#someone stop me from listening to this for the next six hours at work

[undead-supernova]

Right Here, Right Now

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 (TBC)

Masterlist

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!Eddie x reader #rockstar!Eddie x you #modern!Eddie x you #boyfriend!Eddie x reader

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch2

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A soothing hot tea was just the thing to calm the nerves. All of your worries melted away with each sip. The amount of drink options that were offered for interviews was quite impressive. That's a rich company for sure.

Plus, the music was very relaxing. You had started to wonder about the perks of working here that the website didn't tell you. All you had to do was keep calm and do well during this interview. You had pracited for hours in the mirror.

You could handle a one on one interview!

Reviewing common interview questions, you noticed more people arrive on the floor. Each took a seat away from you, looking around in awe. In total, including you, there were six people. Not a lot for how big his company was.

"Alright. Everyone is here, please follow me to the interview room." A woman with incredible fashion said.

Your eyes widen in shock as everyone got up and followed her. You were last, feeling your nerves kick in. Arriving at the large room, you felt your fears sink in.

This was a group interview.

You were not getting this job. You couldn't do group interviews. It was hard to speak up and you often got over shadowed by other people. Your stomach was twisting as the urge to puke was starting to form. This was horrible.

But you had to be brave!

"Alright. I'm Lyla, normally I won't be conducting the interview, but there was a last minute emergency so you are stuck with me. Shame for the lot of you honestly." Lyla spoke.

You sat near the back since the others took the closer seats. Trying to control your breathing, you focused on the painting behind Lyla. It was a beautiful water color portrait of a foggy forest after a rainstorm. It was quite pleasant.

"I've read your files. I want your names and why you think you deserve to work here." Lyla said harshly.

You were practicing what you were going to say as everyone went their turn. You were going to be the fourth person speaking. All you had to do was say your name and why you would fit in at Alchemax. That was it. Easy.

"Next."

"H-Hello. I-I'm-"

"My name is Phillip. I believe-"

You tuned the man out, shocked that he cut you. Rolling your lips inward, you tried your best not to cry as you just repeated what you were going to say in your head. It was always like this. You needed to be louder. You needed to stop being shy.

----------

Miguel rested his head against the palm of his hand as he watched Lyla run the group interview. His focus turned to you since it was your turn to speak. It was cute how he noticed you count the people ahead of you and started muttering to yourself.

"H-Hello. I-I'm-"

"My name is Phillip. I believe-"

Miguel scoffed in disgust towards the man. Yes, your voice was low, but you were still speaking. Miguel hated it when people were interrupted. No matter, Miguel had to just stay quiet and let Lyla run this interview.

It was rough. You were being spoken over and interrupted at any given chance. Miguel wanted to see what you were capable of. You sounded so sure of yourself in the elevator. Hell, even shy people need to be given a fair chance.

"Lyla, leave the room for a moment. I want to see something."

-------

Lyla pressed against her earbud, listening to someone from what it seems. You were sunk in your seat, glancing at her.

"Understood." She sighed and released her earbud, "I shall return in a moment. There is a minor set back I must resolve."

With that, Lyla left the room. You gulped since everyone now had their attention towards you. Like wolves glaring down at their prey. You could feel your heart beat in your throat.

"Best if you leave now."

"No, no. She's making us look good."

"She's useless. How she got this far is beyond me."

"A pest if you ask me."

Unable to hold back your tears, you were quick to grab your paperwork. One of the other interviewers quickly forced you back into your seat.

"If you leave, it will look like we bullied you. Just shut up and stay seated. Okay?"

You were hesitant to answer.

"Are you fucking stupid? Do you understand?"

Nodding violently, you quickly wiped your tears. Their grip was harsh against your shoulder. All you wanted to do was leave. Leave and cry. This was horrible. What made you think you had a chance at such a fancy company?

"(Y/N), follow me." Lyla said as she entered the room for a moment.

You were quick to grab your things and leave. Lyla had you follow her to a separate room on the floor. Upon entering, you gasped softly as Miguel sat at a small desk, welcoming you in.

--------

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched your face light up to a familiar friendly face. He motioned you to sit and offered some water to calm you down. Once you had relaxed a bit, Miguel took a seat back at the desk.

"I should have warned you that it was a group interview." Miguel started. You sipped the water,

"N-No, it's fine. Um...I probably...should have prepared better," You muttered.

Miguel just smiled towards you. You glanced up, making eye contact and gasped. Your cheeks were turning red as you accidently dropped the water.

"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Miguel grabbed your hand, helping you back into the seat. He grabbed the bottle of water and placed it on the desk, "I'm sure you're still shaken up. You can relax here."

"Thank you....T-To be honest, I...I am a little clumsy too...Especially when my...nerves kick in."

"And that's alright. I want Alchemax to be a comfortable place for my-uh, our employees." Miguel cleared his throat.

Who knows how nervous you would get if you found out that he was the CEO. Your face might turn into a tomato at that rate. Miguel wanted to keep you in the dark just a little bit longer. It was refreshing to speak with someone who didn't know his identity.

"Here. I want you to organize this list of meetings for me during a one week schedule."

Miguel handed you two pieces of paper. He sat at the desk, watching you work as you read everything carefully. This was the first schedule that Lyla ever had to work with and it stressed her out trying to fit everything together.

"Done."

Miguel raised his head in surprise as you finished in a matter of minutes. Looking over the schedule you had made, Miguel was surprised. You had managed to work everything out and even give Miguel more time than Lyla did.

"Impressive." Miguel whispered, "Mind if I give you a few more tests?"

"I don't," You whispered calmly.

The next half hour consisted of you working on Miguel's meeting schedules with shareholders, business partners, etc. He role played some phone calls with you and everything else that Lyla would normally do for him.

Despite your shy personality and clumsy nature, you were perfect for the job.

"I must say (Y/N), I'm impressed." Miguel said with a smile as he grabbed your hand, "Be sure to expect a call from us soon. Allow me to walk you to the door."

Miguel watched as your cheeks started to fluster. You stayed quiet while smiling. Honestly, having you work under him would be a treat. It was going to be nice having someone so cute and shy working right under him.

"Um, thank you, Miguel....For giving me a chance," You whispered, stopping in front of the elevator. Miguel just chuckled lowly,

"No, thank you, (Y/N)."

Waving goodbye towards you, Miguel waited for the elevator to close before frowning. He stomped his way over to the interview room where Lyla and the five fools were. Slamming the door open, Miguel gave them all a glare.

"All of you, out. I don't want a single pathetic lot of you ever stepping near this building again."

"Wow, harsh much." Lyla teased as the interviewees nearly begged for a chance.

"I have who I want as your replacement."

"Oh? Don't sound too excited now," Lyla chuckled. Once everyone left, she glanced at Miguel, "That good?"

"Don't be jealous if I say she is better than you."

"Ohhh, ouch. That hurt," Lyla laughed and nudged Miguel's shoulder, "I can't wait to train her."

--------

You were biting your lower lip as you smiled from ear to ear. You weren't sure how, but Miguel was your saving grace. You couldn't wait to get a call from Alchemax now. Recalling the warmth of his hand against yours, you nearly squealed.

"Hopefully I get to work with him~"

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@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @@reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla

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[tonyspank]

CHAPTER THREE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: Jenna’s husband being a dickhead. And I think that’s all?

Words: 5.7k

A/N: I’m going to try and get chapter six out for the party and the after party tonight or tomorrow!

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Two weeks. Fourteen and a half days, or three hundred and forty-eight hours. That's how long it's been since you've held a conversation with Jenna, and it feels like an eternity. You've been wanting to talk to her and apologize, but she's been avoiding you. And she's doing a wonderful job at it, but you can't lie and not act like you're making it any harder for her to do so.

Instead of waking up at your usual time, you've been waking up thirty minutes earlier, and getting a ride for Eli. After practice, Eli drops you off before heading home himself, and then you'll grab a snack from the fridge, check for towels before you shower, sleep, and then repeat.

On the days you don't have practice you're out with Olivia, doing whatever comes to mind. Again, she's a very sweet girl, kind and loyal, and you can't help but admire her. You've been spending a lot of time with her and it's been great because you both enjoy each other's company.

She's been telling you about how she's started writing songs and they're mainly about her ex-boyfriend. She says her songs are a way of healing, and letting go of her past. You have been supportive and encouraging her to continue writing, and you've been there to listen to her stories while she works through her feelings.

Eli thinks you should stop and hurry up and apologize to Jenna. For someone who wants Jenna for himself, he was so keen on you two being on good terms. Eli was over at your place since it was an early dismissal at school today, and also a Friday.

"I still can't believe you're not talking." You open your mouth to speak but Eli beats you. "Just apologize and be done with it, man." You feel your neck flush. You open your mouth to reply but it only comes out as a stutter. Eli shakes his head and sighs, "All of this because she saw your lil Jimmy John."

You take a bite out of your apple sending a slight glare while doing so. Eli laughs and you swallow your bite before speaking, "Shut up. It's not that simple."

Eli smirks and shakes his head. "You know it is," he says. "You just don't want to admit it." You glare at him, not wanting to give in. You take another bite of the apple, savouring the sweet crunch. "No, it's not," you say firmly.

"Yes, it is. You're avoiding her, she's not avoiding you." You sigh in frustration. You know he's right, but you can't admit it. You set the half-eaten apple down, "Because it's awkward!" He shakes his head and smiles. "It's never going to be not awkward if you don't talk to her. It's better to just go for it and get it over with." He reaches for your apple and takes a bite. "Trust me."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Keep the apple, bitch." He grins, taking another bite of the apple. "You started avoiding her after she saw you naked and then she probably took it as a hint that you didn't want to speak to her, which you don't and started to avoid you herself." You sigh and roll your eyes. He takes another bite of the apple. "She's just as embarrassed as you are."

"So why not just apologize and move on?" He shrugs, taking the last bite of the apple. "It's not that hard. Just be honest and it'll be over in no time and don't walk around naked knowing you have company over." He wipes his mouth and stands up throwing away the apple.

"Where is my wife anyway?" You stare at him blankly at the nickname, "She's out."

He looks around the room for a second before he sighs. "Alright, I guess let's just order pizza and finish the movie you fell asleep on." You throw your head back groaning, "Fuck no! I'm not watching that movie. I fell asleep on it for a reason." He laughs, shaking his head. "Fine. What do you wanna watch then?" You smile, "Puss N Boots."

He raises an eyebrow, but agrees, "Fine, Puss N Boots it is." He pulls out his phone and orders a pizza, and you stand up from the bar stool, heading into the living room.

Thirty minutes later, Jenna was heading home with her friend Emma. She had no idea you were home, and she definitely didn't know Eli was over with you. "Am I about to meet the too attractive for her age, Y/N?" Emma asks with a smile, repeating Jenna's words from earlier today. Jenna sends Emma a glare, unlocking the front door.

Emma giggles, stepping inside and turning to look at Jenna. "So, is it a yes or a no?" She asks with a smirk. Jenna rolls her eyes and walks inside, closing the door behind her. "No. She's at school." Emma's face falls and she sighs. "That's disappointing." She turns away and walks towards the kitchen. Jenna follows but stays silent.

"It smells like pizza," Emma says and looks back at Jenna who nods in agreement.

You pause as you hear sounds coming from the kitchen. You snap your head at Eli who's too invested in the movie to hear anything. He chews his cheese pizza letting out a laugh before taking another bite. "Eli." Eli turns to you and sees the worry in your eyes. He slowly puts down his pizza and turns down the TV. "What is it?"

"I think Jenna's home." His face lights up and he holds his pizza in his mouth jumping up happily, you follow the boy who nearly jogs to the kitchen. Jenna and Emma turn around at the sound of something falling to the floor. It's the pizza that slipped from his mouth.

"MY PIZZA! NOOOOOOO!" Eli yells out as you stare at the two women in front of you. Jenna and Emma smile, amused by the boy's dramatic reaction.

He quickly picks up the pizza and takes a big bite. "Dude, that's so gross." You mutter, squeezing past him and further into the kitchen. Eli continues to eat the pizza off the floor. "It's not that bad," he says with a mouthful. You shake your head in disbelief and watch as the blonde woman whispers something into Jenna's ear.

"I thought she was at school, hm?" Emma whispers, a smile on her lips. Jenna's cheeks flush and she quickly avoids eye contact with everyone in the room. You frown, wondering what that was all about, but it soon disappears as you examine Jenna's outfit.

She was wearing a cropped white button-up, a black tie and a long grey split colored skirt. One side was darker than the other, her socks matching it perfectly. Her shoes were black loafers that matched the tie. A pair of glasses sat on top of her head while her headphones hung from her neck. She really does always have a pair of headphones on her.

She had a unique style, one that blended modern and vintage elements creatively. It was eye-catching and inspiring, and it seemed to suit her perfectly. She looked amazing in it, and it was clear she had a lot of confidence in her own style.

The blonde woman smiles at you, "Hi. It's so nice to meet you. I'm Emma, Jenna's friend." You smile back, holding out a hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you too—" Eli steps in front of you, shaking her hand himself and introducing himself. "Hey beautiful, I'm Elias Cooper the third." Emma looks taken aback, laughing in shock and surprise as she shakes his hand.

"He's not a third." You and Jenna both say in sync. You and Jenna exchange a glance, and Emma laughs again. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elias," she says. Eli raises her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto her hand while not breaking eye contact. Emma giggles looking at Jenna, and Eli lowers her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too," he says, his voice low and rich. Jenna clears her throat, and you place a hand on his shoulder, rescuing Emma from the situation.

Eli stands up straight again, and you quickly shake Emma's hand. "I'm Y/N. Sorry about him." Emma's face lights up with a smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." She turns to Jenna with a mischievous glint in her eye, mouthing, "Sexy indeed." Jenna turns a deep shade of red and averts her gaze and Emma grins even wider.

"Don't you two have school? Why are you home?" Emma asks. Jenna sighs in relief at not having to ask herself. You nod and Eli speaks up for you, "We had an early dismissal."

"Oh, I see," Emma said. Jenna's eyes roam over you, taking in your white tee that fits your biceps just right. Or your black sweatpants that sag just enough to show the Calvin Klein band in your boxers. Jenna's gaze lingers for a moment before she looks away, blushing. She quickly turns her attention back to Emma, trying to focus on the conversation.

But Eli noticed it all his eyes widening as he stopped himself from letting his jaw drop in shock. He quickly regained his composure and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Eli glanced at Jenna, who was still blushing. He smirked, his lips turning up into a mischievous grin.

"— home safety." Emma finishes off, and you and Eli nod. "Yeah, I'm leaving as well. I just wanted to hang out with her since she's been spending all her time with Olivia." Eli says, staring you down at the last part.

Emma laughs while Jenna's lips twitch downwards. Who's Olivia? "Who's Olivia?" Emma asked with a hint of curiosity. You shake your head, "She's just a friend." Eli sends a quick look to Jenna before throwing an around your shoulder and placing a hand on your stomach. "A friend who wants to be more than friends!"

He tells Emma and you sigh at the boy. Emma's eyes widen, and Jenna scoffs quietly. You roll your eyes and move away from Eli, hoping to avoid any further conversation about Olivia.

"I should get going," Emma announces to everyone with a small frown. Jenna nods and Eli feels his pockets for his keys, "Me too." Eli begins walking into the living room and you follow behind him.

While that happens Emma and Jenna are making their way to the front door, Emma gives Jenna a hug pulling away with a smirk on her lips. "I saw those glances at Y/N." Jenna blushed, trying to deny it. She was about to say something, but Emma just laughed and shook her head. "Come on. Just admit it."

"Em, I'm married." Emma rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Unhappily. When's the last time you even got laid?" Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She looked away, trying to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks. "That's what I thought," Emma said smugly.

"Y/N is my best friend's daughter and not only that but she's eighteen," Jenna exclaims. There were a lot of reasons this was a bad idea, but these were her main concerns. Along with being engaged of course. She didn't want to get caught up in a scandal, and she didn't want to make your parents mad. Especially since she was already getting married.

Jenna knew she had to put a stop to this before it even began. She had to make it clear to Y/N that there was nothing more between them than friendship. She had to make sure that Y/N understood that she needed to focus on her future and not on Jenna.

But the way you looked, the way she felt, she couldn't help but think about what if? Her husband was barely home and he barely even called. And here you are, giving her kisses on her temple and sending photos of her to your best friend. She knew it was wrong but she couldn't resist the temptation. She wanted so badly to feel alive again.

"She's an adult. She can make her own choices. Plus, she seems respectful." Emma says, shrugging slightly. Emma looked away, embarrassed. She knew she was wrong in encouraging her friend, but she couldn't help it. She had been in her friend's shoes not so long ago and she wanted her to be happy.

She was trying to be supportive, even if it was misguided. She wanted her friend to be able to make the decisions that she thought were best for her, regardless of the consequences.

While they spoke, you and Eli were as well.

Eli searches the couch for his keys, tossing a few pillows to the side. You cross your arms, "They're on the table." He turns his head, and they indeed are on the coffee table. "Oh, shit. Thanks."

Eli grabs his keys, "Thank you, baby girl." You scrunch up your face, "Shut up." Eli laughs and throws his keys in the air. He catches them and gives you an exaggerated bow. "My humble thanks to you, my lady." You roll your eyes and Eli grins. "You better talk to her."

You uncross your arms, sighing. "And say what exactly? Oh, sorry Jenna. I didn't mean for you to see me naked, I was just heading to get a towel. I thought you were asleep." Eli pauses then gives you a single nod, "Yes. Say exactly that. It's not rocket science." You take a deep breath, then exhale. "Okay, I'll apologize."

Eli plays with his keys. "Good." He turns to leave but immediately turns back around. "Also! You can keep Jenna for yourself. I want Emma." You raise an eyebrow and look at Eli, confused. He smiles and rolls his eyes. "Just kidding. Hashtag Jenna for life." He laughs and starts to walk away. You watch him go, still trying to process what had just happened. You shake your head and laugh, deciding it was best not to question it.

Jenna opens her mouth to reply to Emma but closes it, turning around as Eli enters the room. He stops short when he sees the two and quickly puts on a smile. "Hey, ladies. Looking even more gorgeous than earlier." He says, Emma grins and Jenna shakes her head. "Hey Eli, leaving?"

Eli nods. "Yup, I'm headed out. See you around." Eli gives a small before walking out of the room, leaving Emma and Jenna alone. "He's cute as well," Emma whispers, smiling. Jenna laughs. "We'll talk later, yeah?" Emma nods and follows Eli out the door.

Jenna watched them leave, a small smile on her face. She shook her head and went back to the kitchen, slightly jumping when you were already there, waiting for her. A sad smile was on your lips as you leaned against the counter. "Hey, Jen. Can we talk?" Jenna hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, of course."

"I uh, I just wanted to apologize for--" You motion with your hands trying to find the right words. "For walking out without a towel, I honestly thought you were asleep." You look away, feeling embarrassed. You take a deep breath and look back, hoping for a response. "I'm sorry," you say again, hoping your apology is accepted.

There's a long pause, and you can feel your heart racing. Suddenly, your Jenna breaks the silence and says, "It's okay. Don't worry about it." You let out a sigh of relief and offer a weak smile. "Thank you," you reply.

Jenna smiles back and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You feel a sense of calm come over you as you look into Jenna's eyes. You give her hand a gentle squeeze in return, "Can we hug?" Jenna smiles and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around her and exhale, enjoying the feeling of being so close to her. A soft hand rubs up and down your back gently.

The warm feeling of connection between you and Jenna slowly dissipates as you pull away. You look at each other, a mutual understanding in your eyes. Jenna reaches up to caress your cheek before releasing you and stepping back.

Your face tingles from her touch and your face begins heating up. "There, um. There's still a box of pizza left if you want some." She hums, "What's on it?" You stutter in response, "Uh, cheese and pepperoni."

"I'm a pescetarian."

"Oh, um, sorry about that. I didn't know." You fumble for words, trying to think of what to say next. She laughs softly and says, "It's okay. I'll just have the cheese." You furrow your eyebrows, "Wait. Didn't you have chicken and rice that one day?" You refer back to the day she cooked for you.

"That was for you. I had eaten something beforehand." You feel guilty for not realizing it before. "I'm sorry," you say, "I should have known that." She smiles and shakes her head, "It's alright. I'll just order something else."

"That's why you ordered that veggie sandwich." You mumble loud enough for her to hear. She laughs, "Yes, that's why." You look down at the ground, thinking a bit before letting out a, "Huh." She stares at you, her eyes twinkling. She smiles and says, "It's good for you. You should try something new every once in a while." You nod, shrugging.

"Maybe." She gives you a knowing look. "Just trust me. I think you'll like it." You reluctantly agree, moving to sit down on the bar stool and continuing to talk to Jenna until Midnight comes. You can't believe you spent two weeks avoiding the older woman when the apology was so simple. You mentally groaned at the fact Eli was right.

Instead of being in bed Saturday morning, you found yourself in the school gym, your team and the opponent team warming up. "So, she just said it's okay and moved on?" Eli asks, dribbling the ball in behind him. As you sit down, you hum as you search through your gym bags for your shoes. "See! I told you, she probably thought you were upset. She's grown, I'm sure she got over it the next hour."

You pause for a moment, considering the situation. "I guess so," you finally reply. Where the fuck are your shoes? You glance behind you, looking for them. "Eli, do you have my shoes?" Eli frowns and shakes his head. "No, I don't. I thought you had them." You groan in frustration and turn away, searching the gym for your missing shoes.

You stop looking and take a deep breath. You know you must have left them somewhere, but you can't remember where. You retrace your steps, going back to the locker room and searching around the benches. "Fuck! I left them at home." You glance around the locker room one last time, just in case they were here after all.

You sigh and start heading toward your back. Eli is now sitting down with the ball in his lap. Eli notices your distress and offers to help you look for them. You tell him that you remembered they are at home, "I'll look in lost and found for another pair before Coach starts the huddle."

You nod, sitting down and reaching into your bag for your phone, dialling Jenna's number. Hopefully, she can bring your shoes in time.

Jenna pulls away her phone away from her ear, seeing an incoming call for you. She cuts off the man on her phone sighing, "Jacob. I have to go." Jacob stops her, "Jenna! I'm talking about something important."

Jenna takes a deep breath and clenches her fist in anger. "Suggesting an open marriage is important?! Are you fucking kidding me?" Jacob's voice rises on the phone, "Yes! Don't you think I have needs too?" Jenna's voice tightens, "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that's not the way to solve this problem." Jacob pauses for a moment before stammering, "Well, what do you suggest then?

"Oh, I don't know? Maybe coming to see your wife every now and then? Taking some time off to build a family like you said you were the past ten times." Jacob clenches his jaw on the other side of the phone, "You're not my wife."

Jenna's heart sinks. She swallows the lump in her throat and says, "No, I'm not. Because someone is too fucking busy to officially marry me. You don't understand how embarrassing it is. We've been fiancées for so long that my family has stopped asking when the wedding is."She takes a deep breath and resigns herself to the fact that it's just not going to happen.

She feels tears welling up, but she quickly composes herself. "Then you have the audacity to suggest an open marriage? You're an asshole."

She places down the phone, putting it on speaker before speaking again. "Fuck you! And fuck this ring!" She takes off the ring, roughly setting it down on the kitchen counter. "Jenna--" she quickly hangs up, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

She begins to sob, her hands shaking as she covers her face with them. Her phone starts ringing, and it's you calling her again. She takes a few deep breaths before collecting herself and wiping away her tears. She takes a moment to compose herself before answering.

"Jen! Thank God, I forgot my shoes at the door. Could you bring them to me? I'm at school and I have a game." She sniffles into the phone, about to reply but you interrupt her. "Jenna? Are you okay?" She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'll be right there with your shoes." She hangs up and quickly grabs the shoes before rushing to school.

She arrives at the school and sees Eli, already on the court playing, but no sight of you. The woman recognizes your last name on your jersey, your back is turned towards her while you sit on the bench. Jenna takes a deep breath, smiles and jogs over to you, calling your name.

You turn around, surprised to see her. You jump up making your way to Jenna, a huge smile on your face. She hands you the shoes, and you bring her into a side hug. "Thank you so much," she nods in response. "Of course."

You stare at her, taking in her sad face and you can tell she has been crying. You set your shoes down, a slight frown on your face. "Are you okay?" Jenna nods her head, her lip trembling. She was doing a horrible job trying to convince you she was okay.

You wrap your arms around her and pull her close. You can feel her body shaking as she sobs into your shoulder. You squeeze her tighter, trying to offer her some comfort. You whisper reassuring words in her ear, letting her know she isn't alone. You stay there, hugging her until her body stops shaking.

She pulls away, wiping her eyes and shaking her head as she forces a smile on her lips. "Shit, I'm so sorry--" You interrupt her. "Don't apologize." You whisper softly, "It's alright, I'm here for you."

"You have a game to play." She whispers back, you shake your head. "You're more important than a high school game." She looks up into your eyes, her own still glistening with tears. "Thank you," she murmurs, and she takes a deep breath as her shoulders relax. You smile at her, and take her hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

You pull her back into a quick hug, pulling away and placing a kiss on the top of her head. You don't know why but you just wanted to before you let her go. She looks up at you, a small smile forming on her lips. "Go play," she says. You pick up your shoes nodding before asking, "Are you gonna watch?"

She shakes her head and pushes you away gently. "I'm more of a soccer fan but I'll support," she says. You take a few steps back, watching her for a few moments before turning away and running toward your coach. She smiles before finding a place to sit on the bleachers. Your coach calls a timeout, discussing a game plan to sub you in as your team is trailing 15 points.

Eli pats your back while you bend down to tie your shoes, looking away from your coach's whiteboard to spare a look into the crowd. His face lights up when he sees Jenna, waving at her.

It is Olivia that is seated in front of Jenna, and she thinks Eli is waving at her and her friends, so she reciprocates. Jenna smiles and waves back, but Olivia's face falls when she realizes Eli was not waving at her. Olivia turns away, trying to hide her disappointment. She forces a smile back onto her face and turns to her friends, pretending nothing had happened.

The ref informs your coach that his thirty seconds are about to come to an end, you all break out of the huddle and prepare to step onto the court. The whistle blows and the game begins. Both teams battle it out, and the crowd cheers as the energy of the game fills the air.

As Jenna's anxiety creeps up at the scoreboard, she reaches for her ring only to remember it's not there. Jenna quickly shakes her head and refocuses on the game. Clapping loudly as you steal the ball from your opponent.

You quickly pass the ball to Eli, who dribbles it to the basket and makes the shot. The crowd erupts in cheers for your team. You give Eli a pat on his back as he jogs back down the court.

It's the fourth quarter and your team is trailing by two points. Twenty seconds left on the clock. You walk up the court, calling out a play. Eli sets a screen for you and you run to the basket. Jumping off one foot, you go for the layup only to get fouled badly. You land hard but still manage to make the layup.

The crowd goes silent at the loud smack that could be heard around the arena. You stay laying on the ground, the pain coursing through your body. Jenna stands up from the bleachers, worry on her face. "Don't be hurt," she mutters to herself, repeating the three words to herself.

Chris, your teammate along with Eli jog over to you, helping you onto your feet. You take a deep breath and smile, letting your teammates know that you're okay. You give Jenna a wave and a thumbs up, and she visibly relaxes, sitting back down. Chris and Eli give you a pat on the back and the crowd cheers, relieved that you weren't seriously injured.

"Come on, make the free throw baby," Eli says, patting your back. You nod and make your way to the free-throw line. You take another deep breath, focus on the rim, and take the shot. The ball sails through the air and you hear the swish of the net. The crowd erupts and you turn to Eli who is grinning and giving you a thumbs-up. You can't help but smile back, proud of yourself for making the shot.

The opposing team is left with nine seconds on the clock, inbounding the ball and rushing it up the court. The opposing team takes a desperate shot, but it hits the backboard and rebounds out. The buzzer sounds and the game is won.

The home crowd erupts in cheers and the players on the winning team rush the court to celebrate their victory. The players hug and rejoice, thankful for the hard work they put in to secure the win. The losing team stands in silence, feeling the disappointment of the loss. They shake hands with their opponents, showing respect for the other team's effort. The game is over, and the winners bask in the glory of their victory.

As the other team walks into the guest locker room, you walk to the bleachers with a jolly smile on your face. You're staring at Jenna who smiles at you. She blows you a kiss and you dramatically drop your jaw holding a hand over your heart. She laughs, her eyes twinkling with delight. You can't help but feel your heart swell with joy, knowing that she understands your silly gesture of affection.

You jump as you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, Jenna's smile disappears as she watches you hug back the brunette girl. "Olivia! Hey," You say, pulling away from the hug. She smiles in response, resting a hand on your bicep. "You did so well!" Olivia laughs, her eyes twinkling in the arena lights. You glance back at Jenna, who watches you with a frown. You give her a small smile, and she tentatively smiles back.

Eli walks past the two of you, making his way up the bleachers to Jenna. You nod at Olivia's words but your eyes are on the two, Eli and Jenna embrace in a hug, and Eli whispers something in Jenna's ear that makes her laugh. Olivia notices your gaze and follows it. She turns back to you and raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

You look away, feeling embarrassed for having been caught staring. "Are you going to the party tomorrow?" You ask, and Olivia nods. Before she could speak your excuse yourself, joining Eli and Jenna at the bleachers.

The three of you chat for a while, and when you turn back to look for Olivia, she's gone. "Hey, Jen. Enjoy the game?" Jenna grins. "Yeah, it was very intense." You smile in response, "Well, I had to keep you on your toes somehow."

Jen laughs, "You definitely did. I think I'm going to go grab a snack before heading home. Do you need a ride home?" You shake your head. "Yes, please." Jen smiles at you, "Okay. I'll be at the front entrance." She says and heads off to get a snack. Eli turns to you, smiling. "Did you see her ring?"

You furrow your eyebrows, not remembering as you weren't paying attention. "Uh, no?" Eli's smile widens, "Exactly! Oh my god, this is one of the best days of my life!" Eli claps his hands and jumps up from the bleacher. He looks around, noticing the stares they were getting from the students in the stands. He leans in and whispers, "Come on, let's get out of here."

They quickly make their way down the bleachers and into the locker room. You try to remember if Jenna actually wasn't wearing her ring, but you can't remember. You follow Eli out of the locker room, still wondering if you were wrong. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," Eli says, parting ways with you. You send him a nod, seeing Jenna walking toward the main entrance, you follow her, and the two of you walk toward her car.

Jenna gets to her car and you place your bags in the back before entering as well. Jenna puts on her seatbelt and looks at you. "Hungry?" she asks. You shrug, "Not really. I'll just eat something at home." Jenna starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot. She turns to you and smiles. "You scared me when you fell."

You laugh and look away. "It was nothing, I'm fine. Just a way to get the ref to actually call it." Jenna nods and puts her attention back on the road. You glance at her hands on the steering wheel. She wasn't wearing her ring. Would she mind if you asked? You take a deep breath and decide not to bring it up. You turn your gaze back out the window, watching the scenery pass by. It's probably better to just let it go for now, especially since she was crying earlier.

"Are you feeling better?" You ask, turning your head to her. She quietly nods her head and you let out a relieved sigh. You both sit in silence, the only sound being the hum of the engine.

"I thought you didn't have a girlfriend." Jenna randomly says as her mind reminded herself of the girl hugging you after the game. You quickly look away, not wanting to make eye contact with her. You clear your throat, not sure how to respond. "It's complicated," you finally say. "Well-- it's not. She likes me but I don't like her. Remember what I said when we were out for lunch?"

Jenna looks back at the road in front of her, feeling a little embarrassed. She nods silently before clearing her throat. "Yeah, I remember," she says softly. She takes a deep breath and continues to drive, her mind racing with thoughts. Some of them are about you and the others are about Jacob.

It was obvious she wasn't happy in her marriage, but she was too afraid to take the next step and leave. She knew it would be hard and she wasn't sure if she was up to the challenge. She was also thinking about what Emma said. She's an adult. She can make her own choices. Plus, she seems respectful. Respectful? You were more than respectful, she thought. You were selfless and more mature than the adults she knew in her life.

Yes, it might have taken two weeks but at least you apologized. You didn't exactly do anything wrong, it was just a lack of thinking and communication. And the way you were ready to prioritize her over your game, her husband couldn't relate. You showed that you can put other people's needs before your own. That you can be considerate and thoughtful. It's a good sign that you're growing up and learning to think of others.

When she arrived at a red light her eyes looked at you. Your head turned toward the window. She shamelessly examined you, your jawline, your nose, your eyes, your hair. Everything about you was attractive. She felt a connection between the two of you like she had known you for a lifetime. She couldn't help but smile, her cheeks blushing from the warmth she felt. She wished the light wouldn't turn green, so she could keep admiring you.

The light changed its color unfortunately, she had butterflies in her stomach as she realized what she's been thinking about. She was infatuated by you, and badly. No more denying it.

taglist - @raven-ss @godsfavouritelesbiann @jennasslut @niqmandu @amburntfreeman @returnnofdamac @starry-night17 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @morganismspam23

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna x y/n

[bellysoupset]

ok max request

i know you said he has a pretty sensitive stomach that gets irritated by a lot of things, so what about him overindulging on something that usually sits well, only for him to start feeling sick after (i also really enjoy burps 😳😳)

Here you go anon! Burpy Max with an upset stomach!

-------------

"Okay, I want all of you gremlins sitting down right now!" Max exclaimed, jokingly glaring at the one kid still standing, "that includes you, Elliot. Sit your ass down."

The eight year old boy blushed and hurried to sit down and Max rolled his eyes, just as he saw Vince walking to the bus, with a kid draped all over him.

"Bus rules," Max raised a hand to start listing, "everyone wears a seat belt, no standing when the bus is moving. This includes when it just stopped in a red light. No sticking your heads out of the windows-" honestly, he hated the fact the windows weren't sealed shut, that always gave him anxiety after watching Hereditary - "no eating smelly things in the bus. If anyone feels sick, please call me up before you barf everywhere and I'll go get you so we can work this out. Ah, and use your inside voices, will you?"

He was pretty sure only 5% of what he had just said filtered through the kids. In truth, Max's favorite age to teach was teenagers, who actually listened, just opted for not doing what he asked sometimes. All he had to do was convince the older kids he was someone worth of listening, while the younger ones... They simply, plainly, didn't hear a word he said.

"Alright," Max sighed, turning around as Vince entered the bus, "nice of you to join us, Monacelli."

"We had an emergency pee break," Vince ignored him, not bothered in the least as he buckled in the six year old that was clinging to him, "you finished with the rules?"

"Yeah, we can go."

"Alright."

They were going on a field trip for the next town's science museum. It wasn't a long trip, only about 1 hour to get there, then they'd have a tour and a lunch break and come back before sunset. Still, these type of trips always made Max uneasy because so many things could go wrong surrounded by tiny, curious kids.

He settled down on his seat in the front, next to Monacelli. The other teacher was wearing a short sleeved polo, straining against his chest, and a baseball cap on top of his mop of black curls.

"You want anything?" Vince asked, not raising his eyes from his phone. Max sneaked a glance at the screen. The man was checking football scores, that made sense. He looked the type.

"No, just bored out of my mind," Max shrugged, glancing past his shoulder as the bus started to move and there was a general squeal, the volume increasing considerably. Field trips were never quiet.

Vince shrugged, ignored him and Max sat correctly in his seat, grabbing a bag of chips in his backpack. He stuffed a handful in his mouth, before tipping the bag in Monacelli's direction to wordlessly ask if he wanted any.

"Pass, thanks," Vince said, "still not feeling a 100% after the stomach bug from hell that you gave me."

Max snorted, rolling his eyes, "it's been ten days, get over it."

"Like you got over it?" The other man needled him and Max wrinkled his nose. In truth the flu had taken him out of commission for 4 whole days and when he finally managed to come back to the school, he had to take on some extra hours since Vince was down for the count.

And that was not even touching the fact he had to win his seniors all over again. Thankfully the bug had been harsh enough and he had a cemented enough position that he didn't become an immediate meme among the students, but that didn't mean they were cool with him again.

Max sulked, sliding down his seat a little more and continuing to eat. The chips were bland, because he wouldn't risk trying salt&vinegar during a field trip, since those always upset his stomach, and soon enough he finished up the whole bag, muffling a burp against his fist and crumpling the plastic.

Next to him, he watched as Vince took a sandwich from his bag and bit on it. Of course it was in homemade bread and huge. Max glared at the sandwich for such a long time, that Vince frowned and held it up for him.

"You want a bite? Or are you gonna hold me upside down by the ankles for my lunch money?"

Fuck this guy entirely, Max thought, scoffing, "I never did that."

"No, you just shoved me so hard from the monkey bars that I broke my arm," Vince rolled his eyes, "and for no reason too."

"I'm sure I had some reason," Max mumbled under his breath, even though he knew he really didn't. Twelve year old him had been a demon, smack right in the middle of his parents divorce and trying to get everyone's attention through whatever means he could.

Vince rolled his eyes, taking another bite and getting up from his seat to check on the kids.

The other teacher sighed, sliding further down his seat and crossing his arms to his chest, pissed off. He really didn't like remembering how much of a prick he once was, it burned a hole in his stomach.

Talking about his stomach... He could feel it pressing against his jeans, bloating up. He was the king of bloating, easily looking pregnant over any meal, but really? Over bland chips?

Another airy burp forced up and he blew it out under his breath, massaging his chest and cursing softly. It was like his body was adamant on humiliating him in front of Monacelli.

"We're probably almost there already," Vince said, startling Max, and causing him to sit up correctly. The other man slid in the small space between the front of the bus and Max' legs, so he could sit on the empty seat near the window, "no kid is carsick, we should count our stars."

"Uhm," Max nodded, scratching at his beard nervously and muffling yet another burp. He fidgeted on his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, "so why did you come back to Doveport? People don't come back here."

Vince shrugged, making a silly face to a kid who was watching them from another seat, then keeping the lighthearted smile on as he answered, "my family is here. I wanted to be closer to them. Besides, I like the town."

Insufferable.

"You like the town?" Max scoffed, then another burp snuck up, this one louder and bringing with it a hiccup that shook his whole body. Vince raised his eyebrows.

"You good?" he asked, not waiting for an answer to continue, "yeah, I like the people, I like the fact its peaceful."

"I'm-HIC!" The blonde let out a loud groan when another hicc-urp interrupted him, loud enough the kids sitting across the hallway from them started to giggle, "shit."

"Language," Vince said, seemingly out of habit, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "did you eat too much for your tummy, Daniels?"

Maybe he had a reason to break this guy's arm, Max thought darkly, glaring at him, "I'm fine," he stressed, wrapping an arm around his stomach and huffing as yet another hiccup shook him, "fu-duuuck."

He heard Vince chuckle at the switch of the insult, then a huge hand came to rest on his back, "maybe get up? It might help."

It wouldn't, Max already knew. Once he got the hiccup-burps, he was done for and it was really only a matter of time before his belly started churning and maybe nausea joined the mix later on. Still, just to get away from Vince, he got up and walked the hallway using the seats on each side of him as support to keep from wooblying.

Vaguely he thought they were setting up a terrible example, telling the kids to stay put and then walking all over.

He counted the children, just to have something to do, and then paused as the bus shook and his stomach flipped, going from unsettled to upset and sour. Max squinted, removing a hand from the seat in order to plant it on his belly and groaning as he could feel the bloat pushing against his t-shirt.

"Mr. Daniels?" a kid asked, confused as of why he had stopped right next to their seat. It was a little girl, with long box braids and dark skin, big brown eyes, "is your tummy sick?"

God.

"I'm fine, Jess," he forced a smile at the kid, winking at her, "what are you drawing there?"

"The dinosaurs!" Jess perked up, holding her coloring page. It was a bit messy, but overall he thought it was pretty nice. A T-rex in the middle of the woods. They wouldn't be seeing any t-rexes today, but oh well.

"That's so cool," he grinned, crouching down and immediately regretting it when the movement caused another burp to rush up, this one followed by three hiccups in quick succession that he could do nothing about. Jess started to giggle at him and Max' cheeks turned red. He swallowed some air, forcing up a thick, low burp against his fist and she wrinkled her nose.

"Eeewww..." The little girl whined and he blushed even more, his whole face ablaze.

"Sorry, sorry-" he grabbed one of her crayons, "I think your t-rex is missing a hat. It's sunny outside, is it not?"

Happily diverted, the kid turned to her drawing and studied it, "maybe sunblock," she decided, "or a cap like Mr. Mo's?"

Who the fuck was Mr. Mo?

It took Max a second to realize the girl couldn't pronounce Monacelli and had settled for the second best thing. He snorted, "yeah, give him a baseball cap-"

"Her," Jess glared at him, "It's a girl t-rex, like in the movies."

"Ah... Yeah, then give her a cap," he squeezed the little girl's shoulder, then got up once more, the movement causing the bag of chips in his belly to churn a little harder and the push up a wet burp that he muffled with a hand. This one he could just taste the potatoes.

"Fuck," Max sighed, falling back on his seat up in the front and folding in half, pressing his forehead to the front wall that separated the common area of the bus from the driver's.

"What's up?" Vince looked up from his phone once more. Now he was texting someone.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Max groaned, keeping his voice low, "how much until we stop?"

"About twenty minutes," Vince dug through the cooler that was at his feet, with water bottles, juice boxes, bags, snack bars - "here," he handed him a water bottle, "are you carsick or did you really eat too much with just a measly bag of chips?"

"My gut is a bit of a bitch," Max sighed, closing his eyes, "temperamental as fuck. I thought I was in the clear with the bland chips, but..." he trailed off, making his point by muffling a sickly little burp against his hand and shuddering when vomit splashed the back of his throat. He swallowed in, "fuck my entire fucking life."

"Stop fucking swearing," Vince whispered to him, "you're gonna startle the kids. Twenty minutes, alright? Just take deep breaths and stop leaning forward like that, you're not helping yourself."

"You're such a snotty know-it-all," Max glared at him, as Vince planted a hand on his chest and pushed him against the seats, "what's up? You're a med school reject?"

Vince frowned, "you're such a prick. Are you hellbent on puking in front of every class you teach?"

Max' ears burned and he looked away from the man, taking a large gulp of water, "you're never gonna let that go?"

"Not for another month at least," Vince huffed and then pushed the window next to him wide open.

The rush of chill air helped a lot, but Max was not about to congratulate Vince for doing the barest minimum. He breathed out slowly through his mouth, sneaking a hand under his t-shirt and pressing on his belly. It was warm to the touch and gurgling non stop.

"How much more?"

"Nineteen minutes," Vince said and he could hear the man's amusement at his plight. Max groaned, staring at the ceiling as yet another hiccup hit him and made his ribs ache, his whole chest squeeze.

The water had been a mistake, as it rocketed up his throat, forcing him to gulp down.

"I really don't wanna be sick in front of them," Max whispered, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability to the other teacher. He knew at least with that Vince could sympathize, "just- Do something? Please."

There was a pause, then Vince squeezed his knee in an amiable way and pushed Max's legs out of the way as he got up once more. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright kids, each one of you know the bus song?" he exclaimed, his voice all cheery and Max groaned, scooting so he could occupy Vince's now empty seat next to the window and shoving his head out, so he could breathe.

Now with the noisy bus, he could burp openly, and a string of belches pushed up, intercalated with hiccups, rattling in his chest. He let out a groan and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, but the burps helped, a little, the ache in his gut.

He lowered his head to the windowsill, listening as Vince continued to sing. They had ruined the peace and quiet and the bus was chaos, but at least Max knew not a soul was paying attention to him, as he let out a moan and squeezed his tummy, urging it to settle down.

Eventually the bus came to stop and Max removed his head from the window, wiping the cold sweat that was clinging to his upper lip and catching Vince's eye as the man shepherded the kids into a queue in front of the museum.

"Thanks," he whispered, passing him by once they were all outside, "uhm- You can handle them for another fifteen? I'm gonna go hurl, but then I can take 'em."

Vince's eyebrows jumped up, a sudden, startled chuckle slipping past his lips. He nodded, "Uh yeah- yeah, sure, go ahead-" then his attention slipped away as one of the boys tried to run ahead, "Elliot give me your hand!"

#sickfic #max daniels #mywriting #eructo #tummyache #belly ache #⭐️ anon

[hogwartsfirebolt]

takes one to know one

I watched him go through many. Months after our groups merged, after I was forced to think of him when I thought of the word “friends”, I became used to it. I learned his moves, learned what desire looked like on his face. 

It happened around 1 am every time, once conversation swelled with drink. His eyes would settle on someone at the pub, intense, unwavering, his lips tilted on a smile, until they had no choice but to look back. He rarely had to seek them out, within minutes of having his attention they’d be at our table, insinuating themselves near him. A few minutes more and he’d have them locked down. Men, women, it didn’t matter when he sat with his legs spread and his arm draped over the back of their chair, mouth soft and eyebrows furrowed, listening intently to whatever inane conversation they attempted to make. 

Nobody stood a chance. They left with him every time. 

Sometimes they stuck around for a while, came to two or three pub nights hanging from his arm, providing some variety to our table, which otherwise remained unchanged: Ron and Pansy, who were in a surprisingly exclusive no-strings-attached arrangement, Viktor and Hermione, who were engaged, Harry and I. I never brought anyone to the table. My own flings weren’t like his. They weren’t sparse, but the number seemed insignificant in comparison, the encounters spaced out by months rather than days. A handsome man every once in a while, whose eyes I would seek at midnight and whom I’d never see again after dawn, nobody hanging from my arm when the next reunion rolled around. It was a simple affair. Out of us six, Harry was the one with the most conquests under his belt. 

Ron would tease him relentlessly, call him a cowboy, and, once he was well and truly drunk, a whore, in a satisfied, approving tone. It surprised a laugh out of Harry, who by then had warm fingers splayed over the shoulder of the handsome man he’d beckoned to our table using nothing but his eyes that night. His hands wandered often once they’d found a target. 

“Or isn’t he, Draco?” Ron asked me, and Harry’s laugh became even louder when I nodded.

“Can’t help it,” he said, mirth shining in his green eyes. The man at his side stared at him, jaw slack, desire plain on his face. There was something magnetic about his amusement. They left within the next half hour. 

I watched it play out, fortnight after fortnight. He had a type, that was undeniable, always seeming to go after the sharper ones, the ones who weren’t afraid to meet his gaze head on, no matter how intense. They were typically in their late twenties, around our own age, and they’d definitely more often than not hail from enough wealth that they’d carry an accent to show for it. The posh thing seemed to do it for Harry. But in the end it didn’t matter who they were, how beautiful or wealthy, it never lasted more than a handful of months. It would begin with longer silences, strained eye contact, less physicality in public. Then he would stop bringing them, no explanation provided, and the hunt would begin once again. 

He made quick, efficient work of his conquest, almost effortless. Dispatched them with the same efficiency. 

That was why the night I turned around and found his eyes trained on me, I felt my stomach drop to my feet. When he saw me notice, he raised a single eyebrow and didn’t look away. He was sitting at our table, the same one we sat at every fortnight, while I waited at the bar for a new round of drinks. Under the weight of his gaze it looked different. The seating had shifted while I was away, Ron and Pansy had arrived hand in hand, Hermione and Viktor had changed seats to make room for them and they’d left only one place free for me to return to. A chair next to Harry, pressed to his thigh, his arm heavy over the backrest. And his eyes were on me. I tasted it in the back of my throat, the sharp tang of terror. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In the months of watching him, of wanting him, sometimes keeping it a secret even from myself, I’d never once considered him watching back. And the reality of my own want, heavy inside my chest, dwarfed in a second when compared to my fear.

I turned my back to him and leaned my elbows on the bar, stomach rising and falling swiftly with my breath. 

I’d watched him go through many. I’d been unable to look away for a lifetime. I’d wanted him and loathed him, never knowing which instinct was stronger. Could I forgive myself if I allowed him to make me a name on a list, a chip on his bedpost? Could I forgive myself if I didn’t? I didn’t know. I didn’t know why he was watching me. I didn’t know why now, when he had to know I would’ve let him, at any point. 

When I felt a hand on my shoulder, a warm body leaning against the bar next to me, I knew it was him. I took a deep breath, bracing for it, and when I turned I found his green eyes fixed on my face, his mouth soft. I knew what he looked like when he wanted it, I’d seen it for months, and it was this. 

“Wow, you’re miraculously not already off fucking someone tonight,” I said, and he laughed, head tilted back, neck exposed. 

His mouth said, “Yeah, who would’ve thought it possible?” His eyes said, you know exactly why I’m here. 

I opened my mouth, trying to come up with more banter on the fly, anything to distract, so he wouldn’t be able to see how scared I was. Perhaps he already saw it. I swallowed down hard, and his eyes followed the rise and fall of my throat. 

“Two shots of vodka, two firewhiskeys, two blueberry gin and tonic,” said the bartender, placing a tray in front of me and saving me from having to come up with something to say. Before I could attempt to balance the six drinks in my hands, Harry flicked his fingers and they floated, steady, next to our heads. 

“Which one’s yours?” He asked. 

“One of the blueberry gins.” 

“Fitting. Which one’s mine?” 

“One of the whiskeys.” 

He smiled like that meant something. 

Our seats were too close. I felt the warm line of his thigh against mine, his eyes heavy on me whenever I said something, the back of his fingers brushing my back where his hand rested on my chair. I saw the group catching on, Ron pretending not to smile, Pansy trying to make eye contact with me. All I could do was swallow and pretend nothing was happening as I was swept in the intoxicating current of his interest. 

But I’d watched it happen. No matter what it meant to me, I knew what it was to him. The pub emptied out, my watch struck 2 and then 3 am. He’d usually be gone by now, with whoever his conquest of the night had been. But here we both were, watching Pansy drink Ron under the table. His hand was fully on my back now, his shoulder close to mine. 

We hadn’t talked much. My heart had been in my throat all night. 

Ron and Pansy stood to dance, Hermione and Viktor were long gone. He leaned close to my ear and whispered with whiskey-warm breath, “how much longer until you say yes?” 

Some unnamable feeling pulsed through me, hot and terrifying. 

“What makes you think I will?” 

He pulled away, his eyes traveled from the top of my head, down my neck, my chest, all the way to my feet. Then back into my eyes. 

“Please?” It came out like it was the easiest thing in the world, like it cost him nothing. If I’d been standing, I would’ve fallen to my knees. 

Nobody stood a chance, and I wasn’t the exception. It was gonna be one of those things. 

When I leaned in to kiss him, I saw the next few weeks play out in my head, pictured all kinds of moments, kisses like this one, and I knew I would risk it even if I had to go back to watching, after. We were in a bedroom within one moment and the next, he apparated us wandless, wordless, mid-kiss. 

“Finally,” he whispered into my neck, while his hands made quick work of the first buttons of my shirt and his magic took care of the second half, delicate and fine as fingers. My mind was scattered with his power, his hunger, the heat of his lips dancing over my clavicles. 

He got me down to my pants before I pushed him off and onto his back, unwilling to let him be the only one to taste. If I had him for a night or a couple, I’d use every moment to do the things I’d spent my whole life imagining. 

I kissed his neck, his chest, the short hair there, the peak of his nipples and the fall of his sternum. I kissed the shallow pit of his belly button, started to make my way down before he held my chin and brought me firmly up, back into another mind-bending kiss. 

“Finally,” he said again, voice splintering. “I’ve wanted you for some time.”

I pulled back, hands around his hips, legs bracketing his body, a powerful line of heat against the insides of my thighs. 

“Do you say that to everyone?” I asked, couldn’t help it, even though it laid me bare in a way I wasn’t prepared for. 

His breath was shallow on his chest, his nipples hard, pink lips parted. He sat up a little, rough hands cupping my shoulder blades, my lower back. He’d lost his glasses at some point, and his eyes were a blaze. 

“I’m saying it to you.” 

His words sent a pulse through my belly, but I knew him, I’d watched him, and knew I couldn’t hold him to the things he said here, in the small space between us, tangled in his bed. I swallowed and he followed the movement with his eyes, then with his hand, palm to the side of my neck, thumb pressed to the heart of my Adam’s apple. I watched him between half lidded eyes, waiting, at his mercy. He closed the distance between us, pulling me into the kiss by the neck, tongue-first, slow and wet. 

“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered. “I’m already here”

Again, like he needed to make sure I heard, “I’ve wanted you for some time.” 

He pointed the statement with a thrust, working his hips, making sure I could feel how much he wanted it. It traveled through me like an electric current, and I let my head fall forward, laid my forehead on his shoulder, panting as I moved with him, a slow back and forth. 

“Why now, then?” I breathed out, mouth open against his salty skin. One of his hands braced harder around my body, the other behind himself on the bed, balancing as he came up to his knees with me still in his lap. He didn’t stop there, kept pushing forward until I was on my back, watching him hover over me. His hair dripped sweat onto my chest, and there was something in the way he looked at me, a hunger that reminded me why I’d been so scared in the first place, the scope of his want so transparent and electric that I feared I would simply disappear, stop being real the second he looked away from me. 

“I don’t know,” he said, painfully honest. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulled, a few inches down before the garment disappeared into thin air as though it never had existed, willed away by his wordless command. I made an embarrassing little sound, and he smiled, a tiny, amused thing. “I think I hadn’t been fully honest with myself about it.” 

My breath caught. I closed my eyes, trying to work through it, opened them again and ran a hand down his chest, pulling lightly at the hair at the center. I thought it, and tried not to say it, but it was out before I could stop, “I knew you’d be like this” 

His thigh had found its way between my legs, and he pressed forward, drawing a sharp breath out of me. 

“Yeah?” He muttered, eyes never straying from my face. “Like what?” 

“All-encompassing,” I whispered, and felt a hot blush immediately gather in my cheeks and neck. He noticed, too, and followed its path with his lips, the mere suggestion of a kiss against my skin, delicate and slow. 

“Tell me your pleasure,” he said, nose brushing my neck. “What do you like?” 

It was hard to think of what I wanted when it seemed like I was getting armfuls of it already, without asking. I came up on an elbow, slid a hand down his chest, between his legs. He responded beautifully, a moan leaving his lips, all warm breath against my throat. 

“I like it deep, and hard.” I let my fingers slow down, matching the rhythm of his breath. “Slow. I like it slow.” 

“I can do that,” he said, but he didn’t stop me, instead allowing himself to move into my hand, find a rhythm too, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my neck. 

I spread my legs, giving him more room, and like this, holding him between my thighs, allowing him to take what he needed from my hands, it felt like doing it already. He lifted his head, coming in for a kiss in the last moments, and it was into my lips that he groaned his release, warm puffs of breath as his hips worked, then slowed to a still. 

It took him a moment to readjust, and he spent it against my lips, catching his breath. He kissed me, my chin. 

“I can still do that,” he assured, sounding pleased. Then, “I just… might need a minute.” 

A sudden laugh bubbled out of me, not having expected him to be like this, too, the intensity and power of a few moments ago taking the shape of someone who, at the end of the day, was just a guy. He lifted himself up and then dropped down beside me, his head cupped in a propped hand so he could keep on watching me. 

“Why do you always do that?” I whispered after a couple seconds of silence. 

“Do what?”

“This.” I furrowed my eyebrows and gave him my most intense look, trying to emulate the way his gaze just would not let up. He laughed, and let his head fall on the bed properly, unruly hair spread around his head in a dark halo. 

“I know I’m intense. I’ve heard it before,” he said, gaze trained upwards as though speaking to the ceiling. “It’s just the way I — It’s not —,” he stopped, backtracked. “I was trying to say it’s not personal, but I bet it’s even worse with you, actually. It’s always been. I’m sorry.” 

“No, I know,” I replied immediately, because I did know, and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “I don’t mind.”  

“When I want something, it’s the only thing I can think about,” he whispered, rolling his head to the side, eyes finally on me again, as though pulled by a magnet. “I guess it shows.”

“I watch you too,” I confessed, a half-voice almost afraid of itself. Fear warring with truth. 

But he said, “I know,” low into the space between us. “I’ve realized. That is the real answer. That is why now.”

I took it in, felt it like a fire-tipped arrow straight to the chest, the acknowledgement that no matter if this was a one-time thing, I wouldn’t, after all, be a name on a list. The possibility that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing at all. He saw it in me, and his gaze changed, took on the hunger again. 

“I thought you needed a minute,” I said, not looking away. 

His eyes moved between my legs, then back up. “But you don’t.” 

He was already moving, his hands searching skin, but I stopped him with a fist to the center of his chest, gentle, one last sliver of self-preservation, the need to know for sure that he knew what I meant. 

“You knew I would’ve let you, at any point,” I said, no point hiding it anymore. “But you didn’t try.” 

“Draco,” he whispered, “I didn’t know. I would’ve been trying the whole time.” 

It was one of those things. A gamble. I’d watched him go through many, I couldn’t know that he was being truthful. And yet, I realized, he couldn’t know that about me either. He’d watched me with others, watched me follow them home, come back and do it again weeks later. He’d been a friend, and he’d watched. He’d watched me go through many. 

I began to smile. 

“Takes one to know one,” I whispered.

His hands found my hips, the side of my neck. I let him fall onto me like a rainstorm, and we met each other in the middle. 

#obviously i listened to cowboy like me by taylor swift way too much #drarry #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mywriting #also at this time i will not be taking complaints about how absurdly powerful and attractive harry is #the press conference is overrrr

[virusinfected-memes]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 1 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! 

“All I do is drink water and be stupid.”

“All I do is rotate three outfits and talk shit and have panic attacks.”

“All I want these days is to hike through a mossy forest filled with heavy fog and get lost for a while.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for the those two guys who died in the Blair Witch house? Who broke into HER home, trespassed on HER land, and messed with HER stick bundles? I don’t!”

“Baby girl, you are strange and off-putting.”

“Can necromancers heal depression?”

“Did I need it? No. Did I buy it? Yes.”

“Don’t forget that what you see isn’t all there is.”

“Do you ever wanna bond with someone so bad you’re like, “Damn, I wish we were knights on a dangerous quest...”?”

“Do you think the world could suddenly end on a night as quiet as this?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m an influencer! My content is clownery, I promote stupidity, and I’m sponsored by the circus.”

“Have people in horror movies never seen a horror movie?”

“Holy shit... I’M the demon living in my house?”

“Hot tip: bury yourself in the forest to recharge, never come back, and become a local cryptid.”

“Humans are really good at remembering each other’s bad decisions.”

“I am one percent human and ninety-nine percent tired.”

“I don’t really feel like existing today.”

“I do this really cute thing where I shut down and hate everybody.”

“I feel like I’m in the Sims where it takes five hours to make pasta and then you have to immediately go to bed.”

“If I can’t hand my lover a cup of coffee and kiss their forehead while they’re working, then what even is the point?”

“If my son is stealing pies off window sills, it’s because I taught him to do that, bitch.”

“If you aren’t someone the church wanted dead three hundred years ago, are you really living?”

“If your computer has malware... that’s me in there. If you take care of me like a little Tamagotchi pet, I will leave and give you a secret present in your files.”

“I hate those really vivid dreams that you’re still emotionally attached to after you wake up. You’re stuck, feeling for something that technically doesn’t exist.”

“I’m giving up personhood to become a full-time abstract concept.”

“I’m like a shitty anime dating sim. If I talk to six people, I have to immediately go to bed. If I go grocery shopping, that’s half my HP.”

“I’m off to kill the most powerful man in the world.”

“In the 90s, computers would scream every time you went online. That was foreshadowing.”

“I procrastinate so much now that if I ever became a vampire I will literally put things off for centuries.”

“I think I want my next piercing to be through my heart with a wooden stake.”

“I think my dark under eye circles are adding to the aesthetic, actually.”

“I think the far healthier app to have in middle school was the DSi camera, not Tik Tok.”

“It’s okay to be obsessed and in love with me.”

“I was born in the wrong generation. Take me back to the paleoarchean era. I want to be insentient. I want to be bacteria.”

“Little known fact: once you’re older and you’re no longer in school, time stops being real. Did that thing happen one year ago? Two? Five? A few months ago? Who knows.”

“Maybe if we all just collectively start decorating now, we can... force it to be Halloween.”

“Me? Tired? Sleepy? Yes, constantly.”

“My blood is glow stick juice. That’s why all my bones crack when I move.”

“My body is less of a temple and more of a rotting 19th century mansion rumored to be haunted by several wicked and vengeful spirits.”

“My body is my temple. Ancient and crumbling. Probably cursed.”

“My hobbies include laying in bed in my underwear while I listen to music and hate myself.”

“My kink is closing doors so that I’m in complete solitude.”

“My superpower is going into a book store and immediately forgetting the name of every book I’ve ever wanted to read.”

“Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value.”

“Nothing should go back to normal. Normal wasn’t working.”

“Not really a fan of this ‘being a person’ thing.”

“People keep saying “go big or go home” as if going home doesn’t sound like the best idea ever. Hell yeah, I wanna go home, and I’m gonna take a nap when I get there.”

“People who suggest getting breakfast together as a hangout plan are the kind of people you want to hang onto.”

“Pray for me. Nothing’s wrong, I just want more power.”

“Protect me from what I want.”

“Pro tip: instead of having feelings, try being dead inside. Everything is still horrible, but you will not care at all.”

“Remember, you can disappear into the woods whenever you want. You’re an adult.”

“Reminder: you can start over at any time. Your day is not ruined. Your world is not over. Take a deep breath. Start over.”

“Rest in peace to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris, but I’m different. And better. Maybe even better than the gods.”

“Sexting? Nah, I’m into spexting. Spooky texting. Ever seen a ghost? Hit me up.”

“Something all children covet is the generic black t-shirt with white skull worn by cartoon teenagers.”

“Sometimes a girly just needs to mask her declining mental state by calling herself a girlboss and that’s okay.”

“Sorry, bro, I can’t hang out today. I used up all my mana.”

“Sorry I tried to drink your blood. I think you’re cute.”

“The internet is awesome, but you can’t download love.”

“The only reason I still have depression is because I can’t take my brain out and blow on it like a DS cartridge.”

“The older you get, the more you appreciate just chilling at home doing nothing.”

“The world is just generally better when you’ve recently eaten a sandwich.”

“The worst part about kissing a perfect ten is the cold feeling your lips get from touching the mirror.”

“Very sexy of me to be isolating myself and rotting into the floor.”

“Well, the horrors may be beyond YOUR comprehension, but I understand them perfectly.”

“What does your soul look like?”

“What ever happened to personality? I want decorative towels that aren’t boring! I want NOVELTY! I want people to come over to my house and look at my trinkets, and immediately think “this lady is a wacko” and also “her stuff is haunted!””

“When fat Pikachu finally returns, I know he will single-handedly save our economy.”

“Yeah, I could have cracked the Zodiac cipher before those guys did. I just didn’t want to.”

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and wonder why you’re still in Hell.”

“You know what I would be if I was in a video game? That dead body you find at the beginning with like ten gold.”

“You think too much. You’ll make yourself ill if you keep that up.”

#ask meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #tumblr #* mine

[satansreadingglasses]

Relationship Headcanons pt 1

There’s gonna be 3 parts (i think)! 1 (Luci, Mams, Levi) 2 (Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie) 3 (Simeon, Solomon, Diavlo)

Warnings- Just fluff :)

a/n. this aint proofread.

He would hate PDA, he thinks it’s unprofessional.

But the moment the two of you make it back home, he’s all over you.

Holding your hands, hand around your waist, giving you small pecks all over.

He would hardly ever let you out of his sight

Oh you’re going shopping? He’ll get his shoes on. You’re going to the mall to pick up some new clothes? He’s going with you and paying for everything.

Unlike Mammon, he’s way less stingy with his money.

If you show a slight interest in something, it’s on your table with a little bow the next morning.

He just wants you to know that he does care and that you’re his one and only.

Lucifer would love to work with you near him, even if you’re just reading a new novel or playing games on your phone.

As long as you’re around for him to look at, he’s happy with it.

While Lucifer can be incredibly short tempered, or impatient with his brothers.

He’s nothing but kind and considerate with you.

You’re perfection to him, and should be treated as such.

He loves to imagine what life would be like with you, but you and him together.

Maybe a couple kids, maybe a couple cats, either way.

Overall, Lucifer would be a great lover, and he would love you even more than Diavlo.

Oh boy.

Don’t even get me started on how clingy he is.

You thought he was clingy before y’all got together? Imagine that, but 20 times worse.

Every time you go out in public, he has to have one hand on you at all times.

If you stop him from touching you while you’re out, he’ll get all whiny and give you a look like a sad little puppy.

He’d tell you how ‘everyone’s looking at you’ or ‘it’s not fair’ or ‘please, MC, just hold my hand for a little bit??’.

It can be annoying, but it can also be so precious.

At night, he’ll lazily hold onto your arm and just snore the night away.

Sometimes, he’ll forget he’s holding onto you and he’ll forget he’s even capable of moving that arm away from you.

He really is the cutest.

Mammon also loves being spoiled, and vice versa.

If you buy him a shirt, he thinks it’s only fitting that he buys you a matching one.

If you don’t feel like going out to dinner that night, he’ll convince Beel to help him cook you two a nice meal.

The other six find you both adorable, even Lucifer, and they do anything they can to help Mammon not be so awkward around you.

All in all, Mammon would be the cutest boyfriend.

Leviathan

Levi wouldn’t stop his gaming habits, though he wouldn’t play as much with you around.

Before you two got together, he would spend hours thinking about you, and then wondering why he was thinking about you.

When he realized he was in love with you, he was shocked.

When you confessed that you were also in love with him, he was beyond shocked.

How could someone so perfect love someone like him??

But of course, he got over all that after a couple months of your kisses and hugs.

The time he once spent at otaku stores alone, was now spent with you, and he couldn’t possibly imagine it any other way.

He loved how you listened to him talk on and on, and how you would sit down and watch some anime or k-drama with him, even if you were confused.

Levi would spend late nights playing video games, and he always felt bad about it.

You looked so cute sleeping in his bed, that he wanted to just come up and lay right next to you.

So you can imagine how happy he was when you suggested sleeping on his lap one night.

He lost every round that night.

He was too focused on not moving around too much and making sure you wouldn’t slip out of his arms.

He never let you sleep alone again though, whether you were in his arms or he was in yours.

Levi was used to saving up to buy figurines, but now he was saving up to buy the two of you matching cosplays.

All his favorite couples were portrayed by the two of you at one point or another.

In conclusion, Levi is the best boy.

#Leviathan obey me #levi obey me #leviathan obey me fluff #leviathan fluff #levi fluff #levi obey me fluff #mammon obey me #mammon obey me fluff #mammon #mammon fluff #lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer obey me fluff #lucifer fluff #leviathan x MC #leviathan x GN reader #Mammon x MC #Mammon x Gn reader #lucifer x MC #lucifer x gn reader

[hippolotamus]

Hippo my lovely 💕

21 - this is a very long hug now sort of hug

If it sparks joy 💕

It did! Eventually (sheepishly kicks at the dirt) Enjoy, lovely 🦛💞🐥

For the full experience may I recommend

if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) | T | 2926 words

Just got in. See you tomorrow.

Buck pockets his phone and enters the apartment — it’s not home, never really has been — his movements slow and easy, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the sort of love and contentment that can only come from spending an evening at the Diaz house. A few precious hours of dinner, then playing Boggle and Scattergories until Chris begged off to play an online game with his friends. His limbs are loose and humming, like his veins have been injected with liquid starlight. Even the air around him feels syrupy sweet and pleasant. The kind of thick, protective cover that nothing negative could hope to ruin.

He drops his keys in the bowl and immediately walks to the fridge to put away the Tupperware container of leftover mushroom and chickpea meatballs with zoodles for tomorrow’s lunch.

Eddie picked the recipe, saying he wanted to try it. No particular reason, he just did. He’s been doing that more lately, choosing dishes he would make anyway and subbing in vegan ingredients.

Buck took notice immediately and makes sure to show his gratitude in heaping platefuls and commenting on how delicious it all is. He knows from experience that it’s all too easy to end up with dried out, inedible food that shouldn’t be fed to anyone. It’s the least he can do for his best friend making the effort to cook something special just for him. Even if said best friend will never admit that’s why he’s doing it.

At times, if Buck lets himself look too closely, it feels a lot like something else. These acts of service feel a lot like love. And it is. The sort of love two best friends who would do anything for each other have. Buck’s not naïve enough to think that Eddie wouldn’t do the same thing for any of their friends or family. But at the same time it’s also more? Deeper. A sacred bond or formula shared just between them. Like learning Bobby’s chili doesn’t work without the cocoa powder. Someone could try a million different ways and it would never turn out right.

He wants to be brave enough to name this thing they’ve been building since promising to have each other’s backs. This relationship forged in fire, mud, and tsunamis. Built on collapsing foundations, busted down doors, lightning strikes, and ‘Because, Evan’.

If he could be part of Eddie and Christopher’s lives for everything, he would do it in a heartbeat. But that always seems like too much and not enough to ask for. Because Buck is too much and not enough. Acceptable in measured increments for precise amounts of time. For now — probably forever — he tucks that dream away in favor of focusing on what he does have.

With the leftovers safely put away, he grabs a beer, twisting off the cap and listening to it slide across the countertop, finally slowing to a stop next to the utensil caddy. It’s… loud. Too loud for such a small object. Or maybe the apartment is just too… cavernous? Empty?

Buck leans back against the counter, taking a lengthy sip and visually assessing his space. He has things. The right amount of things, even. After all, he’s one single person. How much could he need? He drowns the thought with more beer when his mind tries to remind him of six cheese lasagna and couches and having the answers.

He decides it’s not worth ruining his still relatively excellent mood by worrying over something as trivial as a chunk of metal, and moves out to the patio. It might do him some good.

The atmosphere is filled with the sights and sounds of the city at night. A complex symphony of traffic, music and people wrapped in an LED haze that starts at the street and drifts slowly upward. It’s a familiar melody that, just like the apartment, isn’t home but does its best to provide comfort.

He manages to pick out a few stars peeking through. Not full constellations. Those are impossible, staying hidden like the ancient giants they are. It’s nice to still be able to see the twinkling specks, even if they’re nothing like some places he’s been.

On the ranch in Montana he would lay on the hood of his Jeep and stare for what felt like hours. Feeling small, but also like something was waiting for him. Like he was part of something bigger that he just hadn’t discovered yet. Looking at the sky now doesn’t feel that way. More like being at sea, adrift and searching. Waiting to be found, though he’s not quite sure by who or what.

It reminds him of a documentary he watched once about otters. The mothers fluff up their pup’s fur and leave them to float while they hunt for food. The babies are powerless to do anything except spin in a circle until she returns. Sometimes Buck feels like that. Like somebody has given him enough support to turn in place but not actually go anywhere.

He casts a look at the table and chairs and finds himself thinking of fixing, being at your worst, trying again anyway, and— no. Clearly being outside isn’t helping, so Buck returns indoors, hoping the television will prove to be enough of a distraction.

As he searches for something to watch, it seems reasonable he just needed a better place to focus his attention that isn’t his own inner chatter. He’s already slightly irritated that the vibrant glow from earlier has faded so significantly. Maybe there’s still a chance it can be recovered.

He quickly settles on a cooking program and that gets him smiling again. He doesn’t even particularly care what’s being presented, just that it evokes the same warmth as being welcomed home and brown eyes with flecks of gold. At least until the next episode comes on.

This one features a couple, a husband and wife posed in their studio kitchen. They’re surrounded by pristine white cabinets, gleaming mixing bowls, and perfectly measured ingredients that will make a stunning something-or-other. When it’s complete they’ll pull it from the stainless steel double oven to be served on the prop table that’s been set like a photo shoot for Better Homes & Gardens.

Buck can’t help but notice how they move in harmony, fluidly traversing around each other, like a ballet. Like partners. Maybe it’s all for an audience, but it looks genuine. Not the type of movement that’s choreographed or faked. He stares, scrutinizing every instance of adoring looks and playful gestures until something within him finally cracks.

The hollow ache that usually lives in his chest suddenly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart, causing him to wonder how such emptiness can feel so massive. As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or something. Anything to untangle the mess sitting under his sternum.

Through rapid, gasping breaths Buck tries to refocus, to take himself back. Even just fifteen minutes. Is that so much to ask? Returning to blissfully, ignorantly, mindlessly observing?

Despite what he wants, the screen remains unchanged. Mr and Mrs Fucking Perfect carry on with their routine, blurred and watery in front of him. And Buck – he’s spinning in circles again, too helpless to do anything except wait. Except he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of drifting and circling and clinging and pausing.

It’s just- when he’s the guy who’s always trying to fix things that are out of his control… what is he supposed to do?

🍠🍠🍠🍠🍠

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night. Like watching Buck smile, all pleased and fond, every time Eddie thanked him for a helpful cooking tip. Or watching Chris break out in a full belly laugh at one of Buck’s corny dad jokes.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings welling up inside, trying to prevent them from bleeding out through his pores and spilling onto Buck. Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

He starts his nightly routine, walking a path through the rooms, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. When the final throw pillow is returned and the last pile is straightened, he hears the tentative knocking.

The noise immediately puts him on edge, setting off his protective instincts. Nothing good can come from someone being at his house this late. Christopher is in bed and Buck has his own key. Eddie tiptoes across the floor to peer through the peephole, shocked to discover who’s waiting on the other side.

“Buck?” Eddie turns the deadbolt, opening the door wide for his friend.

This isn’t anything like the night he came seeking respite from Maddie’s well-intentioned visitor train. Instead of standing tall, barreling past Eddie, Buck stares straight ahead, unblinking and motionless with slumped shoulders that make him appear small. Eddie can see how his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. He looks utterly broken.

Before Eddie can say his name again, Buck surges forward over the threshold. He falls into Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pushes the door shut, not bothering to listen if it latched correctly or not. He returns the embrace, one hand on Buck’s back, the other gently petting his hair as Buck’s body shudders against his own.

He gratefully absorbs each whimper and sob. The way thick, searching fingers clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hey. I’ve got you.”

Buck was fine a few hours ago. What the hell could have happened since then?

“I- I’m sorry, Eds.” Buck begins to pull back, rubbing away the wetness on the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have- I’m gonna–” He jerks his chin toward the doorway.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Eddie lightly grips Buck’s elbow, a silent question. Buck hesitates, looking between Eddie and the entryway, before he acquiesces to letting Eddie tug him closer again.

He wants to do any number or ill-advised things like hold Buck’s face between his palms, kiss away every tear, and murmur every wonderful thought he’s ever had about the man in his arms until Buck believes them. For now he settles for cradling and rubbing soothing patterns and silently loving. He’ll stand here all night if that’s what Buck needs. He can do that.

“I don’t know what happened. All I did was turn on Food Network,” Buck warbles. Then he shakes his head against Eddie’s shoulder, exhaling a world weary breath. A puff of air expelled by someone carrying the universe and trying to make it appear no bigger than a classroom globe. Eddie’s, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.

“That’s not true,” Buck confesses.

The silence returns and Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate on what he means. It isn’t long before the explanation comes, so muted that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m tired, Eds. Of pretending to be happy alone and waiting to be chosen. Tired of holding back just so the wrong person likes some version of me that isn’t even authentic. It’s just all so exhausting.”

I’d choose you. Three words Eddie can’t bear to make himself say out loud, because his best friend is hurting and now is most definitely not the time for that kind of confession. So he holds onto them a little longer, ignoring the sting where they settle back into his heart. A burning pain that only becomes more intense when Buck burrows impossibly closer, continuing to cling to Eddie like a lifeline.

Buck speaks again, sounding unfathomably small and heartbroken. “Am I that hard to love?”

“No.” Eddie’s answer is immediate and unwavering. As true as the night he first decided in front of their captain and an exploding ambulance.

Buck responds with a skeptical huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

Eddie slides the hand on the back of Buck’s neck forward, grazing over his cheek and under his chin until he can tip his head up. Even in the darkness, Buck’s eyes are exceptionally blue. Endless depths that manage to steal Eddie’s breath and reflect back every future he yearns for.

It’s been ages since Eddie’s given any serious thought to last first kisses or until death do we part, but he would swear under oath that’s what he sees now.

“No,” Eddie reiterates. This should probably be more difficult and be ratcheting up his anxiety. But it doesn’t. Instead he’s wrapped in a distinct calm. An undeniable certainty, because what he’s about to say is true and however Buck reacts won’t change it. “I have to say that because I love you.”

Buck blinks and his mouth falls open in an imperfect o. “Y-you what?” He whispers.

Now that he’s said it once, a second time is that much easier. “I said I love you. And I will always choose you. All of you. Over and over. Every version. If you’ll let me.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, fresh tears starting to pool there, and he looks at Eddie with such awe and disbelief, like he can’t accept that someone would genuinely want him. Not that he doesn’t understand the feeling, but it shatters Eddie to think Buck has spent even a second believing he’s unlovable.

“Of course I’ll let you. How is that even a question?” Buck asks, as if they haven’t been dancing around exactly that for years. He stands to his full height, never letting his hands drop, beaming down with the smile Eddie’s claimed as just for him. “But, Eds?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“This has been a really long hug. Not that I’m complaining. I was just kinda hoping I could kiss you. Finally. I’ve been kinda wanting to for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And who is Eddie to deny him that?

“Please,” he sighs into the diminishing space between them. His tone borders on a plea, but this is Buck. The person who has seen Eddie at his most vulnerable, who sees Eddie more than he’s ever allowed anyone else.

They drift closer until their lips brush, just enough that Eddie gets a taste of Buck’s horchata lip balm. Eddie can’t understand needing more than the 3-pack he can get at the grocery store, but right now he’s not complaining about the sweet, cinnamon flavor.

Eddie deepens the kiss, pausing when he can make himself break away, just enough to murmur ‘I love you’, wanting to make sure Buck knows he’s all in. That this isn’t a fluke or temporary, pitying lapse in judgment.

Because he does, and he is, with every fiber of his being. He loves him, loves him, loves him.

Suddenly Buck pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed, his already plush lips kiss swollen, tempting Eddie to bring them back together. “I just realized I never said I love you, too. Because I do a-and I really need you to know that.”

Eddie hums appreciatively, claiming Buck’s mouth again, unable to stay apart any longer now that he knows what it is to kiss Evan Buckley. He submits to the love and adoration and the way they fit like two puzzle pieces, further solidifying how they’re meant to complete each other. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he knew what love was.

There are infinite meanings for different people. For Eddie, it’s painted in hues of burnt orange and blue. Folded in cheesy puns and always having a fresh container of oat milk in the fridge. Stated in facts about retrofitted ceiling tiles and light fixtures; conveyed in I know you did, what are you afraid of, and I misunderstood the assignment.

It’s following his heart on the winding path that led him to a reality better than any fantasy.

#soft prompts #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) #hippo writes

[writerpyre]

Hello!!

It’s been a LONG time but if you’re inclined to read please have a bonus chapter to an older fic: first time in just over four years that I’ve posted anything for any fandom!

I found it in my files today and being as it’s been so long, I figured why the heck not, as I reckon it’s about time I came back with something. It’s not technically new writing, but I’m pretty gosh darn happy with myself either way. I’m finally at a place in my life where maybe things are going to be ok? I mean, I’m 31.

I’ll see what else the fates bring (my bestie is pretty unwell — not sure what’s with this people closest to me getting horribly sick thing), but I think I’m in a place where if I go back to using my writing to cope I’ll be fine. I can at least hope.

(For those who have by this point probably given up anticipating an update for Fulcrum (or anything related to it) never fear, for that one is next on my agenda! I’m ‘Bound’ and ‘Determined’ to get John through his decade-long predicament. Haha.)

Either way, have a chapter. :)

(For those who are unaware, Kent is my OC, Virgil’s identical twin who died of complications from a heart condition, three days after their birth. Technically part of my AIE “AU”, I originally wasn’t intending to ever post this part, as it’s a practice piece I used to look at who Kent Tracy may have been had he survived past infancy.)

Midnight

The soft sounds of Virgil’s snores rumble through the room from the top bunk, but Kent lays in the bottom bed, wide awake with his pen in one hand, the flashlight in another; scrawling furiously across the pages of his notebook.

It’s past eleven again, and the fourteen-year-old boy can’t sleep; the insomnia from sleeping all day has kicked in again, and all he can do is while away the hours until his father and older brothers roll out of bed. He doesn’t fear waking up his twin brother; Virgil doesn’t wake up unless someone holds the alarm clock right next to his ear; volume up on full, so it’s highly unlikely that he’s going to be disturbed from the light.

He doesn’t mind overly much though, these quiet hours before the dawn. Being one of six children often means that aside from the two hours of study that their father enforces every day, it’s very rare for any of the Tracy children to have any time to themselves without another sibling interrupting it somehow.

It’s nice to have this time to write, and consider and dream without his two youngest brothers asking ‘What are you doing, KT? Can I see? Lemme look!’ he finds it bliss to not have his father wanting him to help with chores or his grandmother wanting him to watch Alan while she takes Virgil and Gordon out, because their father is busy in the office again.

It’s peaceful, and as much as he likes a bit of chaos and excitement, Kent also likes to have some quiet now and again. He loves the way the moon streams through the curtains in the bedroom, how he can listen to Virgil dreaming and feel his brother’s happiness and quiet soul soar through their twin bond.

He feels the pressures of being the sickly child; the one who everyone has to be careful of and look out for too much, and for Kent, these moments when he doesn’t have them looking over him in concern and hovering when he’s ‘too pale’ or ‘overtired’, it just makes him feel more whole somehow. At fourteen, he just wants them to stop seeing him as the ill one and allow him to grow without them worrying that he’s going to overtax his weakened heart.

In these moments, he can remember his mother, and how like him; she was a writer, although with six children before she died, she never got to achieve her dream of getting a novel published. Sure, she wrote for the local newspaper, along with the kindergarten teaching and the music lessons she taught in order to help their father with the monthly bills, but it’s something that Kent knew she always wanted to do. Now she’s gone, he’s more determined than ever to achieve that dream, and make his mom as proud of him as she was as his other brothers.

That’s not to say that he didn’t think she was, but he just wants to do something that his three older brothers haven’t yet.

Kent loves his family, but he just wants to get out of this little box, pre-packaged, made just for him, the one that labels him as the sickly child, the one who is to be worried over and assisted.

It’s not that his father, Grandpa and Grandma don’t expect him to amount to anything, just that somehow, Kent has this invisible label on him that instantly informs people that he’s ill and that he is given just that little bit more leeway to get to places a little easier. There’s nothing more Kent hates more than to be told that he needs to take it easy, or that he can’t do something, just because he’s sick.

That’s why he uses this time, past the hour he should’ve been in dreamland to work harder on anything he ever has in his life, because he wants to make them proud, to break out of the accidental constraints that his condition has placed upon him. He’ll rise above and beyond those automatic assumptions, and prove to everyone that he can do just as much as his brothers. Even if it takes him a little bit longer, even if he has to work a little bit harder, he will achieve his goals.

As he packs up his book and caps the pen an hour later, still not sleepy but content that he’s worked with what he can for tonight, Kent is determined that he’s going to become a published author before he hits his eighteenth birthday, because he’s a Tracy, and for a Tracy, failure isn’t an option.

He’ll lie awake for the rest of the night, and yes, he’ll be completely exhausted and will spend the day in bed tomorrow, but he’ll keep with him through his grandmother’s fussing and John and Scott’s smothering, the peace and tranquillity that this time has given him.

He’s happy, and he knows that if his mother is watching, she’ll be proud.

#pyre talks #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #fandom #my writing #pyre writing tag #The Bound Universe #Kent Tracy #Kent Slayton Tracy #with any luck I *will* update Fulcrum soon so I’m not lying in my author’s notes #personal #long time: no writing

[sysmedsaresexist]

hey, thank you for taking the time to put together that post about childhood emotional neglect. I have a hard time wrapping my head around CEN as something to be pathologized because from where I stand it seems so universal--not sure if I knew a single person growing up whose emotional needs were consistently met by their parents, including people whose families i would've cut off my pinky finger to join. is there any chance you'd be willing to give me some examples of what a parent-child dynamic *without* CEN looks like?

Oh god

Okay, I'm going to give this a fair try, long post ahead. Skip to end for the TL;dr and my suggestion

---

This is a true story.

When I was five, I started having anxiety and panic attacks. Severe ones. They mostly presented in my ability to breathe sort of... Hiccupping. I would suddenly become INCREDIBLY aware of my breathing, and it physically felt slower, harder. Trying to talk to my mom never resulted in anything happening or changing, and I had already learned to not talk to my dad.

Combined with clear anxious tendencies, Tourette's, and a budding, severe case of OCD, this culminated in the conclusion that at any moment, ever, I could stop breathing. I took to sitting in front of fans, so that air could be forced in my face, I developed tics of sounds in my throat to make sure I was still breathing. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't function, I was scared to leave the house.

My grandmother was babysitting one night and I had the worst attack yet. Six year old me crumbled into my grandmother's lap, telling her what I was experiencing and how scared I was, and like no one was listening to me. I needed to go to the hospital, I demanded.

Now.

---

From here on out, this is not a true story.

My grandmother held me tightly, appalled that my mother hadn't gotten me any kind of help yet. She whispered soothing reassurances into my hair as she rocked me, calling my mom home from bingo.

At the very least, a quick trip to the ER (free) could ease my fears that I stopped breathing every ten minutes, and for the next half hour, she showed me ways to keep my mind busy while we waited and the next two times an attack hit she held my hand and said just breathe through it. See? You're still breathing.

By the time my mom was home, I was calmer, I told them I was okay and could be brave, and I slept like the dead that night. I knew I could always trust my grandmother.

---

That would have been my ideal situation. If I ever have children, this is how I want to be able to treat them.

With respect, and as if what they say matters and is real. I want them to feel heard and appreciated.

Now, here's the catch.

No one is perfect.

Maintaining those levels of attention, on top of working and other children and whatever else might be going on in your life, can be extremely difficult. Generational neglect and abuse mean that most parents don't even realize what's messed up and what's not.

My ideal situation won't be everyone else's.

Eventually, I will hurt someone, unintentionally. I will be low on spoons, or don't know them well enough to react appropriately to something. Maybe they don't want or need "coddling", and my method will be harmful.

TL;dr

In a way, it's reasonable to expect that emotional neglect is simply a fact of life, and different people will handle the effects differently.

When emotional neglect occurs repeatedly over a long period of time, it begins to have an effect on attachment and child development. The things you're excited about are so consistently brushed off that you start to believe the insidious thoughts in your head as you try to rationalize why they don't seem to care.

Your parents tell you so many times that you're overreacting that you begin to believe it and start keeping things to yourself.

Instead of looking at examples, answer these questions about situations in your past:

1) Would I have done something differently if the roles were reversed?

2) Were my emotional needs met?

3) Did I feel heard? Understood? Believed?

4) Were they interested, and being an active listener?

5) Did I leave the conversation feeling safe, and as if continuing to talk to this person was safe? Did I leave knowing I could approach this person again?

6) Does this one person repeatedly make you feel negatively about yourself or your interests? Is it a trend with them in particular?

Emotional neglect comes in ten thousand flavours-- most unintentional, most one-offs. Many of these situations will be handled by YOU just fine. Some will have more of an effect than others.

But when you're young and it's repeated, you learn bad habits and start to have bad thoughts about yourself.

#emotional neglect #answered asks #mod dude

[franzis-frantic-thoughts]

thanks for the updates from Maddie and Twitter! I can’t believe whats going on. The relaunch of Magnus in combination with stopping so many cool ongoing shows is so weird

You are very welcome! I actually revived my Twitter account to be able to check regularly for new posts, either from Maddy or others. There doesn’t seem to have been anything new in a few hours now, even if I personally missed it, I’d have heard about it via one of the multiple discords I’m on.

Yes, RQ has made incredibly strange decisions this past year (or even beyond that) which leave me as a fan - and highest tier Noble - incredibly frustrated.

When they shut the discord down, they said they’d reevaluate six months later. RQO recently “celebrated” its first death day. Personally, I don’t want RQO back. But I would have liked to have that promised reevaluation.

The reason the discord had to be shut down can apparently also be traced back to shit communication between RQ and the team of volunteer and unpaid mods.

When Chapter&Multiverse, Trice Forgotten, and Cry Havoc (Ask Questions Later) were announced in late 2021, they were projected to air within the first half of 2022. Instead, only C&M aired “on time”, Trice has a change in director and was delayed until summer, and Cry Havoc has now been pushed back until 2023. It’s great that they don’t want to burn out their cast and crew, but they’ve also been releasing Enthusigasm episodes twice a week and C&M main campaign and specials in parallel earlier this year. Clearly, someone didn’t think their schedule through properly.

Instead of making sure their new shows are taking off, they instead drag TMA’s corpse out of its grave. I love Magnus as much as the next person, it was an incredible show. Writing, acting, soundscaping… but the way RQ keeps pushing it into the limelight and down our throats to the detriment of their other shows (formerly only RQG and STL, but now even more shockingly also new shows like C&M and Trice), has fostered a real resentment towards TMA in me and others.

When the transcripts were put out, after literal years of delay, they were - and still are - full of errors, inconsistent, or incomplete. There have been no responses to feedback given via the appropriate feedback form, there have been no responses to emails, and there have been little to no corrections made to the transcripts, whether for old shows or new ones. Transcripts are Accessibility tools and should fulfil certain standards. Apart from that, the quality of these transcripts offends me on a professional level. RQ has referred to an agency multiple times in their updates. That agency clearly didn’t work to professional standards and RQ didn’t have any quality assurance process internally either. What an utter waste of (my and other patreons’) money.

Some of the TMA transcripts were apparently taken down this week for maintenance, which was ridiculous timing that made people think it was related to the ARG. Again: shit communication.

They’ve lost so many great people in the last two years: Auto and all the mods, Bryn, Mike, now Maddy. I didn’t listen to RQ podcasts, because they were RQ podcasts. I listened to them, because I enjoyed the content and creators. If the creators leave RQ, I’ll follow them to their next endeavours. Go check out @re-dracula for Karim, Jonny, Beth, Alasdair, Sasha, and Ben; @thekilda for Alasdair, Ben and Sasha; @faustiannonsense for Alasdair, Ben, Tim, and Jonny. I hear Mike is in Tiny Terrors. Sasha and Jonny create TTRPGs. Jonny just published his second book. Also check out everyone’s streams (I particularly enjoy Bryn and Auto struggling to solve puzzles together) and individual patreons and kofis.

Sorry this reply turned into a rant. I’m just fed up at the moment. I’ll go to bed and probably feel better in the morning.

#franzis thoughts #rusty quill #maddy searle #rqg #tma #stl #chapter and multiverse #trice forgotten #Faustian nonsense #super suits #the secret of st kilda #re: dracula #tiny terrors

[torchickentacos]

Ridiculous Study Tactics from the World's Worst Studier

Or: how I try to work with my ADHD brain instead of against it.

Set a timer for ten minutes. Every ten minutes, stop studying and listen to the dumbest song you know. Like, the most ridiculous, campy, or otherwise enjoyably unserious things you can think of. Just close your eyes and empty your head while listening to, like, Fergalicious or Stacy's Mom or something. It's really hard to have a stress related breakdown when you're listening to Low by T-Pain. I also recommend the Gen 3 Pokerap if you hate yourself.

Take step one a bit further and study while listening to a loop of a stupid song. My go-to for really bad study sessions is a one hour loop of the reese's puffs/misery/cpr remix. Chaotic enough to distract the ADHD demons but repetitive enough to be disinteresting after the 5 minute mark, and I can actually focus on my work with it in the back (this can be substituted with anything, but I find either videogame music/nonlyric music or really repetitive songs on loop to be best. Playlists distract me too much).

Eat a thing for every question you review/every thing you get right/every sentence written/whatever. Like, an m&m or popcorn or something. I'm sure we could get into discourse about using food as a reward, and I do agree that food is value-neutral and not something to be withheld or rewarded with, but let's not worry about all that on this post because it's not that serious in this context, and let's just take this at face value as a fun little reward for things.

Tell your friends to yell at you if they see you on tumblr/social media in the next 30 minutes. Find accountability partners.

Study with the lights out/only your desk lamp on/only computer light. This one sounds stupid and it kind of is, but I know for me, visual clutter is distracting, so if I just <3 do not see anything but the work in front of me <3 then I'm more likely to actually do my work. Alternately, study in a clean and tidy room, but it's probably easier to just turn off the lights.

This one's a normal study tactic and less about how to work with your ADHD, but the best way to check if you know something or not is to try to explain it to someone else. That someone else can be a lizard or a rock for all I care, but if you can explain it then you can probably answer a multiple choice question about it too.

Use your school firefox/chrome/etc account for studying. Less interesting bookmarks. Or, if that's not applicable, then clear out your cache/cookies. This way you'd have to re-log into everything to scroll instead of studying. Incredibly annoying, because in six months you'll be prompted to log into some website you can't remember your log-in for, but effective. Use with caution.

What not to do: make a tumblr post about studying instead of studying (joking, I wrote this out during a break, but still).

#taylor's tag

[likelyemily]

TRANSPARENCY - Part Two

Pairing: Peter Ballard x Reader

Word Count: 1,694

Warnings: None

Summary: I can't stop watching Peter through the two-way mirror. Thank God he will never know the dirty thoughts running through my mind.

The next day, I felt the normal feelings that came with having sexual fantasies about your co-worker: Guilt, shame, and uncontainable paranoia. My chest would constrict like there was a vice grip around it every time Peter would turn his body close to my workspace.

This morning I passed him in the common area in the employee living wing. I kept my eyes trained on my destination, which came in the form of a metal door that locks from the outside. Pretending Peter didn't exist seemed like the best plan of action until these stressful feelings boiled down.

Except, God seemed to have entirely different plans for me on this day.

"Good morning, Y/N," Peter greeted from the lounge area, perched on one of the decorative chairs reading this week's copy of Scientific American. He looked at me in a friendly way, the smile on his face going all the way up to his eyes.

Peter was one of the most friendly people I have ever met. At first, it had been unsettling how collected and kind his demeanor was. Almost inhuman. He walked with a stride similar to that of a soldier, but the step of his foot was much lighter. There was an air to him that was sitting right on the line of uncomfortably friendly, similar to when a person stands just a little bit too close in a conversation. His ever-lingering faint smile added to this, I had never thought that a person in a laboratory could feel that happy.

These feelings quickly faded as the lustful ones began to rise. The calmness in his voice made it one of the most pleasurable things I could listen to. His graceful body motions made for an entrancing visual, and who was I to ignore such perfect posture?

Developing feelings for Peter Ballard was inevitable when I watched him for hours every day. I just sorely underestimated how embarrassing the manifestations could be.

Such as when I gape at peter right past the time it takes for a normal person to process a greeting. Much like I am doing right at this exact moment. Dear God.

"Hi," I say, just a little bit too eager. Or was it not enthusiastic enough? I was still a little bit tired, it was six o'clock in the morning for heaven's sake. Now that I think about it, I have no idea what my facial expression just was. A small bubble of panic lands in my stomach.

"How are you today?" He asks in a polite tone. Always the epitome of a polite gentleman. His feet plant on the carpet below as he stands up from the seat, his tall stature making this interaction all the more nerve wracking.

Everyone in Hawkins National Lab is always in a perfectly ironed, clean uniform. Part of the uniform itself was being as hygienic as physically possible. It would be an absurd lie to say someone has ever worked in this lab while looking anything below the high standard.

This immaculate and perfect uniform fit Peter like he had never worn anything else in his life. Every blond hair on his head flowed seamlessly together. When he smiled, his teeth were a straight line of white.

"I'm doing fine, and yourself?" I ask, collected behind the facade of a woman with a Ph.D. It seemed I had finally mustered the strength to stomp down the blushing school girl back down where she belonged.

God, he was standing close.

"I'm great. Would you care to walk with me to breakfast?" He motions to the door, waiting on my first step to the door to begin his own stride. His hand clutches the handle on the door, opening it for me before we set off down the long hallway.

It is a peaceful walk. The employees are always expected in the dining hall before the children for supervision purposes, so the halls were mostly empty at this time. There was only a long, fluorescently lit hallway ahead of us.

This isn't the first time that Peter and I had walked together when we had duties to attend to. Being the polite man he was, he would always offer to accompany me if I was alone. There was never any conversation during the walk. It wasn't an awkward silence by any means, it just felt like neither of us felt the need to speak. Oddly enough, it was a friendly silence.

"Are you liking your research position?" Peter asks, sounding like he genuinely wanted to know my thoughts.

"It can certainly be lonely," I begin, trying to come off in a casual sort of way. "But I feel like it is helping us spot changes in our research that we would have never known. Like, a camera couldn't tell when number thirteen was too discouraged to make any progress on her tasks." Hopefully I didn't make an egotist of myself. It was difficult to describe a job without sounding self important. Especially when you are the only person with that specific task.

"I can understand being lonely. I miss you joining me as an orderly." He remarked, the statement casual. But oh how it made my heart stutter. He missed me?

"I miss it too," I say in a near whisper. I quickly recover from the bout of nostalgia. "At least I don't have to mess with the entitled kids now." I joke.

Peter laughs at that, more a breath than anything. It makes a lot of sense for his laugh to have no abrasiveness, just like the owner of the sound. It is a defining trait of Peter's to have a soothing demeanor. He is ostensibly the crowd favorite among the super-humans, because despite the ethical commitments we all have to not interfere, he is so kind with the interactions he is permitted.

There is always a tone of his voice that signals he means what he is saying. Never has there been a time when we were speaking that I didn't feel heard by him, even when no one else was listening.

That specific trait was especially apparent when I had voiced my concern to Dr. Brenner about the bullies in the group. Where he had pushed me to forget about it and focus on other things, sweep it under the rug, Peter had told me that he would see what he could do. Even Alec had completely dismissed me, but Peter chose to hear me. I knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do. It was unrealistic to even attempt to find understanding in that specific case, but it felt so good for someone to consider my words for more than a second.

"Someone has to keep those big-heads in check," he jokes back with a small smile lingering on his lips. I must confess, my mind went straight to a hot make-out session up against the wall with those lips holding me hostage.

Once again, Peter holds the door open for me as we enter the dining hall. We made it earlier than almost everyone, only a couple nurses sat in the far side of the room with coffee mugs in hand. Even this early in the morning, it appeared as though they were already caught up in a serious conversation. There aren't many light hearted discussions in this place.

Breakfast goes quickly in the morning. The adults who are not ushering the children out of their rooms eat quickly in preparation for the day. In about 15 minutes, the first lot of kids come in, looking significantly more alert than a majority of the employees. That is surely the result of never knowing a different time schedule than the strict one implemented at the laboratory.

The tiniest of the super-humans flock to the table near Peter, insisting upon his presence near them. Their eyes still sparkle when they tell him of their newest achievements. There is an ache in my chest when I remember this part of their personalities will only last for a little bit longer.

Peter gives me a lighthearted smile when a tiny argument breaks out between two of the toddlers. I roll my eyes in response, but I can't fight the grin that falls on my face. This is the last time we interact that morning.

When the children leave the room for morning activities, I go into the primary research room. The walls of this room are covered by metal shelves full of records. There are several four-foot openings on each wall to allow for a comfortably sized desk. The lighting in this room is specifically designed to not damage the records, which made the room much less of a strain on the eyes than most other areas.

My task today is to begin the file on our newest superhuman. I don't allow myself to think about the subject my brain wants to drift off too.

The baby is only a few months old, setting her almost three years behind the next youngest child. This means that it will be a little while longer before verbal capabilities develop, although her motion skills are far superior than most children her age. Hours are spent computing the results of her D.N.A. tests and developing the file.

I peel myself away from the comfortable chair in the primary research room at half past eleven. The hallway is once again desolate as I make my way to the tiny room behind the mirror in the Rainbow Room. This work directly contrasts from the rest of my day, in which I spend my time doing logical reasoning of the notes that I gather in my time here. In all actuality, this time of my day is significantly more entertaining, given I get to see something that isn't in writing.

In a moment of downtime, Peter looks in the mirror and shoots a wink my way. From an outside perspective, it definitely looked like the sort of motion a conceited jock would do when passing any reflective surface. On my side of the glass, it somehow felt as though he was looking right at me. 

A/N: sorry for the lack of sex, it will be back very shortly. also, this story is going to have many more parts to it!

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #peter ballard oneshot #vecna stranger things #henry creel x reader #stranger things 4 #st4 #001 stranger things #001 x Reader #001

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 9/10

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

Part 7 and 8 are Explicit. And nothing else makes sense without the first six parts but you do you!

PART NINE

            Jake goes through the next few minutes in a haze as he finishes the washing up and watches Bradley hug Admiral Kazansky good bye, telling him they’ll see him tomorrow. He’s told it was very nice to meet him and Jake returns the sentiment, meaning it wholeheartedly. Still difficult to think of the COMPACFLT as someone who makes amazing waffles and likes Star Wars, but he imagines he’ll get there. Bradley leans into his space, hooks fingers into the loops on his jeans and grins at him.

            “So. You survived.”

            “Yeah, he’s actually pretty cool.”

            “Well yeah, he’s… he was the steady presence for me. The one I felt like I could always call up and get advice. Proper advice. Not Mav’s just do it attitude, deal with the consequences later approach… It works for him but I’ve always been a little more careful.”

            “Risk averse?”

            “Not really, but definitely always wanted to weigh things up before committing properly.”

            Jake hums, because he’s wondering if he’s reading too much into that statement, that Bradley is saying something about not wanting to risk committing being with him. He doesn’t think so. It goes against everything Bradley has said and done in the last twenty-four hours but he can’t help the little niggle of doubt.

            “So… He gave you permission to tell your friends.”

            “You were listening huh?”

            “Of course I was. Ice knows I always listen in. More difficult to do when he’s only using ASL though. He’d have used pen and paper if he really didn’t want me to know.”

            “I’ll add it to my pile of stuff to learn…

            “You’re going to learn ASL?”

            “Well, I want to be able to understand whatever you guys are saying to each other. I mean, I thought this sign was pretty obvious,” he makes the two-handed gesture he had thought meant blowjob and Bradley snorts, rests his forehead on Jake’s shoulder and his laugh is gentle and quiet and he never wants this feeling of rightness to end.

            “Oh no, that’s totally the sign for what you think it is. Blow job.”

            “What?!”

            “It was a comment I made months ago, when Mav was telling me about you. About how you disobeyed orders and saved his life…”

            Jake can’t believe that Mav just talks about fucking top-secret missions. Obviously he’s assuming Bradley isn’t sharing it with anyone who doesn’t already know, but how the fuck has Admiral Kazansky not murdered Maverick yet?

            “How the fuck does Kazansky say anything at home?”

            “Well, he doesn’t,” Bradley says and Jake groans at the bad joke.

            “Shut up! You know what I mean!”

      ��     Bradley laughs, shakes his head and shifts his hands from the belt loops to hook his hands behind Jake, pulling him close. He shoves his hands into the back pockets of Bradley’s jeans, needs somewhere to put them to stop feeling awkward.

            “Anyway, Mav told me about you saving his life and I jokingly asked him if he’d wanted me to give you a thank you blow job. You know he kept sending me things to do at the cabin, like he was trying to make me stick around until you got there. He likes to think he’s sneaky but he’s like a sheet of glass.”

            “So what, you’re with me because you’re grateful?”

            “Nope. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful, Mav is pretty fucking important to me. But I’m not with you because of that. You’re funny and intelligent and you aren’t intimidated by me or my career. That’s a pretty fucking amazing trifecta right there,” Bradley says, and he’s completely serious now, his eyes intent on Jake’s face like he really wants to press home how much he believes what he’s saying and Jake shifts uncomfortably, not used to being the subject of such an intense gaze.

            “And then… and then, on top of that, my dad, Mav, already likes you. Tomorrow night he was going to try and set me up with you a third time. And Ice? He thinks you’re hilarious. That you’ll, and I quote, fit in with our crazy family without even trying, end quote. I’ve adlibbed a bit. Anyway, those are five things which I find are pretty important. I usually don’t have the Mav and Ice approval so early on… Jesus Jake. Do you have any idea how amazing I think you are?”

            Jake swallows, throat tight and he shakes his head a little, because no, he didn’t think Bradley thought anything like that about him. Not like that.

            “And then there are the sprinkles and cherry, which are you getting on with my friends, maybe a little too well to be honest. And all of this? Wrapped up in something that looks like you do… it’s like hitting the jackpot.”

            “Oh.”

            “Too much?”

            “Maybe a little?” Jake says, unsure as he sucks in a shaky breath.

            “Okay… so what did you want to do today? We’ve got all afternoon and all night…”

            “Whatever will we do to entertain ourselves.”

            “I’ve got some ideas.”

…         …         …

            Bradley doesn’t know exactly where Jake’s insecurities come from, but the lack of him talking about his parents makes him wonder. Jake hasn’t said they were dead, only mentioned his brother and sister when they’d emailed about family. Jake is confident, cocky and a touch arrogant like every naval aviator Bradley has ever met. It hasn’t seemed to bleed into his relationships though, not if he’s never really had one. And maybe that’s the telling part. It’s okay, he can work with that. Finds himself willing to work with it, when Jake is just… leaving himself so open like this.

            They make out against the kitchen bench for a little while, there’s no sense of urgency for him. Not when he’s had more orgasms in the last twenty-four hours than he’s had the entire week prior. Still, there’s a low buzzing thrum of arousal in his body and he’s pretty sure that it will just become his natural state when Jake is nearby. Another thing he’s willing to work with.

            “So, are you going to tell them?” Bradley asks, because he’s insanely curious and part of him wants all of Mav’s usual machinations to be ruined just so he can see the look on his face for once.

            “Who? Oh, the other Daggers coming tomorrow? Yeah. Probably. Think I’d like to introduce you to Javy if that’s okay?”

            “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You met most of my friends last night.”

            “Javy is my best friend.”

            “Okay…?”

            “He’s definitely going to want to meet you…”

            “You want to have him around, cook dinner?”

            “No. I don’t want to spend time cooking for them when I’m still getting to know you.”

            “You’re secretly the sweetest, you know that?”

            Jake looks embarrassed, doesn’t meet his eye and Bradley kisses him again, slow and gentle, tries to reassure with every press of his lips. Then Jake is pulling back, eyes wide and he’d be worried except Jake looks delighted.

            “Oh my god… I can fuck with him. I can fuck with him so bad.”

            “What? Who?”

            “Javy… this is like a triple blind.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “He knows I’ve been emailing this professor. He probably isn’t picturing someone like you, when you think professor.”

            Bradley’s takes that for the compliment he assumes is there somewhere, grins and nods encouragement.

            “So I let him meet you, and he’s not going to expect you at all… then… do you have a photo album or something?”

            “No, Mav’s got most of them. I’ve got a couple of pictures somewhere. What do you want exactly?”

            “Picture of you and Mav…”

            “Oh… what, you going to bring him back and introduce me and then just hope he stumble across a photo album picture of me and Mav?”

            “Well, when you put it like that…”

            “Nah, I think I can think of something. Put some on the fridge maybe? I’ve got a graduation photo as well somewhere. I hide it because Kezia gives me shit about how young I look.”

            “Yeah… do you mind?”

            Bradley grins and shakes his head, is pretty sure Jake is now feeling the same glee he had when he realized he could maybe get Mav.

            “I’ve got to ring him, stupid asshole, trying to hide the fact that he’s in North Island…”

            Bradley pulls away slightly, clearly isn’t allowed to go to far as Jake refuses to remove a hand from his back pocket, tugs him close as he presses call on his phone and waits for his friend to answer.

            “Hey man, how’s it going?”

            “Hey. I’m good. And I have a bone to pick with you. You’re in North Island.”

            “How the fuck did you find that out? It was meant to be a surprise!”

            “A little bird told me…” Jake looks at Bradley then and he laughs silently, little bird indeed. Standing so close he can hear everything, especially with how Jake is angling the phone.

            “Who?”

            “Not important. Anyway, I wanted to talk about something. You know that guy I was emailing?”

            “Who? The professor guy?”

            “Yeah. Him.”

            “Ooohhh… you hot for teacher?”

            “Yeah. I am actually.”

            “Holy shit! Really? He’s not like old as fuck and walking around with a zimmer frame?”

            “No, no zimmer frame in sight.”

            Bradley laughs silently again, is a little horrified that maybe Jake at any stage thought that maybe Bradley was that old, but listens as Jake arranges to meet Javy for an early dinner in a few hours at one of the burger bars downtown. He hangs up and then kisses Bradley firmly.

            “Man this is going to be fun. I see why the Admiral is so excited about tricking Mav now… and why Mav must enjoy doing it to people.”

            “Do not encourage him. He doesn’t need encouragement okay?”

            “Yeah yeah… okay. Fuck. I’m sorry. I should have checked. Are you okay with me going out to dinner?”

            “Of course… I’m not your keeper or anything.”

            “But we’ve only just… met. I don’t want you to think that he’s more important –”

            “Jake. He’s your best friend. Has been your best friend for years. Someone who you also haven’t seen in over seven months I’m betting. He’s more important. I don’t mind at all.”

            He really doesn’t, the fact that Jake had immediately wanted to arrange to see his best friend, even if he’s using the excuse to fuck with him, tells him more than Jake probably realizes. That’s he’s loyal, and places importance on his relationships in equal measure. It’s a good sign. He can’t handle being the only person in anyone’s life, learnt that one early on.

            “Well, I know you have work to do. Don’t pretend you don’t… you were complaining about it in your last email.”

            “Yeah, but you’re here…”

            “I am here right now. And I’ll be back later. Consider it an incentive to get as much work done while I’m gone as you can…”

            “Yeah okay, I’ve always been pretty focused with the right motivation…”

            “Good to hear. You know what I want to do right now?” Jake asks, and both his hands are back on Bradley’s ass, gripping him through his pockets.

            “What?” Bradley asks, letting himself grind up against Jake with clear interest.

            “I want to fuck you.”

            “You going to ask nicely?”

            “Bradley, please, let me fuck you. I want to get my mouth on you, my fingers inside, stretch you open for my cock, then I want to fuck you and leave those marks all over your chest you asked for and want to see if you’ll beg me to touch your cock, or if you can come without that…”

            “Yeah… that’s pretty nice…”

…         …         …

            Jake leans down, latches his mouth on the sensitive nipples he’d discovered last night and sucks. Bradley’s cock jerks between them, a spurt of precum dripping from the head.

            “How are you so hot?”

            “Good genes…” Jake snorts, licks his way across Bradley’s chest.

            “You sure about these marks? You know I’m not a horny teenager unable to control myself…”

            “Channel your inner teenager, go to town okay? I want to look absolutely wrecked.”

            “This better not fucking backfire…” Jake mutters, because while he’s not generally a guy that gets off on leaving marks, it isn’t exactly a hardship to suck at Bradley’s body when he responds so beautifully, because him enjoying it is something that will get him off.

            “Trust me…”

            Jake can’t believe it, but he does, he really does. He thrusts forward, not quite getting the leverage he’d usually have considering he’s trying to mark Bradley up as much as humanely possible with his mouth.

            “You can leave more later, please, just fuck me… come on.”

            “Okay.”

            He lets himself focus on drawing back before snapping his hips forward, watching Bradley’s face carefully to gauge whether that’s okay. The way his eyes fall shut the same time his mouth gasps open he’s going to take it as a winner and he does it again again again, feeling his own orgasm coiling up in his gut. He can see a half-dozen bite marks starting to darken across Bradley’s chest and collar bone, feels an unexpected thrill. Inner teenager indeed.

            Bradley isn’t making any move to touch himself and he wonders if he needs or wants Jake’s hand on him, whether he’s holding back for some reason Jake’s not aware of. Bradley’s hands are all over Jake’s body instead, running over his chest, down his arms, digging into his shoulders and he’s getting close, wants to touch Bradley now but also wants to know what exactly might tip him over the edge. He has a hunch. He adjusts slightly, mostly maintaining his pace and then he scrapes a blunt nail across Bradley’s left nipple and bloody fucking hell. He almost jackknives up and headbutts Jake in the face, though the loud whine he makes has Jake doing in again; ready this time for the entire-body jerk and he presses down with more force, captures Bradley’s mouth in a hard kiss.

            Then he shifts again, sucks the same nipple into his mouth and yeah, Bradley’s coming, his voice making broken sounds that have Jake’s name mixed in and he licks one more time, savors the full body spasm that Bradley gives and then he fucks into him a few more times, watching Bradley as he lies almost catatonic beneath him, and Jake has never felt so fucking smug before in his life. Yeah. This is fucking amazing.

            Later, post showers, music playing in the background, they sit on the sofa, Bradley reading through essays he’s marking, constantly muttering under his breath and Jake can’t help but smile to himself every time Bradley grumbles and taps away, clearly making comments. Jake’s replied to some emails and is now reading the manual for one of the aircraft he’s going to be asked to inspect as part of his interview for the test pilot position, and he feels quietly comfortable. He makes a few notes, wonders if he could ask Mav some questions and guesses he can likely ask Mav many things now.

            He gets up and uses the bathroom, comes back through to the kitchen for a glass of water and sees there is already a new photo on the fridge and it’s Bradley as a toddler, with an incredibly young-looking Mav grinning at him. There’s a couple and he recognizes Nick Bradshaw from the Navy database photo. The woman must be Bradley’s mom. She has the same easy smile and a little part of him aches for the fact that he’ll never meet them but Bradley will never meet his own parents either so it doesn’t make him feel bad enough to dwell on it.

            He’s a bit peckish so he raids the fridge and cupboards, prepares a plate of cheese and crackers along with some apple slices and grapes; things that can be eaten one handed. He brings it back to the sofa, kicks at Bradley’s feet and passes him a glass of water, leaning down to give him a kiss before going back to his reading.

            “Thanks…”

            “I’ve got a vested interest in making sure your energy levels stay up.”

            “Yeah you do…”

            They grin at each other but lapse back into doing their own thing.

…         …         …

            He has no idea how he lost time so quickly, or how he quite got through so much marking. Definite motivation he guesses, glancing at Jake. At least that’s what he’s going to put it down to. Jake bringing him snacks has let him keep his momentum, rather than get distracted and it’s kind of nice to have someone else just showing that extra consideration. He hadn’t expected it and it makes him feel a little unprepared for just how easily Jake had just simply thought of him and what he might need.

            “Hey, I’m going to go, I’ll see you in a bit okay? I’ll bring you back dessert…”

            “Mmm… look forward to it.” Bradley says, deliberately misconstruing his meaning and running his eyes down Jake’s body meaningfully. Gets a playful shove in response and he laughs.

            “I meant ice cream, but sure, you can have me too…”

            “Wait, you want to take my car? And take the spare key.”

            “Uh… what?”

            “Take my spare keys. They’re on a hook behind the door. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Then you don’t have to book a Lyft or be buzzed in, or knock on the door. That okay?”

            “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

            “Good.”

            “That made my brain go offline…”

            “More than the idea of me wanting to eat you for dessert? Clearly not doing a proper job of it.”

            “Fuck Bradley…”

            “Yeah, we’re pretty good at that…”

            “Oh my god, stop already. I’ve got to get going,” Jake mutters, but he still looks pleased, and definitely less spooked than he did mere moments before. “I’ll stop in at the grocery store on my way back. I’m bringing Javy back to meet you remember? So don’t strip yourself naked and wait for me on the bed. Do more work and I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to eat something more than cheese and crackers. You need anything for these brownies we’re apparently taking tomorrow?”

            “Oh. Dark chocolate. I like the idea of being naked and waiting for you in bed… we’ll have to explore that later.”

            Jake grins, gives him another kiss, firmer this time and Bradley presses into it.

            “I’ll pick up the chocolate.”

            “Thanks. Enjoy dinner with Javy…”

            “Will do.”

…         …         …

            He walks into the bar and spots Javy easily. He hadn’t expected for them to be joined by Trace and Floyd but there they are, all chatting with each other and dressed in civvies, and he slides into the spare seat at the table, greets them all.

            “You don’t seem surprised. Did the little bird tell you that they were here too?”

            “Yep. Dinner tomorrow night.”

            “Huh. I want to know who this birdy is… Mav?”

            “He’s really shit at keeping secrets sometimes,” Jake provides, thinking about Mav’s whole secret relationship with the Admiral, but then not stopping to think about sharing mission critical information with Bradley. Or Jake’s own medical history. The fact that he hadn’t exactly told Jake that they were in town, and Bradley had just let him overhear is something he won’t ever be admitting to.

            “How are you two?” Jake asks, because unlike Javy who he’s emailed a couple of times a week since they went on their first deployments in different directions, he doesn’t keep in regular contact with either of them, just the standard group chat that the Dagger Squad have which goes through peaks and troughs of communication. They talk about superficial things for a while, take in the ambience of the burger joint and place their order with the waitstaff.

            “Any particular reason we’re eating so early?”

            “I had a late breakfast so needed an early dinner.”

            “A late breakfast huh? Were you busy in bed?” Javy asks, grinning and leaning back, knowing he’s just let the cat out amongst the pigeons and Jake doesn’t care, because he’s going to get them all and he’s going to enjoy every fucking minute. Phoenix and Bob both look between him and Javy, expressions only mildly interested.

            “Yep. Sure was. Had someone special cook for me as well…”

            “Jake’s been emailing this professor guy, getting all hot and bothered via email!”

            “God, shut up…”

            “I’m not saying anything untrue!”

            “Well, we’re not emailing anymore, I met him yesterday. Properly,” he adds, thinking back to over ten months ago when he’d first met Bradley at the cabin.

            “Yeah? What’s he like?”

            “He’s great. He’s smart, and funny and understands being in the Navy pretty well for a civilian. We went rock climbing with his friends last night… I was going to ask if you wanted to meet him,” Jake says, looking at Javy, because he’ll know how significant that is. He’s never introduced anyone to Javy before.

            “Oh holy shit. You’re serious?”

            “Yeah. It’s pretty serious.”

            “Wow…” Javy says and Jake’s pretty sure he’s at a loss for what to say.

            “You got a picture or anything?”

            “Uh, no…” He doesn’t want to say they’ve been a bit busy to take selfies, although he will definitely want some photos next time he’s away from Bradley. Fuck. Bradley’s going to need a better phone with a decent camera and Jake can’t trust him with that. They’re going to have to figure out something though.

            “Look at that blush!”

            “Too busy with other things huh?”

            “Shut up. You want to meet him or not?”

            “Hell yes! I’m picking if he’s into rock climbing he’s not in his eighties.”

            “He’s a couple years older than me, and he can definitely keep up with me…” Jake says, and he realizes then that Bradley likely grew up training with Mav and being expected to go on runs with him and likes to exercise, rather than needing to do it as a requirement for his job like Jake needs to do.

            “And I’m sure you’ve tested that out…”

            “Yes, several times in fact,” Jake grins back, feeling pretty smug.

            “That invitation to meet him open to all of us?” Phoenix asks and Jake shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way, knows if he plays it too keen they’ll get suspicious.

            “Yeah, sure. Come and meet him. He already said he wants to meet Javy.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, he’s heard a lot about you…”

            Javy’s eyebrow goes up at that, and Jake grins, because he’s referring to Bradley’s comment about Mav talking about all the Dagger Squad. Bradley’s likely to have an idea of each of them through whatever Maverick thinks of them, which is a little humbling because from what Bradley has implied Mav seems to think Jake is somehow someone worthy of his respect. And time. Someone he thinks is good enough for Bradley to be with, and he finds that to be a pretty huge commendation on what Mav thinks of him.

            Their food arrives and he flicks a quick message to Bradley, no idea if he will even check it before Jake gets back to the apartment. Their conversation turns to work, talking about different aspects of training they’re each carrying out in different parts and he mentions he’s applied for the test pilot position at Fallon on Mav’s recommendation. Phoenix is taking an instructor role at Top Gun for the next two years, while Javy and Bob are slated to do training of new pilots at Pensacola for eighteen months. Jake doesn’t have any current orders, having only returned from a seven-month deployment at sea, but he’s hoping he’s at least going to be land-bound for the next little while even if he doesn’t get the test pilot position.

            “Okay, I need to go to the grocery store on the way back. I’m just getting some ice cream and chocolate. I’ll meet you guys outside the apartment building,” Jake says, giving them the address and watching them all plug it into the map app on their phones.

            “Can you get Moose Tracks?”

            “Who said the ice cream was for you?”

            “You mean you’re getting ice cream and chocolate and not going to share it with us?”

            “The chocolate is for the brownies we’re making for dinner tomorrow, not for eating.”

            “Just buy more chocolate.”

            “Wait. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

            Jake freezes, and shakes his head, thinks frantically.

            “Uh no, of course not. I’m just bringing some brownies for tomorrow. Bradley’s a really good cook…”

            “I was going to say, inviting the guy to Mav’s for dinner seems a little rude.”

            Jake laughs, wonders if they can here how crazy he’s feeling. This subterfuge shit is harder than he thought. God he needs to get back to the apartment.

            “I’ll see you guys there! Bye!”

…         …         …

            They’re waiting for him outside and he’s glad he didn’t tell them the apartment number. Wouldn’t have put it past them to buzz Bradley and ambush him before Jake got back. Javy is looking at the keys in his hand with a raised eyebrow and Jake simply makes a what would you have me do face. He’s aware he’s falling hard and fast, but he also feels like Bradley’s a giant safety net ready to catch him. He opens the apartment door, trying to be a little noisy to give Bradley some warning, because his five phone messages have all gone unanswered and he wonders if it’s finally death-knell time for his current phone. For all he knows ten months might be a personal record.

            “Hi…” Bradley says, appearing in the doorway to the hall and he’s clearly had a shower and changed, no longer wearing the tank and sweats he’d lounged around in most of the day. Instead he’s in jeans and a dark blue Henley, looking all sorts of delectable and Jake gives him an approving smirk and gets an eyeroll back in return, it’s accompanied with a grin though and yeah, he’s falling and falling, doesn’t want to stop.

            “Hey. Uh. These two were there as well.”

            “Okay,” Bradley says, walking over and holding out a hand to shake, starting with Javy and he bites back a comment about making Mav proud with his manners.

            “Bradley, this is Javy Machado, Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. Javy, Natasha and Bob, this is Bradley Bradshaw.”

            “Hey man, nice to meet you,” Javy says, shaking Bradley’s hand, and he’s definitely scrutinizing Bradley for asshole vibes and Jake can’t help but feel a deep swell of appreciation for his best friend. Yeah. He’s got his back. Bradley is shaking Natasha and Bob’s hands and then reaching for the grocery bag.

            “Let me take that and put it in the freezer… Wow. Did we really need four different flavors of ice cream?”

            “Well, I don’t know your favorite, so I got vanilla and chocolate, and then she wanted the Moose Tracks,” Jake says, pointing at Phoenix who looks suitably annoyed at being thrown under the proverbial bus. “And when I’m already getting three tubs of ice cream I figured I might as well round it out with strawberry. And I got fudge sauce…”

            “Fair argument. I prefer vanilla with fudge sauce, so top marks…” Bradley says, throwing him a wink and Jake flushes, because he knows Javy is going to take that as some sex role-play thing when it’s not, just a reference to their conversation yesterday. Fuck. Was it only yesterday?

            “Make yourselves at home, does anyone want tea or coffee? Bowls of ice cream? Or are we all wanting to forgo bowls and just eat directly from the tubs and enter sugar highs side-by-side?”

            He walks towards the kitchen and Phoenix and Bob follow him and he lets Javy tug him to the side a little.

            “He is not what I imagined.”

            “Nope. Pretty fucking hot right?”

            “I mean… I guess? I’m more impressed with the way he looks at you like he’d give you the world if you asked for it. I was worried that you were gone on this guy, but he seems pretty gone on you too, so… that’s good. You deserve a guy that wants to do everything for you.”

            Jake nods sharply, because he gets that. In theory. It’s nice to hear, even if hearing and feeling it so much in the last day has felt overwhelming, even if it has been positive. He glances up and Javy is looking at him like he understands, gives Jake a quick hug before heading to the kitchen to join the other two in getting ice cream. He glances around the living room and sees two new photo frames, Bradley’s graduation photo with Maverick set at about eye-level, and another frame set at about knee height, where the Admiral is in uniform with Bradley standing beside him, so there’s definitely no mistaking him and he grins.

            “Are you sure we haven’t met, you just look really familiar,” Phoenix is saying, like she’s trying to place him and Jake hides his grin. Wonders if Bradley knows Mav has a photo of him on his desk. An old photo, but still a photo.

            “Maybe I just have one of those faces?” Bradley suggests, catching Jake’s eye.

            They’ve clearly decided to start in on the ice cream, digging in and serving themselves up and using bowls; the kitchen isn’t big enough for five people, so he reaches to give Bradley a kiss across the counter and Bradley obliges by meeting him halfway. It feels so easy and the rollercoaster ride does a loop-de-loop again.

            “Jesus Bagman, did you become a vampire while you were deployed?”

            Jake looks to see what she’s talking about and Bradley’s Henley has pulled slightly, caught between the counter and his body as he stretched across to kiss him; revealing the highest of the marks Jake left and another a little lower. Bradley pulls back, tugging the Henley back into place and shrugs, clearly not embarrassed at all so Jake decides to follow his lead and just smirks at her eyeroll. Bob has headed out to inspect the bookshelves and Jake can feel the anticipation growing.

            “So, what do you do Bradley?”

            “I’m an engineer. A problem solver.”

            “Well, good thing you’re with the biggest problem we have then.”

            “Hey!” Jake objects, but they’re all laughing at him and he rolls his eyes, flicks them the middle finger, but Bradley is wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist and kissing his shoulder.

            “If you’re a problem then it’s the kind of problem I like to have…”

            The look Javy gives him is flat, like he thinks Jake is maybe an idiot for thinking that Bradley is somehow not into him. Or maybe Javy is the idiot, because there is no way that Jake is letting this go.

            “Hey Phoenix, do you mind putting the ice-cream back in the chiller?”

            She lets out a put-upon sigh but does it with a mouthful of ice cream, spoon hanging out of her mouth and Jake waits, watches as she opens and then closes the door, her eyes catching the photo. She’s generally more observant than Javy so he’s hoping she’ll get the ball rolling, or Bob will see the photos on the bookshelves first.

            “Is this… Who are these people in this photo?”

            “My parents and godfather…” Bradley says. “And me as a kid obviously. My dad died not long after that photo was taken actually.”

            “Oh… I’m sorry,” Phoenix says, looking uncomfortable and Jake wonders if that’s going to derail everything, but Javy is now looking as well, then glancing at Bradley.

            “Thanks. It’s fine. Was a long time ago now obviously. My godfather really stepped up and helped my mom raise me. She passed over twenty years ago though, so that’s one of my few family photos.” Jake hadn’t really put all that together and he wonders where Bradey usually keeps it.

            “I’m sorry, I just have to ask, what’s your godfathers name?”

            “Pete.”

            “Peter Mitchell. Maverick,” Javy states, looks to Bradley for confirmation and he gives a nod. Jake grins, pretty impressed Javy put I together the fastest. “Plus you have a moustache that belongs in a porno from the 80s…” Javy adds and Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up, he looks to Jake and Jake coughs, his ice cream catching in his throat with an aborted laugh. He’d forgotten he’d said that.

            “Holy shit, you’re Mav’s son. He has your photo on his desk,” Phoenix says. “That’s why you looked familiar!”

            “Guilty as charged. Don’t hold it against me. Jake wanted to have a little fun…”

            “Hey! Don’t blame this on me!”

            “It was you going on about a triple blind…”

            “What are you guys talking about?” Bob asks, coming back to stand in the kitchen and he’s looking between them all and he wonders if he heard the conversation.

            “Bradley here is Mav’s son.”

            “Oh. Huh. That explains the photo of him on the bookcase. I was going to ask how you knew him.”

            “You must know Mav’s partner. Oh my god! You almost slipped up and told us he was coming to dinner tomorrow, because of course he’s coming to dinner tomorrow. At least you don’t have to worry about introducing the boyfriend to Mav!” Phoenix says, laughing and Jake shrugs, because she has a point. Not that he’d ever really thought about seeking Mav’s approval for that part of his life.

            “Wait, so you’ve already met Mav’s partner? It’s a guy right? That’s the big secret right? What with DADT and everything…”

            “That was definitely part of it… but uh…” He stops, feels unsure suddenly, because even though Admiral Kazansky gave him explicit permission, and Jake clarified, that he’s expecting Jake to tell them, so Mav can’t ambush them with the same information tomorrow he realizes the amount of trust he’s been given.

            “His partner’s also in the Navy. I met him this morning.”

            “Is it Cyclone?”

            “Idiot! He’s met Cyclone. Will we know them?”

            “Yes. And its going to fuck you all up so much…”

            “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Javy mutters.

            “He told me to call him Tom and made me waffles this morning, and I’m still processing it okay? I just want to make you all freak out like I did…”

            “Can’t you just tell us?” Phoenix asks, looks at Bradley and he shakes his head. Jake blinks. He just said his first name. What the fuck?

            “Nope. Jake made me put clues out and everything. Pretty sure you can figure it out. And you’re right, it’s not Beau.”

            “Did you just call Admiral Simpson by his first name?”

            Jake snorts, lets out a little laugh and catches Bradley’s eye, clearly amused.

            “I call most of them by their first names. Some of them I’ll call uncle… And I’m just a civilian remember.”

            “Holy shit,” Bob says, voice quiet and Jake looks to see what he’s looking at.

            Sure enough he’s finally noticed the picture of Bradley and Admiral Kazansky, sitting the perfect height to be noticed if you’re sitting down, but not if you’re standing.

            “Admiral Tom Kasansky.”

            “Bullshit,” Javy says, emphatic and Jake just smirks, knows he’s got a couple more bullshits to get through before he starts to accept it.

            “Are you… you’re… holy shit. You’re serious.,” Bob says, looking between Jake and Bradley and then back to the photo.

            “Yep,” Jake says, popping another spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

            “Is he telling the truth? I mean, anyone can doctor photos now…” Phoenix says, and again she’s skipping over him to talk directly with Bradley.

            “All true. I mean, I call him Ice because I grew up calling him that.”

            Javy makes a high pitched sound that Jake will take as something equal to a second bullshit.

            “Anyway, he wanted to meet Jake without the whole formal dinner thing. So he came around and made waffles.”

            “Bullshit. No fucking way did the COMPACFLT make fucking waffles!”

            “He did, and he is telling the truth,” Bradley says, starting to look a little worried that Javy seems to be freaking out. Jake moves an arm to wrap around his waist, gives him a quick wink to try and convey that everything is okay and it seems to relax him.

            “Wait… you seriously met Admiral Kazansky this morning?”

            “Tom,” Jake provides, ignoring the immediate sense of wrongness at the name, but he’s going for shock value.

            “Bullshit…” Javy says again, but it’s quieter now, and Jake can tell he's processed the worst of it.

            “Nope. He told me to call him Tom.”

            “I need a fucking drink.”

            “I can help with that,” Bradley says.

PART TEN

#Hangster #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #It's all academic darlin'

[mutedsilence]

@writingfanficsfan the cut is some of an Ironstrange fic I've been working on. Tbh I've not added anything in a while. But I have plans for where it'll go.

"No." 

"Stephen-"

"No, I will not show up for some douchebags publicity stunt!"

"He has a heart condition, he needs-"

"A lower ego, that's what he needs. Look, Christine, I'm not going! If he thinks he can wave his money about and I'll come running, he has another thing coming."

"Stephen, you are the top. Best of the best. He wants you. They won't let him up there without medical assistance, and he won't go without you."

"We've literally never met. Not to mention that I'm a Neurosurgeon!"

"Doesn't stop him wanting you there. You'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."

"I'm not going. I wouldn't be caught dead working on some publicity stunt for Stark. He's a pompous asshole that needs to be taken down a peg. What he needs is someone to tell him no. Someone to tell him they won't play his little game."

*** 

Stephen stood outside the transport to his new home for the next year. His possessions had already been collected. He could only take essentials - clothes and a select few items to keep them entertained. Stephen was told that if anything was needed, they could contact the control centre. Whatever it was would be sent up with the next food shipment. The shipment that came every three months. 

Even with his protests, he went along to the training. A car was sent to collect him every day. A man called Happy, drove him to the training centre. He would be intercepted on his way to the hospital. It was as if Stark hadn't given him a way out. It had caught him off guard when he was first picked up. A man in a suit stood waiting for him in front of a car. It had been early in the morning and Stephen was walking to his car, ready to start his shift. "Excuse me, Doctor Strange?" 

He had turned to regard the man properly, still walking towards his car, "Yes? Sorry, running slightly late." He hoped that had been enough to deter the man from further conversation. No luck. 

"Hello, I'm Happy Hogan. I've been sent to collect you," That made Stephen stop. All attention on the stranger, "I work for Tony Stark. To go to space, you need proper training. It's already been cleared with the hospital." 

"I'm not going to space, I'm going to work." Stephen went to push past the man. His anger slightly building. The nerve of that man! Happy extended a hand, not touching, just giving Stephen a pause. He extended the hand to his ear. He gave a nod to no one in particular - obviously listening to someone. "Is that him?" Happy gave another nod as he listened, "Listen, I'm not going to join you in an insane publicity stunt. Find someone else." 

Happy spoke before he could move away, "Doctor, Tony has said if you get into the car, he will not only pay you handsomely, but the hospital as well." 

Stephen didn't think of himself as a sell-out, but they needed funding. They needed any and all the money they could get. His mind wandered to all the run-down equipment they had been using. He grit his teeth and let out a sigh, "Let me get changed." 

He hadn't met Mr Stark. He knew of him and what he looked like. Everyone did. There wasn't a person alive that didn't know Tony Stark, especially after he became Iron Man. Stephen strapped himself in for intensive training. It typically took two years before going to space. But this was Tony Stark. He had created a ship that replicated Earth's living conditions. As Stephen had been saying constantly, it was stupid. He still required some training, but not nearly as much as actual astronauts. 

***

Stephen sat in the small waiting room. He and Stark would be the only ones living in the space station full-time. Others would arrive when needed, but this was Stark's plan. He would be alone if it wasn't for his heart. They would travel up there together, in a confined space for six hours. Then a year of confined space to follow. 

He couldn't help but think of all the good he could be doing if he had stayed home. 

Someone sat beside Stephen, with his nose buried in a book, he didn't pay them any mind. The person shifted. They kept moving as if they had never sat in a chair before and were trying to figure it out. Stephen tried to ignore them, tried to keep his focus on his book. These were the last hours before he was stuck with Stark for the foreseeable future. 

"So, you're my Doctor."

Stephen looked up at the intrusion. His thoughts scattered as he looked into the eyes of Tony Stark. The eyes that looked steadily into his own. A small smirk was playing at Stark's lips. Stephen really, really wanted to punch him. 

Stark stuck out his hand. Stephen tore his eyes away from Stark's face to look at his hand. He steadily took it in his own. "Mr Stark." Stephen kept his voice business-like. His handshake was short and sharp. The second his hand was dropped, he turned back to his book. Determined to have some kind of peace in his last moments on Earth. 

He turned the page and Stark spoke up again. "You can take that with you," Stephen looked back up into Stark's eyes. They were searching for his eyes. "The book. If you're ready, we can leave now, or- or I mean, it's up to you. If you're not ready to leave yet - that's fine. We can wait for the designated time. It's just, everything is ready, so if you wanted to, and I mean if you actually wanted to. Yeah. I'll shut up." 

Stephen watched him in amusement. He had never expected to see the great Tony Stark, stumble over his words. They would have had another hour at least until they needed to leave. Stark had looked down and away, blowing out a breath. Stephen found it kind of funny watching the man scramble over what to say. He wasn't what he expected. Stark had always been shown as a narcissistic, arrogant sod, but, perhaps that was just how the media wanted him to be seen. The Tony Stark they show to the world. Not this Tony Stark. The Tony Stark that's kind of cute as he tries to speak to another human. 

Stephen closes his book. Stark had turned his head to look out the window, watching as people worked. "I'm ready if you are." Stark's head snapped to Stephen's. A smile ghosting his lips. A twinkle hidden within his eyes. 

"Great, I'll let them know," He held out his hand, "Do you want me to put that in cargo? Probably won't be able to read on the way." Stephen looked between his book and Stark's hand before giving a nod and handing it over. 

***

They hadn't spoken a word during the six hour trip to the space station. There just wasn't anything to talk about. At times, Stephen was certain Stark would start talking. He would turn to face Stephen, but something on his face must have deterred any conversation Stark may have wanted. 

The six hours seemed to span into days. 

The station was large, much larger than what was warranted for just the two of them. But it gave him an opportunity for escape. When he felt like he couldn't take it with Stark anymore, Stephen had plenty of room to get away. 

They were connected to each other through the programming that ran the station. The computer knew exactly where they were and what they were doing at all times. It was necessary. The whole point of Stephen going, was to keep an eye on Stark. He had access to all of Stark's vitals at all times. All he had to do was just ask. If anything was out of the ordinary, the small bracelet Stark was to wear, would send out an emergency distress signal. That signal would send throughout the station to wherever Stephen may be. He hated to admit it, but it was indeed, very clever. 

Stark gave Stephen a tour when they landed. He was clearly very pleased with his work. 

There was a dining area, already stocked with food and drink for them. A room filled with machinery, Stark assured him that if he wanted, he was welcome to tinker with it all. There was a smaller room that just had seating and a few books. There was a control room, Stark told him that that was where they would do the live streams when needed. The live streams would be broadcast on television and online so people could know what was happening on board. They were scheduled few and far between. 

The bedroom was shared. The beds were small and compact. One above, one below. A curtain creating the only type of privacy. It made sense, he supposed, that they share a room. If anything were to happen during the night, Stephen would be readily on hand. There was only one bathroom. Simple in its design. Their clothes, Stephen found, were already in the wardrobe. There was only one wardrobe in their room. Their clothes had been mixed and placed together, all hung neatly. 

For some reason, Stephen didn't mind. He kind of liked it. 

#fanfic #ironstrange #iron man #doctor strange #wip

[seconds-not-decades]

Can you do a five x f!reader who self harms (if it makes you uncomfortable I understand) but she’s been clean for six months with the help of five but one night where they were in bed and fives asleep but the reader wasn’t because her skin itches because she wants to harm herself so she goes to the bathroom, not bothering locking it because she knew five would just jump in and she stare at the blade trying to cry silently but the bathroom was by the room so five could hear her crying and he got concern since she wasn’t in bed and he hears her crying so he’s outside but before she gets to actually harm her he steps in and talk her down?

Hurt Under The Surface {Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader}

Summary: You have been clean from self harm for six months now with the help of your loving and supportive boyfriend, Five Hargreeves. That all changes when one night you can't sleep and sneak into the bathroom while he's asleep and almost relapse before he finds you and comforts you.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Author's Note: I totally did not bawl my eyes out while writing this. *Please note this is only a work of fiction. If you ever need to talk, my messages are always open. Granted I may not always know what to say or do; I am here to listen.* Feel free to comment/reblog!

Edit: We've made 214 NOTES!!! Thank you so much!🧡

Word Count: 1598

Content and Trigger Warnings: Self-harm scars, self-harm, cutting, major angst, and almost blade usage. Please read and proceed with caution. Fluff ending though!

Requested By: The sweet @2pmlover✨

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Battling Life and Before You Go

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

*Edit below is mine, please give me credit if you use it*

~ * ~

You were staring up at the ceiling, almost feeling the minutes tick by. You could hear the light, gentle, peaceful breathing of Five next to you. At least someone was asleep. You tried to, but for the past hour or so was spent tossing and turning. Sleep was starting to sound and feel like a foreign concept now.

You rolled over, seeing Five was curled up next to you. You sadly smiled, brushing some hair out of his face. He was so cute. You sighed, slowly sitting up. You shoved some of your hair out of your eyes. Your gaze fell upon the small cut marks. Your wrists felt achingly itchy and all you wanted to do was end it.

No. Not wanted. Needed.

You knew you were six months clean, but, it was getting harder to ignore the sensation boiling and bubbling within you. You felt like the bathroom was calling out to you, luring you to it. Enticing you with a promise of relief and a way to stop the pain.

You slipped out of bed and went inside, not even bothering to lock the door. Five would just jump in here anyway, what difference would it make? You could already feel your emotions beginning to swirl inside your numbing chest. Your heart thudded against your ribs and every breath you took felt like it was sucking the life out of you.

You wondered when the air became so suffocating as you stood emotionlessly at the sink. You stared at your reflection. You looked and felt like a walking corpse. You wanted to feel alive again. You wanted something to spark the fire back in your soul and ignite your veins. Something. Anything.

Worthless. Pathetic. Weak. Useless. Unwanted.

Those five words echoed in your brain, almost in a chant. It only darkened your heart and your mind. You subconsciously grabbed for a blade. This was torture. The voices, the words, the miserable feeling of being stuck six feet under. You needed something to ease it all and take you away to a better place.

You held your wrist out, not noticing how your hand trembled terribly. The blade hovered over your skin as tears raced to your eyes. Your vision became blurry and a wave of heartbreaking realization began to wash over you.

I can do this. I can't do this. I can do this. I can't do this. I can do this.

You muttered to yourself, half speaking half sobbing. Your voice felt thick, your throat felt like cotton, and you felt like your strength was slowly sinking out of you. You were determined to see this through as you put the blade mere centimeters away from your wrist.

Another wave of realization crashed into your head and sent you into a crying fit. You gripped the blade tighter, tears streaming down your cheeks endlessly. You felt like the world around you was spinning and you felt light-headed.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" Five suddenly came into the room. He was alarmed, of course, but he held a soothing tone.

You inhaled sharply, looking over at him. You knew it was no use hiding the blade and you felt ashamed for getting caught.

He gazed at you sadly. "Will you put the blade down for me, my angel?"

"I can't take this anymore," you barely managed to choke out through your tears.

"We can work through this together like we always do. Okay? I just need you to put the blade down. And then let's talk. Can you do that for me?" he took a small, cautious step towards you.

You shook your head adamantly. "It hurts. It hurts so much and I want it to stop. I want to make it stop!"

"Tell me what hurts."

"Everything. I'm so sick and tired of it. I have to do this. It's the only way!"

"No, there are other ways. We just haven't thought over them yet," Five carefully joined your side.

"I feel like it'll just be a dead end. So what's the use? Why keep going forward only to find ourselves falling backward?"

Five took a small breath. "That's all right though. We all have mountains to climb. It's just a matter of taking a step back, reassessing what we need to do to get you back on your feet, and take it nice and easy from there."

"How can you say it's all right when it's not? We'll just find ourselves right back where we started!"

"Then we'll do it all over again. And again. And again. Simple as that."

You shook your head, fighting not to cry even more than you already were.

"Come to me, my love," Five held his arms out for you.

"I-I can't," you shook your head brokenly. "Please just leave me alone."

"Please don't shut me out. I can't leave you here. It's all right. I'm right here. Just come over here to me," Five was pretty much begging you.

"Why are you being like this?"

"Because, I love you, and I'm not going to idly stand by and watch you suffer alone. I want to help you."

"I don't need help! I need my pain to end!" you felt yourself start to cry more. "Please just make it stop. Make it all stop!"

You felt Five's arms wrap around you and that's when you felt everything within you release. The blade dropped from your hand as your threw your arms around him and broke down sobbing into his chest. You felt your shaking body collapse into his embrace as you two slowly sank to your knees.

"I've got you. You're going to be okay. We'll get through this together," Five soothed into your ear, letting his fingers comb through your hair.

You shook your head, continuing to cry. He comforted you wordlessly, rocking you a bit.

"I don't deserve you. I feel so unworthy," you whispered.

Five looked down at you. "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. It's not true and you know it."

"But it is true. I don't deserve someone as gentle, caring, loving, and loyal as you. I'm a broken shard of glass and someday I will just end up hurting you."

"Then I'll endure the pain, because you're worth it. I would do anything for you."

You shut your eyes, squeezing a few more tears out.

"Hey, look at me," Five gently requested. "Breathe. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what you need, please, my love."

"I need to stop crying. I need to stop feeling drained and tired and lifeless. I need to stop feeling like an empty shell," you slowly reopened your weary eyes. "I am so exhausted and empty. And it is so hard to feel anything when all I want to be is alive and free. And okay. I want to be okay. I just don't where or how to start."

Five looked down at you. "I think what we should do is get some water. Hydration is important. I'll make you your favorite comfort food and then we can get some sleep. Does that sound good to you or do you want to do something different, my darling?"

You merely sighed and he smiled sadly, blinking both of you into the kitchen. You were about to rub your wrists as tears pricked your eyes, but Five gently took your hands.

"Please don't cry. I'm right here. I know all you ever see is blue, despite the world being in color. You're wearing down and constantly trying to pick yourself up off the ground. And you have no idea how much it kills me to think and know that you feel so worthless," he gently kissed your wrists. "But I see that you are working things out. You are weathering each and every storm with such astounding resilience and strength. And I'm proud of you. You have no idea how proud I am. This is not the end, love of mine. Only the beginning of something new. Okay?"

You managed to shakily nod as he hugged you tightly. You buried your face into the side of his neck and cried more. He held you, rubbing your back. You felt like you were never going to run out of tears at this point. What felt like hours later, you stopped crying. Five pulled back and gently wiped your cheeks.

"Hello, beautiful," he cupped your face lovingly. "You're so angelic. Did you know that?"

You blushed some. "Thanks."

"Come on. You need food and something to drink," he led you into the kitchen.

He fixed you a glass of water and made you your favorite comfort food. He even let you help cook, just to further help put your mind at ease. After you were done, he cleaned the dishes and blinked into the bedroom.

"Let's get you comfortable," Five helped you into bed and tucked you in cozily beneath the covers.

You sank down beneath the sheets and plush blanket, feeling him pull you into his arms again. You curled up in his loving embrace, resting your head on his chest. You could hear his calming heart beat.

"Are you okay like this or do you need anything adjusted?" he asked you.

"It's okay. Thank you, Five," you returned quietly.

Five smiled and kissed your forehead, letting it linger for a second. "I love you. And I'm always going to take care of you, no matter what. I promise."

You nestled closer to him, feeling your eyelids close as you drifted off to sleep in the protective arms of your loving, caring, and gentle boyfriend.

~ * ~

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua #viktor hargreeves #aidan gallagher #five x y/n #five x reader #number five #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves oneshot #tua fandom #tua five #tua fanfic