that taken?”

Kris’ throat bobbed. He turned his phone off. “Last November.”

Jax pressed their fingers to their temples and let a sour breath out. This was too much. Too much. Their skull was going to implode. “Okay. Okay. Christ. Okay. Reg was famous, he left, he’s here now, it doesn’t matter.”

“We can’t tell him we know.” Kris stared into the middle distance—or, no, at Regulus’ bed. Always made, but a little wonky, like he was still figuring out how to do it right. A loose sock laid on the floor by one of his astrophysics books. “He doesn’t want us to know, or he would have said something. I’ve never heard him mention hockey. He said sports weren’t his thing.”

“He was a professional player.”

“For, what, half a season?” Kris’ lips pursed. “I’m not telling him we know. He left for a reason. Fine. That’s his business. He’ll say something when he’s—”

A key scraped against their door lock and Jax…Jax’s organs discovered the miracle of negative acceleration along the y-axis.

Regulus stepped in and slung his bag onto his desk chair. He opened his mouth to speak, saw them, and stopped. Stopped, like a deer staring down a Ford-F150. Every muscle primed and wound tight, as if someone had pressed ‘pause’ on the rotation of the world. His fingertip hovered in the handle-loop of his backpack.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Oh, no.”

And he left.

“Wait,” Kris called, far too weak and far too late. Jax’s brain refocused all in a rush—they both scrambled for the door, slipping on shoes and snatching wallets off whatever horizontal surface they called home.

“Shit, shit shit, shit,” Jax muttered. They shouldn’t have done this. They shouldn’t have looked. Kris was always right, always reasonable, never knee-jerk, so much better at this. They should have known better than to dig where they shouldn’t.

“I’ll check the library,” Kris said, jamming his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll—mother of fuck, this is not what I wanted. I’m deleting TikTok. And Google, fucking Google?”

Jax’s jaw throbbed with tooth-locking guilt. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have looked, I’m so sorry.”

“Abuse cases? Abuse cases.” Kris swore again and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fine. Alright. I’ve got the library. Text if you find him first. Holy shit.”

“I’m telling Vanessa to keep an eye out.”

“Good, yeah, whatever.”

Jax fought every urge to sprint down the hallway. Regulus was already long gone. Causing a scene wasn’t going to help. He probably wouldn’t come back to the apartment unless they found him first. Maybe ever. Oh, god, Jax would never forgive themselves if Reg left because they were a nosy little shit with no poker face.

For the first time, Jax wished NYU didn’t span a million city blocks. A fenced-in Ivy in the middle of nowhere would make them miserable, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to corner his flighty roommate when his hiding place wasn’t the entirety of New York City.

Well—well.

Regulus’ backpack was still in the dorm. He kept his wallet in the side pocket, zippered up tight. No MetroCard meant no subways. No student ID meant no twenty-story buildings to slip into. Regulus’ Ultra Panic Mode meant…nothing good, but at least he wouldn’t go far. Jax’s stomach twisted more than usual at the thought of him falling apart alone.

They shot off another text to Vanessa (whose string of ????? was the only correct response to their disaster of an initial message) and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

For a day with the potential to ruin a new and treasured portion of Jax’s life, it was quite beautiful out. The air was crisp and only reeked a little from the crusty hot dog stand down the block; the massive column sticking out of a manhole was missing its usual billow of subway steam and left the sky an unmarred blue above them. They were learning to like the spring on this coast. It was cold, sure, but if they wanted it to feel more like home, they would have gone to California. New York was their escape in every sense. They just—

They just really didn’t want to lose Regulus.

They hadn’t been sure what to make of him at first: so quiet, so reserved, every emotion leashed. But then he was kind and smart and funny in his weird way. He hadn’t fumbled a pronoun since the first day. He came home early from winter break, just so Jax and Vanessa wouldn’t be alone for their last holiday week after flights home fell through.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t like them. It was just that he was so very afraid of some looming shadow that had remained unnamed until that very afternoon. Jax couldn’t even blame him for it. If hockey made Regulus that ill, it was a small wonder he did everything in his power to leave it behind.

The bell of the narrow bookstore on 14th street chimed when they entered. The corner seat was unchanged, down to the burnt-orange cushion with a torn side seam. The rest of the shop vanished behind a massive chestnut shelf when they sat, folding their legs up. It was nice in here. Dim lights and a quiet heater. The owner had swapped out the winter candles for fresher springtime scents just a few weeks before.

“I never lied.”

“I know.” They stretched one leg out to roll the tension from their ankle. “You okay?”

“Non. How did you find out?”

His accent was thicker. Upset was etched in every angle in the corner of Jax’s vision. Shame wedged icy fingers between their ribs. “A video popped up on Kris’ TikTok feed. We shouldn’t have watched it.”

“I wouldn’t have told you.”

“I figured.”

“I wasn’t—I was trying—” Regulus’ jaw ticked. His forehead furrowed as he picked at the laces of his shoes. “You have no idea what it was like. The way it got twisted up, I—and I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t leave.”

Don’t fucking cry.

“I couldn’t get out. Not until that game.” They saw him shake his head minutely. “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have tried.”

“What game?”

“The…” Regulus turned to look at them then, eyes narrowed. “What was in the video?”

My brother’s got a dirty game. What personal relationship?

“You were in a room. I don’t know, there was a lot of hockey stuff around. People had stuff all up in your face.” Jax brought a fingernail to their mouth and bit absently at it. “It was an interview, something about your brother.”

“Fuck.”

The quiet ferocity of it made their heart clench in surprise. Regulus tipped his head back against the cool window. The edges of his lips had gone white with tension and Jax had never felt such regret for honesty in their entire life.

“I hate that fucking video.” It came out hoarse. Jax’s belly went Gordian. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No, dude, I’m sorry. We should have scrolled past it. We should’ve—we should have waited for you to tell us.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t,” Jax said gently. “And that’s fine.”

Regulus’ mouth turned down at the corner. “I can be out by Saturday.”

In the throes of disbelief, all they could do was shake their head. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t bring a lot of stuff. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Reg, what are you talking about?”

An owl-eyed stare pinned Jax; intense, but not angry. They had been prepared for anger. Not…whatever this was. “Why are you here?” he asked carefully.

“To apologize? Because Kris and I fucked up and you left before we could say anything?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jax insisted. “And clearly not enough people have apologized to you even once in your life, ‘cause it’s shitty when your secrets come out and it’s scary and so I’m here for you. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For this, and for all those assholes who made you play hockey when you were meant to be a space nerd.”

Of all the reactions to a sudden outburst Jax had expected, a trembling lower lip wasn’t one of them.

“Oh, god.” Panic pulsed in their chest. “Was that too much?”

“I hate that fucking video,” Regulus whispered, voice breaking. His eyes welled with tears. Jax’s tongue turned to lead in their mouth.

This couldn’t possibly be real. Not this. Not sitting in a hole-in-the-wall bookstore while Regulus took stuttering breaths around tears he didn’t seem to know how to handle. “Hey,” Jax said softly. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Regulus muttered angrily, scrubbing at his cheeks with shaking hands. “Fuck—merde, one second.”

“It’s okay.”

“Non, stop it.”

We’re doing this. We’re doing this. “Reg, it’s fine. Is this—is this alright?”

Regulus froze up at the tentative touch to his shoulder. Jax waited, heart in their throat, before Regulus gave a slight, pained nod and leaned ever so slightly into them. It was incredibly heartbreaking and also deeply weird, the way Jax supposed it would feel to pet a wild tiger in a zoo.

Worst of all, it made sense. The mottled skin of Regulus’ ankles. His careful silence, only broken in the presence of a few friends. He had hardly spoken unless spoken to until January. Jax had seen skates, just once, tucked in the corner of his closet behind his laundry bag.

They had chalked it up to the Canadian thing. One of their stupider moments, looking back.

“Please don’t leave.”

Regulus paused with his sleeve pressed below his nose. “Quoi?”

“It’s…” There was a dent in the hardwood beneath the toe of their sneaker. “I mean, you’re my best friend. So I’d like it if you stayed. If you want.”

The request felt too fragile. The wound, too raw. Would Regulus be angry that they asked?

“Why would you want that?” Regulus asked after several beats of empty air between them. He sounded mystified by the very thought.

“You’re my best friend.” The corners of their eyes stung. They gave Regulus a little pulse of pressure, the shadow of a hug. “I’d miss you if you left.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.”

A tear glimmered in the light as it fell from Regulus’ cheekbone to his jaw, where he brushed it on the sleeve of his shirt. The cuffs were stretched, like he’d been gripping them in iron hands; they matched the frayed hems of his hoodies in a rather sickening way. “I want to stay.”

“Thank god.”

A rueful smile pulled at Regulus’ mouth. “You know, you might be the first person who wanted me around.”

“That’s so…” There were no words. Literally nothing could encompass the fresh-scrape sting of each new layer of tragic backstory peeling away. “Is there any part of your life story that isn’t depressing as hell?”

“Probably not,” Regulus snorted.

He was warm under Jax’s palm. The shivering had stopped. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Merci.”

“Do you—”

“No.”

They nodded and mimed zipping their lips, and it made Regulus smile just a little, so it was worth it. He hadn’t pulled away from their one-handed hug yet. Jax counted that as a victory. It was sort of like washing a wound in the ocean: it stung like a bitch, but they were better for it in the end. Regulus’ wounds had been opened and reopened for nineteen years by uncaring hands. His cleanse was going to burn more than most. But even if gifts baffled him and kind words made him grimace and hugs were—whatever this was, Jax would be there. This time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

#regulus black #jax #kris #vanessa #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hurt/ comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic o’ween 2023 #best friend comfort #3+1

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dearophelia · 1 year

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best of sara's fic, according to her

Because I’m feeling some kind of way about my cancer lately and wanted to put together a Sara’s Greatest Fic Hits while I’m still around to do it (which is a morbid thing to type, but see the intro: been feeling some kind of way lately).

These range from my most popular fics, to the ones lost to weird posting hours, and everything in between. If I counted correctly, there are 14 fandoms on this list: from Mass Effect and Dragon Age, to Grey’s Anatomy and Stargate SG-1, to The West Wing and Calvin & Hobbes.

I’d appreciate reblogs on this (I am not ashamed to pull the stage iv cancer card here) so it can reach as many people as possible.

I have been writing fic for over 15 years; this is not a short list.

All are rated T or lower unless otherwise indicated. All stories are at or under the 3k mark unless otherwise indicated.

Stargate SG-1:

waves are universal (the heaven in hiding remix) (Sam/Jack; I’m very Normal about this fic; time travel and alternate realities, a host of OCs (and some familiar faces from Norafic if you look closely), oh and the Sam/Jack kid from the alternate reality! Only she’s an adult and working on a way to save the world! This has it all, folks: humor, romance, angst, action! I told you I’m Normal about it; 40k)

strange is the night where black stars rise (Sam; horror! A low creeping sense of doom! The King in Yellow! No, seriously, fuck that planet; 10k)

#sg1wedding (Sam/Jack; their wedding turned into An Event against their will; bets are going down about who would win in a fight: Bra’tac or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; also Jack loses his socks; twitterfic from 2012 and technology has definitely Marched On, just read it like an unhinged group chat fic)

phoenix (Sam/Daniel/Teal’c, Sam/Jack, Sam/Jack/Daniel/Teal’c; apocalypse (that I consulted a real live geologist on!); rebuilding in the wake of said apocalypse; team family feelings, kids, and some really shitty neighbors; 38k)

Dragon Age:

joy cometh in the morning (Ariadne; rated M; a host of OCs; mind the warnings; friendship; worldbuilding galore; friendships and mentors and first loves; did I mention friendship and worldbuilding?; 56k)

through the rude wind’s wild lament, and the bitter weather (Ari+Cullen; quiet magic, kind magic, good magic is still new to Cullen)

as the sun kissed the horizon (Ari/Josephine; a relationship in ten moments)

‘til we meet again (Ari+Cullen; platonic sleeping together!)

so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness (Ari; her faith is the core of who she is and, for the first time, Andraste isn’t there; post-Trespasser)

raise your fists up to the sky (Kylie/Krem; it’s Krem’s first day with the Chargers and there’s a naked elf in the middle of camp)

every demon wants his pound of flesh (Krem+Bull; Krem was in the Fade with the Inquisitor and the fear demon had some Things To Say To Him)

black dove (Anaya) & strange little girl (Anaya+Dagna) & dissolving clouds (Anaya+Cullen) (because neurodivergent Inquisitor, friendship, blossoming romance, and three very different takes on blood magic)

skeletons (Zahara+Bull; she is saarebas, he is Ben-Hassrath, and language is important)

children shouldn’t play with dead things (Juliette Amell; she’s always had an easier time with the dead than the living; cw for bugs)

a sorta fairytale (Josephine/Cassandra; flower shop & tattoo parlor AU; 8k)

Mass Effect Trilogy:

gonna set your flag on fire (Nora Vakarian, Liv/Garrus, James/Liara, Liv+Liara, Livfam; action! Humor! Angst! Worldbuilding! OCs!; I am Super Normal about this fic too; I promise everything’s okay in the end, promise, even though it isn’t written yet; Nora is an N3 and has an inactive control chip in her head. She and her team are ordered to investigate a Cerberus facility. It goes, shall we say, awry; 40k)

anthem (Liv/Garrus, Hannah/Zaeed, Liv+Liara; eight months is a long time without each other; angst with a happy ending (I promise); post-Destroy; 13k)

holy ground & dress (Liv/Garrus; ficlets from the night he gets sworn in as Councilor)

brightly shone the moon at night (Liv, Liv+Liara, Liv/Garrus, Livfam; five Christmases in Olivia Shepard’s life; 5k)

the pieces of gold, they light up your eyes & now we’re alone, now we’re alive (Liv/Garrus; the evolution of a relationship)

fighting is said to have reached palaven (Liv/Garrus; please, please let him be alive)

and some things you just can’t speak about (Quentus+Nico; the war)

‘cause i know that it’s delicate (Liv/Garrus; pre-wedding!)

nosce te ipsum (Nico; he likes boys and fanfiction and he didn’t think he’d get his little italicized oh moment)

i will write you love letters if you tell me to (Liv/Garrus; Hannah gives him one of Liv’s notebooks before he goes off to Omega; Garrus does the only thing he can think of with it)

i really need you (Liv/Garrus; James POV during the reunion scene in Priority: Palaven)

you look really tired (Liv/Garrus, Liv+Liara; post-Thessia, Olivia’s not doing well)

hey, so, ground rules (Liv+Zaeed; it’s a lot weird now that he’s dating her mom)

and all the scars you bear are from a previous war (Liv+Quentus; Mom!Liv)

you can hear it in the silence (Liv/Garrus; just a moment, post-war)

this all started because of a bad day (Liv/Garrus; from first meetings to matching rings)

combat, i’m ready for combat & turn on your favorite nightlight (Hannah; she’s a civilian and her daughter isn’t, and she’s bound and determined to know what Liv goes through when her boots hit the ground; Hannah, Zaeed, Liv, and Garrus hit up Armax)

four quarians who never made it back to the fleet (and one who did) (kinda what it says on the tin, honestly. Oh, Tali’s in this!)

everyone’s lost, the battle is won (Evangeline; somewhat predictably, my experiment in getting as many of my team killed as possible resulted in Feelings About It)

across the sky (Susan/Liara; how to make the Control ending feel good)

and yours is in red underlined (Vanessa; The Illusive Man has pissed her off for the last time)

i’m headed straight for the castle (Vanessa; renegade control ending; kneel before your queen)

Mass Effect Andromeda:

for saviours (Tori; ten scenes from a pre-Andromeda life; 10k)

ringing joyful and triumphant (Tori/Liam/Jaal; just some morning fluff)

the thing with the baby angara (Tori/Liam/Jaal; thinking about the future)

the undone and the divine (Tori/Liam/Jaal; the lone single solitary explicit fic on here, give it props for that alone; Liam gets absolutely railed by his partners. That’s it. That’s the fic.)

you’re like the thing that makes the universe explode (Sara Ryder/Suvi, Drack; kid, the only people who don’t know that you like Suvi are people who haven’t met you and Suvi)

this one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall (Tori+Garrus; one night in the intersection of Victoria Ryder and Archangel; maybe they’re better friends than they both thought)

The West Wing:

a great revelation sigh (CJ; she’s Chief of Staff; ten steps to the apocalypse; the apocalypse source probably didn’t age well, heads up)

it’s in my blood and i won’t give up ‘cause it’s running through my veins (Amy+Andi; it’s Election Day in the future and Amy has nothing to do)

Grey’s Anatomy:

dropsonde (the singers in a lower choir remix) (Addison/Alex, Derek/Meredith, Addison+Derek, Addison+Mark, Mark+Derek; the one that kicked off all the remixes; absolutely off the rails from canon somewhere in S3; budding romances and kidfic and my theory about people being storms and lighthouses; 40k)

scarlet city (Mark/Addison, Burke/Cristina; film noir gangster and detective AU; Addison’s the gangster, Burke’s the detective; literally everyone I could fit into this fic shows up; also Denny is comic relief; 18k)

Misc:

access records (Star Trek Voyager; Naomi Wildman’s holodeck access for the past week; worldbuilding!)

in this twilight our choices seal our fate (the song in the house of night remix) (SVU; Olivia/Elliot; rated M; on the rise and fall of partnership; probably a little too much religious imagery but what the hell else am I gonna do with a minor in religious studies?; 4k)

the end of days job (Leverage; Parker+Eliot+Hardison; the apocalypse job, basically; this one ages well!)

let the only sound be the overflow (D&D; Calia/Kelpie/Edal, aka ot3: fathoms below; the ocean is big and they are not)

we are golden stars above silver seas (we hear echoes from another galaxy) (Calvin & Hobbes; Calvin+Susie; throughout all those years, she never gave up on him; this one went viral on tumblr [LINK] and I cleaned it up for the AO3 version)

lift her, pull her, from the orchids (Grace and Frankie; Grace/Frankie; the one where I invoke the spelling bee)

rocket queens (Babylon 5/Pacific Rim; Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters; look, they’re jaeger pilots, I really don’t know what else to tell you)

the great gig in the sky (Battlestar Galactica; Six; rebirth is painful, she forgets this sometimes)

#screams hits post #s:words

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controversialhpmemes · 2 months

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Obviously hate is never okay and that message is was super shitty, I’m sorry!

But it’s also very obvious that you think canon is superior. Even with the small things— like chocolate chip versus oatmeal raisin in your response. (i know i know it’s silly but…) Based on my experience with your page, you do shit on non-canon ships in your memes and you complain about people who like those ships.

(And before you say that you’re critiquing the ships— it doesn’t feel like you’re doing it in good faith. Good faith critiques come from a place wanting something to improve because you like it and want to be part of it. You’ve made it clear you don’t like these ships and it feels like you don’t want to actually engage in productive discourse)

So It feels like the “if people just tagged correctly” argument is disingenuous. Like how do you tag a character as OOC when they don’t really have a characterization to begin with? Not to mention— I feel like sO many marauders fics are tagged as AUs anyway because they don’t take place in the magical world.

There are also so many other tags you could filter out, such as any of the ships you don’t like. If you don’t like how Jegulus treats Lily and Harry, filter out fics that having Jegulus raising Harry.

To a casual (but deeply invested observer) it feels more like you miss the focus on the older parts of the fandom and are taking it out on the newer members. If you’re annoyed with the lack of content/focus/popularity, you’re not going to change that with anti posts. You just need to find your people (which you’re doing here!) based on what you all like.

To your jokes about marauders fans not understanding or knowing the canon… many marauders fans grew up reading Harry Potter and have since become uncomfortable with how JKRs views come through in the text. Many of us have since distanced ourselves from the original canon on purpose because of the transphobia, racism, and pro-cop content. (This isn’t me trying to say that canon lovers are endorsing this, but it also doesn’t feel right when canon lovers act like they have more of a claim to fandom spaces… so many people would have loved to continue being in those spaces, but feel like Marauders is a safer space)

I don’t get the impression that people are trying to pretend they invented Harry Potter, but to some degree they largely invented the marauders characters. Obviously some characters have large roles in the canon (you post a lot abt Remadora, which makes sense) but others are barely mentioned or are only shown through specific lenses.

Like I mentioned earlier, how do you tag something OOC when there’s no original characterization? But it’s not an OC, because you’re pulling bits of the character from the world and thousands of other people have the same character (or a similar character) in their heads.

This isn’t supposed to be a gotcha moment. I’m genuinely asking bc it doesn’t really feel like tagging is the root of the issue.

One last big point: Your blog talks a ton about misogyny and fetishization of gay men. These are topics that are much-discussed in so many spaces and not even the most fanon-focused marauders fans can agree on them, but I’d like to give my two cents.

There is misogyny. Of course there is. Even as people try their best, Marauders revolves around a group of boys (it’s in the name) and men will continue to be at the center of it. That will inherently attract and breed misogyny.

However, the canon treatment and characterization of women is also misogynistic. Lily, for example, is very flat in the books. She has a few scenes (in Snapes memories, mostly) and is otherwise talked *about*. She is held up as an idyllic mother and student and person, true, but that is not a well-written character. She isn’t really a person in the books as much as she is a motivation/plot device for men around her. And this is entirely a product of JKR’s inability to write women.

Again, all of this is par for the course, and most people would agree that canon marauders-era characters are often single-note.

What feels unfair about your arguments is that fanon has added so much depth to these characters and flushed them out as real fallible humans. It’s fair to point out that fanon does this more for the men, but it feels reductive to oNLY talk about the misogyny in fandom, when canon is just as guilty by nature of the author.

On the topic of fetishizing: there’s this idea that a bunch of creepy white women are sitting at their computers writing porn about gay teenagers… when that is really a straw man argument. Maybe those people exist, and I would be more likely to believe that that’s true in the broader HP fandom… but a majority of the marauders fic authors I know (including the ones who write filthy smut) are genderqueer (transmasc esp) and are actively experimenting with their sexuality and gender. Marauders fics played a large role in my coming out as transmasc.

It’s not fetishizing if the people writing these things are closeted gay men/nonbinary people. That’s just people writing the experiences they wish they could have had.

And that’s also part of why we—I, at least— distance from canon. JKR looms over a lot. Maybe you don’t feel it, which is great! I’m very glad. But please don’t shit on people who do.

Anyway, I know this is super long and idk if you’ll even read/respond to it, but thank you if you do. If you want to engage in more discussion, I will continue to check back and DM you if you want.

Canon is superior to fanon. I do complain about people who enjoy the ships. Not only because of mistagging. Mistagging is a band-aid for the problem. It solves the immediate issue of having a fanon fandom and a canon fandom under one umbrella. That is the tip of the iceberg.

I do not want to engage in productive discourse as you put it. Not on this page. This page serves a specific purpose for me. Venting. I do not start any post with "let us discuss" or "we need to talk about". Any engagement I get is from asks like this one. People come to me to vent. It is ok.

Because it is not productive to argue about canon versus fanon. I have tried. I have failed. In this fandom it is impossible to have a good faith critique of fanon ships. Too many people treat their fanon ships as markers of their morality or personality. A good faith critique of fanon ship becomes an attack on the shipper. It goes like this:

Them: "Jegulus could be canon IF. Or Jegulus could be canon, BUT"

It is the IF/BUT that makes the discussion impossible. I do not want to talk about IF/BUT. I want to talk about what is.

OOC and canon characterisation. There are some characters that have almost nothing. Like Evan Rosier. But what we do know is he was killed by Moody. He was resisting arrest. He blew off a chunk of Moody's nose. That does not sound like a spring flower who loves justice and Muggleborns.

I am angry with newer Marauder fans because they have taken these AUs as canon. Some have not read the books by their own admission and seem to be proud of it. How do you talk about canon James Potter if you only have fanfiction? We know enough to piece together a character. We know enough that he hated dark magic, loved Lily, loved his friends. There is never ever mention of Regulus by James.

To say it again. Mistagging is the tip of the iceberg. It can solve an immediate problem. It does not solve the problem of the whole fandom. I cannot solve that. I do not pretend to try to solve that. I am incapable of solving that. I can make memes that make me laugh, make others laugh, occasionally break containment. I have been blocked by loads of accounts. I expected this and am ok with it. I have also said before I will not do this forever. I am angry and taking it out with memes. Instead of going to individual ask boxes or fics or TikTok accounts or Twitter accounts or Discord servers and harassing individuals.

I do filter. The filtering makes certain tags walls of filtered posts. If you filter wolfstar and go to the Sirius Black tag page it is mostly filtered posts. That means the tag is unusable to me.

Filtering fics. This is easy enough in theory. But fanon characterisation has become ingrained. When I filter out all the ships I do not want, I still find OOC characterisation in fics. Overly-dramatic Sirius. Alpha male Lupin. Do-no-wrong Hermione. Stupid Ron. Those are not tagged. I do the sensible thing. I click out of the fic, do not leave a hate comment, do not engage with the author or fic.

Yet I can still be frustrated and make a general meme that is not specific to an author or fic to the best of my ability. Almost everything is tagged anti marauders fandom, anti marauders fanon, or anti ship, or anti X bashing. I make it easier to filter my controversial takes. This page, one more time, is not for discussion. I open discussion with asks but it is up to the asker to discuss with me.

I will push back on your interpretation of Lily. We know more about Lily than James. You pointed out the problem. By focusing on the Marauders (men) it does breed misogyny. But we know more about the Marauders than characters like Mary Macdonald, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance. If we have almost nothing for Marauders and even less for the female characters, why is fanon incapable of doing as much for them?

We cannot do anything about the internalised misogyny and transmisogyny by JKR. We can and should criticise her and her dehumanising views. It seems hypocritical to me to say "well, the author is guilty of misogyny so we should be as critical of her."

We are. The reason I push harder on fandom than on JKR is that many parts of fandom are declaring themselves morally superior, morally better, more socially progressive than JKR. Which is true in many ways. But if this is the claim, I expect more from fandom than JKR. If you know better, you do better. The Marauders fandom claims to know better. So I push harder on fandom.

It is good that the Marauders fandom encouraged you to be who you are. It is good that you felt comfortable and supported to come out as transmasc.

However we all have our echo chambers. I am guilty of it. This blog is an echo chamber often. I respond to asks like this one that are in good faith and disagree with me.

Fetishisation to me is not about writing genuine experiences or wishful thinking or wish fulfillment. It is about using an identity as an object for pleasure. Only you can decide which one is which. I have been in fandom for a long while. It is not only middle aged white women who do this. White people fetishise POC. Het people fetishise queer people. Young people fetishise. Old people fetishise. Everyone is susceptible to using another person or identity as an object for pleasure. I have seen it all over many years.

You are welcome to DM me. You are welcome to send more asks. I expect you will find my response to be insufficient or lacking. You may even block me. That is ok.

#asked #answered #anti marauders fanon #anti marauders fandom #fandom wank #fandom discourse #fandom etiquette #fandom misogyny #harry potter #fandom critical #fandom criticism #fandom culture #fandom problems

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imsadstuff · 1 year

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Loving You Is Red - A Jeon Jungkook Fic, voice memo's that were never sent

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook's name was unheard on the Formula 1 paddock till he got a chance to drive a Mercedes car as a reserve driver. His 2020 starts looking brighter as he signs with Ferrari and meets you, his team mates little sister. So many cliched tropes, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, dating brother's best friend, and most importantly Jeon Jungkook looks smoking hot in a Ferrari! Genre: Angst, lots of it, happy ending Word Count: 3.5kAuthor's Note: So, this is a little extra instalment based on something my boyfriend did. He told me about the voice notes he left for me during our break up. he wanted to call and tell me a million things, but instead he'd leave a voice memo in his phone, pretending like they got to me. made me sob like a baby. so, this is a version of that for loving you is red, different voice notes Jungkook records for OC over the five years they're apart... I highly recommend you read the fic to have a better understanding of this. You can find the fic here

please don't be a ghost reader, likes, comments, reblogs, show your appreciation (given you like it 🫣)

Day after Abu Dhabi Race 2020

Jungkook was hungover and tired, the night had been kind of a blur after he won the race. He still couldn’t believe he was the 2020 F1 world champion, he still couldn’t believe you weren’t in the bed beside him, he still couldn’t believe he let you go.

Jungkook was drinking to feel numb, but the morning came and the emotions were starting to eat him up. His hand hovers over your number, Jungkook wants to apologise and wants you back, but he fights the urge as he locks his phone and throws it on the bed as he walks into the washroom.

Walking back with his towel low on his hips, he picks up his phone again, opening the voice recorder app instead. He needs to let out all the intense emotions he’s feeling.

“Hey, just got done crying in the shower. I feel so overwhelmed and anxious, so much is happening all at once. I can’t believe yesterday really happened” he sighs as the app continues recording as he sits down on the bed.

“I’m supposed to go out and celebrate my amazing season but I feel sick just thinking about yesterday. I feel so guilty, I don’t deserve this win” tears are staining his cheeks again, he takes a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“We weren’t supposed to end this way ___…” your name feels heavy in Jungkook’s heart as he presses stop on the recording. Flopping back in bed, he allows himself to cry a little more, processing everything is just too much right now.

1st January 2021

“It’s been a month and a half since I last saw you, feels like forever” Jungkook struggles to stand still as he records another voice memo. Jungkook’s friends invited him out, hoping to distract him and celebrate the new years, but you were still on his mind.

“The new year started fifteen minutes ago, so my resolution for this year is to get over you, I’m going to get a tattoo to symbolise that too” he promises as he gulps down the whiskey, taking a good look at himself in the mirror. All he sees is a shitty, depressed version of himself and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“I have to start getting over you, I can’t keep feeling broken like this” his voice cracks as he struggles to keep the tears away, he’s been crying a lot more than usual lately.

“I hate myself some more just imagining you being miserable like this. I hope you’ve realised that you’re better off without me, that you deserve someone who prioritises you” he whispers the last part as he lets the tears win once again.

“Happy new year ___, I know this year can’t top the magic that was 2020, but I’ll try. I have to unless all this pain was for nothing” he chuckles dryly as he stops recording. It takes him a few minutes to compose himself, but he does, he’s getting shockingly good at pretending like he’s fine.

Race 2 2021

Jungkook’s frustrated as he shuts the door to his hotel room, it’s the second race of the season and the car is absolutely not supporting him. He can feel the anger simmer inside him as he struggles to fall asleep, he’s been struggling with this for a while now.

“I wish you were here right now. Bad day’s didn’t feel as bad with you” he says as he stares at the ceiling as his phone records beside him.

“You’d probably help me realise that the issues are out of my control, that I need to be a little patient. You’d run your fingers through my hair, in an attempt to calm me down” his hand rakes through his hair as the memory of you doing the same flashes in his mind.

“But most importantly, you’d put on the office because that’s your cure for everything” an actual giggle escapes his lips as he turns off the recording and opens the netflix app.

That night, he falls asleep as Michael Scott does something childish.

Race 7 2021

“Phillip was on call with you while we were out for a photo shoot and I heard your voice for the first time in months” Jungkook sighs as he takes a seat on the kitchen counter, something you’d usually do.

“I was starting to feel better and then I heard your voice” he says as he eats straight from the pan.

“You were talking about the weather in Oxford, adjusting in your new apartment, your voice sounded the same. Soft as always” he stares into his empty, dark apartment as he wonders what your new apartment looks like.

“And all I’ve been thinking since then is how quickly one can go from knowing each intimate detail of someone’s life to being an absolute stranger to them. How life keeps moving on, even when your heart can’t” he’s starting to lose his appetite the more he thinks about it.

“But I’m glad you’re moving on, You deserve to” Jungkook chuckles as he says that, he means that, he truly does.

“In other news, my year has been an absolute shit show so far, Seven races in and no wins for me yet. Maybe I am just a one hit wonder like the press has been calling me” Jungkook doesn’t find any of this funny, it’s eating him up and the problems just keep piling on.

“I need to stop talking into the recording app and go out and talk to actual people” he thinks out loud as he jumps off the counter, packing away the leftovers.

Summer Break 2021

It’s early in the morning as Jungkook walks closer to the water, the Ibiza wind hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’s been vacationing for all of last week, he has been laughing, hanging out with friends, having a good time, he’s truly been feeling a lot better.

Laying on the beach, he soaks in the morning sunlight, taking a few deep breaths before he starts talking.

“Today would've been our one year anniversary” he sighs as he flops back into the sand, just wanting to lay down for a while. There’s silence for a while as the sentence feels heavy in his heart, just the waves crashing and his heart thumping.

“We wouldn’t be in Ibiza, we’d be closer to the mountains, somewhere cold and cozy” there’s a faint smile on his face as he imagines an alternate universe, where the two of you are still together.

“You would have given me some amazing, handmade gift, like a cute photo book that journals our first year together. I would’ve gotten you some jewellery, probably that bracelet you were eying in Brazil” he remembers the exact bracelet he’s talking about, it’s kind of pathetic that he does.

“But in this shitty version of the universe, you’re probably enjoying your time at university and I get to go to some other club tonight and make small talk with a woman I’m not even remotely interested in” Jungkook is bitter and angry thinking about what could have been.

“This was for the best, right?” he asks himself as he picks up his phone, saving this voice note with today’s date.

Race 17 2021

“Phillip took me out to dinner because he’s worried about me, he thinks the car issues and lack of winning is starting to get to me” he sighs as he pours himself another drink.

“It is starting to get to me, I’m so scared and anxious about my future it keeps me up at night. Of course it’s already starting to get to me given the panic attack I had during the last strategy meeting” Jungkook looks back at the difficult few months, it’s truly been challenging.

“He told me about going through something similar last year, and to not let the disappointment and temporary failure swallow me” Jungkook sighs for what feels like the millionth time tonight as he downs his drink in one go.

“Phillip told me to talk to him or anyone about my fears, verbalising my fears to someone I trust might help me. Phillip said that he told you the same after your accident, how the fear of a dwindling future paralysed you” hearing your name at dinner was not something he expected, every few months he’d start to forget about you and one thing and the rush of memories come back to him.

“You’re the only one I can think of when it comes to talking about my fears,” Jungkook says as he slides down the sofa and sits on the floor.

“I wish I could call you ___” he shuts his eyes tight as your name rolls off his tongue. His phone keeps recording as he switches on the tv to dissociate for a while.

Race 22 2021

“So, I didn’t win the championship. Wasn’t even in the top three but that’s the least of my concerns right now” there’s actual joy in Jungkook’s voice as he tussles around in his hotel bed, balancing his phone in his other hand.

“I just got to the episode when Jim interrupts Pam’s talking head to ask her out, and WOW!! The way the biggest smile appears on her face, and how her eyes light up, jesus fucking christ!” he squeals as he sits up in his bed, he might be a little too invested.

"Jim giving up on a promotion for love, peak of romance” Jungkook can’t help but smile, as he thinks back to the scene he’s seen multiple times now.

“After the crapfest of the year I’ve had, I wish I had the willpower to fight Ferrari last year. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we broke up” having spent all these important momentous dates with you, Jungkook can’t help but think back to them a year later.

“Sometimes I can’t believe just how easily you complied with me breaking us up, how you didn’t fight for us, at all” there’s bitterness in his heart about this, he knows it’s irrational but it’s there.

“Something you said sits heavy in my heart, ‘between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s had to give up on a dream without having a say in it’ and that’s just not true anymore” Jungkook remembers every word you said that evening exactly, he just can’t seem to forget them, or you.

“You may have given up on your dream of figure skating, but I gave up on my dream of a future with you”

Phillip’s Birthday 2022

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Jungkook speaks into his phone as he watches the night sky from the balcony. It had been five months since he had recorded a voice memo instead of calling you, he was starting to forget you.

“I knew I was going to see you today, but, um, I still wasn’t prepared to see you” Jungkook left the party early, he’d had enough of you and your very charming, british boyfriend.

“Christian and you look like you stepped out a romcom, with the perfect met cute story” he laughs genuinely as he thinks back at your chatty boyfriend, so different from you.

“I’m kinda glad seeing how well you’re doing. University, perfect relationship, I really am glad” he repeats in attempts to comfort himself. Taking a good look in the mirror, he has the urge to tug off the sweater he hasn’t worn in ages. The sweater he wore just so you’d notice.

That night, he finally packs up all the things he associated with you, the sweaters, perfumes, diary, books you left around his apartment, you’ve moved on, so should he.

Amsterdam 2023

Jungkook rewatches Phillip’s instagram story for the tenth time today, and there’s a smile on his face everytime he does. It’s a video with a caption that reads, ‘Birthday girl returns to the rink’. A ten second clip of you skating on ice with the biggest smile on your face brings him an amount of joy he hasn’t felt in years.

As you twirl on ice, your hands come into focus and Jungkook notices the ring on your index finger. On the previous watches he might have been a little too distracted by the smile on your face to notice you wearing the birthday gift he gave you. He knows you don’t wear it all the time anymore,because it was missing on Phillip’s birthday less than a year ago.

“Happy 23rd ___” Jungkook talks into his phone as he takes in the prettiest sunset in Amsterdam.

“Today is the first time I’m recording a voice memo when I’m not feeling bitter and depressed” he chuckles out loud and shuts his eyes as the smile on his lips only grows.

“I spent your birthday exploring a vintage bookstore, I was celebrating you in spirit I guess” Jungkook was happy with how he spent his day, going through books for hours.

“I went out for lunch and just stumbled upon this place, it was a happy coincidence. I cancelled my plans for the day and spent it doing something you would love. And for the first time in a while, I thoroughly enjoyed doing something that wasn’t racing” all Jungkook had been doing the last year was work, work related activities and training, he had completely given up on his hobbies.

“You would love this place” Jungkook says wistfully as he looks at a bag full of books he just bought.

Race 2 2024

Jungkook looked at the discarded boxes in his new apartment, and he finally moved to a bigger and better place. The movers had unpacked and arranged everything for him, this place feels foreign and unfamiliar. Jungkook opens a few drawers and shelves before he finds the plates, the only set of plates he owns.

Jungkook presses the record button to record a voice memo, something he hasn’t done in the last six months.

“So, I moved to a bigger, better place. I can afford a ridiculously expensive apartment in Monaco because I’m a two time F1 world champion now!” he says with excitement as he eats the takeout food from the plates you bought him.

“But I still haven’t bought plates, the ones you bought are beautiful, with the blue specks of colours. My favourite colour, apparently” Jungkook says as he takes another bite of the mediocre chinese food.

“And the passcode to this place is still the same as my last one, mostly because I don’t want to remember a new set of numbers. Definitely not because I’m hoping for you to surprise me by breaking into my place” he laughs loudly as he thinks back to the time you let yourself in while he was live streaming, Jungkook really thought someone was breaking in and entering.

“I have a stupid logic for why I won last year's championship, other than the obvious skills and amazing car. I started wearing the chain you gave me, your good luck charm might be my good luck charm too” he smiles widely as his hands go up to touch the chain.

“If it really is a good luck charm, I’ll win this year too” Jungkook has high spirits for 2023, he has high spirits about his personal life too. He turns off the recording when a call notification from Ava pops on his phone.

Race 22 Abu Dhabi 2024

Jungkook is dazed and frustrated as he walks back to his hotel room instead of going back to the club, abandoning his girlfriend but he could care less right now. He hadn’t seen you in over two years, and a three minute conversation has left him feeling empty the same way it did four years ago.

Your voice is ringing in his head as he flops back in bed, how frustrated and bothered you were.

“I hate how broken you looked, how broken you sounded” he whispers another voice memo as he shuts his eyes.

“I didn’t just move on like we never happened, it still shocks me how just six months of us being together bothered me for two years. I DIDN’T MOVE ON FOR TWO FUCKING YEARS ___!” he shouts with frustration, wishing he had said this to you.

“I’VE MOVED ON” Jungkook shouts some more to convince himself.

There are some frustrated huffs until he stops recording, his mind is all over the place and your wide, tear filled eyes haunt him.

December 2024

“So, I broke up with Ava a week after I saw you,” Jungkook says, still sitting in his car. Something clicked after seeing you, he knew all this time that he didn’t really love Ava. You asking him if you did just made him realise that.

“I was using Ava as a distraction and I hate myself for it” he sighs, not really wanting to go back to his empty apartment.

“How can I not love Ava, she’s quite literally perfect for me but I can’t imagine a future with her, at all. Am I damaged? Not capable of loving someone again?” he wonders out loud, his frustration and disappointment growing as he thinks about the mess he is some more.

“Seeing you just reminded me of what loving someone felt like…I couldn’t even be completely honest and open with Ava” he whispers shamelessly.

“You told me about your very destructive tendencies in a relationship, how you cheated on Christian because you couldn’t bring yourself to break up with him, and it just made me realise I was doing the same to Ava” Jungkook talks to himself, he’s been doing a lot of this lately.

“I was hanging onto Ava because I desperately didn’t want to be by myself, I didn’t want to be alone. I hate being alone” he confesses and his eyes are getting a little misty as he thinks about his situation some more.

That night Jungkook comes very close to actually calling you, he wants some warmth and comfort but he knows he doesn’t deserve any of that, especially from you.

Phillip and Maya’s wedding 2025

“I should have made some lame excuse about being busy or something, why do I do this to myself” Jungkook whines as he struggles with his tie, how does he not know how to tie a tie as a twenty five year old. He’s been pacing around in the hotel room, worried about ruining his chance of seeing you.

“I’m just going to apologise and shut this chapter, I need a fresh start and that can’t happen until I apologise to you and this is my only chance to because I need to be done with you” he frustratingly takes the tie off, wondering if he can rock the open button, casual look.

“I’m just worried that you’re not going to want to see me and then this whole evening is going to be awkward” he says as he looks for a turtleneck, open shirt is just too casual.

“Is there a delusional idiot in me that thinks that tonight is going to lead to something more? Yes, but you could bring another charming date and shatter my unrealistic expectations” Jungkook is very frightened for a man who drives at 300 kmph every other weekend without any fear.

“I’m just going to ask for your help, this is nothing more than an ex asking another ex to help tie their tie” he chuckles dryly as he downs his drink, needing some liquid courage before he faces you.

Summer Break 2025

“All I want to do is relax and eat tons of amazing food for the next week,” Jungkook says into his phone as he closes the door to his car.

“Then that’s what we’re going to do, but can you at least tell me where we’re going?” your voice booms on speaker and Jungkook smiles shyly, knowing the suspense is tormenting you. It has been a few weeks since Phillip’s wedding, and since the night he realised something, it’s always been you. It will always be you.

“Pack warm, that’s all I’m going to say right now” he giggles as you grumble on the other side.

“Kook, all my winter clothes are packed up, can you come over and help me get those boxes” you say and he laughs sarcastically.

“Is this just a ploy to get me to come over, if yes you have very bad game ___” he says and you’re the one laughing this time.

“You’re replaceable by a ladder Jeon, don’t get to cocky-” you’re interrupted by your apartment bell ringing.

“Too bad, I’m already here” he says as he’s still on call, you’re a little too elated as you swing the door open.

“Hey-” he’s shut up by your warm lips tugging on his as your arms come around him. Jungkook loses his balance for just a second before he holds you close and deepens the kiss. Jungkook doesn’t have to leave voice memos on his phone anymore, he doesn’t have to pretend to leave you messages. He’s glad he gets to call you, he’s glad he gets to hold you, he’s glad he’s given a second chance with you.

Another Author's Note: Still working on an epilogue for this, comment under to be added to the taglist if you still aren't on it!!

Tag List: @blancflms @nadzzzblog @kookiewhtaee @jksoftiitii @oiseul @elisaaru @coralmusicblaze @tearyjjeonn @moonchild1 @jungkooksseuphoria @cookysstuff @ohyeahjk @bobakkoo @whoa-jo @kooromiwrld @littlelandalp @marvelover3000 (the last one didn't ask to be added to the taglist but i'm adding them anyway :))

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