#I honestly can’t believe that they got away with this on stage for months

[colourofthetrap08]

omfg how have i never seen this before

When Alex wants some love ❤

[daeniradraconis]

I just read age is just a number and I loved it! I would love to see more with them as y/n meets Luke’s parents and friends and the anxiety that can come with that.

Also seeing y/n in the wag life as she seemed to not know they were NHL players!

❤️

Age Is Just a Number… Right? - Part 2.

Summary: Luke Hughes, 6 years younger, seems like the perfect match—effortless and sweet. But when the reality of family, friends, and public attention creeps in, the simplicity starts to fade, and things get more complicated than expected. Welcome to Part 2 of Age Is Just a Number...Right? Warnings: Implied sexual situations, age gap (6 years), online harassment, bullying Note: Hey Lovelies! So here’s Part 2, and I’m so excited you asked for it! Thank you for requesting! Honestly, writing this was a total blast. This one’s a bit different though—it dives deeper into the challenges of the age gap and all the NHL pressure. It’s definitely not all smooth sailing, but I hope you still enjoy the drama!

Also, I swear I wanted to keep it short... and somehow ended up with 20,056 words. I just can’t do short, can I? 😂

For more fun: masterlist❤️

Six months. It’s almost impossible to believe how quickly time has passed since you first stumbled into Luke’s kitchen, skeptical, unsure of what would come next. Now, here you are—half a year into a relationship with him, and yet, some days, you still can't believe it's real.

Luke is perfect. Maybe too perfect, sometimes. He’s mature beyond his years, grounded in a way you’ve always admired but feared was too good to be true. When you first met, that six-year age gap felt like a huge mountain between you—something that might trip you up before you even got started. You worried there would be moments when he'd act too young, too impulsive, and you'd find yourself questioning whether you had made a mistake or whether he was ready for something serious.

But Luke? He’s proven you wrong over and over again.

His calmness, his commitment, and his quiet strength—it all made you realize that maybe age really is just a number. With him, you’ve never felt rushed, never pressured. It’s like he understands the pace you need to move at. He’s steady and unwavering, always ready to meet you where you are, to take it one step at a time. And that’s exactly what you needed. You weren’t ready to dive headfirst into something this serious until you knew it was real.

So you’ve taken things slow. Six months in, you’re still navigating the early stages of your relationship. You haven’t met his parents yet. You haven’t gone to one of his games—though you’d love to, just to see him in that element, doing what he loves. But you’ve both agreed that when those things happen, when you step into those parts of his world, it will be because you’re both sure of what you have. You’re building something strong and lasting.

And it hasn’t been all easy. There’s Jack, of course. He found out about you and Luke pretty much the moment you tried to sneak out after your first date. The cat was out of the bag before you even had a chance to process it. And naturally, that meant Quinn knew too, because Jack was worse than a tabloid. That boy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Though you only saw Quinn a handful of times—mostly through FaceTime when you would pop into the background of Luke’s calls—you could always feel his eyes on you, sizing you up, assessing whether you were really what Luke needed.

You never blamed Quinn. You understood the brotherly protectiveness. It was clear from the start that Luke meant a lot to him, and anyone who stepped into his life had to be worth it. But still, you felt that unspoken judgment. That quiet skepticism that weighed on you, even if it was never voiced aloud. Jack reassured you, though. "He’s just protective," he’d say with a grin. "He’ll warm up to you. Trust me." And sure enough, as the months passed, the tension started to melt away.

It took five months before Quinn finally invited you to dinner. Just a simple gathering—Luke, Jack, you, and Quinn—while Quinn was in the city playing with the Rangers. At first, you weren’t sure how it would go. You knew it wasn’t just a dinner; it was a test. A chance for Quinn to see if what you and Luke shared was the real thing.

The moment you sat down at the table, you felt it: Quinn was watching you. Not like Jack did, with his easy humor and teasing grin, but in that calculating, watchful way that only a protective older brother could. You could almost feel his doubts lingering in the air. Was this just a phase for Luke? Something fleeting? Or was it something real?

You didn’t take it personally. It was hard, but you understood. You knew what came with being in Luke’s life. You’d heard enough stories from Jack and Luke to understand the whirlwind of the NHL lifestyle—the crazy girlfriends, the fleeting connections, the messiness. But you were different. You weren’t here for the money, the fame, or the excitement of it all. You saw Luke for who he really was—the person, the man he was becoming. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to take it slow, to fight for something real.

You held your ground during that dinner. You laughed, you talked, and despite the nerves, you found yourself connecting with Quinn more than you expected. Before long, you were exchanging book recommendations and recipes with him, finding that you shared more in common than you thought. For a moment, the tension eased. You realized you weren’t just some outsider in their world. You were part of it, in your own way.

By the end of the night, Quinn wasn’t just the overprotective older brother anymore. He was someone you could see yourself getting along with, someone you could trust. And he realized it too. What you had with Luke was more than just a passing fling. It was real.

As you looked across the table at Luke during that dinner, his smile so full of pride and warmth, you knew the slow burn of the past months had been worth it. Every carefully measured step, every moment of uncertainty had led to this. The connection you were building with Luke was undeniable, and you were ready for what came next.

With him. For the long haul.

—

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages turning.

You’re curled up on one end of the couch, a book in your hands. At least, it looks like you’re reading, but not a single word has registered in the last fifteen minutes. Across from you, Quinn is stretched out in the armchair, legs casually crossed at the ankle, his own book open in his lap. He’s in town for a game—the Canucks played the Devils last night—but instead of heading straight home for the short break in the season, he decided to stay an extra night. It made sense, with the Michigan trip tomorrow. The four of you—Quinn, Luke, Jack, and you—would be flying out together to celebrate Ellen’s birthday. And since he doesn’t get to see his brothers often, he’s crashing at the apartment for the night.

Unlike you, Quinn actually seems to be reading, his face neutral, focused, like he’s in his own world. Meanwhile, you’re pretty sure you’ve bounced your knee up and down at least twenty times in the last half hour.

Quinn doesn’t even look up when he says, “You’re fidgeting.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He finally glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “You keep moving. And you’ve been staring at the same page for about ten minutes now.”

You sigh, closing your book with a little more force than necessary. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

Quinn shrugs without breaking his gaze from the page. “Hard not to when you’re sighing like someone just called you for a penalty in overtime.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, but it doesn’t last long. Instead, you stare down at your book again, running your fingers over the creased edges. “I’m just… nervous about tomorrow.”

Quinn doesn’t react immediately, but you can tell he’s listening.

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Meeting Ellen and Jim, the whole Michigan trip. Luke’s friends. It’s a lot.”

“They already know about you,” Quinn points out. “Jack made sure of that.”

You roll your eyes, dragging a hand over your face. "Yeah, because Jack never shuts up. Honestly, I'm surprised it took him seven months to blurt it out on FaceTime."

Quinn chuckles, the sound soft and amused. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the type to keep things to himself.”

You smile faintly but shake your head. Jack could be annoying as hell sometimes, but you'd grown to appreciate his cheeky style—though you’d never let him know that. Giving him the satisfaction would only make him worse.

"Still," you continue, "knowing about me is different from actually meeting me. I don’t know... I guess I just feel like I have to prove myself. Like, I need to show your parents I’m good enough for Luke."

At that, Quinn tilts his head, his expression softening with something you didn’t expect—understanding.

“I get that,” he says quietly.

You glance at him, surprised. “You do?”

You blink, taken aback. Quinn always came across as confident, wise—sometimes quiet, but never unsure.

You’re about to ask him to elaborate when he continues, his voice slower now, more reflective.

"Jack’s always been the effortless one, you know?" he starts, a hint of admiration in his voice. "He walks into a room, and people are just drawn to him—like it’s second nature. That charm, that ease… he’s always had it."

There’s no bitterness in his voice—just truth. And you get it. Even though Jack can be a lot at times, Quinn’s right. He’s got that natural charm that makes it impossible not to like him, even when he’s being the most annoying person on the planet.

“And Luke…” Quinn’s voice falters for a second, but he recovers quickly."Luke’s a phenomenal player—and the kindest person you’ll ever meet. I can still hear Dad saying, ‘Look at him, Quinn. He’s only eight, and he’s already better than you were at that age.’"

You frown, your heart tightening slightly, but Quinn keeps going, his words surprisingly soft.

"I had to work my ass off just to keep up," he admits, his gaze dropping to his lap. "Growing up with brothers like mine... it was impossible not to notice the difference. Jack walks into a room, and people light up—he doesn’t even have to try. Luke picks up a stick, and it’s like the game was made for him. They were special. Everyone saw it. Everyone told them. And me? I was good, but never in the way they were. Never effortless. Never undeniable…So I pushed myself. Skated longer, trained harder, did everything I could to close the gap. Because if I wasn’t a prodigy like Luke or magnetic like Jack, I had to be something. I had to earn my place. Prove I belonged. Not just to everyone else, but to myself."

A tightness settles in your chest as his words sink in, striking a little too close to home. You loved being with Luke—he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. But sometimes, the weight of not feeling special enough to be with him was suffocating.

“It’s easy to get caught up in that,” Quinn adds, looking at you now. “Thinking you have to earn your place, like if you don’t, people will start to see you for what you ‘really’ are—not enough.” He gives you a sharp look, and his voice drops a little, more serious. “It’s good to have that drive in sports, but if you start believing you only deserve love and kindness if you prove it every day, it’ll eat you alive.”

Your throat tightens as you meet his eyes. There’s something in Quinn’s expression that feels like he’s not just talking about you—but about himself, too.

“But it’s bullshit,” Quinn continues, the gentleness in his tone surprising you. “People who matter will love you for who you are. You don’t have to prove yourself. Not to Luke, not to anyone. If they don’t see you for what you’re worth—what you bring to the table—it’s their loss.”

You let his words sink in, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little. You want to believe him.

But before you can say anything, the front door swings open with the usual creak, and Jack’s voice fills the apartment.

The familiar sound of Jack and Luke bickering fills the apartment. You steal a quick glance at Quinn, trying to pack everything you feel into one look. You want to thank him for opening up, for comforting you. You want to say something that might ease whatever’s been weighing on him too—tell him you’re sorry he had to go through all of that, and that if he ever needs someone to talk to, you’ll listen.

Quinn meets your gaze, and for a moment, he just nods, a small but genuine smile crossing his face—one that says more than words ever could. Then, without a word, he turns back to his book, flipping the page as if nothing happened.. 

“Dude, you definitely ate half of my roll!” Jack complains, his voice sharp with outrage as he and Luke walk in.

“I didn’t eat half your roll,” Luke counters, rolling his eyes as he kicks the door shut behind him. “I paid for the sushi, Jack. That means I can eat whatever I want.”

Jack huffs dramatically, holding up the takeout bags as if they’re the most precious thing in the world. “You hear that, Quinn? Our baby brother is robbing me blind. I’m practically starving over here.”

Quinn, still curled up in the armchair, doesn’t even glance up from his book. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Luke grins, completely unfazed by Jack’s theatrics. “Yeah, because that makes total sense. I’m here plotting to steal all of your sushi.”

Jack dramatically sighs, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips despite his best efforts. “Whatever, dude. You owe me a roll. Just keep track of it.”

Luke shrugs, tossing the sushi bags onto the counter as if it’s all water under the bridge. “I’ll pay you back next time. Maybe.”

With that, Luke crosses the room and heads straight for the couch where you're sitting. You glance up just as he sits down next to you, his body naturally leaning into yours. Before you can even process it, his lips brush softly against your temple, the gentle touch making your heart skip a beat.

“Miss me?” Luke asks, his voice light, teasing, but there’s something warm behind his words.

You smile, leaning into him slightly. “You were gone for like five minutes.”

Luke gasps, pretending to be hurt. “Five minutes is a lifetime! You should’ve missed me way more.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Maybe. But I’m dramatic because I love you,” he says, his voice turning soft as he tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll never apologize for that.”

You feel your heart soften, the quiet between you settling in. It’s easy with Luke. Too easy, like you’ve always been meant to share moments like this.

Meanwhile, Quinn is still immersed in his book, but you can hear the soft chuckle in his voice when he finally looks up. “You two are ridiculous.”

Luke grins, glancing over at him with a playful spark in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Captain. Did we interrupt your important reading time?”

Quinn rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I have important things to do.”

Luke nudges you gently. “Guess we’ll leave you to your important work then.”

Just as you’re about to respond, the bathroom door flies open, and Jack steps in, fixing Luke with a sharp look. "I swear, you took half my roll, but I’ll let it go—just so you can appreciate what an amazing brother I am."

Luke doesn’t miss a beat, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for your endless generosity, Jack.”

Jack shakes his head,“You’re impossible. But whatever, I’ll live.” He glances at Quinn. “You guys hungry?”

Quinn looks up from his book and shrugs, a small smirk on his face. “Yeah, alright. Let’s eat.”

Luke’s arm stays comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you in a little closer as Jack starts unpacking the sushi. He hands you a roll, and without hesitation, you take it, offering a piece to Luke, who grins at you.

“You sure you want to give me that? I might eat it all,” he teases, leaning in to take the piece from your fingers.

You roll your eyes but laugh. “It’s yours, baby. I’m just being nice.”

He takes it anyway, his lips brushing your hand for just a moment. “I’ll always accept nice,” he says, his voice warm and low.

Meanwhile, Quinn and Jack are fully engaged in their own conversation across the room.

“Wait, seriously? You're not hooking up with anyone?!” Jack asks, biting into his roll and glancing over at Quinn. His tone is a mix of playful curiosity and teasing challenge.

Quinn furrows his brow, unsure where this is headed. “Jack…I’ve got other things on my mind right now,” he replies, trying to sound casual but ending up a little too defensive.

Jack raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Other things, huh? Like you are too busy brooding about your love life?”

Quinn shoots him a look—part amusement, part mild annoyance—but it’s clear there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m not brooding, Jack.”

Jack leans in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure about that? You’re the type who could use a little fun, y’know. Just a little something to shake things up.”

Quinn sighs, pushing his sushi aside and leaning back slightly. “I’m having fun, Jack. But I don’t need drama or... random hook-ups like you.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack waves a dismissive hand, grinning. “Hook-ups aren’t drama. They’re just... passing moments. You should try it.”

You glance at Luke, stifling a grin as the brothers bicker. Luke notices and leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Bet you ten bucks Quinn secretly thinks Jack needs a relationship.”

You chuckle softly, meeting his gaze. “You’re probably right.”

Luke shrugs, his grin sly. “He’s a good big brother, always looking out for Jack. But Jack’s more about living in the moment. Quinn doesn’t get that.”

As Jack continues —now full-on teasing about a girl he’s seeing—Quinn leans back, his patience clearly wearing thin but he’s trying to remain composed. “It’s not just about fun, Jack,” he says, his voice steady but earnest. “You need stability. You can’t just hop from one person to the next and think it’s gonna mean anything.”

Jack leans forward, his grin not faltering. “Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro. You should try living in the moment sometime.”

Quinn shakes his head, voice calm but resolute. “Living in the moment is fine, but you can’t run from what really matters forever.”

Jack shrugs again, his smirk widening. “The ‘real thing’? Overrated.”

Luke leans in closer to you, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “I’ll never be ‘overrated,’ right?”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Never,” you reply, your voice light with amusement.

Luke’s fingers brush yours as he takes another piece of sushi, then presses a quick kiss to your cheeks, his breath warm against your skin.  “Good. Because you know, you’re my real thing,” he says, so quietly that only you can hear.

Your heart flutters as you look up at him, the familiar comfort of his presence pulling you away from the noise around you. Jack and Quinn’s voices fade into the background. Everything feels easy and relaxed, like you could just stay in this moment.

You lean back against Luke, resting your hand on his thigh, your fingers moving in soft, slow circles. You let his words sink in, the quiet meaning behind them making you feel warm, sparking something inside you.

Luke’s voice drops again, near a whisper in your ear. “You’re not listening, are you?”

You shake your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Too distracted.”

Luke’s grin widens, his arms tightening around you. “I’m distracting, huh?”

“Definitely,” you reply, the heat of his touch quickening your pulse just a little.

In the background, Jack’s voice rises in exaggerated complaint. “You really need to get a life, Quinn. I’m starting to think you’re allergic to fun.”

Quinn chuckles under his breath, the familiar rhythm of their sibling banter carrying on.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, listening to their back-and-forth, the warmth of Luke’s body beside you, the comfort of silence between you two that feels more intimate than words ever could. This moment—this quiet, easy, perfect moment—feels like something you never want to let go of.

—

Quinn was wrong. Ellen didn’t just dislike you—she made it clear from the start that you weren’t welcome. You still couldn’t figure out why.

You’d arrived in Michigan just a day ago with the boys. Jim, their dad, picked you all up from the airport, and he couldn’t have been kinder. He gave you a big, welcoming hug and even cracked a funny joke about his son. He said he’d always known Luke would end up with an older woman because he was the smartest and most mature of the bunch. Jack and Quinn didn’t seem too thrilled with the comment, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved by Jim’s warmth. He reminded you a lot of Luke—witty, laid-back, and effortlessly easy to talk to.

But when it came to Ellen, it was a completely different story. From the moment she saw you, she made sure you knew you weren’t welcome. Her “kindness” was stiff and calculated. She didn’t ask a single question, didn’t accept your offer to help clean up after dinner, and every time you spoke, she responded with nothing more than the bare minimum. It was so painfully obvious that, by the end of the night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The boys didn’t seem to notice at first, but the tension between you and Ellen only grew, and it soon became obvious to everyone.

After everyone had gone to rest, you sat down on Luke’s childhood bed, the weight of the evening settling heavily on you. Your chest tightened, and you almost couldn’t hold back the tears.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice gentle as he cupped your face. He sat beside you, pulling you into his lap. "I’m so sorry, darling," he murmured, his voice soft with concern. "I don’t get it. I’ve talked about you with her, and she never said anything. I thought this would be easy... but I’ll talk to her. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him as his warmth surrounded you.

You nestle into Luke’s chest, letting his warmth pull you in. His arms tighten around you, offering comfort, but a familiar knot forms in your stomach—one you hadn’t expected to feel again. The way Ellen had treated you, the coldness in her eyes—it hit you harder than you wanted to admit. The doubt that had been lurking in the back of your mind since the beginning, started to creep back in. The same insecurity, the same fear you’d been trying to shake off for months.

You swallow hard, but you don’t let your voice shake as you speak. “It’s not your fault, Luke,” you say, your words soft, almost too soft. “It’s just... she made it feel like I don’t belong here, you know? Like I don’t fit with your family.”

Luke brushes his fingers through your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You do belong here. I want you here, always,” he murmurs, his voice steady, but you can hear the underlying concern in it.

You nod, but deep down, you’re questioning everything. Am I really good enough for him? That age gap—the thing that had once seemed so insignificant now feels like an undeniable wall, one you can’t climb over. And if Ellen can see it, if she can feel it, maybe it’s a sign that you don’t truly fit into his world after all.

“Maybe... maybe I’m just not what you need,” you whisper, the thought slipping out before you can catch it. “Maybe it’s just harder for me than I thought.”

Luke freezes for a moment, his breath catching as he pulls back slightly to look at you. His eyes are soft, searching, and he lifts your chin with his fingers so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice is low, gentle, but there’s an edge of worry in it.

You take a shaky breath, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You can’t explain it without sounding ridiculous, so instead, you focus on the doubt tormenting you. “I just... I don’t know. I keep wondering if I’m enough for you. If the age gap will always be something that... that people notice. Or if your family will ever accept me for who I am, not just because I’m with you.”

Luke’s expression softens even more, and he pulls you close again, this time more firmly. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice serious but full of tenderness. “I don’t care about the age gap. I don’t care about what people think or what my family thinks. All that matters is us—what we have together. And if they can’t see that, it’s their problem, not ours.”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to absorb his words, but the uncertainty still lingers, tucked into the corners of your mind. Luke’s arms tighten around you again, and you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. He doesn’t say anything more, just lets the silence settle around you, and you let yourself lean into him completely, allowing the weight of everything to fall away—if only for a little while.

“I just want you to know that I’m here,” he adds quietly, his voice almost a whisper now. “No matter what, I’m here. And I’m not letting you go.”

—

The next morning, as the birthday party for Ellen kicks off, the energy in the house is a bit brighter, but your nerves are still on edge. The situation with Ellen hasn’t improved, and you're doing your best to push the unease to the back of your mind. Guests begin to trickle in—family, friends, everyone buzzing around and chatting—but you feel like you're still on the outside, quietly observing.

As soon as Luke’s friends walk in—Ethan, Mark, and Dylan—the room instantly fills with their loud, boisterous energy. You feel a flutter of nerves, but Luke catches your eye, offering you a warm smile and a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. You stand a little taller.

Ethan is the first to notice you, his gaze flickering between you and Luke.Luke gives a quick, casual introduction, but before you can even get a word in, Ethan’s brow arches, and a kind smile spreads across his face.

"Well, look at this," he says, his voice teasing but laced with curiosity. "Didn't think you'd go for someone a little... more seasoned."

Mark grins and nudges Luke’s shoulders playfully. "Of course he would, Ethan! Luke’s always been Mister Serious when it comes to love. But man, you really hit the jackpot here. Didn’t think you had it in you."

You can’t help but blush a little at their teasing, your cheeks warming. “What can I say? He’s got great taste,” you reply with a playful smile, then turn to Luke, your gaze warm. “And sure, he’s younger—but trust me, he’s all man. And he deserves someone who sees that.”

For a moment, the teasing fades. There’s a brief pause as the words settle in. Luke’s expression shifts, his eyes lighting up with something close to pride. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. Without hesitation, he pulls you a little closer, his arm resting around your waist—not for show, not to prove a point, just because it feels right.

Ethan lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I get it. Guess Luke’s not the only one serious about this. You finally found someone who’s in it for real.”

Mark nods, his usual joking tone giving way to something more genuine. “Yeah. Honestly, I wish you could’ve heard all the whining before you two got together.”

“Oh, it was painful,” Dylan adds, shaking his head dramatically. He drops his voice lower, mimicking Luke in an exaggerated, desperate tone. “‘Oh, guys, I just want someone who actually wants something real…’”

Ethan clutches his forehead like he’s in distress. “‘Yeah, all the hot girls only want situationships. It’s terrible. I don’t know how I’ll survive…’”

The group bursts into laughter, and Luke, instead of arguing, just grins wider. He shrugs, completely unfazed. “Laugh all you want,” he says, voice steady. Then he turns to you, his smile softening just a little. “But all the work I put into finding the right person? It was worth it. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His words land like a gentle touch against your heart, a warmth spreading deep in your chest.

The next hour passes in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You find yourself caught up in wild university stories, each one more ridiculous than the last. The guys tease you, you fire back just as quickly, and before long, you’re all grinning like old friends. You’re relieved they don’t take the whole situation too seriously—it’s a welcome break from the weight of everything else on your mind. And right now, you could use a little lightness.

But after a while, Luke reaches for your wrist, his touch gentle but firm. “Alright, I’m stealing her for a bit,” he announces, giving the guys a pointed look. “Gotta introduce her to some family members.”

Mark groans dramatically. “Ah, yes. The official tour. Good luck.”

"Don’t let Aunt Carol talk your ear off," Dylan smirks before taking a long sip of his beer.

Ethan leans back with a knowing grin. “And watch out for the cousins—there’s like a hundred of them.”

You laugh, but as Luke leads you away, you quickly realize they weren’t exaggerating. The Hughes family is much bigger than you expected.

For the next forty minutes, you meet what feels like an endless stream of aunts, uncles, and cousins, each one greeting you with warmth and curiosity. But what surprises you most isn’t the size of his family—it’s how effortless Luke makes it all feel.

He guides you seamlessly from one introduction to the next, never once leaving your side. He carries the conversations with ease, knowing exactly when to jump in, when to steer the small talk, and when to give you space to speak. Any moment you start to feel overwhelmed, he’s there—a reassuring glance, a hand resting lightly on your back, a quiet squeeze of your fingers. It’s not just about introducing you to them. It’s about making sure you feel comfortable.

And that’s when it truly hits you.

Luke isn’t just proving something to his family and friends. He’s proving it to you.

Every touch, every word, every small moment—it’s all a reminder. A reminder that this isn’t temporary, that you’re not some passing phase in his life. You belong here, with him, in his world, and he wants everyone to know it.

More than that—he wants you to know it.

And as you watch the way he looks at you, the way he proudly keeps you close, the way he makes sure you feel seen, heard, and respected—it’s undeniable.

Luke isn’t just proud to be with you.

He’s protecting this.

Protecting you.

—

After what feels like the hundredth introduction in a row, you realize you need a break. The constant smiling, small talk, and endless new faces are starting to wear on you. Luke has been incredible—steady, attentive, making everything easier—but even with him at your side, you need a moment to breathe.

“I’m just gonna grab some water,” you tell him softly, squeezing his hand.

He studies you for a second, like he knows you’re feeling overwhelmed, but he nods. “Take your time. I’ll be right here.”

Slipping away, you make your way to the kitchen, relieved to find it empty. You lean against the counter, inhaling deeply, trying to shake the exhaustion creeping in. Just a few seconds of quiet. That’s all you need.

But then, voices drift in from the hallway.

Ellen’s voice.

And she doesn’t sound happy.

“I just don’t understand it,” she says, frustration dripping from every word. “What does she even want with him?”

There’s a pause, then another voice—her friend, quieter, hesitant. “Maybe she really does care about him?”

Ellen lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sure she cares. Why wouldn’t she? He’s young, successful, and comes from a good family. But let’s be real—she’s not stupid. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Your stomach tightens.

“What do you mean?” her friend asks cautiously.

Ellen huffs. “She’s older. She knows time isn’t on her side. She’s probably already thinking about ways to lock him down before he wakes up and realizes what a mistake this is.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Oh, come on,” her friend murmurs. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” Ellen’s voice sharpens. “You know how these things go. Maybe she’s already hinting at the next step—moving in, getting engaged. And then what? A baby? Accidents happen all the time, don’t they?”

Your heart pounds.

No.

She wouldn’t—she couldn’t think that.

"That’s just the natural progression of a relationship, Ellen," her friend says, though there’s a hint of hesitation in her voice. "And she doesn’t seem like the type who would do that."

Ellen doesn’t hesitate. “Maybe not now. But give it time. She’ll make sure she’s set, one way or another. And then what? Luke’s stuck. Tied down before he’s even had the chance to live his life. He’s too young for this—he should be focused on hockey, his future, not playing house with some woman who’s way older than him.”

Your hands tremble against the counter.

She thinks you’re trapping him. That you’re manipulating him, clinging to him for his money, his name, his future. That you’re selfish enough to take away everything he’s worked for just so you can have stability.

Every ugly thought you’ve ever had about yourself, every insecurity you thought you’d buried, slams into you all at once.

You’re too old for him. He’s too young to know what he really wants. You are holding him back. Maybe one day, he will regret this.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to shove the thoughts away, but they keep coming. The weight of them sits heavy on your chest, suffocating.

It’s unfair. It’s cruel.

Because you know the truth.

You never wanted anything from Luke but him. His love, his presence, the way he makes you feel like you finally belong somewhere. He’s the one who pulled you in, who made you believe this could work.

And yet, here you are, listening to his own mother rip you apart like you’re nothing more than an opportunist.

Tears sting at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

No.

You will not let her do this to you.

You take a shaky breath, lifting your chin.

You could walk out there right now. Confront her. Demand to know how she can say these things when everyone else can see how much you and Luke love each other.

But you won’t. Not yet.

This isn’t the time, and you won’t make a scene—not at Luke’s family gathering, not when he’s worked so hard to make this day special.

Instead, you straighten your shoulders, press your palms against the counter, and take one last deep breath.

You’ll go back to Luke.

Because he is the only thing that matters right now.

But later—when the party is over, when it’s just the two of you—you will talk to Ellen.

One way or another, this conversation is happening.

Because no matter what she thinks, no matter what doubts she tries to plant in your head, there’s one thing you know for sure.

You love Luke, and you're not going anywhere. You won’t let the dark thoughts take over.

—

When the party winds down and the last of the guests have left, the house settles into a peaceful quiet, a soft hum lingering in the air. The only sounds coming from outside are the occasional bursts of laughter from the porch, where Luke and his brothers sit with Jim, sipping their drinks and listening to some old country music.

You were out there with them for a while, curled up next to Luke, letting the warmth of his presence chase away the lingering sting of what you’d overheard. But no matter how much you tried to push it down, it’s still there—Ellen’s words, the accusations, the way she spoke about you like you were some kind of threat to her son’s future.

You can’t let it go.

So you slip inside, your pulse quickening with every step through the quiet house. You find Ellen in the kitchen, wiping down the counters, her expression calm—like she hasn’t just spent the evening making you feel like a complete fraud.

She doesn’t even glance your way, let alone acknowledge you with a hi. So, you’re the one who finally breaks the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier,” you say, your voice quieter this time, but no less firm. “About me. About why you don’t think I belong with Luke.”

Ellen tenses but doesn’t look at you. Not yet. “I assume you didn’t like what you heard.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “No. But I think I get it.” You hesitate for a second before continuing, forcing yourself to push past the knot in your throat. “The truth is, Ellen, I’ve had all of those same fears. Maybe even worse ones.”

That gets her attention. She looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale, gripping the back of a chair as you gather your thoughts.

“When I met Luke, I didn’t even know who he was. I didn’t know he was in the NHL, I didn’t know he was 21. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name the first time we talked.” You shake your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “If I had known? I probably wouldn’t have let myself get close to him. Because I never intended for any of this to happen.”

Ellen watches you carefully, arms crossed, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“I fought it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much convincing it took for me to even give this a chance. Luke… he saw something in me from the start, something I didn’t even see in myself. He was patient. He never pushed, never made me feel like I had to be anything other than who I was. And when I told him I wasn’t sure? That I was scared? He just waited. He let me take my time.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the back of the chair you’re standing behind. “That’s why we kept it quiet. For seven months, Ellen. Not because we were hiding, but because I needed to be sure. Because I needed to know that this wasn’t just some fleeting thing for him. That it wasn’t just… a phase, or a rebellion, or some naive fantasy. I needed to know that what we had was real before I let myself believe in it.”

Ellen’s expression shifts for the first time, and you catch a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe understanding—but you still can’t read it completely.

But you’re not done yet.

“I never wanted to be some scandal. Some headline. Some… joke to people who think they know our relationship just because they know his name.” Your throat tightens, but you push through it. “I’ve never even been to one of his games. Not once. Because I’m terrified of what people will say about me. About us. About how I’m ‘too old for him’ or ‘using him’ or—” Your voice breaks slightly, but you shake your head, forcing yourself to continue.

“You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I’m what’s best for him? If I should just—walk away before the world does everything it can to tear us apart?” You let out a shaky breath. “Because I do.”

Ellen looks at you then, really looks at you. For the first time, she doesn’t seem like an overprotective mother searching for someone to blame.

She just looks like a mother who’s scared.

You exhale, your voice barely above a whisper as you speak, “You’re not the only one scared of me hurting him, Ellen. I’m terrified of it, too.”

Ellen listens, her eyes focused, waiting for you to continue. You swallow hard, your chest tightening as you try to steady your nerves.

“I know the fans don’t even know about me yet, but I can already see it. Once they do, it’ll blow up. All over social media, rumors flying, and people judging him—judging us—just because I’m older. I don’t want him to have to deal with that kind of pressure. Not when he’s already got so much on his plate.”

You run a hand through your hair, the weight of it all sinking in like a stone in your stomach. “And his teammates... What if it makes things weird for him? He’s worked his whole life for this. The last thing I want is to be the thing that complicates his career, or makes him feel like he has to choose between me and them.”

Your eyes meet Ellen’s, filled with doubt, uncertainty. “I just don’t know if he’s ready for all that... for everything this could mean.”

A heavy silence settles between you, not suffocating, but thick with the gravity of your words. Ellen’s gaze drops for a moment, her hands gripping the edge of the counter like she’s trying to hold herself steady, as if your fears have somehow shifted something in her.

Finally, she speaks.

“I—” She stops herself, exhales sharply. When she looks at you again, there’s something different in her eyes. Not quite acceptance, but maybe the beginning of understanding.

“I didn’t know any of that,” she admits with a flat voice.

“No,” you say softly. “You didn’t.”

She presses her lips together, glancing out the window at Luke, who’s still outside with his brothers, laughing, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside. When she turns back to you, her expression is unreadable. “You drink?” she asks, tone even.

You nod without a second thought. “I do now.”

For the first time since you walked in, the corner of her mouth twitches—just a hint of amusement, barely there but enough to notice.

—

​​The tension in the kitchen finally eases, and for the first time tonight, the air feels lighter. Ellen, usually so cold, is now leaning against the counter, sipping her gin and laughing with you. The sharpness in her gaze has softened, replaced with a warmth you never expected to see.

“I’ll tell you something,” she says, her words slightly slurred, “I didn’t expect this to be my night.” She chuckles, a soft, genuine laugh that catches you off guard. “But it’s good to let the walls come down every once in a while, huh?”

You nod, amused by how effortlessly she’s transformed. “Yeah, it’s surprising,” you admit, feeling genuinely relaxed now. “But I think we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh, we definitely are,” Ellen agrees, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you wanna hear something really fun? Luke… oh boy, Luke was a mess with his first crush.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Luke? Mr. Charismatic?”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen says, practically grinning. She lowers her voice, leaning in like she’s about to share the juiciest secret. “I remember this girl. He practiced for days in front of the mirror, building up the courage to ask her to the school dance. I’m standing in the hallway, praying for him, and he goes up to her and says, ‘Hi… um… so… would you maybe… like, want to… uh, go with me to the event?’” She mimics his awkward tone, twisting her face in that exact “I���m-so-embarrassed” expression. “The poor kid froze. It was so bad, I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop laughing.”

You try to stifle your laughter, but it escapes in a burst. “No way, Luke? He really did that?”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen confirms, shaking her head with a grin. “That’s my boy. The ‘charismatic’ one.” She takes another sip of her drink, voice dropping even lower. “But wait. There’s more.”

Your eyes widen, knowing you’re in for something worse.

“Oh yeah,” she smirks, clearly loving the moment. “Let’s talk about Luke’s first real kiss. He was about 15, hanging out at a friend’s party. He finally found the courage to kiss this girl he’d been eyeing all night, and everything was going fine. They’re talking, laughing, and then—he goes in for the kiss. And completely misses. Right past her lips, straight into her nose.” She pauses, relishing the buildup. “She’s standing there, totally confused, and Luke? He freaked out and bolted. Literally ran out of the party like a man on fire.”

You burst into laughter, barely able to catch your breath. “No way! He missed the whole thing?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ellen says, not missing a beat. “And then he spent the next hour Googling ‘how to kiss a girl.’ I had to give him a whole lesson on lip placement.” She shakes her head, still grinning. “I thought I was going to die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Just as you think you can’t laugh any harder, the door creaks open.

Jack steps into the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of the empty bottles and the two of you clearly well into your cups.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Jack asks, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face, though his grin is practically splitting his face in two. You can tell without a doubt that he overheard your conversation with Elle. His eyes flick to Luke, who’s right behind him, his face already bright red. “Wait, you’re telling me that’s actually true? You missed your first kiss?”

Luke freezes, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “I—look, it wasn’t a big deal. I was nervous, alright? Cut me some slack.”

Jack’s grin widens, clearly delighted. “Oh man, this is perfect. Finally, something else embarrassing about Luke I can hold over his head.” He laughs to himself before adding, “I thought I knew all the stories. This one’s gold.”

Before Luke can recover, Ellen jumps in, her voice rising as she relishes the moment. “Oh, we’re not done yet, Jack. Remember when I found Luke’s ‘dating handbook’ when he was 16? A whole book, filled with tips like ‘how to avoid awkward silences’ and ‘perfect first date questions.’” She practically slams her glass down, savoring every second of Luke’s embarrassment.

Luke looks like he’s about to vanish into thin air. His hands are buried in his face, but it’s no use—his brothers are on a roll.

Quinn walks in, laughing, with Jim right behind him, grinning widely. “Wait, what? A book? Oh man, I’m dead.”

Luke tries to defend himself. “Guys, please. I was just… figuring things out.”

Jim gives Luke a dramatic pat on the back, his voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy. “Don’t worry, son. We’ve all been there. I remember when Jack asked me—at 18—how to know when it’s the right time to hold hands.” He pauses for effect, letting the silence hang. “At 18!”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, practically gasping for air. “Oh my god, Jack?! Mr. ‘I’m your Prince Charming, Flirt King’ himself?”

Jack’s face goes pale, and his expression shifts to pure horror. It’s his turn to turn bright red now. “Dad! You promised it was gonna stay between us!”

The kitchen is filled with laughter, and your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much.

Ellen takes another sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eye as she winks at you. “You think that’s bad? Just wait until I tell you about the time I caught Quinn on his computer, searching for… let’s say, questionable content. I almost had a heart attack. I thought he was watching a documentary on the history of hockey… but nope. Wrong side of the internet.” She smirks, clearly enjoying herself. “And, for the record, I learned something that day. Quinn’s type is definitely Latinas.”

Quinn, who’d been casually sipping his beer while leaning against the kitchen arch, nearly chokes on the drink. His face turns bright red as well. “MOM, STOP!”

The whole room bursts into laughter again.

Ellen, a little tipsy but clearly loving the chaos, glances at you with a softer, more genuine smile. Her voice, though still playful, carries a hint of warmth. “But Luke’s a good kid, you know. A little awkward, a little goofy, but…” She pauses, her eyes softening as she looks at Luke, then back to you. “…but he’s got a heart of gold.”

You take a deep breath, wiping away tears of laughter. “Oh, I know, Ellen. I’m one lucky woman to have him in my life.”

Luke looks at you with so much love in his eyes, his gaze shifting between you and his mother, a soft smile on his face. You can see the relief wash over him.

You wink at him, giving him a silent sign that everything is going to be alright.

Ellen takes another sip, her tone shifting into something more sincere. “I’m sorry for all the tension earlier. Luke is lucky to have you as well.”

Luke meets her eyes and sends a warm, loving smile to his mother. He steps over to you, wrapping his arm around you and planting a short, warm kiss on your forehead. “Thanks for sticking around for this disaster,” he says quietly, whispering in your ear, his voice full of meaning.

“Of course, honey! You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

—

You never imagined you’d miss Michigan that much. But back in Jersey, the difference hit you hard. Life here was faster, louder, and more chaotic. The NHL season was in full swing, and the Devils were struggling. With every loss, the pressure on Luke grew, and so did the distance between you two. His mind was consumed by the game, leaving little room for anything else. You could feel the weight of his career slowly pushing you apart. The whole situation felt like it was constantly testing your ability to balance everything, but you knew you had to figure it out.

So, without thinking too much, you made the decision to move in with Luke and Jack. You didn’t want things to feel so difficult. Luke had already sacrificed so much, supporting you through everything. Now, it was your turn to make the sacrifice—to make it easier for him.

The adjustment wasn’t instant. Between Luke’s demanding schedule and the pressure from the season, there were days when it felt like everything was pulling in different directions. But you found a way to make it work. You took a new job with more flexible hours, something that would allow you to be there for him more consistently. It wasn’t just about giving him space—it was about creating the kind of life together where you could both feel secure and steady, no matter how busy or intense his career became.

Living with Luke and Jack brought its own challenges, but it also gave you the chance to help shoulder some of the burden. You worked from home most days, only going into the office once a week. You kept the apartment tidy, cooked meals, and made sure they always had something warm to come home to. Even Jack, who kept up his usual tough-guy act, showed signs of how much the season was getting to him. You could tell the losses were affecting him too. And though Luke remained a rock for everyone around him, the weight of the season was clearly taking its toll.

Luke insisted on covering everything—rent, utilities, groceries. He wanted to spoil you, but you couldn’t just let that happen. You needed to contribute, to show that you were just as invested in making this work. You wanted to take care of him, take care of them, and make sure they all felt supported during this time of stress. The more you learned about the pressures of his life, the more you were ready to do whatever it took to ease his burden, even if it meant adjusting your own life to make it easier for him.

One evening, not long after you’d moved in, you and Luke were curled up on the couch, watching a game. You didn’t fully understand hockey, but the Leafs were playing, and if you were being honest, they were the other team you secretly enjoyed watching. In fact, if you weren’t so loyal to Luke, you might have even liked them better—something that always made him laugh. You’d deny it every time, swearing your heart belonged to the Devils, but he always saw right through you.

Between plays, Luke glanced at you, his expression turning serious. “I know you want to take things slow and everything,” he started, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your thigh. “But I was thinking… maybe you could come to my game this weekend.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and he must have noticed because he quickly added, “The guys already know about you, so it wouldn’t be a big deal or anything. We don’t have to post anything online, but I don’t want to hide you.” His voice was firm, certain. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

You hesitated, nerves flickering in your stomach.

“The Devils are playing the Leafs,” he continued, knowing that might tip the scales in his favor. “So, technically, you’ll be seeing both of your favorite teams.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You act like I’m a Leafs fan.”

He smirked. “You are a Leafs fan. You just refuse to admit it.”

A few months ago, the very thought of agreeing to this would have terrified you. The idea of stepping into the spotlight, facing criticism, and becoming visible would have been enough to send you into a spiral. But after everything you had been through with Luke, you knew one thing for sure: you trusted his love.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Luke blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—that’s it?”

You laughed at his shock. “Yep, that’s it.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Because I love you, Lukey. You stood by me when I was scared, when I didn’t trust this, when I wasn’t sure I could handle it. You were patient, you fought for us—even when your family made it hard. I want to be there for you too. I want to be the girlfriend in the stands, screaming my lungs out for you.”

His grin was instant, boyish and bright. “God, I love you,” he murmured before pulling you into a deep kiss.

You smirked as you pulled back, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I can’t wait for the weekend,” you teased, watching his lips twitch in amusement as you both turned back to the game. The Leafs were destroying Montreal, and you grinned. “Do you think I can meet Woll?”

Luke groaned, shaking his head. “You’re insane,” he said, but there was nothing but fondness in his tone. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m just teasing. But you really are the best, honey. Thanks for offering.”

Luke’s large palm slipped under your pajama top, fingers trailing slow, teasing patterns against your skin. His touch sent a shiver through you, the warmth of his palm settling just below your ribs, dangerously close to your breast. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, dipping his head to press open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “I love seeing you happy.”

His tongue traced light, deliberate circles on the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and a soft whimper slipped from your lips.Your fingers trailed down his chest, moving lower, before wrapping around his cock in a slow, languid stroke. He tensed beneath your touch, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as his head fell against your shoulder.

"If I knew you’d be this grateful just for the chance to meet Woll," he rasped, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "maybe I should set up a whole meet-and-greet."

You chuckled, your touch slow and purposeful. “Oh, let me give you a real taste of my gratitude…”

And just like that, all thoughts of hockey, public appearances, and game-day nerves melted away.

—

The hum of the arena is deafening as you step inside, the rush of energy from the crowd crashing over you like a wave. The lights pulse overhead, casting a bright glow over the ice below. You’re here for Luke, to support him, to cheer him on the way a girlfriend should, but there’s something about this place—the cold air, the flashing cameras, the subtle glances—that makes your nerves spike.

You knew this was going to be hard.

Dating someone like Luke—someone young, rising, and constantly in the public eye—was never going to be easy. The moment your relationship became public, you knew the scrutiny would follow. You had braced yourself for it, told yourself that the people who mattered—Luke, his family, his friends—knew your heart. But now, standing in the heart of it all, the weight of their eyes on you, the quiet whispers just loud enough to hear, it felt real.

Luke had reassured you before you left. He had watched you fuss over your outfit for way too long, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, reapplying your lip gloss three times, making sure everything was just right. He had only smiled, stepping behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Babe, you look amazing,” he had murmured. “But none of this matters. Just enjoy the night, okay? That’s all I care about.”

You had nodded, comforted by his words, but now? Now, under the luminous glow of the arena, your stomach was twisting.

The energy inside the arena was electric, the kind of buzz that sent chills up your spine. Fans decked out in red and blue roared with excitement as the players hit the ice, their sticks tapping against the boards, the sharp sound cutting through the deafening noise. You should’ve been excited—this was Luke’s big game, your first official game as his girlfriend.

But all you felt was nerves.

You sat with the WAGs, hands folded tightly in your lap as you tried to shake off the anxiety bubbling in your chest. Some of the women were nice—really nice, actually. Reanne, Curtis Lazar’s wife, was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you sat down, she had gone out of her way to make you feel welcome, chatting with you like you’d been friends for years. She had this warmth about her, something easy and kind, and it helped, a little.

But then there were the others.

The ones who barely acknowledged your existence. The ones who offered tight, forced smiles when you caught their eye, then turned away just as quickly. And then there were the ones who didn’t bother hiding their disdain at all.

You tried not to let it get to you. You focused on the game, let Reanne fill in the gaps whenever you looked lost, and even managed to enjoy yourself. For a while, it almost felt normal.

Until you heard them.

“She’s way too old for him... And what’s with those thighs? She could crush him with those things.”

The words were whispered but loud enough to make your stomach sink.

“I know, right? She looks like she’s been spending all her time in the gym, but not in a good way. It’s like, too much muscle, too little femininity.” Another voice scoffed, clearly enjoying the cruelty.

You clenched your fists, refusing to look at them, keeping your focus locked on the ice.

You knew you were strong, and you had worked hard for the body you had. You’d been a big runner—the kind of runner who had thick thighs and a solid ass from hours on the pavement.

You used to take pride in it. It was why you crossed the finish line of that half marathon when no one thought you could.

But now, their words—those cutting comments—had you questioning everything you’d once felt proud of.

Reanne’s body stiffened beside you, her hand gripping her drink so hard you thought it might shatter. You could feel her holding back, ready to snap. But before she could, another voice joined in, the laugh sharp and cruel.

“Seriously, she has to be in it for the money. Why else would someone her age be with a kid fresh out of college?”

Laughter. Actual laughter.

Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms.

You shouldn’t care. You knew this would happen. You knew people would judge. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

And then you saw it.

A few rows ahead, a girl had her phone out, camera angled just right.

She was recording.

Your breath caught in your throat.

She wasn’t recording the game.

She was recording them. Recording their words. Recording you.

Your chest felt tight, your pulse hammering in your ears. You wanted to look away, to pretend it wasn’t happening, but you couldn’t. You were frozen, caught in this horrible moment, trapped between humiliation and the overwhelming desire to disappear.

The rest of the game passed in a blur. You barely saw Luke on the ice. You barely heard the cheers, the commentary, the final buzzer signaling the end of the third period. By the time you snapped out of it, everyone around you was standing, gathering their things, filing out toward the exits.

Reanne touched your arm gently. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just tired.” It was a lie, but you said it anyway.

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t let their words get to you. Luke loves you, and that’s all that matters.”

You walked out of the arena, blending into the sea of fans, trying not to let it show—trying not to let the weight of their words sink too deep.

And you almost made it.

But then, later that night, the video surfaced.

You saw it before Luke did. Before anyone did.

A clip, grainy but clear enough. Voices sneering, words like knives. The comments were already rolling in, tearing you apart.

"Imagine being this insecure 💀"

"She looks so uncomfortable, lol. Like she knows she doesn’t belong."

"Luke deserves WAY better than this. Yikes."

"She’s literally just a glorified babysitter at this point 😂"

"Does she think having a nose that big makes her look sophisticated? Girl, it’s giving witch vibes."

"Her thighs look like they belong in a bodybuilding competition, not on a woman supposedly ‘dating’ someone half her age. 🚩"

"She’s trying so hard to act unbothered, but it’s actually embarrassing to watch."

"Granny’s out here desperately trying to keep up with the younger crowd. It’s kinda sad, tbh. 👵"

"What does Luke even see in her? It’s definitely not her looks. 😬"

"Her whole vibe is just ‘clinging to relevance.’ She’s obviously using him for attention."

These were the milder ones. The others were worse—full of venom, wishing harm on you, calling you a slut, and throwing out every vile insult they could think of.

The comments made you feel sick, a weight settling in your chest that you didn’t know how to shake. You’d never felt this insecure before—not like this. You’d had your struggles when you were younger, moments of doubt about your body, but you grew past them. You were strong, healthy, confident. But now? Now, their words crawled under your skin, making you question everything. And worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop.

But you didn’t tell Luke.

You couldn’t bring yourself to. He was always so strong for you, always there when you needed him. You wanted to do the same for him—be there on his game day, support him, and not add to the weight he was already carrying.

So you swallowed it down.

You went home with him, pretended everything was fine, let him kiss you, let him hold you. And only when he grabbed his book and started reading, you slipped into the shower.

You strip off your clothes, the chill of the bathroom air prickling your skin. As you step into the shower, the scalding water rushes over you, its heat wrapping around you, though it does little to quiet the chaos inside. The cold porcelain presses against your back, a sharp contrast that should bring you back to the present—but even that isn’t enough. You feel trapped. The cruel words from earlier echo in your mind, the judgment, the harshness, circling you like a storm you can’t outrun.

You’re ashamed of yourself for feeling weak. For letting it get to you. But despite your best efforts to keep it together, the tears come. And this time, you don’t fight them.

They fall freely, hot and relentless, and for the first time tonight, you allow yourself to feel the weight of it all. You spend what feels like hours under the running water, each tear that falls stripping away a little more of the armor you’ve been wearing all day.

Luke knocks gently on the door after a while. His voice is soft, just outside the bathroom. “Hey, are you okay in there?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and force a shaky breath, brushing the wet strands of your hair away from your face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, your voice betraying you. “Just wanted to wash my hair.”

Eventually, you rinse the last of the tears away, the water now lukewarm against your skin. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to steady your hands as you turn off the shower. The silence in the bathroom is almost suffocating, but it’s better than the weight of the words still lingering in your mind.

You wrap a towel around yourself, trying to gather your thoughts. You take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out, the cold air hitting you once more. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person looking back.

With a final, shaky breath, you step out of the bathroom, the cool air hitting your damp skin. Your heart feels heavy, the weight of the night still pressing down, but with each step toward the bedroom, the tightness in your chest loosens—just a little.

You force a smile onto your face, though it feels more like a mask than anything real. 

Luke is lying on the bed in just his boxers, scrolling through his phone. Your heart skips a beat as you take in his tall, athletic frame. His hair is still damp from his post-game shower.

"Luke, I’m so proud of you tonight," you say, sitting down beside him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "The whole team was amazing. I can’t believe you guys beat the Leafs! You really played your hearts out."

He smiles at you, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. You try to ignore it.

“I’m gonna make us some hot chocolate to celebrate,” you add, standing up. “I know how much you love it after a game.” You try to sound upbeat, like everything is fine, but as you turn toward the door, you feel his hand gently catch yours.

“Hey,” Luke says softly, pulling you back toward the bed. “Why didn’t you talk to me about the video?”

You freeze.

He’s holding you close now, his gaze steady, but there’s a quiet hurt in his eyes. “I saw it online. And I saw the comments as well. I… I don’t want to push you, but I need to know why you didn’t tell me.”

You bite your lip, your heart hammering in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been avoiding. You feel all your walls start to crumble.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know you have so much on your plate—your career, the pressure from the team. And I—I didn’t want to be another thing weighing you down. But when I saw those comments, when I heard what they said tonight… I just—I felt like I didn’t belong. Like I’m too old, too ugly, not thin enough… like…I just—”

Your voice wavers, thick with emotion, but Luke doesn’t rush you. He just waits, patient and steady, his eyes soft with understanding as he gives you the space to let it out.

“I think this was my breaking point,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been fighting from the start—trying to prove myself to everyone. And I know you’ve been fighting too—don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve had my back every step of the way. But first, it was Quinn, questioning if I was really with you for the right reasons. Then your mom, who hated me from the beginning. I know they all love me now, but it wasn’t easy. It’s been so stressful, Lukey.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “And then today at your game... what those girls said about me—it hit hard. I tried to brush it off, but then someone recorded it and posted it online. I felt humiliated, Luke. And when I checked the comments... they were brutal. Nasty, hurtful things. It’s messing with my head, and I don’t know how to ignore it anymore. I’ve never been this insecure. But ever since we’ve been together, all I hear is that I’m not enough. Not pretty enough, not young enough, not enough to be your partner.”

Your voice catches, a quiet sob slipping through before you can stop it. The moment it does, Luke moves. He doesn’t hesitate—he just pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your damp hair as he holds you close.

"I just… I wanted today to be about you, not about me." A shaky breath escapes you as you drop your gaze, fingers twisting nervously in your lap. "You played so well tonight, and all I wanted was to celebrate you. But instead, I let this—let them—get to me. And I hate that."

Luke exhales softly, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but sure, full of something unshakable.

“You are more than enough,” he murmurs, the words sinking into you like warmth on a cold night. “You always have been. You always will be. You’re everything to me.”

Luke doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, his hand resting against the back of your head like he’s trying to shield you from the weight of the world. You don’t realize how tightly you’re clinging to him until he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

For a moment, he just studies you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he reaches over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You watch as he hesitates for just a second before pulling something out, something small, something that glints under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

A ring with a stunning, oversized diamond that catches the light with every movement.

Your breath faltered.

“I need you to listen to me,” Luke says, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—something raw, something real. He holds the ring between his fingers, turning it slightly so the light bounces off the metal. “I’m not asking you anything right now, okay? So don’t freak out.”

You blink, heart hammering in your chest.

He exhales, a quiet laugh escaping, but there’s no nervousness in his expression—only certainty. “I bought this after our first date.” His eyes flicker up to yours, searching for your reaction. “After you left my apartment that night… I just knew. I knew what I wanted. What I wanted with you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

Luke swallows hard, his fingers tightening around the ring like it holds the weight of everything he feels for you. His eyes never leave yours, soft yet unwavering, full of a love so deep it steals the breath from your lungs.

“I didn’t buy this because I thought we’d rush into anything,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I bought it because from the moment you walked out of my apartment after our first date, I knew.” He pauses, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, tracing invisible patterns on your skin. “I knew that someday, this is where we’d end up. That no matter how much time passed, no matter what life threw at us, it was always going to be you.”

Your throat tightens, tears pooling in your eyes, but they don’t fall—not yet.

Your breath catches, and Luke lifts your hand, pressing the ring into your palm, letting you feel the solid weight of it.

“You are my safe place,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your skin, warm and reassuring. “No matter what happens in my career—if I have the best season of my life or if I screw up every game—I know I get to come home to you. And that means more to me than anything.”

Your fingers tremble as they curl around the ring, feeling the cool metal press into your skin.

Luke’s lips twitch into a soft, knowing smile, his dimples peeking through. “I’m not asking you to marry me right now. I know you’d think it’s too soon, and I want to do this right—when you're ready. But I need you to know… this is my plan. You are my plan.” His voice drops lower, thick with love, with certainty. “I want to spend my life with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want a house filled with love and warmth. And laughter—so much laughter.” His grin widens, eyes sparkling. “Kids' laughter. A lot of kids, running around, driving us crazy, making our house a home.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but you’re smiling, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

Luke lifts a hand, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb before cupping your face. “I just needed you to know that no matter what anyone says, no matter what doubts creep into your head… you are everything I have ever wanted. And one day, when the time is right, I’m going to put this ring on your finger for real.” Luke’s thumb traces slow, soothing circles against your cheek, his gaze still locked onto yours. “Just promise me one thing,” he murmurs. “Be honest with me. Always. No more hiding when you’re hurting, no more keeping things in because you think you have to protect me. We’re a team, okay? You and me.”

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to look away. You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper. “I promise.”

And then, the words just spill out—because how could you not say them?

“I love you, Luke.” Your voice is full of emotion, thick with everything you feel for him. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.” A watery laugh escapes as you shake your head. “And I know it sounds ridiculous, but I want this too. The house, the laughter, the kids running around and driving us insane. I want all of it. With you.”

Luke’s smile is so wide, so full of love, that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. But you’re not done. Because it’s not just the big things—it’s the little things too.

“I love how you have to eat the same exact snack after every game because you’re convinced it’s good luck, even though you definitely don’t need it,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “I love the way you belt out the wrong lyrics to every song in the shower like you’re performing at Madison Square Garden.”

Luke lets out a laugh, shaking his head, but you can see the way his ears turn red.

“And I love that you send me the dumbest texts—even when we’re literally in the same apartment,” you add with a grin. “Like, do you really need to text me just to ask if we have ice cream when you could just open the freezer?”

His laugh is full and unguarded, his arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your neck. “Okay, that one’s fair,” he admits, voice muffled against your skin.

You tilt your head back, looking at him, feeling completely at home in his arms. “I love all of you, Luke. The good, the bad, the absolutely ridiculous.” Your voice softens as your fingers trace along his jaw. “And no matter what happens—no matter what anyone says—you’ll always be my favorite thing.”

Luke exhales, his forehead resting against yours, his hands holding you like he never wants to let go. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers.

You smile, tilting your chin up just enough to brush your lips against his. “I think I do.”And when he kisses you, slow and deep, you know without a doubt—this is it. This is home. He is home. Sequel: Jack's story

[parkersbliss]

omg can i request 141 (separately ofc) with a reader that can sing? like they come home to the reader lost in the song and they're just standing there like 🫨 literally blown away lol

omg yeah of course you can!! this is so domestic and cutesy thank you 🤲🩷

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: none pure fluff!! soap being like in love ? that should be a warning cause he’s so damn cute thanks xxx

a/n: the songs I put in here and definitely the ones that came on while I was writing LOL. is it obvious who’s my favorite? I feel like it is 😔

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Price: 

Price can hear the music outside your house as he stops at the door. He shakes his head, hoping the neighbors couldn’t hear it at least. He unlocks the door and is hit with something he never expected: you singing. 

“Every time he smiles I let him again!” You sang. Price stands there, dumbfounded as you sing along with Bridget Mendler. He’s starstruck, lips parted and hand stroking his beard as he watches you. Your voice fluctuates with each note, pitching high or low with the song. He never knew you could sing. He’d been out to karaoke bars with you, but you always denied going up. He can’t understand how when you sound like this. 

“Everything is fine when… JESUS!” You scream at the sight of your boyfriend just staring at you. 

“When Jesus?” Price chuckled.

You have a hand over your heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

Price ignores what you said, more focused on what he just witnessed. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” 

“Hiding what?” 

“Your voice. You ‘ought to be on stage, love.” You feel heat rush to your cheeks at the comment. He takes a seat on the couch, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, don’t stop on the account of me. I want to hear more since you won’t sing at karaoke. Humble of you to not embarrass everyone else.” He kisses your knuckles, gazing into your eyes.

You laugh at him, grabbing the TV remote. That was totally the reason you didn’t sing at the karaoke bars. You flip through the videos, humming. “Got any song suggestions?”

Price smiles. “Plenty for you.” 

Ghost: 

Ghost sighs, dropping his bags outside your doorstep. His hand fidgets in his pocket, searching for the house key. He was eager to get back to you, having been away for what felt like years (it was only a few months). Honestly, he was always eager to come home now, knowing you were waiting with a warm hug and his favorite food. 

He fishes the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and grabs his bag. The scent of your home floods him, vanilla candles and freshly baked bread. For a second, he just breathes in the familiar air of his flat and then there’s you. 

He blinks, watching you completely unaware of his arrival. You’re in the kitchen, one of his old shirts and a whisk in hand singing. 

It suddenly occurs to Ghost, that he’s never heard you sing. He loves you in all ways, so normally he’d say he’s biased but by god, are you an angel? 

Your voice is melodic, matching the pitch with the singer perfectly and carrying like it was effortless. You should be on Broadway, hell you should be on a tour! How could you have kept this from him? 

You finally turn around, singing into your whisk, and jump when you see him. “Simon!” 

His mouth opened and closed, balaclava discarded as soon as he was home. “You can sing?” He asked stupidly. 

You drop the whisk into the bowl, fighting the heat in your cheeks as you step towards your beloved boyfriend. “Yeah.” 

He embraces you, swaying side to side. “How come I was unaware of this?” 

You shrug, looking at him. “You never took me to karaoke night.” 

He laughs, a sound you missed for months. “Oh, love, I will be taking you to all karaoke nights from now on. You have the voice of an angel.”

You beam at him. “You think so?” 

Simon kisses your forehead. “I know so.” 

Gaz: 

Gaz fidgets with the lock pad on your door, carrying your takeout order in one hand as he presses the code in. He’s expecting the sound of your dog barking to greet him, but his met with something even better — your voice. He drops the takeout on the kitchen table, listening to you. He’s not sure where you are, maybe the bedroom but he doesn’t want to interrupt you. 

You're belting out Honeymoon Avenue by Ariana Grande, and he swears you might be her. Your voice blends together, you don’t miss a note and you hit the vibratos with an impeccable ease. 

He shakes his head, smiling to himself. How was it that someone like him landed someone with a voice like that? Gaz thinks he might just sit in the kitchen listening to you sing forever. He could die standing here with you in his ear and he would die a happy man, for sure. Your voice gets louder and you round the corner. 

He just smiles at you, watching your eyebrows furrow in shock but continuing to finish out the song. 

“Coasting like crazy, can we get back to the way it was!” You sing, watching Gaz’s starstruck gaze. “When we were on honeymoon avenue.” You grab his hands, jumping and singing somehow still not faltering and making him dance with you. 

“You like that?” You giggled, as the song closed out. 

“I didn’t know you could sing.” 

“I think we ALL sing,” You joke, watching Gaz roll his eyes at your reference. 

“Darling, how did I get someone so perfect as you?” He asked, wrapping you in his arms.

You look past him at the takeout bag. “By fetching me food that’s how.” 

“If I keep doing so will you keep singing for me?” 

You kiss him softly. “Oh, baby I will always sing for you.”

Soap: 

Soap is a man in love. He knows this, you know this, the 141 knows this. Anyone with a pair of eyes would know this. He can’t help it, you’re literally just the light out of his life. His eyes spark to life and his smile nearly doubles in size when he sees you. 

Everything about you is perfect. You could do no wrong to him. In fact, you could run him over with your car and he would profusely apologize to you for even being in the way.

He’s that whipped for you. And the man knows everything about you. He’s got a list on his phone with your go-to order from every restaurant, your favorite color, ice cream flavors, all of it! Nothing gets past him. 

Except this. 

Soap is stood in the middle of your entryway, grocery bags in hand, and jaw on the floor. Here you were, his love, wrapping in one of his blankets, with a TV remote and karaoke. The thing was, he couldn’t tell it was karaoke. You were flawless in the delivery of the song, your pronunciations clear, every high and low note flowing through you like it was nothing. 

Again, he already thought you were perfect but his was a whole new level. Your voice was silky smoothing, making him weak in the knees. You couldn’t get more perfect, but here you are. 

“Baby,” He said. “You didn’t tell me you were a singer.” 

You turn around to face him, a bit startled. “You’re back!”

“And you sing!” 

You pause the karaoke. “Surprise?”

He sets the groceries on the floor, walking over to you. “You’re so perfect, you know? And you keep getting better and better.”

“Babe,” You whine at his words. He had a way of making you feel so loved with just that. 

He grabs the remote from you. “Wanna do a duet?” 

You grin and wrap your blanket around you both. “The day I say no to that is the day I’m dead.” 

[dumbslvtforethan]

im a jerk but your dude is a real dick ethan landry

-- after having to hear chads disgusting lies, ethan has to confess something

warnings mentions of smut, a bit of fluff, jealous Ethan 714 words

navigation

𐙚 mdni!! ↓↓ 𐙚༘⋆ೀೀ

CHAD WOULD SAY SOME GROSS THINGS about you to ethan just to make him jealous, or worse, lie about doing gross stuff with you to make him jealous. “I fucked her again dude” Chad said, walking into the dorm he shared with Ethan. “You can’t be fucking her every week” Ethan said, knowing what Chad was saying wasn’t true but still being completely jealous of him, he wanted to be the one fucking you, he wanted to be the one to make you cum, he wanted to hear the pretty noises he fantasized that you made.

Chad rambled on and on about the “night you two had”. But the truth was that you never had sex with Chad, you would make out occasionally but you never had even got into the “taking off your shirt stage” while making out. “Her tits bounced so beautifully, you had to see it dude” Chad continued to ramble “yeah sure” said Ethan, annoyed, bored but mostly jealous.

Chad smirked, seeing as he accomplished his mission of annoying Ethan.

You all had a frat party that night. While getting ready you started to think of ways to kiss Ethan, maybe if you put more lipstick on and curled your hair more he would like you. The truth was that the only reason you had made out with Chad before was to fill in the void of not having Ethan’s touch, you’ve always had a crush on him, and you always tried to make it visible but ethan never seemed to care. At least that’s what you thought. Ethan on the other hand was obsessed with you, he would kiss his picture of you on his phone every night. But from what Chad told him every week, he didn’t want to steal his best friend’s girl so he always took a step away from you.

You’ve had drank too much at the party, your head felt dizzy and cloudy. You were sitting on the couch trying to calm your mind, although you were comfortable, the loud music didn’t help much. And to make your situation even worse your drunk brain thought the solution to your dizzy vision and headache was more beer. You were on your way to the basement to grab more drinks when you started to feel dizzier, your vision got darker and blurrier, you were going to pass out when suddenly you were wrapped in the arms of someone you’d never expected, Ethan Landry. There was almost no time to feel the euphoria of your crush grabbing you in his arms, you passed out moments later in his hands. Ethan on the other hand thought this was an great opportunity to finally make you his. He was filled with rage seeing as Chad, the guy who so called you his “girl” wasn’t even paying attention to you, was flirting with other girls and most of all, that he didn’t know Ethan’s intentions, if they were bad, he just nodded when Ethan said he would take you home while you were in his arms.

You woke up to find a gaze that you’d never expected it, Ethan. You were laying down on his lap while he admired you caressing your lips with his lips. You couldn’t believe he was kissing you, and without a warning, you lifted yourself up sitting on his lap while still making out with him. “Hey beautiful” he whispered in your neck, that send you chills all the way to your pussy. “I know you’re fucking Chad but I just can’t contain myself with you, I’ve loved you for months Y/N”

He said, you were confused by the Chad part but also, mesmerized. “What do you mean by ‘fucking chad’ ?” you said, confused “he tells me every week about how amazing you looked while he was pounding himself into you” you raised your eyebrows by the disgusting words that came out of that tall enchanting man. “Ethan I’ve never fucked chad” you said confused. Ethan was in disbelief “I’m so relieved, honestly, I was always so jealous when he would say stuff like that” Ethan said, confessing his truth. “Don’t worry cus I’m yours now.” you said, grabbing him into another kiss. It was Ethan’s turn to tell chad all about his eventful evening. 

@jchampionsgf - on tumblr

a/n: sorry this is a little bit short

[zahri-melitor]

I was reminded that I hadn't actually read Robin/Argent Double-Shot as it's only available on the site of incoming computer viruses, so I pulled it up and went through it.

First impression: was that a Greg Land costume redesign for Argent? That explains so much. Can’t believe this contained a worse idea than the Huntress bullet-wound ab window, but a hip cutout that’s open to the navel to show off the DANGLING CROSS belly button ring? Yeah. That’s got it beat.

Seriously. Toni comes to Tim to ask for training advice and all I could do was shriek ‘try wearing a costume that COVERS your body piercings rather than inviting them to be torn out!!’

Okay that aside. Argent adorably is scared of asking Nightwing for help (not for long! You’ll be getting the full experience shortly, Toni) so decides Robin is exactly the right level of experienced but non intimidating to ask for training as she wants to get more serious following Joto’s death. Tim’s a bit baffled, and protests he’s still a sophomore at this hero stuff (which tracks, he’s still 14 here, he’s into his second year as a hero), but agrees to let her tag along on his investigation/bust that she’s interrupted.

This is also one of those comics where Tim goes ‘oop’ a lot so if that’s your thing, go seek it out.

Tim talks down to Toni a bit through this but in his view she HAS just interrupted and ruined his investigation, to ask a favour. They do get along better after their initial spat (as Is Traditional for comics, of course)

Steph doesn’t get a lot to do in this story: she spots Tim with Another Female Hero and immediately gets jealous and catty (as she’s been following Tim around again to spy on him). Not an unusual plot for Steph honestly, though I will note Dan Jurgens wrote this one. After a fight where Steph drops in to rescue Tim after he ends up at gunpoint, Toni and Steph bicker (because girls can’t be friends they need to have conflict).

There’s actually an interesting discussion here as the whole situation is over a street level drug bust and tracking the supplier; Toni comments she’s used to dealing with costumed supervillains, not street criminals, and Steph acts tough as that’s MOST of what she deals with (that isn’t Arthur).

Tim does talk over Steph and say she’s not ready for a team yet here (though admittedly, at this point she IS still bopping around in a homemade costume with no training and a lot of bravado and not much else). They’re in that combative arguing stage still where Tim’s still dating Ari but Steph keeps flirting at Tim (like it’s only a few months since Ariana gets transferred to an all girls’ school after the couch incident).

Anyway, the crook gets away, Argent does confiscate the drugs, and we get more hints about how Bad News Toni’s dad is (surprise, if you don’t know anything about him, he’s a former senator, a drug smuggler and has implied mob connections).

[0and0its0doctor0]

A subtle interest

OFC x Spencer Reid

Borrowed request from someone else.

No warning tags.

Still new. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if I should continue.

Spencer sighed a little as he tugged at his bowtie and Emily smacked his hand away from it. He scowled and she smiled. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into coming to the ballet with you.” He said, shoving his hands nervously in his pockets. “It’s my best friend's performance and she gave me a plus one. I didn’t want to let the ticket go to waste and I know you need to get out of the house for a bit. All you do lately is go to work and go home. You haven’t gone out with us in like a month.” Emily said as they waited for the car she ordered for the night to pull up. “Hey. I just want to make sure you are okay Spencer. If you really don’t want to go you can turn around and walk away right now.” Emily said honestly looking at him. He let out a deep sigh and gave her a bit of a forced smile. “Well I don’t want you to go by yourself.” He said and Emily squealed. “Perfect.” She said as the car pulled up and the two climbed in. 

The drive to the theater wasn’t very long but Spencer nervously spat out facts about ballet the entire time. Emily knew it made him feel better so she just smiled and nodded, she felt kind of bad for the driver. Once they arrived she pulled out the tickets and practically dragged Spencer inside and to their seats which were in the 3rd row. Spencer sat there fidgeting with his bowtie until the lights lowered and the curtain raised to reveal a beautiful redheaded ballerina standing in the middle of the stage. Spencer felt his hands drop into his lap and he quickly became entranced by the girl dancing on the stage. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. As she moved flawlessly across the stage Spencer bit his lip and leaned forward in his seat a bit. When the music ended and she struck her final pose on the stage he jumped to his feet to give a standing ovation along with everyone else in the theater. Emily smiled as she watched Spencer become so enthralled with the girl. “Come on, there's a gala after the performance and we are invited.” She said, directing the man to the portion of the theater where the gala was being held. 

“So what did you think?” Emily asked and Spencer smiled a little brighter than he had in weeks. “That was…she was…I mean. She was beautiful. Amazing dancer.” He said feeling a bit nervous for some reason. “Emily!” He heard someone call out and he turned to see a beautiful redhead walking towards them. Oh gosh. It was her. Spencer gave a nervous smile as the girl walked up to the pair of them and quickly hugged Emily. “You look beautiful!” She said and Emily smiled, waving her hand to dismiss her. Emily did look beautiful in the red dress she was wearing. “You look beautiful! You were amazing. I can't believe how good you have gotten. I mean I know you were always good but just wow.” Emily said and the girl smiled. Spencer just fidgeted looking between the two. “Oh Spencer, this is Arabella Montgomery. We’ve been friends since high school. Bella, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. He works with me at the FBI.” Emily introduced the two and Spencer gave her a little wave which she returned. “Did…did you uhm. Did you know that ballet started in the 1500s but women weren’t allowed to dance in ballet until around 1681? King Louis XIV of France would actually dance in a lot of the performances himself.” Spencer’s cheeks were bright red by this point and it made Bella smile. “I didn’t know that. I find that very interesting.” Bella said with a grin. Spencer was avoiding eye contact and kept looking down at his feet. 

“Why don’t I go get us some champagne.” Bella suggested and gave a little twirl that caused her short dark green dress to fluff out around her. “I can’t remember the last time I heard you stutter. You okay?” Emily asked, looking up at Spencer whose cheeks got impossibly redder. “What? Yeah. I’m fine, I just. She is really pretty. And I feel like my heart is going to explode. I don’t like it.” He said and Emily chuckled. “Sounds like someone is falling in love.” Emily teased and Spencer frowned. “I’ve never felt like this around someone before. I don’t know what to do?” He asked, looking at Emily desperately. “I know she’s single. Ask her out for coffee or something.” Emily suggested and he nodded. “Okay.” He said and they both watched as Bella walked up with 3 glasses of champagne that she quickly passed out. “To old friends and new friends.” She said looking up at Spencer with a smile as they all tapped their glasses together and everyone took a sip. 

Emily and Bella fell into an easy conversation and Spencer just watched the girl stand there and talk. He memorized the curves of her face and body, how she favored her left leg a little and adjusted more of her weight to her right suggesting a possible injury or precursor to an injury. He memorized how her hips curved and dipped but that her ribs protrude slightly. She was perfect. He took in how her cheeks flushed a little when she noticed that he was staring at her and he quickly looked away. “Did you know that professional tutus can take up to 90 hours and up to 100 yards of tulle to make?” She asked and it caused Spencer to smile. “I know some ballet facts. I have been dancing since I could walk after all.” She said with a soft giggle and the sound made Spencer’s heart clench. He wanted to wrap his arms around her thin waist and kiss every inch of the pale skin of her neck and shoulders and devour her with love. It was such a strange feeling for him that it was kind of scaring him. He noticed very subtly that she shivered and he quickly tugged his suit coat off and draped it around her shoulders. “Thank you.” She said, giving him a smile. “I’m going to go use the restroom.” Emily said giving Spencer a look that she typically reserved for unsubs who wouldn’t confess their sins. 

“So you and Emily work together, that's really cool.” Bella gestured towards the closets table and the two sat down. “Yeah she is really good at her job.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “Do you want to get coffee with me in the morning?” He blurted out and almost wanted to smack his own face. That was such a stupid thing to do. “Yeah I would love that.” She replied with a smile causing him to pause and look at her with a raised eyebrow. Did he hear that right? “Okay…uhm. McAlpines on 24th avenue tomorrow at 8?” He asked and she nodded. She stood up and took off his jacket and handed it back to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently leaving behind a red lipstick print. “See you tomorrow Spencer.” She said and stood up with a grin. “Tell Emily I said goodnight.” She turned to walk away and all Spencer could do was nod…repeatedly. “Why are you nodding?” Emily asked, walking up as Bella walked away and that was when she noticed the lipstick print on Spencer's cheek. Emily quickly pulled out her phone and dialed a number holding it up to her ear. “Hey Morgan, it worked. Yeah. A kiss on the cheek. I think he short circuited.” She giggled and hung up the phone quickly. Things went just the way she was hoping they would. Now maybe Spencer would have a reason to smile. 

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 3, 2024

I am endocrine sick again, I probably will be for another week. I took my medicine at the normal dose but I have a hunch that the dose needs to be adjusted and that’s why I feel like shit. Blood tests wont be done for another week and idk how much longer after it’ll take to get back to me. I was doing art decently pretty early on in the week but I’ve layed off the past 2 days and will likely continue to do that for a bit.

Music: I got another instrumental piece done I think, I might add samples if I can find good ones but I might not. I got a little drawing done up so I can animate a little loop for that in front of a piano roll animation probably, I just need to sit down and throw that together + a thumbnail. I have a cover sketched for a batch ‘album’ to get a bunch of my other instrumentals out (not quite all of them but still a lot), I just need to finish it and those can get throw out there. LF is done basically, I might go multi-export it to tweak the vocal volume, but otherwise it just needs visual. I am going to try to stick to my one-song-a-month plan, but instead of finishing another old idea I had a new one while I was delirious, and got some cute lyrics done and more outlined so it’ll be a new one this month. I don’t have a name decided yet, it’s a sad little ballad about birds. Also since I figured out how to install the IK bundle I bought I’ll maybe mess with that more. My grandmother is potentially getting a new computer so I might grab her old one’s hard drive so I can finagle some files around and install the rest of the stuff.

Comic: I feel like shit because I barely did anything for the comic. I looked over my thumbnails, didn’t like the one I had for page 16, redid it, did the sketch, started lining it and had to stop mid panel because I got sick. I’ll probably try to chip away at writing stuff while I’m sick, I had some ideas for the loose thread stuff I came up with years ago finally coming together yesterday at the grocery store, and might be able to actually get a tertiary comic concept together, but again it’s not as solid as O’Malley or Backstage right now so it won’t be a priority. It’ll just maybe be doodle fodder while I’m sick.

Uhhh epithet TTRPG right. I got a bunch of tokens done early in the week. And some more scriptwriting done on the tutorial video. I need to get maps done, that’s going to be the bottleneck for a while. If I feel well enough to boot up my computer today I have the assets to get the last of the stage 2 maps done, but I’d want to make some more decorations for them too. Stage 3 is a science lab building so shouldn’t be too hard to get a tile set for. Once I’m feeling better honestly I might try to crunch myself to get the rest done. Maybe.

The other small animation thing: I believe all the assets are done other than some credits text, which I might just use a text tool for honestly. Again I just need to sit down and animate, I’m just a bit blocked, burnt out, sick, whatever other excuse I have, it’ll get done when it gets done.

Next week I don’t really have a concrete plan. I think I’ll try some easy writing stuff for now (comic and lyrics for this month’s song), and I’ll try some pixel art stuff to ease myself back into map making. Some pixel art people over on Bluesky found me and seem to like me so I kinda want to give them more of what they like. Plus pixel art can be done while my hands are shaky from the whole sick thing. Once I’m better I’ll finish comic page 16 and get back to token making. Everything kinda depends on my health, but I’m doing what I can. Also make sure you drink plenty of milk everyone, or if you can’t, get plenty of whatever your calcium source may be.

[sensei-venus]

Random Thoughts/Headcanons on Hawk/Pregnant!Reader/Pregnant!Midwife!Moon

(Unedited) (Based around this Discussion) ( @gemini-sensei because we be vibing to this shit so much🥰😍)

I keep thinking about how as they both get bigger the more cuddly they get with each other.

Hawk is all for it during the first half of the pregnancy because he feel like it’s safer. He can’t be around them constantly because he still has to go to work. With Moon basically still having her own work schedule along with Reader, it’s best bet they stay together.

Most of the day they are completely hip to hip with each other. After a long time of thinking about it they believe it was honestly their best option that they got pregnant so close together. Yes multiple hormones and growth and so on. But they got to go though it together and they could lean on each other if the need to.

(Yes I made this part a little sad. Why because I can.)

During the first half of the pregnancy Reader starts to get dizzy more often then not. At first it’s completely harmless, Moon being a midwife says it’s completely normal to occasionally get a little dizzy. It’s just a normal symptom of pregnancy. But then one day when Reader is at work, she is in her own little office and she passes out in her chair. Luckily it’s only a minute or two that she’s out but she wakes up and freaks out. She calls a ambulance and goes straight to the hospital.

Moon and Hawk drop everything and rush to the hospital.

Moon is upset because she has no idea what is wrong, now she’s thinking about her own pregnancy and how she should have been there with Reader. Hawk is the same way, thinking he should have quite work for a while and went on leave to take care of both of his girls. But ultimately they don’t blame each other because they couldn’t have known any of this would’ve happened. When the doctor finally lets them back they find out that Reader developed a intolerance to something. It was most likely brought up and amplified because of the pregnancy. No one would have know until it actually happened and they could diagnose it. The doctor tells her that she doesn’t need bed rest but she needs to be relaxed and most importantly have someone with her if she can.

After they get home they have a long much needed conversation. Hawk and Moon don’t want to force Reader to do anything she doesn’t want to, but they make a good argument.

She needs to be in a relaxed and safe environment now.

Moon doesn’t want to bring it up but she does. She has more then enough money from her mom tucked away in a offshore bank account that she can use any time she wants. It will be replenished as well any time she calls her for more. If she was frank about it none of them needed to be working with the amount of money her mom has given to her. Reader understands this and after long though she agrees that she can’t go back to work. So she leaves her job and goes to work with Moon.

Moon’s job is pretty cushioning, she has a great work schedule for the most part and luckily enough she could take on as many clients as she wanted. She promised herself and her lovers that she would stop taking any more new clients the minute she found out she and Reader was pregnant. She only had three clients who where all in late stage pregnancy, when her and Reader where about four months in she was all done. Her clientele list was completely blank and she officially stopped working after that.

Moon makes it a big deal that she pulls out her midwife equipment every once and a while to use on the two of them. She has a portable heartbeat finder. Sometimes she pulls it out and she takes turns between using it on herself and Reader. They listen to each other’s babies heart beats. Moon always giggles when she does Reader’s because Reader always ends up laughing mid way through. The little heart beats always seem to lift their spirits when some days are worse then others. Hawk loves to listen to them as well when he is home with them.

Hawk loves taking them out to baby stores all the time when he’s off work. They like shopping on line for stuff but going in person is so much fun. He gets to spend the day with his baby mamas. Looking at all kinds of new stuff that they had no idea existed. Some times his head spins a little because when he sees something he likes he always had to double up on it. Reader and Moon are dead set on making sure to get doubles of everything and or matching things. Matching outfits are Moons favorite thing to pick out with the help of Hawk.

Hawk thinks it’s the cutest thing when they first start showing. The two women do everything together now that they are pregnant. At first Moon is the bigger one, naturally do to her being a few weeks ahead of Reader in pregnancy. Reader helps her do things like reaching down, reaching up so on. They tie each others shoes if they go out and can’t wear slip on shoes. They help put on each other’s underwear. It’s literally one of the cutest things he has ever scene.

But then Reader starts to catch up with her.

Both of them are big and can’t do much. They have to work together to do the most simple things. If they need something off the floor or drop something, one of them has to brace against something and help hold the other so they can reach down and get it. Cue days where they act like they are going to get up and do stuff when Hawk is leaving for work, only for them to get back into bed or lay on the couch together. Moon try’s her best to stay active but as time goes in she just can’t. Reader hates walking around at that point and just makes Moon stay with her all the time.

Hawk literally burst out laughing one time because he came home to them both laying opposite to each other on their bed. Reader was crying because she wanted something from the fridge. Moon was also crying but because her feet hurt and she just couldn’t bring herself to get up to go get it for the other women. Their just hormonal sobbing together until Hawk brings them what they where both craving from the kitchen.

Insert Hawk crying when Moon’s baby starts visibly moving around. Kicking, punching and moving around and in her big belly. Everyone is so excited to see the baby start to move around. Reader is in awe as she feel the baby move under her hand. She asks so many questions about what it feels like because a she has been able to feel is flutters so far. A few weeks later Reader’s baby starts moving to. Both women go crazy at this. Taking turns feeling each others baby’s kick.

Hawk takes multiple pictures of them with their bumps together.

All of them are in silent awe when the baby’s kick each other for the first time. They both decide to move around at the same time as the two women are touching belly’s.

Honestly I could go on and on with those three. But Moon/Reader are always so cute with each other pregnant.🥰 I love @gemini-sensei so much because she always makes me think about some of the most random cuteness things in my head.

[gayphob1a]

STWG Daily Drabble 12/16/23

Prompt: looking back

100 days.

100 days they were together. Just over three months of secrecy. They’d gone from friends to so much more in such a small time frame, but it felt so much longer, like eons of finding safety in Eddie’s smaller frame.

And now Steve’s alone. Again. He kept his emotions locked up tight like the padlock on Eddie’s decrepit trailer. He can’t stand to see the kids right now, not when they’ll ask him what happened, why Eddie left in such a rush.

The tour was sudden. Just a small trial route around the midwest to see if Corroded Coffin really could pull a crowd of more than five drunks, and the kids helped him pack his and Wayne’s life up into the back of his squeaky old van, but they could also see something else behind both Steve and Eddie’s eyes when they hugged goodbye for the last time. They knew there was more to it than just a month-long tour, and explaining it to them would be the last crack Steve’s heart needed to shatter once and for all. Even Robin couldn’t slip past the walls he’d put up to find that final piece of the puzzle.

Because Steve was the only one who knew: Eddie would not be coming back.

And that was as much his fault as it was the music’s.

“Eddie, please. You can’t go.” Steve begged, ready to drop down on his knees and plead, ready to drop the three little words that had been on the tip of his tongue since they survived the upside down. But he also knew he could never say them, not like this. Not when it felt more like a manipulation than the truth.

“How can you even ask that of me? Steve, you know this is everything I've ever wanted! I’ll be like 12 hours away, max, and it’s only a month.”

“A month away from me, you mean. A month with your ‘everything’ apparently. Who knows who you’ll meet out there. I mean, i’ve seen you on stage, people will be throwing themselves at you.”

Eddie got quiet then, sullen and close to tears. “Do you really think I would do that to you? Do you honestly believe I would cheat on you?”

“I don’t want you to have to decide if you will or not,” Steve whispered, far too honest for his own good.

“That isn’t a decision for me because i already know what i would choose. It’s you, Steve. It’ll always be you. Why don’t you just come with us? I already talked to the guys. you know they’re more than happy to have you come along too.”

“You already know my answer to that, Ed’s. I can’t leave the kids and if you’re gonna go, you deserve to get to experience this on your own.”

“So… what are you saying?”

“you know what i’m saying.”

“No, Steve, I don’t. I want to hear you say it or I won’t believe it.”

Steve sighed, the breath escaping with a single tear he’d been engaged in a losing battle with. “I’m saying maybe it’s better if we go our separate ways. If we find our way back to each other, so be it, but I can’t leave and you can’t stay, so really what else is left for us?”

“Please don’t do this. Steve, I lo—“

“Don’t finish that sentence or it changes everything,” Steve pleaded, tears streaming down his face in droves.

“Everything’s changing anyway, isn’t it? Shouldn’t i get to say it at least once?”

Steve shook his head, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder. He couldn’t stand to look at him when the words finally hit his ears.

“I love you, Steven Anita Harrington.”

“that’s not my middle name,” Steve said, and kissed Eddie for the last time.

He didn’t say it back.

Looking back, he should have said it.

[sexintheraine]

What the actual fuck?

I can’t believe he just confessed to having feelings for me! Well, technically, he called it a “vibe”. And technically he’s married. And technically, WE WORK TOGETHER. but technically… I’ve also been curious but never acted on it.

He helped me move my exes stuff out of our house. He held me while I cried my eyes out at the devastation of it all. He helped move my bed and before I could stop him, he saw the handcuffs tucked under the mattress. We joked about it while I was embarrassingly blushing. He knows every heart break I’ve ever had. He knows who every song I’ve ever written is about.

He knows me like my family knows me. Plus a tiny bit of the kinky sides too. He said we’re cut from the same cloth. What the fuck? My brain is racing. My heart rate quickened. I can’t believe he just told me that….

We have been friends for almost 10years. We’ve traveled the United States together. I’ve seen him through divorce and sang at his most recent wedding. I’ve played with his kids and I’m basically a pseudo aunt to them.

I’ve seen him run into the ocean, fully naked.

He’s seen me jump into a pool, fully clothed.

He’s been a body guard and a confidant. He’s seen me cry (probably more than any man). He knows literally everything about me. Even my secret romances- that I’ve told no one else about.

I have a TON of videos of him on my phone. We’ve shared stages and I got drunk at his wedding. Oh god. I got drunk at his wedding and told his mom I loved her and I wanted her at my wedding when the day comes.

What. The. Fuck.

He watches my dog (with his wife and kids) when I go out of town. I watch their dog when they go out of town.

There has and always will be flirtatious energy with us. He said it will never go away. And I really honestly hope it doesn’t…

This cannot ruin everything. I won’t let it. It’s nice to know. I’m flattered as hell. But he’s a married man.

What the fuck is with all these married men confessing their love to me? This is the 3rd one in 3 months. But absolutely the most mind blowing.

He’s also a coworker and fellow musician. I don’t date musicians. But also, technically. He’s a drummer. Technically, he’s my drummer.

Technically. He’s a very sexy drummer. And technically. I’ve seen every version of him. And now. The next version I’ll see of him will have a new lens. Both of us now know. But we won’t do anything about it. We’ll continue living our lives. Have our relationships and our heartbreaks at arms length.

My mind is fucking spinning… 😧

[soultek]

All She Said Was Faster: A Concept

Author’s Note: I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to post this. I saw Top Gun Maverik nearly a year ago and I was formulating this idea whilst in the cinema but... in true me fashion, I sat on it for a whole year, and am delivering it now! I think the fact I went to a WEC race this year has finally pushed me to polish the edit and post it! 😊

I love Bailey so much she’s actually crossed over into another fic of mine, if you like her, I’ll be happy to post that too!

For those of you new to my ‘concepts’ it’s basically a one scene ‘drabble’ (usually meet-cute) that would be part of a fic I will probably never write the full story of. 

Disclaimer: Obviously apart from Bailey (and Luca) none of the characters are mine. I used an IRL team as her team, but didn’t name any members so no IRL people are involved here.

Warnings: Cat calling... swearing... Jake sometimes might come off as OOC but that’s also kinda the point? I tried to make him walk the line.

Word Count: 5176

Premise: Fighter Jet vs Race Car. An exciting concept - even if the winner seems obvious. And to look at him, Jake would be one to gloat at such a win; but that’s not what he’s running after her for.  On the airfield he’s comfortable... but Bailey wants to know what he’s like once she gets him in her domain... 

--- [Playlist]---

Are you ready for a comeback? Are you ready to fly? Are you ready for the moment? Get ready to ride Shout out to the legends Rising from the wreckage Count down the seconds And start your engines

---

Nights turn into days Days turn into months I was always alone Until you came along Now you've got me singing

I think I like you, maybe more than I should Hurts like heaven and it feels so, feels so You do me better than any other love could Hurts like heaven, and it feels so, feels so good It feels so good

--- [Inspo.] ---

It was hardly worth even parking the car up – she knew she’d lost long before she crossed the line. The jet screaming overhead confirmed it. She might as well drive the car out of the airfield and peace out. That would have been her preference. Only this Lamborghini was hardly road legal, and her team would have had a few words to say to her – none of them particularly glowing…

She walked away from the car without really looking at any of the mechanics rushing over to check it, before they wheeled it into its container for transporting to the factory – luckily, being last year’s model, it wouldn’t be needed next race. Especially with how hard she’d pushed it. Her trainer knew to leave her well alone too, as she continued walking straight down the taxi way. She needed to cool off a little bit.

In her head, Bailey Walker was going through every move and turn she made; did she make the best use of the throttle, every paddle shift up and down – where she’d decided to put her foot down and where she’d lifted… where had she lost time? If she’d have just decided to break a little later here, or not steered so wide there, decided not to drift… or perhaps decided to drift. Who was she really kidding though, it was a fighter jet not another car… No doubt whatever her grievances were, they’d be talked out at a debrief – which she would request; even if not a championship race if she could learn from it, it would be information worth having.

She became aware of someone distantly calling, but she was so in her head at this stage that it took a while for her to figure out it was her name they were calling. “Hey!!! Heeeey!!! Bailey!!! Wait!! Wait, Bailey!!”

As soon as he’d seen her walking away, Jake Seresin knew that he had to chase her down the taxi way. Despite post-flight checks that couldn’t wait, and despite all the aviators and ground team trying to congratulate him on his win… He wasn’t sure if she was going to collect her things and get going, or if she had the intent of staying.

He’d almost caught up to her by the time she turned around, already having stripped her overalls to tie around her waist. She’d left her helmet back in the car – there was too much season left to get frustrated and throw it, but she wasn’t one to hide behind her visor unless she was really upset. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder for a minute, watching the car swarmed with mechanics. She’d taken it more than just a little hard in places - in the set-up shots the camera crew had taken she’d had a lot of smoke and wheel spin off the line too - more than once. What was the point of not putting on a show for the cameras, after all? She winced apologetically at the thought that doing so wouldn’t have been good. Hopefully she hadn’t pushed too hard. Even if this was just a show car, the team were still precious about it; why wouldn’t they be?!

When she focused back on the man who’d been calling her name, she was almost surprised to find it was Jake Seresin. The pilot she’d been hanging out with all day - that she just raced against. Not only that, but he was still in nearly all his flight gear – he’d surely made sure to waste no time. No, Jake was much more bothered about catching her than he was any necessary checks post-race. Bailey stopped, and took half a pace back on one foot, arms folded, defensive. She’d watched this guy all day - he’d got a little too much ego, he was cocky, he was a little too good looking – An All-American Dream – and he knew it. He had every right to be, especially now. Jake was the best in his class - and it more than showed. All Bailey expected was for him to gloat. She wanted to beat him to it - swallowing back disappointment, she spoke as he stopped a few paces from her, “Congr-” “Hey, are you going now? Or are you staying - they said there was catering earlier, but I wondered if your team might need to hit the road…” Her eyebrows raised, and she counted herself surprised, it seemed like a strange angle to start on. She didn’t quite know what to do but answer with a question of her own – and Bailey knew she sounded as bemused as she was. “Are… you staying?” His smile didn’t quite reach cocky, “I asked first.” “Well, I got nowhere to be.” Bailey shrugged before casting her eyes to the sky, cheeks burning, because even if she knew beating him was an impossibility she still hated losing. “That was some nice flying. I wish I saw more of it, but I was trying to focus on the road… you deserved to win. Sounds like when they said you were top of your class, they really did mean it.” When Bailey looked back to him, Jake wasn’t looking at her, even though he was smiling – he didn’t seem the type to get bashful, and yet… - it was a very different kind of smile, “I wish I could have seen more of the car… I guess it’s a little hard, y’know, going vertical. But you were really giving it some. Besides, I’ve not graduated yet, so that might not be true for much longer… you are certified fastest in your team, it shows. That wasn’t a big margin.” It was a compliment. She bowed her head a little - “Thank you. I guess that can’t be bad coming from the fastest pilot either.” “Guess not!” He grinned, then pointed back the way he’d just run, “You wanna… grab something together - I mean, you can eat with your crew I’m not gonna… I mean, I just…” Jake realised he was tripping over his words and Bailey was giving him a look he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But she at least seemed amused by this - waiting for him to string the right words together. She was letting him try. Patient. Instead, he paused and rolled his eyes, “I’m staying. We’ve hung out all day talking about our vehicles of choice. I guess it’d be good to get to know each other a little better.” Bailey smirked to herself before nodding, “Sure. That’s cool with me.”

This was true – they had spent nearly all day together to film this segment – Race Car vs Fighter Jet. Or… whatever it would eventually be called, but that was the entire premise. They’d been introduced first thing this morning as the two competitors – and the two fastest members of their respective ‘teams’. Jake had yet to graduate his Top Gun class, and Bailey was an up-and-comer, competing in an all-women racing team. (At least from a driver point of view). Once it had been explained what they had to do, and establishing shots had been done of both them and their vehicles of profession, the two had been left to their own devices as the crew filmed the more science-based parts of the day with presenters. Where upon Bailey and Jake had made general comparisons between the jet and the car; discussing top speeds, aerodynamics, handling, cornering, 0-to-60-to-over-100 (as if that mattered to a jet, but it was all good fun!) amongst other things…

Sitting here in the catering tent – or, hanger, as that’s what they were using – across from him, trying to talk about himself without coming across as too egotistical (she could tell; though she had a healthy amount of ego herself, as a competitive racer. It was almost a necessity.), Bailey wasn’t sure if she was really interested in him or not. If she had a type, she wouldn’t say the man talking to her now was it. But she wasn’t going to deny Jake Seresin was attractive. That he didn’t make her heart race as fast as her car when they were introduced… she just, wasn’t sure. And Jake? He was talking 100 miles an hour, but he still managed to be collected. But when he kept looking at her to check if she was still hanging on to every word he said, there was a constant look on his face that intrigued her. ‘Do I make him nervous?’ That confused Bailey a little. He didn’t have that type of energy about him. Jake seemed too sure of himself to ever have problems articulating; especially around women. Bailey could bet they usually tripped over themselves for him. But, it was that sort of look - maybe not present in his body language but in his eyes. Maybe it was dread. But he had no reason to fear her, so what?

As they continued to talk, eventually it dawned on her. (And there must have been something between them, given that no one disturbed them the entire time – no one from his team or hers. She expected a debrief, or at least someone to tap her shoulder and say when that would be, yet nothing. They were just left alone to talk.) So what did dawn on her, was that Jake’s look was the fear of her slipping away. The fear of her getting up and leaving – of that person, whoever it would be, eventually stepping in - and that he still wouldn’t have told her everything he wanted to. Of the chance he’d never get to see her again. Bailey knew she couldn’t just voice that though - he’d play it off; more likely Jake would throw it back at her, say she’s the one who can’t resist him. But she knew… he was chasing. It was the reason he ran after her on the taxi way, it was the reason he asked her to stay. Jake already had a crush – whether he would admit it out loud or not.

She should have guessed this from the immediate introduction. He was Jake, and he let her call him that – not by his last name, nor rank. Not by his call sign – even though almost everyone else was doing one or the other. The one time she had decided to ask about it; just in case he wasn’t one to correct her, he’d said “Jake is fine!” with one of those smiles that she was sure had all the girls falling for him.

 There was a natural end to the day though. There had to be. The shooting was wrapped, and the crews were packing up around them as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. It was unfortunate for them both – given the way their discussion had gone there was some kind of chemistry, that was undeniable. Whatever it was – or was going to be. There was a feeling that they both still had something to say.

All sets of teams around them did their best to pack up without having to disturb them until the last possible second, but eventually her trainer, Luca, had to interrupt. “Bailey?” The two of them trailed their conversation off to look at him. “Sorry, the car is probably going to be here to pick you up within the next 10 minutes. You wanna debrief?” “In the car will do, Luca, thank you.” “Alright, I’ll come back when it’s here.” He nodded politely to Jake before leaving them alone once more. Although he didn’t show it on his face, Jake was disappointed – his emotional state slumped a little, but he knew he couldn’t keep her here. He was a charmer, he knew that - he knew how it was to flirt back with the girls that came walking up at The Hard Deck and it was easy. But the woman sitting across from him now didn’t seem to be falling for it - no matter how engaged Bailey was in what he said, there were no hearts in her eyes that meant he could persuade her anywhere…

All he could do was just hope that her interest was at least genuine. That she wasn’t talking to him for the sake of having someone there to talk to – or to be polite for today. Jake shook that off – her whole damn mechanic team was here, she had plenty of people she could choose to talk to and she was spending her time with him. He’d got this!

Still, there was no harm in trying – and there was an urgency now. He had ten minutes before she walked out of his life forever. “So, uh… any chance of getting your number, before you go? I mean, besides the one you race with?” And he winked, with an appropriate laugh. Although it had been peeled off the car for the race (along with the majority of the sponsors, given the video) the 85 was printed on the back of her fireproofs, underneath her last name. Jake’s voice was smooth and included a hopefulness behind it… as much as something vulnerable. Bailey would hate to disappoint him, but that wasn’t something she did. This wasn’t something she ever did. “No…” She leaned on her hand and before his face could fall in more than obvious disappointment he was doing very well not to show – it reached his eyes though, the discomfort with her answer was obvious in that hazel -  Bailey gave another little smirk, this one mysterious, “but you can follow my Instagram.”

Part of her wished she hadn’t, because it immediately put Jake back on that attitude of his. Although, part of her had already decided she liked to see that on him. The feeling nothing could get to him – Bailey had just given him an out, Jake could play it off like she was the one asking for his number, “Oh, okay, alright. It’s like that, huh?” “Yeah.” And it was her turn to playfully wink at him, “pretty much.”

Ten minutes passed in little-to-no time, and it really was time for them to part. By then they were standing by the entry to the hanger. Her car was waiting patiently, her trainer leaning against it shaking his head. But Luca didn’t interrupt, he let Bailey have her time. They parted ways amicably; their handshake quickly turning into a hug. That perhaps lasted a little too long – Bailey wasn’t sure. “Congrats again on your win. You can tell people you beat a real racer – how’s that?” He laughed, “Well, you can tell your friends you nearly beat a Top Gun pilot… but I… I mean I don’t know if that gets you any cred.” “Ah, I got to race a jet, there’s not many racers can say that.” Bailey grinned – despite losing, she had to admit, it had been a fun day. Probably once in a lifetime. “Well, at least I can give you something good to say!” Jake was doing his best to act bashful, but Bailey wasn’t falling for that either. She stepped away from him, with another polite nod of thanks, before offering him one final wave goodbye, and following her trainer to the car. The door being opened the second she started walking showed Luca’s real impatience. Bailey almost looked to the sky in an eyeroll, laughing to herself. He will have followed her by the time she’d left the airfield and she’d be just another girl by the end of the week. Jake looked the type. She didn’t necessarily mind that. (At least, that’s what she was telling herself right now). Bailey wasn’t looking for anything. She had a career of her own, and she had to focus on the race coming up in a few weeks.  Tomorrow she’d be back training on the simulator as if today had never happened. That was how it went. Jake Seresin would be just a guy she raced against once in another video stunt PR and Marketing had got her involved in. And then 1 in a few hundred thousand when he followed her.

Her phone beeped before the car was even off the taxi way and Bailey couldn’t help but laugh. Of course! She should have bet on it.

*** The sunlight glinted obnoxiously off the VIP pass in his hands that he had to flash to security as he walked through the paddock – despite already having scanned in his ticket.

‘What the hell am I even doing here, this is insane!?’ How did he go from sending a hopeful Instagram DM, to being invited out to the US round of the World Endurance Championship. That just so happened to coincide with his next leave period. Heck – maybe Jake Seresin should actually be calling it luck.

Bailey was more responsive to his messages than he expected – especially with him not quite being able to gage her interest in him initially – and they just kept talking. Even when he was sure maybe the conversation had really dried up. Her own thinking had her concluding that if they’d raced on his home turf – at an airfield – then he had to come and see Bailey at her own; a race track. So she didn’t just send him a ticket, but a VIP paddock pass that would get him into the motorhome for her team.

Right now, he probably couldn’t have looked more out of place. Fans excitedly chatting, sporting team and driver gear, some even gathering around drivers for autographs and selfies. Team staff of all types running up and down between the trucks and buildings – shouting incoherently to one another or driving small vehicles containing car parts and other personnel. Journalists and photographers, all looking to get the best new stories and best shots. Jake was just trying to take it all in. With the also obnoxiously bright pink and black pass hanging around his neck – the colours of Bailey’s team; the only all women’s team in the WEC – Jake felt a bit like a fraud. Surely these groups of fans deserved this more than he did? They probably could rattle off a million facts about Bailey Walker that he wouldn’t have known… yet, he was the one talking to her on social media… so… he guessed he had that. The thought had a little smirk appearing on his face as he cleared his throat, relaxing his shoulders back and standing a little taller – exactly, damn right! She’d invited him here!

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Already having let Bailey know he’d arrived; she’d rather enthusiastically replied with a ton of celebratory emojis and that he should let her know when he was in the paddock. Which as he now was, he did exactly that. It wasn’t long before she was typing back, and he found himself staring at instructions for getting to their motorhome. Geez… okay… He studied them carefully, before beginning to walk in the specified direction. Jake was starting to think it might be easier if she just came and collected him herself. Or, at least had someone else do it. He was hoping this wouldn’t end with an embarrassing phone call and him getting lost. It wasn’t just a straight line of teams after all, she had him turning left and right at various points to get to other rows all laid out within the space afforded to them by the circuit. He was passed on all sides by other people in team gear who must have been laughing at him silently inside… Jake had no idea where he was going and he could bet he looked it. Normally he’d brush it off and act confident, but Jake was trying to stare at his phone to make sure he was following what she said to a T, and also staring up at the buildings around to make sure he hadn’t missed it on accident. It was obvious he was new around here at the very least, and that display of confidence from before was waning.

Eventually Jake had to stop moving for fear of getting hopelessly lost. They weren’t directions that hard to follow – but he’d suddenly started second guessing himself. Had he actually turned the right way at all the points she’d listed? What if he hadn’t? What if he was hopelessly lost. Dammit – he didn’t actually want to have to make that phone call! The objective was to walk in there, cool as hell, like he did this all the time! Jake wondered if it was really the pang of nerves in his stomach at seeing her face to face again. Their open, chill DM banter… would it translate once they spoke to each other again? Once they hung out… this weekend for much longer than they had before.

As Jake stared at his phone again, bent closer to the screen, making him look more confused and out of place than he did before, he suddenly heard a whistle from above him, and then voices. “Hot damn – hey, girls look at this!” “Holy shit - wait, is that him?! She was totally right!” “Hey! Good looking, where you going!?” Jake looked up to find himself stared at by three women leaning over a balcony, all in the black-and-pink of Bailey’s team. Though the motorhome itself was white. And the name emblazoned on the side – in neon yellow he might add: ‘IL COVO’ - was not her team name. Way to make him look even more confused. “Uh…” Although he’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt a little flattered to be cat called like this, Jake removed his sunshades, “I’m looking for the Iron Dames motorhome?” “Oh. You’re for us!? Damn, isn’t this our lucky day.” “Well, I-” he laughed, “Bailey Walker invited me.” “Bailey?” One pouted, “Aw c’mon, we can show you a better time than her!” One of the other women immediately turned around, “Bailey - Hey Bailey, your boyfriend is here!” There was some muffled scuffling, and one of the women disappeared, before there was more yelling, “Holy shit, why didn’t you SAY he was so gorgeous!!” Jake couldn’t help but grin a little more, feeling that little ego boost. The next voice echoed faintly, as if it was far away but yelling enough to be heard even from where he was standing, “Oh my god, will you guys shut up! Stop yelling!” “Look, we can’t help that he’s so hot.” “Stop cat calling him – my god can you get any more embarrassing!” The woman who had disappeared before, popped back over, leaning even further out than she was before, “If you get bored with her, hot stuff, we’re always up here.” Before winking, “But this girl has a massive crush on you…” Jake tried not to let that go all the way to his head – he didn’t know if that was the truth or if they were teasing him… or her… or both. “Shut up! Leave him alone!” There was a scrabbling sound and finally Bailey popped up beside them, a little flushed. And he didn’t know if that was from embarrassment or hurrying to get there, “Jake!” her voice was joyful, and she beamed upon seeing him, “Hey! Just come up to the door, you got your pass, right?” He flashed it at her, “Perfect! Yeah, I’ll be right down! Please ignore my team mates!” “Ignore us!? Bailey that’s so rude!” At this point another group of people in overalls – these ones yellow and black, and also on men! – had peered over the side of the motorhome to see what all the fuss was about, and they were all chuckling. Jake couldn’t help but laugh himself as he walked towards the glass front door, finding himself called on again; “Don’t be a stranger!” He grinned up at them as they waved at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t!”

Once inside – as if he hadn’t just been checked outside the door – Jake found himself face to face with what looked like a security guard. If he wasn’t also wearing a suit and standing at a desk that made him look like a Matire D – but the guy was intimidatingly tall. Jake raised an eyebrow approaching the desk. “Ah, hello Sir. I see your pass.” He gestured, “My name is Chris – I look after everyone on the motorhome.” Jake could imagine that look after must entail pretty much everything. Including first – or, second - line of defence. “Before I let you wander around – I better get you checked in, I don’t believe I’ve seen you on here already?” “No, that’s right. I’m Jake, Seresin.” “Seresin… Seresin…” Chris ran down the list of names with his pen – before letting out a laugh he obviously didn’t mean to be audible by how it was cut short and he placed his hand over his mouth. Eyes raising back to Jake, he smiled, “You’re here for Bailey?” “…That’s right.” Jake could imagine the expression on his face was one of surprised concern – should he be worried? What had he let himself in for?! “Sorry – that’s just unusual – if not for her parents! Bailey never gets visitors!” Chris raised his eyebrows and crossed through Jake’s name on the list, before muttering, “Good Luck!” Jake’s face creased in concern, “Uh… thanks?” Before he started walking again, then paused, “Wait, I don’t… have to do this again right?” “Oh no, just flash your pass – I’ve got you all memorised.” No doubt. “Okay… thanks Chris!” By the time Jake started walking on, Bailey had already appeared in the bottom of the motorhome, leaning against a wall draped in ivy. She was wearing a black t-shirt – team branded – and jeans. Obviously not expecting to be out in the car for a while. Bailey raised her hand in greeting and Jake was at least relieved he wouldn’t have to wait around by himself for a while.

“Hey!” “Hey, it’s good to see you again.” He leaned down to her own lean up – such was the height difference – as they hugged, accepting cheek kisses. “Oh-!” Bailey grinned at his greeting, “And you too! It’s nice to speak face to face again, huh Jake?” She nodded behind him to Chris, “Did he tell you good luck!?” “How’d you know?” Jake quirked his eyebrow again, half expecting her to let him know what he’d been warned about. Bailey simply rolled her eyes. “I just said you’d be coming and they’ve been teasing me ever since.”  Then she gaped, suddenly embarrassed, “Oh my god! My team-! I- I’m so sorry! That- they joked so much about doing that all through practice and stuff and I never thought they’d actually go ahead and tease YOU! I’m sorry – I… they’re a great bunch and lovely girls really, I… I’m so sorry!” Jake waved away her apology, knowing she was likely right, “Naw, it’s okay! What’s a little bit of banter huh?” He laughed, “I’ve heard worse from the Navy guys. You’re all good.” “Ah, just wait – they’ll all be thanking you for your service next.” “Aw, stop.” He winked, which made her shove him playfully. “Uh, question…” He pointed behind him, “This is not what I expected.” “That wasn’t a question, but I think I’ve got your wavelength…” She smirked, folding her arms and tracing her eyeline slowly around the room, to which he followed.

The motorhome did indeed look like a miniature home. Light and airy and filled with fake, or maybe some real, plants. Polished authentic wooden surfaces mixed well with the modern glass and steel and stark white. But it still had a homely feel, plush sofas, and tables where some of the team were sat chatting – likely about strategy – the lighting from above wasn’t harsh either, the large windows allowing plenty of natural light. The wall Bailey had been leaning against was deceptive; actually just a dividing boarder to the rest of the building – bar tables pushed up against the wall: upon which hung framed pictures of cars, tracks and podiums, the stairs heading to the top deck (which was clearly something like an outside balcony). The surfaces either were crowded with laptops or coffee machines and fridges for snacks. Jake assumed that catering facilities were in another part that he just couldn’t see. On the wall directly opposite them was mounted a large flatscreen TV – clearly for showing the racing when any was actually happening – and two logos. One for The Iron Dames – in pink and black – and the other for the Iron Lynx – this in yellow and black. Iron Lynx, and the vibrant yellow, was of course what Jake had been met with on the outside.

“So technically we’re part of the Iron Lynx brand – we’re just the all-girls team. The Lynx team are all guys – but you’ll see ‘Iron Lynx’ on our car too.” She smiled, “The more you know!” “Gotcha.” – Although he was sure it’d make more sense when he met the teams and saw the cars going around. Though it did explain the group of male drivers he’d seen on the top deck too. “I’m sure you thought the motorhome would live up to the pink and black! Or at least black and yellow, that would make sense. But no, right now we’re white!” She gave a shrug. Maybe that would change in the future, then. “I see.” She watched him carefully, “Feeling a bit out of your depth?” He didn’t see any point in trying to deflect, Bailey had the intuition and perception of a racer, after all. Really Jake had nowhere to hide, and as he saw it, no reason to. “Just a little…” She smiled, patting him, “Well – you’re at least appropriately dressed.” Jake looked down at himself; jacket, jeans, boots, button up shirt… shades now tucked into the front. The pink kinda clashed with the soft blues, but whatever. He pulled it off. “You’ll get the hang of things. You’ll be a certified expert by the time I’m done with you. And don’t worry – I’ll make sure you’re not harassed… I mean, I did invite you out here to see you…” Her features softened, affectionately, “…and… I – uh – I obviously want you to enjoy the experience.” He smiled, and she knew she’d said exactly the right thing to swell his ego right. Although truth was, she did mean every word. She wanted to see Jake again, because she had some things to figure out. And Bailey knew that the only way to do that now was to have a face-to-face conversation with him. This wasn’t something she could figure out over text anymore – you could only get to know someone so well from that. Bailey wanted to remove that limitation. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I think I’ll enjoy myself.” She laughed, nodding, before she opened her arms back to the room – a small gesture before putting her hands in her pockets. This time when her eyes met his they glinted, full of confidence: “Well, Jake, welcome to my domain.”

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

Thank you for reading! 💜💙

[whentherewerebicycles]

i got two really nice emails from faculty on the hiring committee this morning (the hiring manager just told them that i’d accepted) which made me so happy. aaaaaaaa i think i’m starting to finally transition out of the residual stress/anxiety stage behind and fully into the giddy happy butterflies stage. i feel like i could burst into tears of joy!! and i am gently hushing both my ‘there MUST be some catch’ and my ‘if a good thing happens, a BAD THING must be about to happen to balance it!’ inner voices, because sometimes a thing can just be good. i worked really hard and i got a really good outcome and i feel really grateful/happy/fortunate.

i’ve been thinking about that anxious ruminating a lot over the past few days, just trying to notice it as it’s happening. i feel like i’ve always had an tendency towards rumination but i do think it’s gotten markedly worse over the past nine months. as you might have gathered lol i’ve been pretty lowkey (and sometimes highkey) miserable and despairing about work, and i know i tend to get more depressed/anxious when i don’t have a clear sense of purpose or meaning in my life. i also think the social isolation of being fully remote in a job where i don’t have any work friends and in a new city where i don’t have an extended social circle has kinda fucked with my baseline mood. i’ve written a lot over the past nine months about not feeling like myself, and i think that’s just like, partly feeling like i’d lost my professional identity, but also partly just noticing that i feel a lot more fretful and discontent and prone to extended funks than i usually do. but i DO think it’s situational and i DO believe that i can/will bounce back to a self that feels more familiar once i change the big and small things in my environment that are fueling my unhappiness.

here are some things that are going to be REALLY good for me.

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to pursue values-aligned work that energizes and excites me. blah blah your work shouldn’t be your hobby or whatever but work kind of IS one of my hobbies and when i’m in a job i really love i spend every day thinking I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY PAY ME TO DO STUFF I WOULD JUST DO FOR FUN

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to get up, get ready right away, and go into campus most or all days a week. give me ROUTINE. give me a WORKPLACE that is separate from my home place. give me CAMPUS TIME!!!!!

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to talk to multiple people every single day. i need lots of alone time but i also NEED meaningful facetime with people and this job has just been brutal on that front

it’s going to be REALLY good (on a related note) for me to work with students again. i love working with students. it is so meaningful and good and energizing for me to work with students. i have missed it so so much.

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to be in a role that pushes me out of my comfort zone and forces me to stretch a bit. i haven’t even been coasting in this job... i’ve been totally stagnant. no growth, no challenge, no opportunities to stretch or learn. i’m gonna LEARN NEW THINGS again!!!!!!! i’m gonna feel so so so so so so so so so so much better!

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to have to budget! haha this seems silly and counterintuitive but honestly i think that making too much money is kind of bad for me! it makes it easier for me to live wastefully and be more thoughtless in my my choices/spending habits. i also feel like it was just so important to me to not get so used to being at this income level that i could never take a step back if i wanted to/needed to. i want to have enough money to live comfortably and to be able to afford thoughtfully chosen indulgences. but i don’t want to make obscene amounts of money for doing the most pointless work ever to the point where money is no object for me. idk dude! i want to value the money i make because i value the work did to earn it. and i want to value and appreciate the opportunity to make thoughtful choices about how/where to spend it.

it’s going to be REALLY good for me to be out of this job. god! i hope that three months from now my relationship with my lead seems like a weird disturbing fever dream i had lol. i cannot fucking WAIT to be out from under this woman’s thumb. and i can’t wait to apply everything i learned to NOT being like her in any of my managing roles in the future. phew!!!

[dwarfysays]

September 17, 2024, Tuesday 1PM Journal

My dad got admitted into the hospital yesterday with pneumonia. Sister brought him in in the early morning hour for weakness, difficulty breathing and spitting up blood.

He went from the ED to the ICU.

Today, he’d been downgraded and moved out of the ICU.

Sister had been with him since she brought him in. Another sister was to take over today around lunch. But she had to go back home upon learning that her mom in law tested positive for COVID. So my brother takes that time slot. Then a niece takes over around 4.

I’m to takeover watching him in the hospital this evening until tomorrow afternoon.

Hopefully, they will release my dad before the weekend.

It’s disconcerting that somebody in the family has to stay with my dad during his hospital stay. Honestly, I don’t see the need. He has better supervision in the hospital than at home. Or at least I believe he does. But anyway, I will stay with him.

One thing I can’t stand is we the offspring are taking care of Dad. When I was growing up, he hardly had any role at raising us. He was in the Navy, so he would be gone on deployment for months at a time. I get it. But when at home, he just jumps in his car and run away whenever things got difficult.

Parenting is something that we learn from examples set by family. Makes me think. Both parents grew up in large families. Did they not observe any good parenting???

Anyways, I need to keep my gripes to myself and I need to bare in mind that my kids are watching what I do and what my attitude is.

I need to note that whenever my mom got sick and needed assistance my dad did NOT want to do anything for her!!!!!

But then, he got diagnose with prostrate cancer. She took the reigns on his care. Managed his diet, meds and appointments. He would NOT have done any of that for her.

Then Mom got the stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis! Not even a smoker, but guess who was. Sister stepped in on both their care. 17 months later my mom passes and Dad soldiers on.

Dad did not like going to her grave at the veterans cemetery. There is a vacant plot beside hers waiting for him. Just like my mom, he has not come to accept death. I mean that’s a tough one. I wonder if he would rather take a sedative. It’s to terrifying to die the way my mom did - completely conscious.

My boss told me he wants to be very high when he dies. That’s the best way to go other than being completely unconscious or taken suddenly.

I can’t help thinking Dad’s time may be near.

The impending end is terrifying. I get it.

I’d take a big bolus of mushrooms if I could when taking my last breath. I don’t want to know I’m dying. Knock me out. Get me hella high.

For now I live

For now my dad lives.

For now we do everything to keep him alive.

[btscontentenjoyer]

If none of the previous parts had solidified how much these two love each other (which they have ofc) this one absolutely did. Honestly I read this a few days ago and it still makes me emotional thinking about it.

So first of all, the thought has crossed my mind a couple of times before about how they deal with things when Jungkook is away, especially in the earlier stages of their relationship, so to see that that was the catalist of this was so 😔 But also it totally makes sense too, because of course the only reason why they would ever talk about breaking up isn't because one of them intentionally hurt the other because they would never do that 🥺🥺🥺

"you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook." The way it never once felt right during this whole part to see them apart or hurting because of the other 🥺🥺🥺 So I totally get OC here, they are just so made for each other to the point where it doesn't make sense for them not to be together.

"and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow." 😭😭😭 again, it just doesn't feel right at all 😭😭😭

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.” The last line!!!!! I wish there was a fist slamming a table emoji because that was me in my bed when I read this. How could he say this when he's trying to break up with OC 😭😭😭😭

"you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds." OC is just the sweetest, most precious person in the world who deserves to never cry and always be smiling and laughing 🥺🥺🥺

"jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach." Something about that last line really got me. Even rereading it now has me going 🥺.

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?” How could they ever leave each other's presence after saying things like this???? 😭😭😭

"our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.” and “this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.” and “your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?” and "Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi" All of Yoongi's parts were honestly so amazing. You got his wise and comforting advice just right, Art 🥺🥺🥺

Also I loved Tae and Joon's cameos too! And now I'm curious what Tae's situation is too because 👀👀👀

"he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you." Painful and so so beautiful ugh.

“when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.” Literally every single part of this story broke me, I was on the verge of tears for so long 😭😭😭

"he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.” He's literally so cute!!! The flashback had me smiling though my tears :')

"because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to." Your beautiful writing makes everything even more heartbreaking, Art.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…” And this is where the tears that had been in my eyes the entire time actually started falling. The line about the love OC has for him being too heavy to carry hit me so incredibly hard 😭😭😭

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat." I found this so cute!!! Just the fact that they're always imagining a future together even earlier in their relationship 🥺🥺🥺 That's also probably why they couldn't take not being together either 😭😭😭

Also the neighbour parts took me out lol, made me smile through the pain a little.

"he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room." The toe socks!!!! You always always add the most adorable Jungkook details in your stories and it's the cutest thing in the world. It makes me smile every time I spot them.

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.” The open and honest communication was so great to see!!!

"you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?" Art, your words speak to my soul so deeply 😭😭😭

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.” I love OC with my entire heart and soul 🥺🥺🥺

"he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons." I don't know if I've ever teared up from a make out scene before, but now I can say that I have. This was just so so incredible beautiful. The writing, the culmination of all of their emotions, the amount of love in all of it is just stunning.

"jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar." 🥺🥺🥺

Art, you are such an amazing writer. I'm kind of speechless at the end of this but I just want you to know that your words make me feel so deeply and I'm so thankful for them. This time I kind of just put all of my favourite lines with my not so coherent thoughts next to them because I just loved so many parts of this and they've all left such a big impact on me.

P. S. I just went through the in which masterlist to just read the titles because I love them and I actually started tearing up and getting emotional thinking of all of the beautiful moments we've seen of them 🥺🥺🥺

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, grinding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

— in which masterlist!

note: this was a journey. happened back in 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only taking three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for more than two weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[modelbus]

Can you do cc!tommy with academic rivals to lovers and fake dating please?

Fake dating and Tommy is just mmmm

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Academic Rivals To Lovers - Fake Dating

“I need you to date me.”

You jerk your head up from your book to meet Tommy’s eyes. The last time you spoke to him was him cussing you out in Spanish class, so you aren’t quite sure how you got here.

“Excuse me?” You choke out.

“I need you to date me. Now. My friends invited me to a gathering, and I’ve been lying to them about dating someone for a long time.”

“Why don’t you just get a real date? Problem solved.”

“Because I don’t want a real fucking date! And I know you feel nothing ever, so you’re my best bet.”

What are you meant to say to that? Thank you? Tommy had a knack for statements you aren’t sure how to respond to.

For two long years, you two have been practically trying to murder each other through grades. Always neck and neck, it was infuriating. When he scored below you in maths, you scored below him in video design.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask.

“I’m really fucking desperate.”

Wow. The Tom Simons admitting he’s desperate? For your help? You’ve definitely fallen into an alternate timeline, but you weren’t about to complain.

“The trophy from the best video in video design class.”

It was a cheap plastic thing, but you both knew what it symbolized. He held it over you every single day in that stupid class and you were tired of it.

“No.”

“Have fun trying to find someone else to fake date you then.”

You start to pack up your books, tucking them away in your bag. It’s only when you stand up from the library table that he finally speaks.

“Fucking fine. Fine!”

Called it. Talking to Tommy was like playing a game of chess, except his pieces were fucking possessed or some shit.

“You’ll give me the trophy?”

“Yes!” He exclaims.

“Cool. So what do I have to do?”

“Just pretend you’re dating me. And that you like me. The story is that we’ve been dating for seven months and met when I sat down next to you at lunch. You were charmed by my amazing humor and hotness.”

“Oh, yeah, like anyone’s going to believe that.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny that his humor is pretty good. It takes some adjusting to, but in the end you found yourself hiding laughter.

“You’re my fake partner, what I say goes.” He argues.

“I’m just saying, if your so-called friends are-"

“Hey! They’re real! Should I teach you their names? Is that something you’d know?”

Jesus. This was going to be a shit show, wasn’t it?

“I’m going to go, just text me what I need to know and I’ll be there.”

“Okay. You swear you’ll do it?”

Pausing, you take a second to analyze his face. Tommy was always an open book, something you actually like about him. Right now you can tell he’s genuinely doubting you’re going along with this.

Honestly, you can hardly believe you’re going along with it either. But blackmail is blackmail, and you really want that fucking trophy.

“Do you need me to pinkie promise or something?” You jokingly ask, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll fucking take it. I need a lot of luck on my side for this one.”

He holds out his pinkie, dead serious. Tommy’s right about one thing: he’ll need a shit ton of luck. So, you lock your pinkie with his, then give him a solemn nod.

“We tell no one.”

“We’ll stage a breakup a week after or something.” He agrees.

As you walk away, you contemplate what the fuck you just did. Did you seriously just agree to fake date a guy you hate? For a trophy?

Hell yeah.

———

The house Tommy told you to go to is nice. Relatively simple, but nice. He’s already waiting for you when you arrive, nervously bouncing on his feet.

“There you are!” He exclaims. “You’re fucking late!”

“First off, hi to you too. Secondly, the traffic was shit. Don’t blame me, blame my Uber driver.” It was true. You even left a full two minutes early!

“I’ll blame both of you. Hurry up, I had to make a bullshit excuse that you spilled water on your shirt.”

Tommy grabs your hand, practically dragging you up to the front door before knocking. It takes a minute but a guy a bit taller than Tommy opens the door, fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes. Wilbur, if the photo Tommy sent you last night was accurate.

“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaims before his eyes fall on you. “Holy shit, your partner is fucking real. Jack’s not gonna believe this. Jack!”

“Okay, great, everyone is real. Can we go inside now? Thanks.” Tommy practically shoves his way past Wilbur, making you come along with him.

“Sorry, Wilbur. You know Tommy. I like your sweater though!” You apologize.

“You know my name,” Wilbur says, closing the door and following you guys.

“Um, yeah. He talks about you guys a lot.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’ve definitely heard him talk about these people to Eryn before.

“You talk about us a lot?” Wilbur asks, eyes widening. “Aw, Tommy-“

“Shut up! Stop embarrassing me!” Tommy cries.

He finally reaches his destination, the one he's been dragging you to the entire time: the living room.

There are even more people in here, sprawled about on various furniture. Suddenly you're grateful for the overkill he had done on teaching you all of their names. You don't realize how you're squeezing Tommy's hand until he squeezes back, an assurance you're entirely unused to. It's weird but welcomed.

"Woah. He wasn't lying about you." A practically bald guy says, jaw dropped. Jack, you think.

"That's what I said!" Wilbur exclaims from behind you two.

"Jesus fucking Christ, did you all really think I'd lie about dating someone? I'm not that pathetic."

You can't contain your laugh, but you attempt to hide it behind your hand. Because Tommy wasn't just pathetic enough to lie about dating someone, he was pathetic enough to fake date his literal rival.

"Well..." Jack shrugs.

"Oi!"

"Good job, Tommy. Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Another person speaks up. This time you know for certain that it's James Marriott speaking.

Why did Tommy have to have so many weird adult friends?

"Hey, leave them alone." A fourth voice defends you both, coming from behind you.

"Phil!" Tommy cries, letting go of your hand to spin around. "Our savior!"

"Yeah yeah, just sit down." Phil laughs.

Tommy doesn't hesitate to take up residence on the couch, leaving you to awkwardly follow him. Nobody ever talks about how awkward it is to fake date someone.

"Right, I want to know how the fuck you got tricked into dating Tommy." Wilbur says.

It's not malicious, nor is the laughter that follows. A quick glance at Tommy shows that even he's laughing. Suddenly Tommy's humor makes a lot more sense.

"He lured me in with promises of creating a Minecraft realm." You tease, taking his hand. He seems confused at the action, so you raise your eyebrows just slightly. You're in this now, if you got found out it'd be embarrassing for the both of you.

"That sounds like Tommy." James agrees.

"What can I say? They call me the romancer."

"You know, Tommy's told us a lot about you. I always believed you were real. Just for the record." Phil glares at Wilbur as if he's to blame for the idea you might not be real.

"What has he been saying? Hopefully nothing about my lack of actual Minecraft skill."

"Oh, no. Tommy's actually even more talkative when it comes to you."

Wait, you thought Tommy lied about dating someone so his friends wouldn't make fun of him. Why would he spin himself into an intricate web of lies by talking about his made-up partner? You knew he was way smarter than that. It presented too many opportunities to slip up.

"I swear to God he doesn't shut up about you. It's really fucking sweet. Always talking about how you scored higher than him on a test, or-"

"Okay, Jack, shut the fuck up now." Tommy interrupts.

"No, I want to hear what you've said about me! It's sweet!" You were starting to get a feeling that something was off here.

"You wore glasses to school once and for a week straight he was-"

"OKAY! I THINK WE'RE THIRSTY!" Tommy yells, standing up.

You take your chance and go with him, following him through the house to the kitchen. There was definitely something you needed to talk about.

The thing was, you had worn glasses to school once. Nearly a year ago. And you were also the only person that ever scored above him on tests.

Tommy had been telling his friends about you, pretending you were dating him.

"Listen, I can explain-" He begins the second he's turned on the tap.

"Can you? Because that sure as hell sounded like you've been pretending I was dating you this entire time. Is that why you wanted me to do this?"

You weren't even sure how to feel about this! Pissed, because you got tricked? Flattered, because he noticed that shit? That he's been talking to his friends about you? But then again, you were meant to hate each other!

"They kept wanting more details! You were the first person to come to mind so I just kind of... ran with it? Listen, I'm really fucking sorry. And yeah, that's part of the reason why I asked you to do this. But it means nothing."

Apologies from Tommy were as rare as netherite. When he offers you the filled cup of water, you take it. It feels like an offering of peace, his own type of olive branch.

"Nothing except that you think of me all the time." You can't help but tease, watching how his cheeks redden.

"Because you're an annoying ass!"

"Oh no, you've called me an annoying ass! My feelings are mortally wounded!"

"Fuck off." He says, but he's laughing.

"I'm dying!" You wheeze, slowly collapsing against the counter.

"No you aren't!"

"How could you do this to me? Your partner!"

"Everything okay? Did you break the fucking tap?" Wilbur yells.

"We're good!" Tommy yells back. "Come on, let's distract them with Mario Kart."

As it turns out, his friends are very easily distracted by competitive games. And they get extremely into them.

Tommy's friends fit him perfectly, and as time goes on you can see him relax more now that you've passed the hardest part of the gathering. You find yourself relaxing, too. They're a fun friend group. If they weren't Tommy's, you'd be looking to steal them.

After a while, you give up on trying to beat Phil's incredible Mario Kart skills, content to just watch the chaos unfold as everyone tries to rally against him. The tournament goes late into the night because someone made the mistake of picking the max number of races possible. (You're pretty sure it was Jack, but he keeps blaming it on James.)

At some point Phil paused the game to hand out blankets and pillows to anyone who wanted one, not even giving you and Tommy a choice before chucking one at your face. Thank God Tommy had good enough reflexes to catch it because you sure as hell didn't.

Despite it all being fake, it's cozy. You're here on a complete fluke and Tommy's incompetence at finding someone to date, but you can't help but wish, just a little, that this was real. Probably just the exhaustion speaking though.

"Aw, look at the couple." Phil coos, drawing everyone's attention to you and Tommy.

You're curled up close to him because Phil only gave you both one blanket. No other reason. Nope, none at all.

"Kiss," Wilbur says simply.

"What?" Tommy asks, laughing a little like Wilbur's making a joke.

"Kiss," Wilbur repeats, a tad bit more insistent.

Oh, fuck. He knows. Or at the very least he suspects something.

"You don't have to," Tommy whispers, so quiet that only you can hear it.

"We kiss or get found out. I'm not risking the latter." You answer, just as quietly.

In the end, it's Tommy who makes the move and kisses you. It's short, barely a peck on the lips. But it's still a kiss with Tommy. Tommy, your literal academic rival.

"Happy, you fuckers?" He groans.

"Very." Wilbur nods. His eyes meet yours for a second before he turns back to the screen.

He definitely fucking knows.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You murmur, standing up and then pausing. "Uh."

"I'll show you." Tommy sighs. "This way. I think."

It feels like you've been doing nothing but following him around today, going where he guides you. Apparently, he guided you into kissing him and you followed.

Not only did you follow, but you didn't mind it.

Very few things in life were certain. The things that never changed were to be treasured, and you thought this one of them. You and Tommy never stopped competing and that was certain. Until tonight. Tonight, where everything was thrown out of balance.

No matter how short the time his lips were against yours, you kissed him long enough for you to come to exactly one realization. One devastating realization: you wanted to kiss him again.

"I'm sorry Wil made us kiss. He's fucking smart, that's why I was worried about him calling our bluff the most." Tommy doesn't look at you.

"He knows. That we aren't really dating."

"Of fucking course he does. So we kissed for fucking nothing?! This is the bathroom, by the way."

Instead of going in, you stop and face him.

"I want to change the deal." You had to take this risk.

"What? You can't fucking do that!" His eyes are blown wide, panicked. He probably thinks you're backing out.

"Instead of the trophy, I want you to answer a single question with complete honesty."

You were a smart person, one that valued knowledge. This answer was far more important than any award could ever hope to be.

"...okay?" He hesitantly accepts. "Right now?"

"Yeah. Why'd you describe me as the person you're dating? Because I know it's not just because I'm an annoying ass." You didn't know. This was a gamble, your biggest ever. Bigger than the time you decided not to study for a science exam.

"Why?" Tommy asks, stalling.

"A deal's a deal. We pinkie promised." You remind him, unmoving.

"You were the first person I thought of." You wait, knowing there's more. As if sensing his defeat, he deflates and adds, "Because you're the person I want to be dating. Nobody else fucking gets it! Nobody else is a fucking challenge! It's just you and your stupid witty comments about things. And I know it makes me sound like a fucking weirdo, but I didn't mean to. Not at first. This whole fake dating thing? I need you to know I didn't fucking plan it. I didn't plan to kiss you. Really, I planned to tell them we broke up in a week!"

The first thing that sinks in is that you were the dumbest person in the world for not realizing sooner. The second thing is that he didn't use the past tense. "Want" not "wanted."

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I’m just really confused.”

“You’re confused?” Tommy parrots, seeming shocked.

“Yeah! That’s what happens when you fuck with people’s feelings, Tommy!”

He draws back at your anger, but only slightly. It wouldn’t be Tommy if he didn’t yell back at you.

“I didn’t mean for it to go so far!”

“What happened to ‘you don’t feel anything ever, and that's why I chose you,’ huh!?”

“I thought I could get away with this! And nobody would have to find out we aren’t actually dating, and that I have a stupid crush on you! The second one’s already fucked up, so if you want to fuck up the first one, then just do it.”

The only time you’ve ever seen him this emotional was when he lost a stupid nerf gun. A gun you found, because he looked like shit and you needed your rival at his best.

And because you cared about him more than you wanted to admit at the time.

“You know what? I think I will.”

With that, you press your lips to his. There’s nobody around, no reason to kiss him other than wanting to. It might be stupid, but you’re a firm believer that how you feel while kissing someone tells you if you should be together.

“Oh.” Tommy says dumbly once you pull back. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“FUCK YEAH!” He practically screams, making you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Shh!”

“No!” His voice is muffled behind your hand.

“This doesn’t change the fact I’m still smarter than you.”

“I think you mean that I’m smarter than you.”

"In your fucking dreams."

"Oh! Didn't mean to run into your... uh..." James blinks at you two.

"We were just talking." Tommy quickly says.

"Yup!" You agree. "Just talking. With my boyfriend. Outside the bathroom."

"You know, you're a weird fucking couple. I love it. I'm just gonna take the bathroom though."

James slips between you two, shutting the bathroom door.

"Holy shit." Tommy laughs. "We almost got caught!"

"There's not much to catch now, is there?" You ask.

"Huh. Guess not."

He grins, a dopey and idiotic thing. Either way, you smile back at him.

Who would've thought this was how the night turned out?

[sataniquepanique]

Hate Me.

Summary: Your cousin Gareth asks you to be Corroded Coffin's new manager, but you and Eddie can't seem to get along.

Genre: enemies to lovers, smut, angst

Warnings: Smut 18+ ONLY, slight dom/sub situation, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drinking, smoking.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X F/reader

Word Count: 6.1k

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Tuesday nights at The Hideout were fucking lame. The only people that came to the bar on a weeknight were drunks and degenerates, not the ideal crowd for talent scouts. Gareth and the rest of Corroded Coffin had made a deal with the owners of the place about a year ago, and they were able to play every Tuesday night as long as they were done by 10.

Recently the band had been getting a little restless, and they started talking about branching out and securing better paying gigs. But between school, band practice, and Hellfire Club the guys didn’t have much time to devote to promotion, and honestly they didn’t even know where to start. 

The new school year had begun a few weeks ago, and fall was already underway, painting Hawkins in a warm amber glow. Gareth and the rest of the guys sat on a table outside of Hawkins High, trying to think of some sort of strategy for finding better opportunities for the band. After the 5th dead-end idea, Jeff put his head down on the table and groaned, “This is fucking pointless…”. 

Eddie was quiet and stared at the sky while smoking a cigarette and trying to blow smoke rings into the air. Something clicked in Gareth’s head and his eyes shot over to Eddie, “Wait. Guys. I think I have an idea.” 

Jeff raised his head and met Gareth’s gaze. 

“Ok, hear me out. My cousin just graduated college in May, and has some sort of degree in communications or management or something…” 

“— are they even interested in managing a band?” Eddie interrupted, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? I don’t see why not? We have the same taste in music and always talk about Corroded Coffin and how it’s going.”

The four of them sit in silence for a few beats, mulling it over. 

“Fuck it, let’s try it…” Eddie threw his cigarette on the ground and stood up from the table, 

“…bring them with you to The Hideout on Tuesday.”

——

The Hideout is gross. The old wooden floor is wet with some mixture of substances causing your Doc Martens to keep sticking when you walk, and it reeks of stale beer and cigarettes. 

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” you think as the bartender hands you a beer in a scuffed up glass. The stage setup is in the corner of the bar, with a few hightop tables scattered around. You take a seat towards the back so that you could observe the entire production without getting in the way, not that there was a huge crowd or anything, this place is fucking dead. 

By 8:00 a few more locals had come in, and filled in some more of the tables near the stage. This made you feel better, as you had begun to get secondhand embarrassment thinking of your cousin’s band playing to an empty club. Gareth walks out and starts setting up his drums, followed by the rest of the band. The two of you were always close growing up even though he is a few years younger than you, and you only lived a few towns over so you spent a lot of time together. Once you had gone away to college though you didn’t see him as much, but still managed to mail him mixtapes of new bands you had discovered when you were in Indianapolis. Job prospects had been slim to none since you had graduated a few months ago. Everyone seemed to want to hire someone with experience, of which you had little, so when Gareth called offering for you to manage Corroded Coffin you jumped at the chance to beef up your resume. They weren’t paying you much, basically just gas money to get to gigs, but you didn’t mind as long as you got the experience. 

Finally, after 20 minutes of set up, Gareth takes his place behind the drum kit and they start playing. No intro, no hello, just metal. You’d never met the other guys in Corroded Coffin before, only hearing stories from your cousin about their D&D conquests and Hideout gigs. Their music wasn’t bad actually, which somewhat surprises you, and makes you a little more confident about your decision to help out. Scanning the bar, it doesn’t seem like anyone else was particularly invested in the live band. Most of the patrons look like regulars, who were already pretty fucked up and oblivious. 

You tap the toe of your boot against the table stand, watching the boys thrash around on stage. The tall one with the guitar catches your attention. Dark curls bouncing as he nods along to the rhythm, plucking wildly at the strings. He moves closer towards your side of the stage, and you can’t help but stare at his hands. How quick and efficient they are, gliding over each string, the rings on his fingers shining under the hazy lights. You wonder what else those fingers could do.  

Ew, gross. He’s in high school, he’s probably like, Gareth’s age. Knock it off. 

You look up at his face to find his dark eyes staring at you, the tip of his tongue poking out in careful concentration, not just on the notes, but on you.

After 30 minutes, Corroded Coffin announces their final song, and you quickly finish your second beer and head outside where you were supposed to meet Gareth. Around the back of the building, you lean against the cold brick wall and light a cigarette, staring up at the stars. The back door slams open and you see the boys start to trickle out, lugging their equipment with them toward a van parked by the back fence. They walk past, not noticing you under the cover of darkness. Gareth meticulously puts his drums away in the van, and turns around to let the other guys add their equipment as well, when he spots you leaning against the building. You give him a little smile pushing yourself off the wall, and start making your way across the parking lot. He pulls you into a tight hug. 

“DUDE! I didn’t even see you in the bar!” He says, squeezing you as tight as he can. You choke out a laugh. 

“You didn’t see me amongst the throngs of eager fans?” You joke as he let you go. He elbows you playfully and walks you over to the van. 

“Hey guys!” He announces, as the other boys turn around, “This is my cousin. She’s our new manager.” 

You give a little wave, “Hey, my names Y/N. It’s nice to meet you all, Gareth has told me a lot about you.” 

Two of the boys introduce themselves, and seem genuinely happy about your investment in Corroded Coffin. The third one with the curly hair you recognize from earlier, seems apprehensive, and frankly standoffish as he eyes you up from the back of the group. 

“This is your cousin?” He points at you incredulously, looking over at Gareth.

“…is there a problem?” You say, becoming agitated by his attitude.

“No, I was just expecting a dude honestly.” He shrugs, “Do you even know anything about managing a metal band?”

“You must be Eddie Munson.” You piece together the bits that Gareth had told you about him. The attitude, the hair, the tattoos. 

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He gives you a dramatic little gesture of a bow.

“Yeah, we’re gonna knock that sexist bullshit off immediately.” You counter, not appreciating the nickname. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Oh, she’s got a mouth on her…” he says sarcastically while he pulls out a beer from the back of the van, cracking it open using a lighter as leverage. 

“Aren’t you still in high school…?” You quip, furrowing your brows at him and motioning towards the bottle in his hand.

“Technically, yes. But I’ve stuck around for an extra two years to keep these guys company.” He gestures to the rest of the band, giving you a shit-eating grin.

You whip around and stare at your cousin. “Gary, you can’t be fucking serious—“

“—GARY?!” Eddie chokes on his beer mid-sip. 

Gareth blushes, “…my family are the only ones that call me Gary…”

“Sorry, Gareth, is this a fucking joke? I’m not going to manage your band if this 20 year old super-senior is going to treat me like an asshole.” You spit, as you turn you head and glare at Eddie. 

“…I’ll talk to him, I promise…” Gareth whispers as he pulls you away towards your car.

“Bye babe! See you at the next gig!” Eddie calls after you sarcastically, smirking. You spin around and give him the finger as you walk away. 

How was it possible to hate someone this much, after just meeting them moments prior? 

——

A few days had passed since you saw Corroded Coffin perform for the first time. After meeting the band, specifically Eddie, you were now regretting this entire undertaking. Nevertheless, you made a promise to Gareth that you would at least try to help. So here you are, making calls and inquiring about booking the band for some gigs other than The Hideout. You haven’t made much progress, but you did book them for something this Saturday at a bar in the next town over. It was more their scene, catering to metalheads and more alternative music. They also offered to keep them on the books for reoccurring dates if they were any good. Feeling slightly accomplished, you call Gareth to tell him the good news. He lets you know the rest of the guys were over for band practice so you’d be able to tell them all at once if you wanted to stop by. You throw on an old Iron Maiden shirt over your jeans, pull on your boots, and run out the door. 

Pulling up to your cousins house, you see the guys practicing in the garage with the door open. You steel your nerves as you sit in your car, trying to calm yourself so you don’t try and punch Eddie Munson in the fucking jaw. 

Finally you get it together enough to hop out and walk up to the garage, the band stops playing as you sit down on one of the amps. 

“Hey Y/N!” Jeff greets you with a friendly smile, which you greatly appreciate. You smile back, as you cross your legs. 

“I have some good news,” you have the boys undivided attention, except for Eddie who is tuning his guitar and refusing to make eye contact. 

“I booked you guys at The Underground this Saturday. It’s only for one night, but the owner said if you’re good he can keep bringing you back. The pay isn’t great, but it’s way better than what the Hideout was giving you.” 

Jeff leans over the drum set to high five Gareth, and then looks over at Eddie who doesn’t seem phased at all. 

“…are you okay with this?” You trail off, breaking the awkward tension between the two of you.

“Sure. Whatever we need to do to get ourselves out there. Now if you don’t mind, I’d love to keep practicing.” Eddie stares at you with a blank expression. His dark eyes make you shift uncomfortably under their gaze.

What is wrong with you? Why are you letting him get to you? 

“Cool…I, uh…I’ll see you guys on Saturday then? 7pm sharp, please.” You give Gareth a wave as you head back to your car. Sliding into the drivers seat you look through your front window at the garage and see that Eddie is staring at you while playing his guitar. The emotion behind his eyes is bizarre. 

Is that hatred or…lust? No. It’s definitely pure loathing, right? 

You shake your head at the thought of Eddie fucking Munson lusting after you, and pull away towards the direction of your apartment. 

——

Saturday came up quickly. Earlier in the week you had created some flyers promoting the band and hung them around town, dropping some off at the venue to distribute as well. You hope this shit brings in more offers, or at least brings in a better crowd than The Hideout. 

You’re nervous about tonight, so you put on some Motley Crue while you get ready, turning it up loud enough to drown out your intrusive thoughts. Since The Underground was a metal club you don’t want to dress too stuffy, so you decide on a short black slip dress, your Docs and a leather jacket. Throwing caution to the wind, you also do your makeup for once, opting for a simple cat eye and a bright red lip to break up all of the black in your outfit. Sighing in the mirror, you silently pray that Eddie doesn’t start shit tonight and head out to your car. 

You pull up to the club and immediately see that there is nowhere to park, and your heart skips a beat. You circle around back and finally see a spot a few feet away from Eddie’s van. Hopping out, Gareth runs up to you and you can feel the excitement radiating from him. 

“Did you see how many people are here?!” He grabs your hand and drags you over to the van. 

Smiling at the rest of the group, you clap your hands together and put on a serious face. “Okay! Obviously this is a much bigger crowd than you’re used to, but don’t let it freak you out. You guys just need to kill it, and we can make this a regular thing—“

“—Oh is that all?” Eddie mocks you.

“How did you get this many people here?” Jeff deflects, unloading some equipment. 

“I printed some flyers, and I sort of just…put them around anywhere I could.” You shrug, pulling out a flyer from your bag and handing it to Jeff. He stares at it, studying your handiwork, until Eddie reaches over and snatches it from him. 

“Did you make this?” He asks, not looking up from the paper.  

“Yeah…it’s just something I came up with. I figured you guys needed a logo or something, so I used what very little art skills I have, and that’s what I came up with.” You blush, becoming suddenly uneasy by Eddie’s tone.

“We already have a logo. I made it when we first formed the band.” Eddie retorts, looking at you with complete disdain. 

“Dude that logo sucks, it looks like a 5th grader drew it.” Jeff scoffs, “I love this new one, maybe we can make shirts!” He looks at you eagerly. 

Eddie crumples up the flyer and throws it in the back of the van, slamming the door shut. “Lets fucking do this then.” He mumbles as he grabs his guitar case and pushes past you. 

Gareth shoots you a sympathetic look, and you roll your eyes and follow them inside. 

The Underground is packed. Standing room only. You walk in with the guys through the back door, and you watch as Eddie’s eyes widen the second he sees the crowd. He looks back at you for a brief second and you give him a half smile, secretly proud of yourself. 

Corroded Coffin isn’t the only band on the line up for the night, there are a few playing afterwards which honestly probably contributed to the big crowd, but hey, any exposure is good exposure. 

At 7:30, the guys go on stage and you find a spot against one of the support pillars on the side of the room. You watch as they flawlessly perform their entire set, but find yourself focusing on Eddie more than you want to. The kid was natural on stage. He has so much charisma and raw talent that it’s….attractive? 

Jesus Christ, what? 

You shake your head, but you can’t pull your eyes away, watching how his ringed fingers glide over the strings of his guitar, the light sheen of sweat making some of his curls stick to the side of his face. He finds you amongst the crowd and meets your eyes. You can feel heat rush into your face and you quickly look down at the floor. 

Why are you getting so worked up? You hate him. You’re also his manager for fucks sake, you can’t act like this. 

You hate him even more for making you feel this way.

Once their set is over, the boys come barreling off the stage to meet you. All of them smiling so big that it’s infectious. Even Eddie grins at you. 

“You guys were amazing! There’s no way they won’t keep you on the roster.” You beam as you hug Gareth. 

“We honestly couldn’t have done it without your help though,” Jeff claps you on the shoulder. 

You look at Eddie, but he’s already picking up his guitar case and heading out to the van. 

You grab some of Gareth’s drum equipment and help carry it out. 

At the van, Eddie is loading in different gear as you walk up. He turns to see you carrying Gareth’s stuff, and quickly takes it from you. 

“I got it…” he says quietly as you let go. You put your hands in your jacket pockets nervously. 

“Hey uh…” he turns around and looks at you “…thank you. For doing this.” 

Shocked at his sudden sincerity, you nod and give him a smile, “You’re welcome. You guys are good, you deserve to have bigger opportunities.”

He shuts the back of the van, and lights a cigarette. 

The sudden silence between you is uncomfortable, so you pull out your own pack and put one between your mouth. 

“Fuck, I lost my lighter…” you think as you pat down your jacket pockets.

Eddie holds his lighter out and clicks it, steadying the flame so you can lean in and light the cigarette perched between your lips. You inhale, and look up to find Eddie staring at you. Before you can say anything, the rest of the guys walk up and throw some shit in the van.

“Hey, if you guys want you’re more than welcome to come back to my apartment to celebrate. I have some beer, and we can order pizza or something.” You offer, scanning their faces for a response. The guys nod eagerly, except for Eddie who is stone faced and fishing his keys out of his vest pocket. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He says nonchalantly as he turns to walk to the drivers side door.

“Oh come on, man.” Gareth pleads.

“I have other things to do. Better things to do.” He says, but he’s not looking at Gareth, he’s looking at you. You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already in the van starting the engine. You shake your head in disbelief and walk to your car with the rest of the guys in tow. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” You blurt out, 4 beers in. You’re sitting on your couch with Gareth, while the other two boys are on the floor eating pizza. The topic of Eddie has come up, and you were tired of hiding the fact that he was royally pissing you off.

“I’m not sure, he’s not usually like this. He’s normally really goofy and fun.” Jeff says with a mouthful of food. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you,” Gareth bats his eyelashes dramatically in your direction. You mimic a gag and stand up. 

“Y’all are more than welcome to sleepover, but I’m going to bed.” 

In your room, you close the door and fall onto your bed exhausted. Rolling over onto your back you stare at the ceiling and find yourself thinking about Eddie while you doze off.

——

The show at The Underground went so well that the owner calls you the next night to offer Corroded Coffin a spot opening for a band called Devil’s Advocate this Friday. They were a big band in the region, and drew a huge crowd wherever they played. You knew the guys would be ecstatic, so you call Gareth to tell him you were coming over and to have the other guys meet you there. 

Eddie was the last one to arrive to Gareth’s house. The rest of you were waiting in the garage, listening to Black Sabbath when he pulled up. Your eyes are closed while you listen, and you move your fingers aimlessly along with the song. The music was so loud you don’t even hear Eddie walk up and sit across from you. 

“So.” He says loudly, getting your attention. Your eyes shoot open, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment that he had caught you playing air guitar. 

You clear your throat and stand up, mentally shaking off your mortification. 

“I called you all here to let you know I booked you for another gig at The Underground.” 

“Ok…? You couldn’t have just told us this over the phone?” Eddie asks, visibly annoyed. 

“Well, it’s kind of a bigger deal.” You say through clenched teeth, trying to not let him see you sweat. “I booked you to open for Devil’s Advocate this Friday.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open slightly, shocked. He quickly shuts it when Jeff yells “No fucking way!”

You look at Eddie and raise your eyebrows, giving him a look that says fuck you for doubting me. He just continues to stare at you, not with hatred or disdain, but with what you read as awe. 

——

The Devil’s Advocate show was all the guys could talk about for the next week. You pick Gareth up from school on Friday afternoon, and drive him back to your apartment to get ready.   After trying on a bunch of outfits, you settle on some black ripped jeans, a black lace camisole, and checkered flannel. Nice and easy. 

You and Gareth meet the others at The Underground, and help them unload their gear from the back of Eddie’s van. You reach in to grab a guitar case when you feel a large hand grab your wrist to stop you. 

“Don’t touch her.” Eddie mumbles in your ear as he takes ahold of the case and maneuvers it around you. 

“Ok touchy…” you roll your eyes. You feel yourself getting annoyed, so you decide to join Gareth inside the bar. 

The guys were nervous, even Eddie. You could tell by the way he wouldn’t stop fidgeting and spinning his rings. 

“You guys got this. You’re gonna kill it, I know it.” You give them all a sympathetic smile when it’s time to go on, eyes lingering on Eddie for a beat longer than the others. 

Eddie scoffs while he throws the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and takes his place on stage, turning on his charm when he gets to the mic. 

The crowd loves them, cheering after every song. A few people in the front are really into it, pressing themselves against the stage, throwing up devil horns during particularly heavy breakdowns. Clutching a gin and tonic to your chest, you bob your head along to the music. You watch as a girl in the rowdy group at the front of the stage reaches her hand up towards Eddie. He sticks his tongue between his teeth and smiles at her, winking. 

Your body runs cold for a second. 

Are you…are you jealous? 

He’s free to do whatever he wants, and whoever he wants. Why are you getting upset?

You choke your feelings down along with the rest of your drink.

When the guys finish their set, they come downstage to greet you as usual. All of them are riding high from their performance, and hug you, except for Eddie. He exits the stage from the opposite side, and you see him walk to the bar, followed by that girl from earlier. The other three boys start to load their gear into the van, and you decide that enough is enough. You were tired of playing this fucking game. 

You make a beeline through the crowd, over to the bar and push up next to Eddie, who was downing a whisky on the rocks. 

“Tequila please,” you ask the bartender politely, “actually, a double.” 

He slides your drink across the wooden bar and you glance over at Eddie, who is looking at you through his peripheral. 

You lift your glass as a small ‘cheers’, and down your shot in one burning gulp. 

Slamming the glass down, you turn to Eddie, “Why do you fucking hate me.” You put your hand on your hip.

“I don’t fucking hate you…” he grumbles, keeping his eyes staring straight ahead, nursing his drink. 

“You barely acknowledge me, and when you do you’re a total dick. All I’ve been trying to do is help you guys, and I’m always met with complete contempt from you.” You blurt out.

Eddie turns to you, shooting the rest of his drink and sliding the glass away. 

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe you were the one that started all of this? That you were the one that acted like a total bitch, even though I was trying to be nice to you—”

“—you talked down to me when I met you! You doubted my abilities as a manager on the sole basis of my gender—“ 

“—that’s not what happened, don’t put words in my mouth—“

“—and then you called me a bunch of pet names, which infuriated me—“

“—BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING FLIRTING WITH YOU, IDIOT.”

You stop arguing and stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Wh-what?” 

“I was fucking flirting with you.” He ran his hand through his hair, “I saw you in the crowd at The Hideout while we were playing, I didn’t know you were Gareth’s cousin and I was completely enamored by you. When he introduced you, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t be our manager because you were a girl, I was just nervous and kept thinking about how bad I wanted to kiss you. And after you opened your mouth and showed me your little attitude problem…” he chuckled, “…I fell completely in love with you. I’ve been trying to distance myself ever since because I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

The bartender came back over and you ordered two more shots. You pass one to Eddie and clink the glasses together, knocking them back at the same time. 

Grimacing as you swallow, you look at Eddie who hasn’t taken his eyes off you. 

“You know that you’re a natural up there right?” Nodding towards the stage. “I see how the girls in the crowd look at you.” You peer over his shoulder to the girl from earlier who is now shooting daggers at you with her eyes.

He laughs, “Yeah I caught you looking during the last show.”

Blushing, you put your hand on Eddie’s arm, nervously playing with a string hanging from his sleeve. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it.”

Suddenly, you feel Eddie’s hands grab your face, and he kisses you. The shock makes you pull back slightly, but you quickly melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Time stops, you were no longer in the bar, there was no music playing, no one else was around. Just you and Eddie. All you can feel is your lips moving slowly against his, his hand on your lower back, his body pressed against yours. 

You accidentally let out a small gasp when he pulled away.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He smirks. 

“Y/N! Eddie!” You turn around to see Gareth making his way through the crowd. You both quickly remove your hands from each other and try your best to act normal.

“Hey, are you guys ready?” Gareth asks.

“Yeah, is it cool if I drive Y/N home?” Eddie looks between you and Gareth.

“You can take my car, I’ll come pick it up tomorrow at your house, ok?” You hand Gareth your keys, as he gives you a suspicious look. 

“You guys…are getting along?” He questions.

“Yeah, we just want to go over some details for the next few shows.” You reassure him.

He raises his eyebrows and gives you both an apprehensive wave as he leaves. 

Once your cousin was out of earshot, Eddie leans down and whispers in your ear, “Wanna come back to my place?”

You dig through Eddie’s cassette tapes in the glove compartment while you wait for him to finish loading his shit into the van. You pop in some Dio right as he hops in the drivers seat and starts the engine. You start to sing along, and he looks over at you, eyebrows raised. You smile and drum your fingers on your thighs. Eddie pulls out of the parking lot and reaches over and places his hand on yours, ceasing your drumming and interlocking your fingers with his. 

——

Inside Eddie’s trailer, you walk around the living room, looking at all of the things on the walls, mugs, hats, plaques. 

“Do you live here alone?” You ask as you dust your finger over a mug on a shelf. 

“With my Uncle Wayne, he works nights so he won’t be home until morning.” He watches you move around the room.

You give him an understanding nod and lean against the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. 

He steps closer to you and brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair. Your eyes close as you lean into his palm.

He pulls your face closer to his and kisses you, deeper than at the bar, eventually becoming hungrier. 

You grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer into you, feeling him press you into the edge of the counter. He reaches down and pulls you up by the back of your thighs, and sits you on the ledge. You wrap your legs around him and grab a fistful of his hair from the back of his head, pulling on it lightly as he moans into your mouth. 

Eddie grinds his hips against you, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. 

“Jesus, Eddie…so hard for me already?” You tease, as he trails careful bites down your neck. 

“I’ve been hard for you since the moment I saw you, sweetheart. Literally went home and jerked off to the thought of you that night.” He pulls back to look at you, smirking.

“Oh yeah?” You raise your eyebrows, “What did you think about?” You grip your legs around his waist tighter.

His cheeks flush pink, “Mmm…well…you were riding me, and uh…taking charge…”

“Do you want me to be rough with you, Munson?” You gape at him.

He nods quickly. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer to your face, “use your words, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He breathes.

“That’s better,” you coo, pulling him in and kissing him. “Now, be a good boy and take your pants off.”

Eddie grins as he unbuckles his belt and slides his pants down. You palm his dick through his boxers, eliciting a moan from him as he lets his head fall back, closing his eyes. 

You reach inside and wrap your hands around him, making him shudder and grip the sides counter. You start to stroke him as his eyes roll back into his head. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you, Eds?” You whisper, watching his face. 

“Mmmm…doesn’t matter. Wherever you want…” he mumbles distractedly. 

You grip him forcefully, making his eyes shoot open. “I said, where would you like me to fuck you, Eddie. Make. A. Fucking. Decision.” 

“We can…the couch…” he stumbles over his words.

You loosen your grip and push a stray strand of hair off his forehead with your free hand, “good boy.”

Eddie growls and picks you up, gripping your ass and pulling you on top of him onto the couch. He cradles your face in both of his hands and kisses you feverishly while you shed your flannel onto the floor. Pulling back you peel away your camisole and unclasp your bra, throwing them both behind you. 

Eddie stares at your upper body completely exposed, and reaches up to grab your chest. You smack his hand away, “Did I say you could touch, Munson?” 

“No ma’am…” he mutters. 

You stand up, maintaining unwavering eye contact with him while you strip out of your jeans and underwear, and climbing back onto of him. 

“You don’t get to touch until I say so.”

Eddie nods and grips the couch cushion, while you lean down and kiss him, running your tongue along his lips and into his mouth.

You start to trail little kisses down the side of his neck, and feel him tense up, knowing he’s dying to feel you. 

“You can touch me now Eddie…” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe. 

He immediately attaches one hand to your chest while the other snakes around your back to pull your hips down onto him harder. You begin to roll your hips into him, feeling his fingers grip your hip so hard you can already feel bruises starting to form from his rings.

You reach down and begin to stroke him again, urging him to remove his boxers completely, discarding them on the floor next to your bra. Running the head of his cock up and down your folds, you hear him moan in anticipation. 

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined, when you were jerking off to me, alone in your room?” You sneer at him, slipping his head in and out of your entrance a few times to tease him. 

“Fuck….” He groans.

You tease him for a few more minutes, until his noises become begging, and then you finally sink onto him completely. He lets out a guttural moan that sounds more like a growl, and bucks up into you. 

You quickly shoot your hand up and place it on his throat, squeezing lightly, “We will be having none of that. Not unless I say so. Remember who’s in charge here.” You smile sweetly, while he bites his bottom lip.

You start to rock your hips slowly at first, picking up the pace after a few minutes, gripping onto his shoulders for balance. You set a good pace, but it’s not enough, you crave more, needing him to be closer.

“Eddie…” you groan, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

He picks his head up from the back of the couch and looks at you, running his hands along your back, “yes baby…” he whispers back.

“I want you to fuck me…fuck me like you hate me.”

It was all the permission he needed. 

He grabs you and flips you onto the couch, hooking your leg around his hip for a better angle. Thrusting into you at a ruthless pace, causing you to let out the most feral noise from deep in your throat. He laughs darkly as he clamps his hand over your mouth, “Shut the fuck up, I don’t want the neighbors hearing me fucking some whore.”

He pulls his hand away, only to swipe two of his fingers against your lips. You put them both into your mouth and suck them, causing him to groan and his hips start to stutter. “Fuck me…are you close?”

“Mhm…yes Eddie…” you grab onto his bicep as he fucks you hard and fast, chasing his release.

He buries his face in your neck, and you feel him finish inside of you, whispers of fuck, shit, and Jesus Christ filling your ear as you let go of the knot in your lower stomach and clench around him simultaneously.

Eddie collapses on top of you, careful to not put his full weight onto your body. He kisses your neck, and moves up to your cheek, finishing with one soft kiss on your lips. 

“Hey pretty girl.” He smiles. 

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle back. 

After a few minutes of laying intertwined, Eddie mindlessly tracing patterns down your arm, you both get up and get dressed. 

“So,” you break the silence, zipping up your jeans, “are you gonna be nice to me now?” 

He smiles while pulling his shirt on, “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Ok new rule,” you hold a finger up to him, “you can only call me pet names in private, we can’t have the boys thinking you get special attention, I’m still your manager y’know.”

“So they can’t know that you’re also good at managing this dick?” He says with a serious face.

You hit him in the arm, mouth open in fake offense as he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.