#also this is my third time watching!!!!!!! the finale makes me cry so hard I almost throw up every time and I don’t expect this time to be

[strawberryrhubarbs]

watching bly manor again … cant see how this could end badly at all

[elllisaaa]

no nut november - lee minho (winner)

-> pairing : minho x fem!reader

-> words count : 2.1k

-> genre : smut, etablished relation

-> warnings : dom!minho, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, use of 'good girl', 'kitten" and 'slut' (lovingly), overstimulation, spanking

+ the way i'm depicting minho does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

To say Minho was confident about his chances was an understatement. Honestly, he knew he wouldn’t have much competition, except maybe from Seungmin. Still, he followed the loss of all his members like the best show he had ever seen, teasing them endlessly. Some surprises came with the bet, like Jeongin being one of the last still going after the third week of November. But overall, they were all so predictable that Minho could have guessed how it would end. 

So when he received a message from Seungmin the 30th, saying that he was out, Minho knew that he had finally won. Just two days, and he could finally do all the things he was constantly thinking about for these past weeks to you. It hadn’t been an easy win, he must say. He almost lost just once, when he was making out with you on your couch during a movie night. But he managed - God knows how - to contain himself and stay strong. 

Even though he didn’t lose control doesn’t mean that he didn’t get crazy over you for the smallest things. Like this one time when you were applying your gloss, getting ready for the date Minho had planned for the two of you. The act was innocent, no ulterior motives - of course, you were so sweet, didn’t do anything to try and make him lose - but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to other places. He couldn’t stop thinking about those same glossy lips wrapped around his cock, couldn’t stop thinking about those same glossy lips covered in his cum, as well as your perfect face. But these fantasies were all he would authorize himself, or else, he would have gone mad by now. 

On your side, even if this challenge was frustrating too, it was also very amusing : seeing your spoiled boyfriend, who used to get what he wanted from you immediately, struggling to keep the last pieces of his sanity together was funny. Very funny. But you knew that you wouldn’t be laughing at the end of the month, most likely screaming and crying underneath Minho. But you knew that as soon as his primal needs and yours would be fulfilled, he was gonna be the sweetest boyfriend ever. And you couldn’t wait to hold him and fall asleep in his arms.  

Therefore you weren’t surprised when you heard someone knocking at your door at midnight precisely. Minho hadn’t tell you anything but you were sure that as soon as he could, he would come and fuck you. That’s exactly why you decided to stay awake, watching your favorite film and patiently waiting for him to show up at your door. You couldn’t help the little smirk that tugged at the corner of your lips as you unlocked the door of your apartment to reveal the well-known silhouette of your boyfriend, leaning on the wall and wearing the same smile as you. 

“- Have you missed me, kitten ?

- Well, come and find out.”

It didn’t take more than that for him to grab your waist, pushing your body against his already rock hard member, and to kiss you like he needed you to breathe, like you were his oxygen. And in a sense, it was true. This month without you, without feeling your skin under his hands, without feeling your touch. This month was really what he had pictured when he imagined hell. 

“- You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow kitten…

- Good, because I want you to ruin me.”

You didn’t even notice that Minho closed the door until he pushed you against it, his tongue playing with yours like he wanted to win a fight he had already won anyway. He always won. And if he didn’t, it was only a moment of peace before he took the lead again. But honestly, you weren’t complaining right now : you had missed him too much to care, just like he had missed you. From the way he was groping every part of your body as he was undressing you from your shorts and hoodie, to the way he grunted when you ran your fingers through his hair. He clearly missed you as much as you did. 

“- Minho… Please, don’t tease…”

No answer came to your ears as he helped you get out of your last piece of clothing and got down on his knees. That was enough of an answer for you. You were already breathing heavily, anticipating Minho’s next move. One of his fingers ran along your clit, making you shiver and whine for more. You needed him. You needed to feel him. 

“- Already so wet for me… You missed me that much ?

- Yes, I missed you so much Min… Please, I need you….”

Your pleas were enough to convince him apparently because he immediately dived into your cunt, eating you out as if he was a man starved. A sigh left his lips when your taste engulfed him. Fuck. He missed your taste, missed your moans, missed your hands tugging at his roots, missed the way you were grinding against his face. He missed it all even if it was worth it. 

But what was even more worth it was to relieve all this pent up frustration of the past month. Yes, it was torture most of the time, but Minho must admit that getting to touch you again after so long made him want to appreciate it even more, savoring every drop of your juices as if it was the most expensive champagne he ever got to taste, and taking his sweet time, listening to your moans like his favourite song. 

You quickly felt close to the edge, wanting nothing more than cumming on his tongues. And Minho knew the tale-tell signs of your orgasm by heart : how your thighs began to shake, how you lost the rhythm of your hips, how you tugged harder on his strands of hair. And after all you did for him this month, he was more than happy to offer it to you, sucking one last time on your clit and coaxing your first orgasm out of you. By the time he got to his feets, you were almost back to reality, your chest still heaving to your hitched breathe. 

“- You okay ?”

His fingers brushed softly against your cheek, a rough contrast with how messily he was eating your pussy just minutes ago, your arousal still coating his chin and lips. 

“- Yeah… You’re just too good at this.

- Wanna see all the other things I’m good at ?”

And he did show you. He put you on your knees for him, pushing his rock hard cock until it hit the back of your throat, grinning when you gagged around him. He fucked your mouth roughly, releasing all his annoyance of the past month until you milked him dry. Then, he played with you again, his fingers plunged as deeply as possible into your cunt, hitting your sweet every time he curled them in the right angle, making you cum for the second time before he got you on all fours. 

“- Gonna be a good girl and give me one more kitten ?”

You simply moaned by way of answer, but that didn’t seem to satisfy him as all you earned was a slap that made your ass jiggle, the sound echoing through your bedroom. You couldn’t see Minho’s face, but you could easily imagine the smirk playing on his lips. 

“- Use your words.

- Yes, yes I can… Please, fuck me…

- That’s better.”

Both of you knew that the act he was putting on would drop as soon as he slid in between your wet walls. His moans were almost louder than yours, his iron grip on your hips that will certainly leave marks holding you in place. It’s been too long. Too long since he tasted you, kissed you, touched you, fucked you. And now, finally buried deep inside of you, he found himself unable to move. Every now and then, your pussy fluttered around his shaft and he groaned while tightening his grip on your waist.

“- I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last long.”

His voice was already airy, cut out by little high-pitched moans every time he thrusted back into you. And that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard. It was a shame you couldn’t see his face right now, but the feeling of his heavy length pounding in and out of your cunt was already enough to bring you closer to your relief. You weren’t going to last long either, having missed being fucked by him too much.

“- Don’t care… S-So good Min…”

At this point, you were fucking yourself on his cock, and Minho stared down at your ass coliding with his abs everytime you moved backwards, moaning loudly everytime he hitted your sweet spot. It really was a sight to behold, and he didn’t miss a bit of it, his gaze lingering on your cunt swallowing him whole. 

“- You’re so fucking nasty baby, bet you fantasized about that every day, didn’t you ?”

You were so out of it that you couldn’t form any coherent word, and even less sentences, only whimpers leaving your lips. Minho chuckled from behind you, picking up on his pace and holding your hips still while he rammed into you at a much quicker rhythm. 

“- I am fucking you so good you can’t talk ? Is that it little slut ?”

You moaned in approuval, reliveing in the way his body now pressed into yours in the mattress, his lips brushing against your ear everytime he talked dirty to you. Minho knew how excited that got you. He wanted you to come before him, he wanted to feel the delicious ache of you getting impossibly tight around him before cumming too. 

“- Answer, or you’re not getting what you want.

- Y-Yeah ! 

- Yeah to what ? That’s not a proper response baby.”

The sweet name paired with his hand slapping your ass was degrading, borderline humiliating, but it felt so fucking good, tightening the knot in your stomach and bringing you so much closer to your climax.

“- You’re fucking me s-so good I can’t… Ah… I can’t talk.

- Good girl. Now you can cum.”

As if you only needed his permission to do so, you reached your breaking point, screaming in pleasure and your pussy contracting so hard around him he came almost immediately, moaning your name loudly as he spilled his load deep inside of you. Both of your orgasms were so intense your visions became white, tears almost spilling out of your eyes. For a moment, the only sound breaking the silence of your bedroom was one of your heavy breathing, trying to regain some strength to move from the position you were currently in, which was becoming quite uncomfortable. 

Minho rolled off from your body, laying on your side and bringing you close to him, not wanting to leave the warmth radiating from you. You immediately cuddled against him, settling your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent with an audible sigh of relief. 

“- That was undoubtedly the most powerful orgasm of my whole life.”

You giggled at his words, but you could only agree with him : it indeed was, and even if you weren’t certain that an entiere month of frustration was the better way of getting it, you were still glad for it.

“- Yeah, it was amazing but I’m gonna need a good shower.

- Does this mean round two ?”

You hit his toned chest playfully, rolling your eyes, but you didn’t miss his teasing smirk and he didn’t miss the way the corner of your lips were threatening to stretch out. 

“- That means we’re not doing that ever again. I missed you too much, it wasn’t really fun.”

Feeling you snuggle even more against him, Minho tightens his hold on you, one of his hands coming to caress your shoulders, his gaze softening. He lowered his head enough to be able to kiss the crown of your hair, burying his face inside just after, the perfume of your shampoo feeling familiar enough to totally relax him.

“- I missed you a lot too. But it was worth it seeing them losing one after another.”

You hit him again, but it only made him chuckle softly. You knew your boyfriend was very competitive, and maybe it wasn’t a bad thing after all, you thought, when you felt his hands sliding from your shoulder to your ass, squeezing them roughly. 

“- So… Round two ?”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

taglist - @bangchans-angel @its-hannjisung @3rachasninja @boi-bi-ahaha @supergoopjudgepsychich @jaiuneamesolitaiire @starsandrqindrops @iwannabangchan69 @b3tOxic @fawnpeaks @lxrii @channiesgoodgirl @imsotiredandalsonineteen @bbchangbinnie24 @chrishak @cscsi @stayconnecteed @miserya99 @puppy-minnie @binwons @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @linosssss @channiesbedbug @whosanaanyway @coastalmaine @soobywiththebooty (if your pseudo is crossed out, it's because i can't tag you and you'll have to change your settings)

[sorcerous-caress]

I'm so jealous of Daniil. Having only played the Haruspex route so far in both game, each time I'm invited to the Bachelor's place I turn green with envy at how he resides at an actual proper house with a real room and a real bed.

A real bed with a whole bedframe. A pillow with an actual pillowcase!! His bed even has sheets!

He has WINDOWS. His house is in a nice neighbourhood, and his roommate is a very attractive woman. There is actual furniture in his room. Not one hint of fungus growing on the walls or rust!

Can you imagine living there as your lair? Spending the whole game knowing you have a real house with a real bed to go back to at the end of each night? Seeing Eva's face every day before leaving to do quests?

Meanwhile, Artemy is stuck in this dumpster room of an abandoned factory. Cuddling with rats on his makeshift bed, held by nothing but a wooden panel, some boxes and a dream.

A pillow so yellow it has its own ecosystem where bugs established real estate. Is that even a pillow or is it some random rock Artemy found and chucked in there? Is it a stale loaf of bread?? Why is it hard looking?

But no, you don't even get to keep the rock roach pillow because in P2, they take it away.

Fuck you Artemy, you had it good for too long. No pillow now because what are you gonna do about it?. Fold your mattress instead to have a resemblance of a faux sense of protection under your most vital organ during the long hours of death rehearsal that you call sleep.

Somehow, they made the bed even more unstable looking. As if that thin panel in the middle could hold Artemy's weight without caving in. Oh, and apparently, I ran out of boxes to use for furniture because the bed and the table have to share custody of the same box.

We have downgraded into barrels now, as you can see :) No, I don't know what they used to contain inside.

Waking up every day to Sticky's snotty face telling me not to spit in the wind and nagging me about cleaning up the week-old human organs thrown around that are stinking up the place.

THERE IS MOLD GROWING ON MY WALLS. RUST FLAKES FALL FROM THE EXPOSED METAL PIPES DOWN INTO MY CEREAL EACH BREAKFAST.

This single wall holds so much mold and fungus that they started crossbreeding and evolved into new, never seen before types of bacteria. Satan's asscrack is more hygienic than whatever biohazard plagues of Egypt this slab of concrete contains.

I live in the gutters. My only neighbours are an illegal gang of minors with a hatred for furries and another illegal gang but of adults this time who sell me bullets way above the market price. A dangerous neighbourhood where you can't have shit because SOMEONE STOLE MY BULL.

The basement I reside in has no windows, the smell is pungent and fucking vile down here. There isn't even a space for a bathroom.

This is my kitchenette/bathroomette/showerette/cupboardette/surgery tools disinfection stationette/sinkette/watercoolerette/toilette/fridge.

also my buckets yk.

One bucket for the makeshift bathroom, another for holding important organs and loose guts during surgery, a third one as a cooking pot for making tasty meat grub soup and the final one for murky water after sweeping the floor.

What do I use to tell them apart? Oh nothing :) I just mix em up every now and then, oppsie daisy.

Oh and the floors are CONSTANTLY wet for some reason. Yeah sticky slipped and almost broke his neck the other day so watch your steps.

There is also this eerie room with literal garbage and broken furniture right next to the entrance. Don't worry about it, sometimes I hear someone crying and screaming for help when I'm trying to go to sleep but it's just the factory being silly lol.

Now this? This is where the M A G I C happens. This is where Artemy the Menkhu makes his famous herbal remedies and natural mixtures. This is where the Panacea for the infamous sand plague gets made!

In a rusty empty food can.

Falling into a bucket with shit stains.

MEDICINE BABBYYY. GET YOUR WEAK SOFT BONED ASS BACK TO THE CAPITAL BITCH, THIS IS HOW REAL MEN MAKE REAALLL MEDICINE!! RAWRRRRR🦅🦅💥💥

Meanwhile, dickovsky has the view of the cathedral and polyhedron just around the corner from where he resides. He has a backyard with a lake, and all I have is a swamp behind my basement. I trudge through the mud each night, collecting weeds and herbs to mix and trade so I and the two orphans who adopted themselves into my life don't go starving.

Not to mention the gaggles of herb brides loitering outside and giving me a false bad reputation.

That dandy douchbag has a pharmacy, a grocery, and a tailor right next door. The closest establishment to my shrekcore place of resident is a dingy basement bar with shady drinks and no bouncer to check for ID, I saw two kids in there once.

Pov: a qt3.14 surgeon says his dad isn't home and invites you over.

[theragethatisdesire]

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

-

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

[webslingingslasher]

Hey J, can you write something fluffy? Any Peter would do. it's exam season and it's stressing me out! I'm just searching for a little comfort 🥹

*cleaning out my inbox, based off some terrible storms we're having in my area. nerdy!peter* also- go me for coming out of retirement, i hope i'm still good 😁

there are three things that wake peter up in the dead of night.

the first was a loud crack of thunder, the second was a whimper, and the third was his skin being latched onto like he's velcro. peter's room flashes when lightning strikes outside his window, rain beating against it like it's begging to come inside.

there's another soft cry, hot breath washes across his ribcage.

'angel?' peter isn't awake enough to make the full connection yet. a pregnant pause, he can hear how hard the rain is coming down, his roof amplifies the sound.

'petey.' it's the soft drawl you have, you're calling out for him like he's your lifeline.

it's enough for him to rid all thoughts of sleep from his mind. 'hey, hey, hey, you're okay.' peter can feel you tremble under his hold, another strike of lightning, he's praying thunder doesn't follow.

'it's bad, it's so bad.' if peter had known about the storm he would've prepared better, instead it caught you both off guard and that made it so much worse for you.

'it's so loud. i don't like it, i don't like it, i don't like it.' you cling to him by hitching your leg over his hips, your arm thrown over his waist to keep yourself pressed against him is threatening a bruise.

peter's thankful this happened to be on a night you were sleeping over. 'sit up.' he rubs your back as a way to raise you, you shake your head. 'i think you need a hug.'

you're up in a second, peter's halfway to meeting you when the thunder he was terrified of hits and you scream while holding your hands over your ears.

peter has a funny feeling another rumble was coming, his hands pressing over yours- you scream again, you swear you felt the walls shake and peter wouldn't disagree.

you dive for him, a bundle of sobs and fast tears. 'you're okay, i promise you're okay.' your chest rises and falls rapidly, you weakly agree. 'i'm okay.'

'i'm here, right? you know i wouldn't let anything happen to you.' you nod. peter keeps you tucked in his neck, he thinks he can hear the rain lighten up, just barely. he reaches for his phone and looks for his weather app, a full radar shows him the threat is moving away.

'hey,' peter keeps his voice low for you. 'look at this,' you peek an eye open and lightly squint at the light, your focus settles in and you finally feel your heart rate lower. 'watch,' peter slides a bar, within the next thirty minutes it'll be completely past you.

'oh thank god, there's an end to my torment.'

'see? i'll will anything for my girl.' it's a nice thought but he can't control the weather. 'you can't control mother nature, petey.' the smile he gives you makes you doubt your words.

'but for you, i'd try.' he's never made fun of your fears, he's only ever been your security blanket when you need one. you can throw him a bone. 'i mean... it did go away after you woke up, so...'

peter laughs, your cheeks feel dry from your tear tracks. you sniff and feel silly for the bought of tears, peter doesn't think you're silly though, he thinks you're brave for toughing it out. he always does.

'you only screamed twice, and that's just because it caught you off guard! you're killing this, angel.' he's always so sweet, out of all the things you love about him, you think that's number one.

pouting your bottom lip out, you give him a small peck. 'i love you.' the rain comes to a sudden stop, peter gestures to his window, 'that's the kind of power your love gives me. bam, i just made mother nature my bitch.'

'peter, don't call women bitches.'

'she's a bitch for making you cry.'

'aw, okay, bitch usage allowed.'

this time, peter kisses you. it's gentle, not because you're weak from the near panic attack- because he's only ever known to be delicate with you. god, you really love his heart. 'i think you're the best person i know. i'm going to look into how to nominate you for a humanitarian award.'

peter ponders it for a second. 'well, the best part of me is you, so i'm not sure how-' you stop him with a light smack to his shoulder, he bows his head and accepts your compliment how you wanted, with a shy grin.

'as long as you keep me around to fight mother nature, i'll keep accepting your awards.'

that's a bet you're willing to take. 

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 03

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

17 YEARS AGO

It was during my first week there that I'd finally be let to do something with the other kids. I didn't know what I hoped it to be but it wasn't this.

All of us kids stood at the bottom of a lengthy spiral staircase waiting for Reginald’s go. Minus a brown hair girl who stood at the top with her father looking down pitifully at us, I'd never seen that day with the rest of the kids before. I didn't know any of these people yet. And they didn’t know me. So when the morning began they were confused about who this girl was with the same green with white stripe tracksuit as them.

I looked up at Reginald as he wrote something in a big book, probably his journal but I had no idea what it could be.

Nietzsche once said. ‘Man is as a rope stretched between the animal and the superhuman. A rope over an abyss. It is a dangerous crossing, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous trembling and halting.’

Reginald gives the brown-haired girl a look and she blows the whistle tied around her neck. They all burst into action but I stood there for a second. I was still very new to things so I followed the crowd as they raced up the stairs. I wasn't a fast runner at all but I kept up. Never falling to last place.

As much as you must strive for individual greatness, and strive you must, for it won't come to you of its own accord..

The blonde boy was first and the rest of us just tried to catch up to him. The stairs were steep and rickety, they did not make for a good run at all. I was next to the curly-haired girl who was in third, we both tried our best to keep moving but never wanting to push each other.

You must also remember that there is no individual stronger than the collective.

The one boy who could teleport blinks up in front of the blonde boy and takes the lead.

“That’s not fair, Five’s cheating!” Whined the boy who could throw knives, who was second before he teleported up.

“He adapted.” Yelled Reginald from the top.

..

The scene in front of me was terrifying beyond belief. I'd just been given my uniform and called into one of the house's many halls along with everyone else. In the middle, there was a man who was working on a tattoo, on Diego’s arm. Who’s name I just learned.

I could tell he was trying not to cry, but by the way, he was moving in his chair, I could tell that this was hurting him. I wanted to go up and hold his hand and use my powers. But I was given a disapproving look from Reginald so instead I sat in one of the chairs next to Five and waited for my dreaded turn.

The tattoo was in the shape of an umbrella, our logo.

The ties that bind you together, make you stronger than you are alone.

Behind Diego was Alison and Klaus who already had gotten their tattoos and were crying holding each other in support. I also wanted to go up to them, and help. I thought I could help everyone in the room with my powers and at least take away the pain but not the image.

They will make you impervious to the pain and hardship the world will thrust upon you.

Behind me, I could see Grace and Reginald standing next to each other, witnessing the children’s crying hysterics. Not either of them showed an ounce of sympathy for what we were going through.

And believe me when I tell you, life will be hard. It will be painful.

The old man walks away leaving Grace to watch by herself. She had her eyes on the girl at the top of the flight of stairs, Vanya. I was confused why she wasn't sitting next to me getting her own branding like the rest of us.

She took out a sharpie from her uniform and drew a figure on her arm.

We can accomplish anything.

Hours passed and It was time for bed, is what Grace told us. All of the kids looked less in pain from what the day did to us, almost joyful that it was over. But for me as someone who could heal all my wounds ever. The tattoo pain increased tenfold than it was when I got it. I was in agony before I fell asleep. Still in my plain room.

When we accept responsibility together. This is what creates trust.

..

Reginald was monitoring all of the kids with wires connected to their heads that night. A weird scene at best. None of them would ever discover this crazy fact until adulthood. He sat in his study, writing and watching the children’s brain waves as they slept. As well as security camera footage of each one.

Together, you will stand against the reign of evil.

The loudest beeping came from Vanya, something that Reginald looked shocked at before going back to writing in his journal.

..

PRESENT DAY

I gave myself time to just rest in my bed. The thought of Ben was a virus in my mind that wouldn't go away, at what point do you have to tell yourself to let go?

On my way to the kitchen I passed Vanya leaving, I stopped to say bye and when I did she hugged me. And told me to look after myself. Then she walked out the door, I do hope I see her again.

“Hey N/n” Klaus looked at me worriedly. He was strumming a guitar while sitting on one of the chairs in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I said quietly and took a seat in the chair closest to him. Five paced around the room looking for something when Alison walked in.

“Where’s Vanya?” She asked.

“You just missed her. She left.” I say back.

“That’s unfortunate,” Five remarks, standing in front of a shelf. But he slowly turns to where the three of us sit

“An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” He said, dropping an empty can onto the table.

Alison gives him a confused look. “Dad hated caffeine.”

“Well, he hated children too, and he had plenty of us!” Klaus laughs, falling back into his slanted chair.

Alison didn't find his joke very funny, but I did. It was true after all.

Five looks down, his expression a mix of anger and yearning. “I'm taking the car.” He says.

Klaus puts the guitar down, getting more interested in this conversation. “Where are you going?” He asks. Probably with the hope that he could come too. Our sandwich idea didn't work out, and it was too dark now.

“To get a decent cup of coffee.” Five exclaims.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Alison crosses her arms.

“I know how to do everything.” And he blinks away.

Klaus's reaction is delayed. He stands up after Five leaves and holds out his hand like he's still there. “I feel like we should try and stop him.” He turns back to us. “But then again, I also just kinda want to see what happens.”

We all turned our heads to the wall as we heard noises from the outside. It was a car engine turning on, proof that Five wasn't bluffing. Now I kinda wish I could join him. The car speeds off and we hear Diego’s lovely voice as he walks into the room.

“All right, I guess I'll see you guys in, what, ten years? When Pogo dies next?” He says.

“Not if you die first.” I smile. Klaus bursts out into fits of laughter as Alison fake coughs to mask hers.

“Yeah, well love you too Y/n.”

He stops at Alison. “Good luck on your next film.” Was he actually being nic— “Hope it turns out better than your marriage, huh?” No of course not..

Diego finally walks away when Alison looks like she’s about to say something but she turns her back and walks away instead in the opposite direction.

“Gotta run sweetie, love you!” Klaus calls out before running after Diego.

I sigh as I hear the sound of them leaving in Diego's car. I'm surprised by the fact that he even has one. I'm left by myself once again, now I'm not sure what to do at all. So I went back to my room.

..

On my long walk home, because I wasn't in the mood to wait for a taxi, I passed by Giddy's Doughnuts. My old place of employment when I left the Academy. I had a job there to earn some money to get on my feet.

I wasn't going to take any handouts because of my “last name” and definitely wasn't getting any money from Reginald. Well, I doubt he’d ever give me any because I did technically run away.

Since Klaus ditched me to hang out with the less cool Diego, I thought I'd stop by and say hello to Agnes.

“What the fu—“ I screamed as I walked through the door. There were Five absolutely beating the shit out of like six people.

Their bodies lay on the floors in their own pools of blood. Five looked petrified at the sound of my voice, dropping the man whose neck he just snapped.

His face switches back to a calm one as he sees me staring at them. “Don’t try to help them, it's not worth it.” He says walking to the large island in front of the doughnuts. “Come here and help me with this.”

I walk over immediately trying not to step on any parts of these men. “Fiv-“

He cuts me off. “Cut open my arm, will you? Right here.” My face drops.

“Aren’t you the one who can heal people? Come on.” Five rushes. I forgot that we barely know each other, well I know more about him than he does about me. Because he ran away at such an odd time in our lives.

I gulped down the puke that was about to come up and grabbed the knife he was holding out. I cut slowly into his upper arm, he told me to make a slice and when I did he barely flinched. After I put my hand on him to start to heal the wound. And I felt the urge to say sorry for what I'm doing but then he stops me.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing to the beeping device he rips out of his arm.

“I'll explain later, come with me.” He says getting up. But letting me heal him first.

We walk out of Griddy's and he drops the device in a puddle. Looking back at the stores I feel bad for Agnes. I could see her pink headwear poking out from behind the island. At least she wasn't hurt.

..

Five blinked us upstairs into someone’s apartment. I knew it wasn’t his own so I started to get suspicious. “Who lives here?” I ask but get no response.

All of a sudden whoever lives here keys, start to rattle the door as they walk in. Surprisingly instead of some random person that five was going to kill and steal their house. It was Vanya opening the door. I felt a sense of relief.

“Jesus!” She whisper shouts, seeing the two of us in her apartment. We sat on her two living room chairs as Five turned on a lamp to scare her.

“You should have locks on your windows.” He says

“I live on the second floor”

“Rapists can climb” he states and I give him a look.

“You are so weird,” I say. Vanya closes the door and sits on the couch next to us.

No one talks for a second before Vanya asks a question.

“Why are you guys here? And why together?” She asked. I was about to tell her that I'd been kidnapped by a teenager when Five spoke up.

He sighs. “I’ve decided that you're the only one I can trust.” I glanced at him. “The only two I can trust.” He corrects himself.

“Why me?” She questions.

“Because you’re ordinary.” I gave him another glance. “Because you’ll listen.”

He groans. “When I jumped foward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?” He asked us.

“No” Vanya shakes her head.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” He paused. “As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out what killed the human race, but. I did find something else.”

“What was it?” I asked. The suspense was killing me.

“The date it happens. The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

My jaw was hanging on the ground, that's how much it opened hearing his news. Vanya sat there looking the same.

“I'll put on a pot of coffee.”

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[scoobydoodean]

hot take ig but… dean wanting to contain jack was not cruel or even a bad idea…

first, it was not just dean’s idea. sam agreed, and cas had basically the same idea, just using the cage instead. but for some reason everybody ignores this!! second, containing dangerous people is what they always do. sam and cas have done so to dean. the s5 finale was all about locking up a dangerous powerful being. and there are other examples! third, jack was the most powerful being in the universe and had no soul meaning no ability to discern right from wrong. he was killing people! and they’ve always seen soulless people as dangerous. dean was willing to let sam die via the process of returning his soul bc he saw that soulless sam was not sam. and sam agreed!

like. yes dean was not handling the situation well, let alone gently, so i understand why sam and cas were frustrated. but his mother had just been killed (and ftr i do think cas was being kind of insensitive about it), and jack was still killing other people. dean’s allowed to be angry. he was being outwardly meaner, but sam was agreeing with him (he said a part of him wanted jack dead!) up until the point that dean actually agreed to kill jack for chuck.

idk i just feel like people really exaggerate dean’s actions in this situation especially in comparison to what sam and cas were saying and/or doing too. so i’m just wondering what you think of all of this? do you think dean was “right” or was he overreacting? or do you think the audience is too hard on dean (as always :/) about this? could this be another version of samdela effect? cause i feel like people misremember what the others were saying/doing in order to put more on dean…

also omg i just realized how long this became, so so sorry for the long rant!! if you can respond, thank you!

*opens my coat* would you care for some memes?

I will take your hot take and flambé it. When it comes to this subject, I don't feel inclined to be patient with fandom or carefully lay anything out piece by piece. I'm sick and tired of hearing about what a betrayal it was to put Jack in the box and how mean and evil and abusive it was blah blah blah cry me a river. I was there watching when that episode aired and saw how stupid everyone was about that episode in real time and it was annoying then and it continues to be annoying that almost no one seems to bother putting a single granule of thought into this episode or what Sam and Dean were thinking or what the stakes actually were. And yeah—it was not just Dean who did that despite the samdela effect hard at work causing people to insist Dean somehow forced Sam to go along with him when that categorically did not happen.

People act like Jack was just standing there shitting rainbows and unicorns out of his ass and Dean turned around and strangled him to death for it. What happened was Soulless Jack killed Sam and Dean's mom and then went off and turned someone into a pillar of salt for being an atheist and filled someone else's body with worms to punish them for not wanting to be turned into an angel. Then he showed up at the bunker trying to make nice in the most hauntingly emotionless way possible—calling killing Mary an accident and then in his next breath saying he snapped and killed her because she threatened to reveal that the manner in which he killed Nick was scary and disturbed. In other words—he made it very clear to Mary's sons that murdering her was not actually a fucking accident at all even while he was calling it one.

Jack: I know -- I know things have been bad. A-And, if it helps, I regret it. The accident. Sam: The -- The accident? Jack: What happened to Mary. She kept talking about my soul, t-that I didn't have a soul, and she kept pushing. Dean: Oh, so she made you do it. Jack: No, it -- it was me, but I didn't want this no-soul thing to become an issue between us. I guess I snapped. Before I knew it, it was all over. Dean: "It" being the accident.

So Sam and Dean tricked him (the most powerful being in all creation) into getting in a box and he sat in there for 10 minutes. Oh no. How horrible.

A lot of the stupid fandom response to this is rooted in the babyfication of Jack that ran rampant within fandom at the time and continues in many circles. I happen to like Jack, and when I say that, I mean that I actually like him, and not the fanon adultbabydestiellovechild the fandom invented who has the emotional and mental capacity of a two year old and can't understand the difference between right and wrong. The real Jack did understand, and the real Jack would be (and was when he returned) horrified by what soulless Jack did (and for more than just how it would impact him). Jack was always an emotional person who struggled to control great power, but he had a strong moral compass and he loved people. That Jack would never have subjected someone to the twisted biblical punishments soulless Jack did for the crime of not believing in god or in him???? That Jack would have thrown Dumah into a wall in a rage for the mere suggestion he kill people over their beliefs and said, "You're hurting people". That Jack also would have wanted Sam and Dean to lock him up to protect others.

Some of the fandom problem with this also has to do the soulless lore as a whole and the constant usage of Donatello as the "soulless people can manage" poster child. Which ignores not only soulless Jack's actual behavior and how deeply dangerous his powers make him, but... pretty much every other soulless person we ever saw in the series, from soulless Sam, to numerous victims of Amara who turned into raging murderers in season 11 after she ate their souls. Hell though—the same people who insist soulless Jack was some poor little baby who just needed gentle parenting probably also think there was nothing wrong with soulless Sam despite the fact that he watched his brother be assaulted multiple times and seemed to actively enjoy it. Just normal Sam things, right? Donatello is the exceptional soulless person—not the rule—and it's because it isn't in his best interest to make trouble.

The idea that soulless Jack could be molded was suggested by Cas, but he also (as you pointed out) ended up inquiring about putting Jack in The Cage, instead of the Ma'lak box (and after the Ma'lak box was destroyed, so it wasn't an option anymore).

Lbr—the misogyny also jumped out in this string of episodes. Countless posts one after the other about how stupid Mary was and how it was all her fault and Jack did nothing wrong. How dare she make Jack angry. God forbid. What a stupid, frail, illogical woman. She deserved to die long before that anyway because she was a terrible mother, right? I mean it was obvious this sort of nonsense would come from the fandom in advance, given how many people had meltdowns over Dean shooting Jack in the back (something that didn't hurt Jack in the least) to get him to stop strangling a black store clerk to death in 13.23. As always, the imagined frail little fee fees of the white adult baby that fans invented must supersede other people's lives. Jack should be allowed to throw whatever tantrums he wants and kill anyone he wants during them and in response, Dean should shush him and start singing lullabies and carry him to a rocking chair to nurse.

[judes-hoe]

Bitter rivals, sweet love

Parrings~ Lewis Hamilton x OC

Summary~She’s gonna be in f1 for her third year and goes to a team no one expects her to. She’s always got a cold expression and only those close to her know why. Shes been close one to many times to winning a championship and this year she’s gonna get it no matter what.

Warnings~ google translated Italian, mentioned crying,

A/N~ so doing the Japanese Grand Prix and then after that skipping to the Miami Grand Prix, just because I don’t wanna write every single race or this series will be soooo long. So the I’ll write the Japanese GP cause it’ll be the first time of many of having to share a hotel!!!! Next chapter will be in Miami btw we skipping china lol but I’ll mention who wins it lol!!

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.6 pt.7

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

Vanessa had just arrived at the hotel room she’ll be sharing with Lewis. She settled down and laid on the one bed scrolling on her phone watching edits that popped up of her. She loved when the fans made edits of her, let her know she was appreciated.

Around 20 minutes later she heard a knock and immediately rolled her eyes knowing it’s Lewis. She gets up as slow as possible before going to open the door, when she did she was met with the British man with his suitcase. She rolled her eyes and walked in the room. Lewis caught the door before it could close and walked in placing his stuff on the other bed.

“Good to see you too.” He smirked. “stai zitto.” She said to him before going back to her phone. “You know I know Italian right?” He smirked at her laying on his bed. “non me ne frega un cazzo.” She said rolling her eyes.

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

It was a couple hours later, now in the paddock for media. She just sat on the couch for the interviews. She was with max, Lando, Charles, and Carlos.

About 20 minutes in she finally got asked a question, “hello Vanessa, you have 3 races, that includes this one, till your 1st home race as you have 2 through the season, how do you feel.” The man asked. “Well I can’t wait honestly, it’s always a different feeling racing in your country, and as my fans know if I win my home race I wanna be edit to the song ‘Viva La Vida’ same song every year.” Vanessa said with a smile. “Why that song?” He asked. “Well there’s nothing behind it, it’s just gives me winner vibes, but to my fans again if you wanna make a more calm edit do white Ferrari by frank ocean.” She said with another smile.

They then continue with the interview and she gets a few more questions before leaving the interview. “Nessa wanna come to lunch with us?” Carlos asked standing next to Lando, Max, and Charles. “Sure, got nothing else to do.” She shrugged going with them.

When they got to the place to eat Charles leans over a whispers. “I saw Lewis going into your room about 25 minutes after you, what’s that about?” He smirked when he asked. “Toto got mad at us after what happened in Australia so he talked to our managers and we have to share a room for the rest of the season and do “couples therapy” and if we don’t fix our rival by the end of the season we both lose our seats.” Vanessa said looking at Charles with an annoyed expression. “You and Lewis have to share a room!” He said a little to loud making the other 3 men look at the 2 with a smirk. “It’s not like that.” She groaned and explained the whole story again.

“You guys can’t tell anyone though.”she said with a serious expression. “If I hear someone talk about this that isn’t any of us, I’m killing you all.” She spoke before taking a bite of her food which made the guys nod their heads quickly before also eating their food.

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

She walks into the hotel room after he lunch with Carlos, Charles, Lando, and max. She sees Lewis laying on his bed shirtless and his chest a little wet. “Your staring a little hard sweetheart, see something you like?” He smirks when he notices her. “No, and stop calling me sweetheart.” She said annoyed. “If you say that I’m gonna keep calling you it.” He said with a cocky smile.

Vanessa grabs her pajamas which was just a t-shirt her dad always wore, and some shorts. She then walks to the bathroom and closes the door and starts the shower. She gets in the shower and relaxes under the hot water.

Vanessa gets out the shower, and gets changed into the pajamas. She walks out back into the room, putting the dirty clothes away and sitting on her bed. “Who’s on the shirt?” Lewis asked her. “My dad’s favorite band.” She said not wanting to talk to him. “Then why are you wearing it?” He asked again. “Cause I can!” She raised her voice a little. “God you ask so many questions.” She said turning on her side so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“Didn’t have to yell was just wondering why you’re wearing the shirt and not him.” He said. Vanessa stops all her movements and just lays there, her mind going back to that night. “Because there’s a reason, now I’ll be back im going for a walk.” She said getting up and slamming the door before walking down the hallway knocking on a door.

The door opened to reveal Daniel in a shirt and shorts. “What are you doing here it’s 7pm?” He asked when he saw her. “Can I just come in.” She asked softly. He nodded and let her in and she sat on the edge of his bed. “Me and Lewis have to share a hotel room for the rest of the season as punishment by Toto and by the end of the season if our rival isn’t fixed and put aside for the team we lost our seats, and he just asked me about this shirt and I told him and he asked why am I wearing it and not my dad.” She rambles to Daniel and starts to tear up when she stops.

Daniel now knows why she came here, cause she felt herself going to cry and knows she’s only comfortable crying around him. “It’s ok, it’s ok darling.” He said pulling her in a hug and petting her hair. “He probably doesn’t know, a lot of people on the grid don’t know.” He said kissing the top of her head. “Stay with me for a little we can watch a movie and then you can go back to your room.” He said pulling her away and wiped her tears away. “Ok.” She said going to say in his bed.

He got his computer and logged in giving it to her to play a movie. Vanessa picked the first avatar movie cause it’s one of her favorites.

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

After the movie she said by to Daniel before going back to her hotel room. She did have a key so she knocked on the door. The door opened shortly after to reveal Lewis, she rolled her eyes at him and went and laid in her bed. Plugged her phone in and laid on her side away from Lewis going to sleep.

Lewis knew something was wrong and said something to upset her which he didn’t like. He stayed up an hour after she went to sleeping try to think about it before falling asleep.

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

Vanessa woke up, not to her alarm, but to grunt like noises. She looked at her phone and saw 6am on it. She still had 45 minutes till she woke up. She turned on her side and saw Lewis on the floor doing push ups.

“It’s six in the morning why are you up?” She asked mildly angry. “Had to get my morning work out in.” Lewis said stopping a sitting back on his knees with a little shrug. “Well now you share a room respect people who trying to still sleep!” She let out a huff and got out the bed going into the bathroom.

Vanessa walks out the bathroom and now sees Lewis getting ready to take a shower. He walked into the bathroom when she walked out. When she heard the shower turn on she started to undress and get dressed for the day, because no chance she’s going back to sleep.

After she changes it’s around 8am now. She left the hotel and to her car to head to the paddock. Before she headed to the garage she walked around the paddock and ran into Charles.

“Charles.” She said with a little excitement in her voice. “Good luck this weekend I know it means something to you.” She said with a little smile giving him a hug when he leans in. “Thanks mon amor I appreciate it.” He said with a smile. “Well I’ll talk to you later need to head back to my garage.” He spoke. “Ok see ya later Charlie.” She says smiling before going to her own garage.

Vanessa walks in and sees him talking to Toto, but she walks in the opposite direction to Calvin. She talks to Calvin for a bit before getting ready for FP1.

In her drivers room she put on her fireproofs and then her suit. Grabbing her helmet and going to stand next I Calvin. “Ready?” Vanessa asked looking over his shoulder at the screen. “Yes put your helmet on!” He said patting her shoulder.

She quickly put on the balaclava, kissing the two names on her helmet. Then putting the helmet on and getting in the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~skip to race day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa had done well in all FP, and managed to get a P3 in qualifying. Lewis in P2, max in P1. She had Charles and Lando behind her which he didn’t really care about.

They all lined up on the grid and the lights slowly flickered on.

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

She had tried to overtake Lewis on the first turn my didn’t mange keeping their gap close together, but also managing to get a gap between Lando.

A couple laps in, Lewis changed his tyres. Vanessa being able to take his spot and get a good 3 seconds gap while he was in the pit. Lewis getting out just in time to be in front on Charles.

A another few laps goes by and Lewis closed the gap, catching up to Vanessa. Max boxed so now she was P1 and Lewis P2.

The 45 lap is when Lewis manages to overtake Vanessa in P1 with DRS. Now she has to watch max behind her, just want she wants. “Gap between me and max?” She asked Calvin on the radio. “2 seconds.” He replied. “Good enough.” She says back to him which made him smile.

For the rest of the race she stayed in P2 having to defend from max a few times but built the gap back up, almost overtaking Lewis a few times too but just not enough.

So here they are standing on the podium now, P1 Lewis, P2 Vanessa, and P3 max. When they took the picture she made sure her a Lewis had some(a lot) of space between them with a half fake smile on her face.

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

That next morning Vanessa left to go back to Monaco before the Chinese Grand Prix.

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

A/N ~ watch out next chapter it might be a little heart breaking and sad😭

Taglist: @happy-golden-hour @tallrock35

[palioom]

day twenty-six - overstimulation

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 702

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; overstimulation, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving)

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“My Prince, please- Ah!” 

He could get drunk off of her sweet wails alone, grinning above her as he ripped another orgasm from her, only her third this night. Fingers expertly working her to completion, brushing over her clit again and again while his other hand pinched and tugged at her hardened nipple.

Looking so beautiful in his bed, writhing and trembling, a thing layer of sweat covering her skin, her hair stuck to her forehead. So blissed out, whining in pain when he didn’t let up.

“Please what, little dove?” Oberyn asked, his fingers dipping deeper to plunge into her wet, aching cunt instead, rapidly thrusting his thick fingers in and out of her. Stroking along her walls, not leaving her time between peaks to recover. “Speak clearly for me.”

She tried to, her mind spinning as her fourth orgasm approached fast, fisting the sheets below her, everything too much but also not enough, feeling nothing but the pleasurable pain he gave her.

Did she want him to stop? Did she want him to continue?

She couldn’t tell anymore, his fingers curling into that spongy spot inside of her that made her see stars, stroking it over and over while she cried out. Tears running down her cheeks and her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her body trembled and arched off the mattress.

“Please, please! My Prince!” Her voice was hoarse from crying out for him, breathy and high-pitched. “Gods, please!”

He smiled, his hand squeezing her breast hard before trailing down her body in featherlight movements.

“My little dove, you aren’t speaking clearly.” Oberyn cooed, saccharine sweet, taking pleasure in her fucked out state, driving her into overstimulation again and again. “Please what? I do not know what my dove needs, but she seems to enjoy what I’m giving her.”

When his fingers touched her clit, her fifth orgasm crashed into her with such a force that she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Gushing all over his fingers, vaguely aware of the wet sounds while her mind floated on a cloud, only able to whimper and moan.

“I suppose you wished for more, my lovely dove.” He said, watching in awe how she came all over his fingers, slowly kneeling in between her spread legs. “So more I shall give you.”

She cried out when his mouth found her soaked cunt, tongue flicking over her clit again and again, pulling his fingers out of her so he could lick inside of her sweet, pulsing hole.

It was too much, her hands coming up to tug at his hair, trying to move him away from her.

Her skin on fire, every touch too much, hurting her.

But he was relentless, his nose bumping into her clit as he ate her out like a man starved, and it didn’t take long until the sixth peak hit her, coming with a silent cry all while he lapped up what she gave him.

“So sweet, my dove.” He cooed, continuing his pleasurable assault as her body twitched, his fingers digging into her skin. “Your sounds, your juices, everything about you so much sweeter than any Dornish wine could be.”

Sucking at her clit, there was another one.

Seven. He finally stopped at seven, grinning down at her with the widest grin she had ever seen on his face, proud of his work on her, skin flushed and sweaty and drunk on his fingers and mouth.

Breathing hard, her mind still far away from here as she finally thought herself safe from him.

Safe from his talented body, enjoying this as much as she felt close to breaking.

“Oh, my love.” Oberyn said, making her attention return to him. Like he could read her mind, she already knew this was far from over. “I am not done with you yet. There are so many more ways I can make you cum for me. And I wish for you to discover them all.”

Eyes wide, she sobbed. Exhausted and her aching hole throbbing, she couldn’t imagine taking more than she already had.

But she would, for him.

For him she would take all the painful pleasure he could give her.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

chapter 18: the ties that bind

masterlist playlist

18+ MDNI

If you've come this far in the series, you know what to expect. No physical violence in this final chapter, but there might be some jealousy, protective/jealous Eddie, and threats. Steve with an OC character, parental Stobin, unprotected sex, oral, and meeting the extended family. Can't say goodby without a glimpse of Charlene. Reader is an artist and a vegetarian, but I try hard to keep away from any physical description.

word count: 15k

official author's note will be at the end of this chapter. I cherish you, my I'm on Fire fam, I'm so grateful for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this one.

"It's a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine."

-- the ties that bind, Bruce Springsteen

The next morning, a new Henderson opened her eyes to the world. 

Steve was the next one to hold her after her parents, and he hadn’t expected to cry, to have his throat close up around his emotions and choke him when he was told they named her Stevie.  He held her so close but so gentle and he barely noticed how wet his cheeks were until Robin came close and rubbed her palm in circles on his back.

“She kinda looks like me. That’s weird right?” Steve hushed, voice catching in a tearful hiccup. He was already thinking of the tattoo he would get with her name, inside his arm, close to his heart. 

“Yeah, that is weird and impossible, Dingus,” Robin smiled into his shoulder, stroking a loving arc over Stevie’s little infant forehead with her finger.  “But she kinda does.”

The labor had been long, the sun was up, and everyone was exhausted.  Astrid was at the house making breakfast while you and Eddie looked after Oliver.  He insisted on watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure again, and that was when you learned it was one of Eddie’s favorites as well; he knew every line by heart.  He mimicked Ollie with the chant, “I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I?”

And it was only then that you realized why Eddie had made a joke once about violently cutting off your mattress tag, the one that specifically said DO NOT REMOVE. Also, it explained why Steve so ardently wanted to start his own biker gang called Satan’s Helpers.

After breakfast, Eddie took you back to the Hammer to get your car, and even though you didn’t want to socialize, you were also in no mood to be stranded at your place without wheels.  Jackie reminded you that you looked like shit on your way through the smoky haze from the late morning drinkers.  You simply nodded in silent agreement, and it wasn’t so much a nod as your head lazily bobbing on a spring.  Your internal clock was out of whack, and you desperately needed a shower.  A shower and a soak in the healing waters of some type of magical pond that could heal you from the inside out. 

Maybe a month on a beach somewhere.

And then you pictured Eddie in a pair of loud, tropical swim trunks and giggled to yourself.

You were just about to leave the locker room with your paycheck and a few of your things, when tall, blonde Erika pushed in with a concerned look on her face, making you back up.  She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, covering the “Safety in the Workplace” poster. 

“Hey, so, that guy is here looking for you again,” her whisper was urgent.

Your heart sank for a second as the memory of Craig gripped you.  You had to remind yourself that he was long gone.  

But you wondered if a part of him would always be lurking somewhere near, haunting you from beyond the grave.

Your next guess was Chief Hopper, maybe he had more questions for you.  

“What guy?” You were hoping she had a clue, or asked a name, so that you could prepare yourself, doing your best to smooth out the front of your shirt.

She only shrugged.  “He’s older, Paul Newman type. Smells like he’s made of money. This is the third time he’s been here asking about you.”

It still didn’t ring any bells, but you’d only slept a half hour on the couch curled up next to Eddie while Pee-Wee stormed the Alamo looking for his bike.  

You took a slow peek around the corner of the bar from the hallway and saw John Gregson sitting there with a drink in his hand. Full head of salt n’ pepper hair slicked back off his face, wearing one of his signature gray suits. 

Was he by himself?  The way Charlene had been popping up like a bad rash lately, you almost expected to see her there, playing the dutiful wife.  

You hid yourself in the hallway again, wondering if you had it in you to have a conversation with anyone, let alone him.

To say his face “lit up” when he saw you would be an understatement; He looked as if you’d been pulled from the rubble of a burning building, and he thought he would never see you again.  

You found it hard to match the enthusiasm, even though he’d turned out to be a decent guy.  

He stood up from his stool and Shana gave you both a curious look from behind the bar as she poured a shaken martini into a glass. She was wearing one of her long, black wigs that day with Bettie Page bangs.  

“It’s good to see you,” he gestured to the seat next to him, his icy blue eyes shone like the Mediterranean Sea. “It’s been a while.”

You sank one hip onto the padded stool so that one foot was still on the ground.  You didn’t want him to think you were staying for too long.

“I’m sorry I’m so behind on your painting, life has been—”

He put his hand up, palm out to you.  It was his left hand and you noticed that he was not wearing his wedding ring.  

“Please, don’t worry about the painting.  Take all the time you need, that’s not why I’m here.  Can I buy you lunch?”

“I-I…” you fumbled.  “I was just on my way out.”

“A drink then?” He cleared his throat and shifted closer casually so that his knee was touching yours. He swirled his drink in his hand.  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to do it over the phone.”

Your anxiety spiked a bit, and it wasn’t as if he was a serial killer or anything, but his sudden shift in proximity gave you pause.  You asked Shana for an iced tea and gestured for him to follow you to one of the more isolated tables against the dark red wall, underneath a framed Led Zeppelin poster.  He pulled your chair out for you before getting settled with his gin and tonic, making sure to use one of the black cocktail napkins as a coaster. 

“I know you’re busy,” he cleared his throat. “So, permit me to get right to the point.” He removed the two stir straws from his drink and put them on the napkin.

 “First of all, I’d like to apologize for my wife. I believe she’s caused you quite a bit of trouble.”

You had not expected that one

His stare was too intense, you had to shift your attention and take a gulp of your drink.

“You see,” he settled back, keeping his forearms on the table.  “I met Charlene when I was barely out of high school, we were together before I made my money, and I always felt like I owed her my blind devotion.  Lately it’s obvious that we only make each other miserable.”

He continued.  “I’m not a stupid man. I always knew about the other boyfriends, not that she made much of an effort to hide it,” he smiled wryly to himself.  “Not to bore you with the details of my failed marriage, but I know that Charlene’s the reason you lost your job at the gallery, and I’d like to rectify that, if I can.”

Realization dawned at his words.  Why hadn’t you put those pieces together earlier? Of course Charlene was the reason you lost your job, she probably threatened to remove her funding and ruin Judith.  

You could barely catch up to what he was saying before he started again.  “I’m opening a gallery in Chicago, and I’d like you to come out and run it.”

You choked and had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand.  “Excuse me?”

John smiled so genuinely at your reaction that the skin around his eyes crinkled.  He undid a button on his suit jacket to get more comfortable. “You’d have full creative license, you’d be able to hire your team, do with it what you wish.  I trust your vision.”

It was that opportunity you’d been dreaming about for years, the one you’d been working toward for almost a decade.  

So easy, just like that.

Here, take it, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

…but was it?

Your head swam, vision tunneling slightly as you glanced around the Velvet Hammer.  You imagined Steve on his stool at the door and Eddie pulling you aside in the hallway to kiss you.  The song Everlong by The Foo Fighters was on, and you thought about how Chicago was over three hours away.  You’d have to move; it was much too far for a commute.

“That’s such a generous offer, I…I don’t know what to say?” 

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” and before you knew what was happening, his hand slid across the table and was on top of your fingers. 

Your eyes flashed to his hand over yours and you sat there shocked while your need to be polite overrode your core instincts. 

“I know there’s a lot to think about,” he continued, removing his hand to cup it around his drink again.  “Of course, I’d pay for all of your moving expenses.  I own a building downtown with an artist loft I think you might be interested in.  You’d have plenty of room to live and paint, start fresh, if you wanted to.”

Start fresh.

You felt like Shana had slipped a psychedelic into your tea, like you were melting into your chair.  Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with the reality of what was being offered.  

He tossed back another sip and wiped the corners of his mouth, looking almost unsure if he should say the next part.  “Charlene and I—” he licked his perfectly straight teeth in contemplation. “---we’ve decided to go our separate ways.  We’re selling the lake house, a few other properties, and she’s planning to move to Hawaii to be near her sister.”

A thought zipped through your mind then. How long had Charlene known she was leaving? Why would she become a partner in The Velvet Hammer and then move to Hawaii?

“That means I’ll be at my condo in Chicago most of the time, unless I’m traveling for business,” he gave you a pointed look again.  “There are so many places I’d love to take you to in the city.  If you are interested, that is.”

“Well,” you laughed nervously. “I’d need to talk to my boyfriend about it. About the job, I mean.  Moving to Chicago. His whole life is here.”

“Certainly,” John nodded, not missing a beat. “You talk to him and when you’re ready, you have my number. The gallery space I’m buying needs work, so I’d like to fly you out there in a week to take a look at it, once you decide.”

You were still staring glassy eyed at the edge of the table after John stood and left the Hammer.  You hadn’t remembered to breathe in god knew how long, so you tried that, letting out a hard exhale that made a cocktail napkin go flying off the table.

Would Eddie move with you? Visit you on the weekends? The latter seemed more likely but also not, considering how demanding his work schedule was.  Katie told you that Robin had asked her to move in, and you were overjoyed for her.  She’d be paying her share of the rent and utilities for the next month, but after that you’d either need to find a smaller place or a new roommate because you couldn’t afford your duplex on a Velvet Hammer salary.  

One week was all you had.

Did you even need a week? Surely you knew your answer.

—-------

The tires on the tow truck screeched to a stuttering halt out on a Hawkins back road lined with cornfields.

Behind the wheel, Eddie idled there, right in front of that familiar white picket fence around the big yard and the farmhouse with a porch swing and a red barn in back.

Eddie knew the details of the old Ferguson place by heart, it had been his dream house ever since he was in high school and used to take long rides on his bike to clear his head.  The couple that had spent their life raising a family there were in their 80’s now, and he’d heard through the grapevine that they were relocating to a retirement community.  To a smaller place that was easier to care for.  All of their children were grown and lived far away.

The newest addition to the house was where his eyes fell.  

His attention fixed on the sign at the end of the driveway for a long while, heart thudding in his chest.

The old Ferguson Farmhouse was for sale.

—---

The next day was the Welcome Home Baby Stevie barbeque at Steve’s and he had a blue “Kiss the Cook” apron on and a spatula in his bandaged hand when you and Eddie arrived.  He wore an elastic bracelet made of colorful plastic beads around his wrist that you assumed was a new gift from Oliver.  The sky was bright blue, almost blinding, and the air was crisp. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked on the way up the driveway to Robin and Steve’s backyard where the lawn had been neatly mowed and edged.  “Anything you want to talk about?”

You hated keeping things from him, but you had no idea how to bring up John’s offer, or if you even wanted to mention it.  Eddie had invited you over to his place the night before, but you’d told him you needed some time alone to get to bed early.  Turns out that being alone with your thoughts only made it worse.

“No, I’m fine my love, I promise,” you leaned into him.  “I’m just tired.”

He put his arm around your shoulders to scoop you closer and kiss your ear.  “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.  Make you a bath, pour you some wine, kiss you all over.  How does that sound?”

“It sounds—” you felt emotions water your eyes suddenly and you blinked it away as quickly as you could.  “That sounds perfect.”

You felt guilty that you were even considering John’s offer, but how could you not? A very hopeful part of you said that both were a possibility, that you could keep Eddie and have your dream job in the city. But how? You couldn’t take Eddie away from Wayne and Oliver and his business, you would never ask that of him.  

“Is Wayne coming?” You asked, noticing you did not see his truck.  Also, your thoughts were racing again and you needed a distraction.

“He’ll be here later,” Eddie assured you.  “Astrid is picking him up on her way over.  Max and Lucas stopped by the garage for a visit and I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion.”

You felt a bit embarrassed at the mention of his longtime friend Max, only because you’d been made to believe that she was a mysterious redhead that Eddie was having an affair with not too long ago.

Thanks to Charlene.

You imagined that Hawkins would be a much better place without her lurking around every corner.  Was there a chance that Judith would take you back on at Moon River Gallery?  No, you had no desire to go crawling back to that place. Unless a new gallery opened, or your art took off to celebrity status, you’d be waitressing at the Hammer and squirreling away your tips for the foreseeable future.

But, you’d have Eddie.

You’d been spacing out so hard, you barely realized that Robin was standing in front of you, offering to take the sack with a Tupperware full of homemade potato salad and hamburger buns. Eddie was carrying your veggie burger patties that he bought especially for the occasion, and the fixings to make tofu skewers.  You told him you were a vegetarian once, and you never had to remind him again.  

“You good?” Robin asked, noting the way you shook your head a few times to come back to reality. Katie came up behind Robin to place her hands on her girlfriend’s hips before she moved over to your side.

“Have a beer with me?” Katie asked softly, reading the weariness in your slightly hunched shoulders.  

It was officially fall, but the weather was warm for Indiana in late September.  Eddie had on his Iron Maiden concert tee under his jacket from their 1985 World Slavery tour and black converse with his worn jeans, and he took his leather off and threw it on a lawn chair as he walked over to the grill.

“You better leave the hard stuff to me,” he said to Steve, shifting his gaze accusatory to grill.  The last time he let Steve grill your veggie burger, he’d charred it within an inch of its life.  

“Have at it,” Steve dusted his hands together.  “I have to go check on my pie in the oven.”

“You baked a pie?” Eddie gawked at him like he had hornets crawling out of his ears.  

“Well, Astrid made it,” he pinched a few sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of his apron and popped them in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “It’s cherry,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down a few times suggestively, and Eddie scoffed, elbowing him out of the way so that he could put his skewers down on the folding table.

You were just about to take the first sip of your beer when a man’s voice that was not familiar called over from the driveway.  

“There’s that long-haired freak I’ve been looking for.”

The skin on your arms prickled with gooseflesh and you spun around, thinking there was about to be some sort of trouble. 

Slightly unrealistic to think the worst, but you were understandably alert.

There at the edge of the lawn stood a tall, handsome guy you’d never laid eyes on before, maybe in his late 20’s, and he had a Coffin Kings cut on that was very similar to the one’s Eddie and Steve wore.  At his side, holding his hand was an adorable redhead. Her long hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap, but you noted that the bright candy color was deeply familiar.  

You turned to see Eddie’s reaction like you were watching a tennis match.  

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he beamed.  “Look what the cat dragged in, "and he stopped what he was doing to make his way over with his arms out and the two hugged, giving each other hearty pats on the back.

“Max!” Robin squealed, practically doing a cartwheel in that direction.  You and Katie fell back and stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the group reconnect in a way that was very familial.  

Lucas and Max had been together since high school, you learned, and Lucas was a member of the Coffin Kings Indianapolis chapter.  The song Love Spreads by The Stone Roses played from Robin's portable boombox on the steps as the new arrivals meandered in to be with the rest of the gang and assimilated with ease.  

Eddie rested his hand on your lower back to introduce you, and instead of a handshake, Max went in for a hearty hug, and in your ear, she said, “Eddie loves you so much, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

When she pulled back to meet your eyes, you nodded, swallowing hard.  “I’ve heard so much about you,” you told her, and then Max shot a look at Eddie and made a crack about how she hoped it was all good things that you’d heard.

They were even more interested to meet Katie, being that Robin had not been serious about anyone since before Oliver was born.  Just then, the Oliver in question came bursting out of the house flying his hot dog bun through the air like a plane, making engine noises.  

By the time Dustin and Suzie came by with their new baby, the smell of burgers charring on the grill filled the air and you helped Steve bring some more chairs out to the lawn.  Eddie was taking much care to keep your vegetarian stuff away from the meat, and you couldn’t help but notice with deep adoration.

Astrid had a lot on her mind.  So much so that she didn’t have it in her to make the usual banter with Wayne that she enjoyed when they were together.

“You okay, darlin’?” Wayne turned to her in the truck on the way over.

“Oh,” she tucked a thick swatch of dark hair behind her ear. “You know, just thinking about how excited Steve must be about the new baby.”

There was a distinct melancholy in her voice.  One of the reasons the relationship between her and Steve had never gone any further than besties who make love was her refusal to take away his chance at a big family.  She was barely 21 when a doctor told her she’d never be able to conceive. Well, technically he said there was a small chance—a hairline percentage—but that it “would take an actual miracle”---those were his words.  

She loved Steve too much to not let him be a dad.  He was made for that life.  Ever since he was a teenager, he’d known he wanted to be a father, and once he had Oliver, she knew she’d done the right thing.  She’d tried to keep their relationship platonic time and time again, but in the end, the chemistry between them always proved to be too strong.  

She’d decided that she would love him until he found someone else, and then she would continue to love him from the shadows.  She’d given her heart long ago, and with him it would stay.  

“Hell, look at the head of hair on that kid,” Wayne said when Suzie introduced him to her daughter.  He gave a crooked grin and stroked a finger along the back of her tiny, exposed hand.  

At that, Dustin took his cap off and swiped a hand through his unruly mane.  “Thank god the rest of her looks take after her mother.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucas grumbled, thumping his friend in the arm.  

Steve had his back to the crowd when they came in and Astrid spanked him on the bum on her way up the stairs to the kitchen.

He spun on his heel and was quick to cage his arms around her so she could only squirm.  His face was flushed and glowing.  “You meet the kid?”

“I did,” normally, she would’ve kissed him, but instead she pulled back a bit, tilting her chin away.  “She’s so beautiful, Steve.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” she knew she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be able to read her face, a fool to think he couldn’t read her like a book after all of those years.  

Steve frowned, examining her face for a clue to her distress.  

Astrid’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a lead weight.  

She hadn’t decided if she should tell him or not.

About the secret she’d been carrying with her for a few days.  

15 years, that’s how long she’d been in love with him.

Back when he was 19 and she was 23.

They’d known each other since they were little kids.

“I need to talk to you later,” she told him.

Steve dropped his arms from around her but held her hand.  “You can’t tell me now?”

She’d be 38 in December.

“Later, okay?” She winked at him to ease his suffering, and then made her way into the house, knowing that he stood there the whole time and watched her go. 

But later that day never came.  

Wayne wanted to get back and rest before his chemo treatment, and Dustin and his family only stayed for about an hour as they were all understandably still exhausted and wanting to recover at home.  

Astrid waved goodbye to Steve on her way out, and Steve stood up from his chair thinking he’d get a kiss, or at least a hug—but then she was gone.  

He tried not to think too much of it.  If he’d done something to upset her, she was never shy about letting him know.  Maybe she was tired of socializing, maybe she needed a break from him.

Lord knows he wished he could take a break from himself.  

Eddie looked over at where you stood talking with Max and Robin, and he recalled the conversation he’d had with Wayne a few days earlier.

“I don’t have to tell you you found a good one,” Wayne said from the couch in his trailer while Eddie sat next to him.  “I think you know they don’t come around very often.”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Eddie raked a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead one, two, three times.  “I keep thinking one day she’s going to wake up and realize she could do a lot better.”

“You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for,” his uncle returned in a low, steady voice. 

When the next words came, Eddie felt a tightness in his throat:

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Wayne had a hard time leaving the house the day after his treatments, so Eddie always came by to bring him lunch and make sure he had everything he needed.  One day he came by to check on Wayne and found that you were already there, doing his dishes for him.

He’d never been with anyone who cared about the people in his life like that.  

Back at the barbeque, you slipped up next to him and planted your lips on his bicep, breathing in the sandalwood and leather of his scent.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Since you asked,” he smirked.  “I was thinking how I wish I’d met you a lot sooner.”

“How much sooner?” You batted eyes at him once he turned to face you. “In high school?”

Eddie made a yuck face.  “No, you would not have given me a chance in high school.  I would’ve been a lovesick puppy, but you probably wouldn’t have even known I existed.”

“Are you kidding?” You stuck the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, examining him.  “I would’ve jumped your bones so fast.”

“So fast, huh?” He chuckled, taking you by the hips. “What about now?”

He pulled you in and you hummed against his lips, trying not to get too horny right there in front of the guests.  

Lucas and Max would be in town for a couple days, so you and Eddie made plans to meet up at the Velvet Hammer when you were off work on Tuesday.  By the time the sun went down, all of the visitors were gone, and you were happy to head home as well after helping with some cleanup.  

“Robin and I can take care of it,” Katie nudged you away from trying to wash out a casserole dish at the sink. “You get out of here and go rest.  Make Eddie rub your feet or something.”

You both stopped what you were doing to look at each other.  

The way you were searching your friend’s face made her turn to give you her full attention.  In the background, you could hear Steve trying to convince Oliver to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth in a sing-song voice.  

“I can’t believe how much has happened in these past few months,” you still had soap bubbles popping on your wet hands and you slid them absently along the thighs of your jeans. 

Katie gave a thoughtful sniff.  “I think about it a lot,” she mused. “About that night on the couch at our place when you first told me about the guy who picked you up in the tow truck, and then meeting the boys at The Hideout and then—”

She cringed and covered her face with a dish towel, remembering her “date” with Steve.  “---it feels so surreal that Steve and I actually…well…I don’t want to think about it.  It’s too weird.”

“But then you and Robin found each other again,” you offered, thinking back to that first barbecue at their house when Eddie had to take off suddenly for secretive Coffin Kings business.  

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your friend about the offer from John Gregson.  Katie knew you better than most people and you could always trust her advice to be on the mark.  

For some reason, you wanted to cry, just drop to your knees and start bawling right there on the kitchen floor.  For no one reason just

Everything

Katie caught the way your jaw moved like you were just about to say something, but then Eddie’s hands were snaking around to hold your back flush to his chest.  Your hair caught on his beard stubble when he leaned in, warm breath at your ear.  “You ladies need any help in here?”

You closed your eyes; you were glad to have him there. Glad to be in his arms, glad to know, in your heart, that he would always try his best for you.

But you were the one keeping a secret.  

Robin joined Katie at the sink and told you both to take a hike, lovingly.  

Steve came into the kitchen after you were both gone and the engine of Eddie’s Chevelle could be heard thundering down the road.

The first thing he did was pick up the beige, wall-mounted phone and call Astrid.  He stood there for a while with the receiver pressed to his ear and his other arm folded over his chest before he held the mouthpiece out in front of him and stared at it.

“She’s not answering,” he mumbled loud enough that the girls could hear.  

“Maybe she’s at Wayne’s? Did you check there?” Robin offered; her hair worn up in a haphazard ponytail.

Steve checked the clock first to make sure he wasn’t bothering Uncle too late, but it was barely 8:30 and he was probably up in his recliner watching M*A*S*H reruns.  

Wayne answered and they exchanged a few words, but then when Steve hung up again, he was quiet, contemplatively so.

“What did he say?” Robin asked impatiently, drying some silverware with a checkered towel.

Steve frowned.  “He said she dropped him off almost two hours ago and told him she was going home.”

He tried her house one more time and, again, no answer.  He let it ring five times but disconnected once her answering machine clicked on.  

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Katie shrugged.  “And turned the ringer off.”

Steve knew better; Astrid barely slept.  Normally, not being able to get a hold of her would not phase him, but something about the way she’d been acting that night set an alarm off in his gut.  

Outside, there was the sound like a firecracker bomb going off that shook the house.  Robin yelped and Steve bolted to the window to yank the yellow curtain back to see where it had come from.  

He got there just in time to see a streak of lightning crack the dark sky and a drizzle of rain hit the glass.  “Oh shit, good thing Eddie came in the Chevelle,” the droplets turned into a downpour as he stood there.  

“Looks like a hell of a storm is brewing.”

—----

Earlier that day, Charlene Gregson marched out of Murray Bauman’s office with her lawyer in tow.  She wore her oversized sunglasses and no expression on her face as they went down in the elevator and exited into the austere lobby.  She looked like a million bucks, which was probably the cost of all of the gold and diamond jewelry she had on.  

Outside on the busy street, her personal chauffeur was waiting by the Towncar to open the door for her while her lawyer, a pit-bull of a man named Saul, got in on the other side to slide in next to her.  Billy was out there waiting on his bike, to make sure no one bothered her on their way out.  He flicked his cigarette to the ground and revved the engine, angling to fall in line behind the Towncar.

“You sure this is what you want?” Saul posed the question to her as he slammed his door shut. They’d just thrown a lot of money at Murray and had him sign official documents.

Charlene sounded annoyed.  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The deal is done.”

He continued. “I suppose I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you would—” 

“I don’t pay you to ask personal questions,” she sniffed. “Just make sure there’s a smooth transition.  I don’t want to be having a cocktail on the beach and find out that you fumbled something, and I’m forced to fly back out here.”

The town car sailed into traffic and the two sat in silence for a few minutes until Charlene stared out the window at the passing buildings on their way back to the lake house. 

 “Have you ever been in love, Saul?” 

He was confused by the question and tapped his foot a few times.  “I can’t really say I have.” 

After recent events, and everything that he’d been tasked to do in her name for the benefit of someone else made him wonder. “What about you?”

“Only once,” she pressed her red lips together, eyes unblinking behind her sunglasses.  “And once will have to be enough.”

Saul assumed she meant her soon to be ex husband John, and so he left it at that.  

—-------

In a matter of seconds, the rain was coming down in sheets and the windshield wipers on the Chevelle were flapping back and forth at supernova speed.

“We could go back to my apartment if you want,” Eddie turned the Faith No More song down on the radio so that he could be heard over the rain.  “But your place is cozier, and I know both are fairly small but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

“I think I want to stay at my place tonight,” you blurted it out, keeping your attention fixed on the dash, staring at nothing. “Alone, if that’s alright.” 

You could see in your peripheral vision that he turned to look at you, and you offered a reflexive smile, shoulders hunched a bit as if you were trying to fold  in on yourself.  

He smoothed his palm around the steering wheel and tried not to let the sensitive side of him that had been abandoned his whole life jump to conclusions.  Not everyone needed to sleep next to the person they loved every night; you wanting space was totally reasonable and had nothing to do with your feelings for him.

Right?

Just in case, he decided to make sure.  “Was it something I said or? Cause if there’s an issue between us, you know you can talk to me.”

For some reason, his insistence to have healthy communication irritated you.  Possibly because you knew he was right and you should put it all out on the table and talk to him, but you didn’t know how.  Your brain had barely been able to process the offer from John, let alone put the whole thing into words.

“It’s nothing you did,” you said softly.  “I just need time to think.”

Something about your tone and choice of words made his heart rate increase.  “Think about what?”

“Just stuff Eddie, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now!” You snapped at him, for the first time ever.  

After everything with Erika and Charlene and Melanie and thinking he’d been cheating on you, you’d never lost your temper with him, and the two of you had never had a fight.  As much as you knew that arguments and disagreements were a very normal part of intimate relationships, you still felt like shit the second the words came out with such vitriol.

There it was, Eddie’s biggest fear: you were pulling away from him.  

He’d suffocated you just like he was prone to do.  He was “too much”, and now you were getting sick of him.  

For the next few minutes of the drive to your place, neither of you said a word.  

You because you didn’t want to take your confusion and anxiety out on Eddie, and Eddie because he didn’t want to sound like a whiny, needy bitch and make things worse.    

He parked up in your driveway to get you close to the door, but he kept the engine running to let you know he was honoring your wish to drop you off and let you be.  

You took a deep breath and flipped the manual lock up with two fingers.

“Wait, let me—” he was about to get out and come around to hold his coat out for you so that you wouldn’t get wet, but you were too quick for him.

“I’ll be fine, goodnight.” you were soaked the second you stepped out, fumbling in the pocket of your bag to find your keys.

“I love you,” Eddie’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the weather.

“Love you too,” you said quickly, and then you were bolting for the house, wishing you’d left the porch light on.  

Once you were inside, you clicked the deadbolt shut and watched the beam of Eddie’s headlights retreat.

This was ridiculous.  You were being ridiculous.  

There’s a beautiful man out there who treats you better than you’ve ever been treated in your whole life.  

You threw your bag on the floor and undid the lock to jerk open the door again.

You stumbled out into the rain.  “Eddie wait!”

But all you could see were his taillights as he pulled onto the main street and drifted away.  

—------

Back at her house, Astrid let the phone ring.

At one point, she had her hand on it, ready to pick up, but then decided against it.  

It was impossible for her to be fake with Steve, but she also wasn’t ready to be as forthcoming as she needed to be.  

She stood at the table and looked at the paperwork from the doctor's office one more time before she made her way over to the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest to let the tears fall hot and heavy.  

She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t notice the lights approaching in the driveway or hear Steve shouting her name from the sidewalk as he stood out in the rain.

He’d borrowed Robin’s car to ease his mind and make sure Astrid was okay.  What if she had slipped and hit her head or something? What if she was there with another dude? Also, a possibility under their “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship agreement.    

The white t-shirt he had on was soaked through, making the tattoos underneath look like they were a design imprinted on the material that hugged his muscles.  

He banged on the door with the side of his fist and shouted her name again. 

By then, Astrid could hear him, but she stayed curled on the couch and waited in vain for him to give up and leave.  

—--

Eddie scowled to himself as he parked the Chevelle in one of the garages and made his way across the parking lot and up the steps to his apartment, shaking his wet hair like a dog.  He could hear a few of the guys partying in the clubhouse, and he thought about joining them, but realized his spirits were too low to be social. There was a punching bag in the back office where he normally did his workouts to burn off steam, but he wasn’t in the mood for that either.  

He told himself he would check on you first thing in the morning, but then it occurred to him that you might not want to hear from him right away.  He wanted to respect your wishes, your boundaries.  

He didn’t want to smother you.

On the nightstand next to his phone was the card for the real estate agent he’d visited the day before.  There was a room on the second floor of the Ferguson farmhouse with a view of the big backyard and he imagined setting some easels up to make it a place for you to paint.  It had a big living room with a fireplace and a workshed in the barn.  He wanted to talk to you about it, to ask if maybe you could see yourself living there.  With him.  

But now he wondered if things were moving too fast.  

He crossed his arms over his body and took his shirt off in the bathroom mirror.  He rubbed a hand down his stomach, noting the areas of skin that were not covered in inked designs.  The fanged bat with wings spread wide on his chest, the dragon design on his bicep, the grim reaper on his forearm.  A crude dagger made to look like it pierced his skin just under his rib cage that said, “true friends stab you in the front”.  There were other bits of traditional biker flash scattered around that Steve had doodled on him over the past decade.  On his other forearm was a memorial tattoo for his mother with her name, the year she died, and an angel statue with eyes that dripped blood, surrounded in roses and thorns, and the thorns came down over the back of his hand.  It was done in a way so that the bats that had been inked there earlier were still visible.  

He was barely 15 when another friend inked HELLFIRE on his knuckles.  It was done with a homemade tattooing gun like the ones used in prison, and the letters had to be redone later because they were basically chicken scratches.  One of the other earliest ones was the skull with a snake through it on his opposite bicep with his nickname “War Machine” underneath.  

Some days, he wanted to get them all removed and start over.

Other days, he wanted to go balls to the wall like Steve and be inked from ear to foot.  

He threw his soaked shirt in the hamper and was just about to grab a beer out of the small fridge near his desk to take into the shower with him—

but then there was a knock at the door.  

At first, he thought it was one of the other Coffin Kings, trying to drag him down to get plastered with them, but then he noticed that the rapping of knuckles was soft, cautious even.  

“Eddie?”

His head snapped around at the sound of the voice.

It was you. 

—------

Steve held his finger on the doorbell, relentlessly.  “Astrid, if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I’m gonna break it down!  You know I will!”

Astrid wiped her face, flapping her hand to dry her eyes and cheeks to the best of her ability.  She still had on the flowy, floral, maxi dress with an empire waist that she’d worn at the barbeque, and she wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders as she stomped begrudgingly to the door. 

Just as she was about to reach up to unlock the safety chain, there was a loud thud from Steve’s foot slamming into the wood, vibrating the hinges.

“Steve stop!” She yelled, fussing with the second lock on the doorknob.  

She yanked the door back and there he was: soaked to the bone. 

There was only a short awning over her front steps, and so he was standing as close to the frame as possible while more thunder rumbled in the distance. His wet hair had flopped into his eyes, and he swiped it back with a twist of his head, spitting to the sidewalk as he did so.  

His expression was one of anger at first, but then it melted into confusion when he could tell right away that she had been crying.  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“This is a bad time,” she stayed blocking the entrance, although the yearning in his eyes was actively testing her resolve.

“The hell it is?” He pushed. He shifted to see behind her, as if there was someone or something she was hiding.  “You’re upset, I can tell.  Let me in.”

“No.” That was her answer, but Steve wasn’t having it.

He stomped up onto the threshold, wet hair dripping onto her face as he closed in, bracing his hand on the door so that she couldn’t shut it.  “Why don’t you want to see me?”

She tried to look everywhere but his face, but then his hand caught her chin and guided her eyes up to meet his. 

 “Talk to me,” he whispered from lips dotted in water droplets.  

There was a tug of war going on in her heart, and in the end, Steve won.  He always did.  

She didn’t invite him in properly, she just turned on her heel and left the door open, knowing he would follow her into the living room.  

His boots squeaked from all the moisture on her hardwood floors.  He always liked to take his shoes off when he came to see her, but it was too late for that.  He found her sitting on the couch in the dark, but he could only see the outline of her curly hair.

“Why are you sitting here without any lights on?” He reached down and flicked on a tiny wicker lamp that was on the nearby bookshelf.  

“You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He pinched the front of his shirt to peel it from his body and flapped it a few times as if that would dry it out. “What did you want to talk to me about at the barbeque?”

“You’re soaking wet,” she got a good look at him in the light and suddenly felt bad that she’d made him wait out there.

“No kidding?” He snorted sarcastically. 

“You left some of your clothes here last time. I folded them in the third drawer,” she hugged the pillow.  “Get into something dry and then we can talk.”

He stripped down to his underwear right there in front of her, staring at her the entire time, as if he was worried she would bolt and try to hide from him. His patchwork of colorful tattoos was a jumble of loud expressions of his aggression and passion.  In honor of his nickname Taz, he had several Tasmanian devils doing various things including riding a motorcycle and one on the back of his arm giving onlookers the middle finger.  The ones on the front of his thighs were all self-done when he was just a kid, practicing his craft.  When he was a teenager, he used to tease her and call her “Asteroid” and just above his knee was an asteroid with a fire tail crashing toward a heart-shaped earth.  Besides the Seek and Destroy tattoo on the side of his throat, his skin was full of phrases, including the big “FTW” letters in an arc under his ribcage that stood for “Fuck the World”.   

He went into her bedroom and brought out a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “Gary’s Plumbing” advertised on the front pocket.  He dressed in front of her as well, keeping a relentless eye.

“You really are ridiculous, you know that?” She put her chin in her palm and waited patiently for the show to be over.  

He flapped his arms out to his sides like a little kid waiting for approval on his outfit. “Okay, beautiful. I’m dry.  Time to spill the beans.”

“Can you sit down, please?” Her heart flopped in her chest as she considered the words that were about to come out of her mouth and the effect, they would have on him.

In Steve’s experience, when someone asked you to sit down before they told you something, it was always their attempt to soften the blow of bad news.  “Why can’t you just tell me now? You’re freaking me out, babe.”

“Steve,” She pleaded sternly.  “Trust me, I need you to sit down for this.”

—------

Eddie barely had time to greet you before you were pushing by him to get into the studio apartment.  You were hugging yourself, and anxiety had your stomach in knots.  

“I need to talk to you about something,” you gushed.  

Eddie stood at the door, keeping his back to you while he locked it.  He was shirtless, dark hair dripping down the pale muscles that flexed under his flesh.  

You looked around, trying to decide if you should sit or stand when your gaze landed on the painting you’d done for him after that first time you met.  He had it displayed front and center, right above his desk on the main navy-blue wall, as if it were the most important piece in the room.

You were pacing when he turned toward you, the wheels in your mind spinning.

When he got closer, you stepped further away, but he caught your wrist.  “Hey, why can’t you look at me? What’s going on?”  His voice was sterner than he’d intended it to be.  

“I can look at you,” you made yourself meet his stare to prove his point, but it was difficult. You felt like he could see right through you; all of your doubts, all of your fears and insecurities. 

“Sit,” he directed you over to the end of the bed, facing the small sitting area with where there was a couch and a coffee table in front of an old Zenith tv.

Next to you, the mattress sank under his weight, but in your mind, you were somewhere else.  

“So, is this it?” He released a heavy breath and started to play with one of the rings on his hand, pulling it up the finger and then pushing it back down to the knuckle.

“What do you mean?”

It was he who couldn’t look at you now.  “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” You blurted it, eyebrows pinching together in frustration with the way you couldn’t get the words out.  “That’s not…I didn’t mean…I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

A rush of endorphins filled him with temporary relief while he waited for your next words.

You stretched your neck from side to side, swallowed hard, and then you told him.

You told him about John’s offer to run your own gallery in Chicago, the opportunity to have the artists loft you’d always dreamed of.  You picked at a piece of skin on the side of your thumb as you talked.

“But I said I needed to talk to you about it first,” you added.

Eddie got to his feet and went over to look out the window over the garage parking lot. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he mumbled.  

You weren’t breaking up with him, but you were, in fact, leaving him, which was much the same thing.

“Well, it’s complicated,” you said, watching as he went over to snatch his pack of smokes and lighter off of the coffee table.  

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me,” the cigarette bobbed between his pinched lips as he talked, cupping his hand to light the end.  “Sounds like you already know what your answer is.”

“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I’d already made my decision,” you countered.  “I want to know what you think.”

“Well,” he scoffed, exhaling a sharp plume of smoke down his chin. His eyes were much darker now, almost black.  “No one in their right mind would choose to stay in Hawkins, not with an opportunity like that on the table.” 

He almost added, “no loser biker boyfriend is worth it,” but decided it was not the right time to be self-deprecating. 

“But I like it here,” you mused. “More than I ever thought I would.”

“We’ll always be here, trust me,” he was trying to remain cool, but his exterior was cracking.  “So, this John guy has been stalking you or something? Getting you to do this painting for him was one thing, but now he’s waiting for you at your job to get you to what? ----Move to Chicago to be closer to him?”.

The smoke came out his nose that time and the muscles in his throat tensed.  He had a bad feeling about that guy before, but he wanted to respect your business ventures and give you space.

The change in Eddie’s demeanor made you wonder if that was the time for full transparency.  In the end, you’d made a promise not to have any secrets from each other and you wanted to keep your word.

“There was mention of that, yes,” you said cautiously, nibbling at your lip.  

“Mention of what, exactly?” Eddie scowled, cocking his head to the side.

“He said there were lots of places he wanted to take me to in the city,” you recited the words cautiously.

Eddie laughed and threw his head back; it was much more of a crazy, maniacal cackle.  “Oh shit, maybe I should pay him a little visit?  See if pretty boy wants to show me the city too.”

“Eddie.”

“What did you tell him?” He was fuming now, grinding his jaw as he stabbed the half-smoked cig into the ashtray.  

“I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeated, but in a much louder voice.  “I said I needed to talk to you, my boyfriend.”

“He knows you have a boyfriend, and he still pulled that shit?”  Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth with a grimace.  “That fucker needs to get rolled.”

“Eddie!” 

“No, I’m serious,” he was yelling now, but more about the situation than at you.  “I gave him a chance to be cool, to be a gentleman, and he fucked it up. I told you babe, dudes like that, with money, think they can take whatever they want.  Well, he can’t have you, unless it’s over my dead fucking body.”

“Well, it’s my fucking choice, and I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you, asshole,” You shot to your feet.  

You’d realized something on your way over to his place and it was that you really did not want to leave Hawkins.  

Every rational bone in your body told you to take the offer and run, but the other bones in your body, the not so rational ones, told you that you’d finally found your family and a place you belonged.  

“Listen to me,” you grabbed him by the arm and made him turn, his hair flying over his shoulder.  “I don’t want to take the job, okay? I want to stay here.  With you.”

Eddie nostrils flared.  It was taking all of his strength not to go out looking for that pencil pushing dweeb Gregson.  But if he actually got his hands on him in the heat of the moment, he was afraid of what he would do.  

“I’ll move with you,” Eddie wet his lips, a new idea flashing behind his eyes.

“With me? To Chicago?”

“Yeah, no, I could make it work. Hire another manager here, another tow truck driver. Come back and check in a couple times a month,” he walked by you as he talked, plucking at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. “I could get a job at a garage in Chicago, easy. There’s even a King’s chapter there. I could get Bones to patch me in.”

“What about Wayne? And Oliver?” 

“We’ll come back to visit,” Eddie nodded at the plan that was forming in his head.  “Steve and Robin and the kid love Chicago.  Maybe we can get a place with a spare bedroom for when they come up.”

“But what about—”

“I know this means a lot to you, this opportunity,” he cut you off.  “I know I’m a dirty, biker asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason you give up on a dream.” He went over to the dresser drawers and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt to pull on over his head.  The armholes were cut wide, and the collar was frayed.  

“But what if I don’t want to live in Chicago?”

Eddie squinted like he hadn’t heard you correctly.  “What now?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.  “I’ve been thinking that I don’t really care about that world anymore, the art world I mean.”

“You don’t want to paint anymore?” He appeared hurt by this notion.  

“No, I do, I will always paint,” you corrected with a wave of your hand.  “But the retail side of it, the snobby clientele, the stress, I’m not sure it makes me happy anymore.  Not sure if it ever did.”

It was Eddie who took a seat that time, perching on the back of the sofa. You could tell he was trying to understand, but the information was coming at him a bit too fast.

“I don’t want to work at the Hammer for the rest of my life, either, but it’s okay for now,” you were working through the revelations as you spoke them aloud.  “I have a friend who is starting her own greeting card company, and she wants me to do some artwork for her.  Little by little, I can make a living while still doing what I love.”

Eddie’s thoughts drifted back to the farmhouse, and how much he felt like it fit the both of you.  

“Are you telling me you chose Hawkins? Really?”

You went over to situate your hips between his knees and brushed his bangs off his forehead.  “No, I’m saying I choose you, asshole,” a smile tugged the side of your mouth up.  “Hawkins is a bonus, yes, but I will always choose you.”

Foreheads met then, and Eddie forced out a long-held breath from between tight lips.  “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”

“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to jump your bones in high school.”

He chuckled, repeating what he’d asked at the barbeque earlier.  “Well, what about now?”

In the back of his mind he was thinking, “that John Gregson is still a dead man,” but he kept it to himself.

—----

Steve flopped down next to Astrid on the fluffy, tan sofa so violently it was as if he’d been thrown there by a force of nature.  He scooted closer and pawed at her hand so that she would intertwine her fingers with his.  He was reminded of all of those times as a teenager when he would get hurt on purpose just so she would patch him up.  She was a couple years older and wanted nothing to do with him back then, but nevertheless he melted under the tender touch of her attention every time.  

“I’m all ears,” he prodded eagerly when she did not speak right away.  

Keeping Steve’s hand with hers, Astrid turned to face him and tucked her bare feet underneath her, adjusting the stretch length of her dress.  

Steve watched the way her long hair fell across her neck and ample cleavage. 

“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “What I need to tell you is—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, perpetually distracted.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

Another big inhale and then: “These past few weeks, I could tell something was…off.  I thought it was early menopause because I missed my period.”

Steve stared blankly, trying not to get turned on watching her lips move.  

She let her gaze fall to their hands clasped on Steve’s knee, wondering if any of it was real, or if she was still dreaming. 

“Is it cancer?”  He dared to ask, squeezing her hand.  “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I’ll find the best doctor at gunpoint if I have to.”   

“Steve!” 

“What? You’re making me crazy! Tell me everything's okay?”

“I’m not dying, Steve.”

“Well then what is it? I’ve been going out of my mind and here you are—”

“I’m pregnant.”

His body had been moving, vibrating even, but it all came to a complete halt at that.  

As if he’d been flash-frozen on the spot.

A mannequin of himself; mouth open, one eyebrow up. 

He shook his head, confused.  “Hold on, what? But I thought you said that you—”

She played with the hem of her shawl.  “I was told it was impossible.  I was told it would take a miracle.”

“Wait a minute, so—” he gulped and then leaned forward to search her face, one arm scooping behind her.  Her eyes were glossy again, on the verge of another wellspring.  

“Is it m-my…is it my baby?” He stammered.

She could only nod, chin quivering as more tears gathered at her lash line only to race down her cheeks once she blinked.  

Steve lost it then too, sucking in air before he choked on his own emotions.  He brought her hand to his chest and held it there.  “My baby,” he gasped, eyes flooding.  “You’re having my baby.  We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped and sniffed. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? How could you even think that?” He was deeply offended that she would question his reaction to something he’d wanted his whole life with her, specifically.

He was wiping her tears away with his thumbs as she spoke.  “This is far from convenient, Steve. The way we both live our lives, we never planned for this. We barely have two pennies to rub together between us and—”

“Shhhh,” he kissed her nose and her eyelids and her mouth. “Money comes and goes, sweetheart.  It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, but you and this baby.  Our baby.”

Our baby.  He couldn’t stop saying it.  

He hadn’t known about Oliver until a few days before he was born, and he always felt robbed of all that time in the womb when he could’ve bonded with his son.  Tina had been a three-day fling at a music festival, and he never had any intention of seeing her again.  He’d been prepared to do the right thing though, to be a family even if it killed him, but then Tina just handed him a baby boy a week old and drove away, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing.  

Robin had been in the car waiting for him when it happened.  She saw him standing there in the street holding that screaming baby in a blanket and right then and there, a mother was born.  

He put his hand on Astrid’s stomach, gently.  “Can I feel it move yet? The baby?”

She laughed into her hand as she wiped her nose.  “I’m barely seven weeks along, silly.” 

He curled down like he always did when he put his head in her lap, but instead he placed his ear on her stomach, massaging her thigh with his hand. “I don’t think you can hear me, little one, but daddy has loved your mother his whole life and I love you very much.”

His next words were to Astrid; a murmur into the meat of her. “Will you let me love you now? The way I’ve always wanted to? Will you stay with me?”

She scratched her fingers through his hair, and then held his head there when his arms went around her waist. They stayed like that for a long while.

A bit later, in bed with her head on his chest, he was half asleep when she whispered: “You know that twins run in my family, right?”

—------

“A geriatric pregnancy,” Steve told you from across the bar when you were both back at work the next evening to the tune of Connection by Elastica. 

You made a face while you put some limes and shots of tequila on your tray.  

“That’s what they call it, I guess, when a woman is over 35,” he shrugged.  “A geriatric pregnancy.  So, I’m forcing her to take it easy.”

He was letting you and Shana in on the good news, and he’d been grinning from ear to ear for so long, his cheeks hurt.  His gold incisor caught the red lights like it had a ruby in it.  He’d even been smiling in his sleep, somehow, as Astrid noticed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you mirrored his enthusiasm.  “Does Eddie know? Wayne?”

“Not yet,” he made a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. “We wanted to tell Uncle together.  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn’t wait,” he added sheepishly. “She knows I can’t keep a secret like that.”

“I’ll wait and let you give Eddie the news,” you told him.  “I think he’d rather hear it from you.”

“Where is that War Machine?” Steve looked around, adjusting his sunglasses on his head.  “I owe him a drink.”

“That’s a good question,” you glanced at the clock that was up by the wall-mounted tv.  “He said he was going to stop by, but that was almost two hours ago.”  It didn’t concern you too much because your boyfriend was a busy guy, and last-minute things were always popping up at the shop.  

It was on your to-do list to call John on your break and let him know you were turning down his offer.  The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if he’d planned to hire you on merit, or if he just wanted to get into your pants.  When you thought about the possibility of the latter, it made your blood pressure spike.  

You delivered a round of drinks to a table, and on your way back to the bar, there was a man in a suit coming through the door, holding a briefcase.  

Steve gave him a nod when they made eye contact, but he didn’t ask to check his ID because the man had a graying hairline and was possibly mid-fifties at the least.  He was fit though, and had a very confident demeanor about him.  He looked like he was there to do business.  

“My name is Saul,” he introduced himself to Steve with a handshake and Steve stood up from his stool to be eye level with him.  “I’m looking for Steve Harrington.”

“You found him,” Steve rolled his neck, wondering what he could possibly want from him.  

Saul gave a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes. 

By then you were at the bar, acting like you were busy so that you could eavesdrop.

“What’s this about?” Steve pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  

“Well, it would behoove you to give me a moment of your time,” he moved one side of his suit jacket back to shove his hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.  

“I have some business to discuss with you on behalf of Charlene Gregson.”

—------

John Gregson had no idea he was being followed.

He vaguely registered the sound of the loud pipes from the motorcycles rolling up to Margie’s diner, but he was having a late lunch with a business associate and didn’t pay much attention to it.  He preferred white tablecloth lunch meetings, but in Hawkins there weren’t many choices.  Their BLT was unbeatable though, as was the chocolate cream pie.  He’d have to calculate them both into his low-carb diet and spend extra time at the gym in the morning.  

He had his back to the door, making notes in his date book as the man across from him spoke over the sound of clattering dishes and silverware.  

He felt the shadows pass over the table, but he figured it was a group on the way to sit at a booth further down.  

But they came to a halt and loomed there, smelling of leather and tobacco.

John glanced over the top of his reading glasses at his companion first and saw that the color had drained from his face.  

There were four members of the Coffin Kings glaring down at them.  

Eddie frowned at the man with John and jerked his thumb to the side.  “Get up,” he said.  “Find somewhere else to be, I need to talk to your friend here.”

Devlin sank into the booth behind John while Van stood across the aisle flipping his butterfly knife, and Lucas stayed next to Eddie.

“Now, hold on just a—” John began to protest, about to get to his feet, but Lucas clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down with calm, steady force.

His companion’s eyes darted from Eddie to John a few times before he gathered his things in a rush, tucking all of his papers under his arm, and shimmied past Van while holding his breath.  It was clear he had no intention of going to wait at another table, he was down the row of booths and out the front door in a flash.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie sank into the seat across from John, wallet chain dragging on the vinyl as he settled in, stretching his arms wide along the back of the bench.  

Lucas turned his back on the two but stood in the same spot, feet planted wide, hands in his pockets, blocking John from leaving.

With a resolute nod, John put his pen down.  “Have we met? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—”

“Cut the crap, man,” Eddie huffed with a lazy grin and hooded eyes.  “You know exactly who I am.”

John took his glasses off and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.  “Fair enough. How can I help you?”

Eddie plucked a pack of smokes out of the front pocket of his cut and motioned for Devlin to toss him a lighter.

“This is a no smoking section,” John reminded him, pointing to the sign on the wall with a red line through a cigarette.

Eddie stared at him as he lit the end and sucked in his cheeks until the cherry glowed orange. 

He waited until after a generous exhale to speak, directing the smoke into John’s leftover pie.  

“You see, John—can I call you John? I’ve been really…patient when it comes to this infatuation you have with my girl.  More patient than you deserve, I think.”

John clicked his tongue.  “Now, you misunderstand me, I—”

“I haven’t misunderstood shit,” Eddie scoffed a laugh. 

The waitress came over, and John was sure she was going to tell him to put his cigarette out, but instead she just gave him the most flirtatious smile.  “You want some coffee, hun? You hungry?”

Eddie finished taking another drag and winked at her.  “Just coffee for me, darlin’,” and then he gestured to the other Coffin Kings. “Get these boys whatever they want and wrap it up to go.  It’s on John’s tab.”

Once she was gone, Eddie continued.  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, slick,” he reached over to tap the ash out on John’s plate.  “Once she finishes this painting, you’re gonna to pay her more than what you initially offered, and then you’re never going to see her or talk to her ever again.  Comprendo?”

John used the back of his fingers to push the plate a few inches away, dabbing the sides of his mouth with his napkin.  “My offer for her to run my gallery in Chicago had no devious intentions, I assure you.  I genuinely believe she is that talented.”

Eddie ground his teeth, jaw muscles bulging.  “She’s beyond talented, you got that right, but she doesn’t want to work for you.  You’re a creep.  Throwing money and big promises around to get what you want.  I know your type.”

“My type?” 

“Has your wife ever mentioned me?” Eddie inquired, exhaling into John’s face.

He watched John visibly go rigid.  

Rhonda set Eddie’s coffee cup on a saucer down in front of him with extra creamer and poured him a steaming cup.

John cleared his throat.  “I think it would be in her best interest—”

“You don’t know what’s best for her,” Eddie bit.  “Who are you, her fucking dad?”

He’d said it a bit too loud and a few people from other tables craned their necks to follow the sound.  

Eddie leaned forward, whispering tensely.  “I don’t think I have to tell you that I have friends in low places. People who will do what I say at the drop of a hat.  You think you can hide behind your money?  You’re wrong.  The people who pump your gas and make your food and clean your bathroom?  They’re all with me. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.  If you fuck with me on this, if you seek my girl out after I’ve told you not to?  Well, then, I hope you like dentures sweetheart because I’m gonna pull your perfect, pearly teeth out one by one.”

By the time he was done, his hand had curled into a fist on the table.  He spread the ringed fingers out wide and then made the fist again, making John look at it.

Eddie snubbed out his smoke in John’s pie with a sizzle and then settled back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders.  He cocked an eyebrow up.  “Are we good?”

John sat back as well.  “We’re good,” he acknowledged stiffly, adjusting his suit jacket.

Eddie slapped the table and gave John a wink.  “Well, this was fun,” he chuckled.  “We should catch up more often.”

He took a quick gulp of his coffee and slid out of the booth.  

He stopped to bend over and whisper, “don’t forget to tip well, slick,” in John’s ear on his way out.  

—-------

By the time Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer, swatting away plumes of second-hand smoke as he went, everyone knew that Steve was going to be a dad again.  Even the new customers who’d barely just walked in the door that evening.  

Astrid had prepared for this.

One of the many complicated reasons she’d waited more than a week to tell him was because she’d known that, if he knew, he’d be announcing it to everyone he passed by on the street.

Steve jumped from his stool and hugged Eddie.  “I’ve got great news, man,” he clapped Eddie a few times on the arm, over the thick leather jacket he had on.  

Eddie had been on his way across the room to you when his friend stopped him, so the sudden affection took him off guard.  “I like good news,” he caught your eye over Steve’s shoulder and smirked.  

Steve let him know that he was going to be a dad again, which Eddie assumed would happen sooner than later, but he was surprised and delighted to know that Astrid was the mom.  They both knew that she’d been told it would be nearly impossible for her to conceive.  

Steve leaned in.  “This proves it, man, I have a magic dick.”

“Sure you do,” Eddie scoffed, patting Steve on the cheek a few times.  “Only took you 15 years.”

Before you could greet him, Eddie was already in front of you, pulling you flush to his body.  He started to walk and you took backwards steps to stay with him.  “Can you take your break right now?”

“I wasn’t going to for another hour but—”

“I need to talk to you,” he hushed.  

“Um, okay, well,” you glanced over at Shana and she waved you off.  

His mouth found yours the second you were obscured in the dark hallway.  You figured he’d be escorting you out to the alley where you usually took your breaks with him so he could smoke, but this time, he pulled you into one of the two unisex bathrooms and locked it behind him. The bulbs inside were red, and it set an eerie, bloodwashed glow.

“This place sees a lot of action,” you mumbled into his kiss as he worked your skirt up so that he could take a handful of the meat of your ass.  “I like to call it Steve’s Office.”

Before you knew what was happening, he was hoisting you up onto the sink counter with a grunt.  Your thighs and bum were fully exposed now, covered in fishnet stockings, and one of his hands held your face while the other rubbed a knuckle over the heat between your legs.  Your panties and stockings were preventing him from going further, but not for long.  

You were about to protest, to say you had to get back to work, or to remind him how many women Steve had probably railed in that very spot, but

Fuck

And just when you softened with a shaky moan, he kissed a trail down your jaw and throat, with a few nibbles in between.

You whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, Doc Marten booted feet locking onto his thighs to keep him close.

“I have something..” smooch “...that I need…” smooch “...to ask you…” smooch

“Right now?” You palmed his hard length over his denim and then went to work at undoing his belt buckle. “We only have 10 minutes.”

He leaned back, letting his cherry bitten lips hover there at eye level.  His bangs were getting too long, he needed a trim, and you brushed them to the side, off of his eyebrows. 

“Do you want to move in with me?”

You blinked a few times. “Into your apartment?”

“No, no,” eager lips found your mouth again and his thumb rubbed circles over the taut nub of your nipple through your shirt.  “The big farmhouse down on Marigold Road.  I pointed it out once when we drove by.”

You stopped.  “The old Ferguson place? Aren’t there people already living there?”

“Not anymore,” he could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear and he hissed, grinding his erection against your thigh. “I want to buy it. For us.”

In your desperation, you reached down and clawed at the section of black fishnet that was keeping him from you, ripping a little further down your thigh than you’d intended to.

Eddie kissed down the front of you on the way to his knees, and then your underwear was pulled to one side and his tongue was on your swollen clit, rolling in circles there.  

You dug your fingers into his hair with one hand and supported yourself on the ledge with the other.  He sucked a few times, and then his tongue went inside of you, and you bit your lip, squirming to try and repress a scream.  

“That is a big step,” you gasped. “Moving in together.”

For the longest time, you couldn’t see yourself living with anyone other than a roommate ever again.

He hummed on your now soaked cunt and then kitten licked it a few times.  “I’m ready. Are you?”

You didn’t respond at first because your eyes were rolling back in your head, so he popped off to get to his feet, his chin glistening.  He spread your thighs further apart to make room for his hips and undid his zipper.

His pupils bloomed wide as he searched your lustful eyes, insecurities making his heart rate quicken.  “Are you not ready? I mean, do you not want that? Is it too soo—”

But then you silenced him with your mouth, lapping up your juices from his chin, moving away a strand of his hair that had stuck there. “I want to see the inside. Could we go look at it together?”

“Yeah we can,” he pushed his boxers down and rubbed the tip of his leaking cock along your slit. “I’ll call the real estate dude in the morning.”

You clung to his neck, jaw going slack as he sank in. “I’ll have to check with Charlie.”

He chucked into the kiss at you mentioning your cat, and then he was stretching you out, easing his way in, aching to be one with you.

“Deeper…more,” you whimpered, and then you each let out a muffled cry when he filled you to the hilt, flush inside of your pulsing heat.

He rested his forehead on yours and began to work his hips, thrusting deep and retreating with a curl of his hips so that you could feel every vein, every ridge, but then you were clenching around him, and he sped up with a curse, a thumb working at your clit.

“This…fuck, I’m going to cum so hard inside of you,” he admitted with a huff.  His belt buckle clinked against his zipper with every thrust.  “You want that? You want all of me?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” You whined, clinging to him as stars exploded behind your eyes. 

His strong fingers dug into your flesh to hold your legs in place, and after a few more shaking pumps, he was spilling inside of you, each of you a moaning mess of “I love yous”, clawing at the other to be closer.  

Someone banged on the door just as the two of you were catching your breath and Eddie was still inside of you.

“Get lost!” Eddie yelled, not caring if it was a customer.

“Are you two having a tea party in there? Cabbage Patch meeting perhaps?” 

It was Steve, and then you could hear his ruckus laughter as he banged another few times just to be cheeky.

You adjusted your underwear back into place, and Eddie fastened his jeans before he helped you down off the counter.  You pulled your skirt down and checked yourself in the mirror.

Yikes.

The rip down your inner thigh was painfully obvious.  You wondered if shredding them in a few more places would make it more of “a look”, but then realized that the lighting in the Hammer was not great, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to accidentally rip their stockings at work.  

But what about when Eddie’s seed started to drip down your leg?

“You go,” you shooed him away as he stood there adjusting the collar of his jacket, waiting for you. “I need to pee.”

He was looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing lipstick off his cheek, but then he turned just before grabbing for the door.  “If you don’t want to, you know, live together right away, I get it.  But with Katie moving in with Robin and all, I figured—”

“You figured we could be roommates?” 

He smirked, giving a bashful shrug.  “A little more than that, maybe.  Roommates with benefits.”

“Yeah?” You sank against his chest, forever helpless to his gravitational pull.  “What kind of benefits?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

“You think you can make pancakes?” 

“Baby, I've told you before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

—-------

“WAYNE!”

Uncle entered the Hammer and everyone screamed his name like he was Norm in an episode of Cheers.

It had been a while since he dropped by unannounced, and he looked better than ever.

Still much thinner than he had been the year before, and it was hard for him to catch his breath sometimes, but his eyes were bright, and he wore a soft smile more often than not.  

Maybe the chemo was working? Maybe there was hope?

Devlin had been sitting on the stool at the bar next to Eddie, but Eddie was quick to tell him to take a hike when Wayne showed up.

“What did the doctor say?” He asked as his uncle straddled the stool and got comfortable.  He was in a green and white plaid work shirt and had decided to leave his Coffin Kings leather at home.  

Wayne gave a single nod and patted around for his smokes out of habit, even though he’d given it up when he started treatment.  “Just heard Steve's gonna be a dad again. He better treat her right, that's all I can say." It was obvious he was damn near giddy at the thought, Eddie could see it in the way a smile kept tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I’m sick of talking about doctors and my goddamn condition. Want to forget about it for a night.”

Eddie respected that, and tapped the bar to order him one of those non-alcoholic beers that they kept cold specifically for Wayne and one other regular patron.  

You barely had a chance to give Wayne a shoulder squeeze when Robin burst in through the door, frantically scanning the crowd.  There was a dancer on the backstage, working her way down the poll, and Steve had gone over to remind a few rowdy customers to behave themselves.  Robin rushed over and met him halfway, in front of the glowing jukebox.

He found no comfort in the way she looked like she’d been crying.

“What’s going on?” Felt like his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. “Are you okay?”

“The spare key,” she held her palm out.  “You used it last time and now I’m locked out of the house.”

He felt around in his back pocket.  “Where are your regular keys?”

She rolled her eyes, bouncing in frustration. “I lost them somewhere, okay? At work maybe, I’m not sure, but Oliver just threw a fit, I’m on my period, and we’re all just in a really bad mood and want to go home.”

“Alright, alright, here take my key,” he wrestled it off the metal ring to hand it to her.  “Just remember to leave the back door unlocked for me.  Is Oliver in the car?”

“No, he’s at Katie’s place with her, I needed to take a drive alone so that I could scream,” she snatched the key from him.

“Shit, you had me worried for a second.”

“Sorry,” admittedly, she felt like she was overreacting to something so small and fixable, but more likely her tears were from an accumulation of things.  Once the panic spike subsided, her eyes landed on half of a white envelope peeking out of the pocket of his Coffin Kings leather, right above his TAZ insignia.  She always teased him and said his official nickname should’ve been Dingus.

“What’s this?” It looked like it had some official lettering in the corner, and she plucked it out to look closer.

They made their way back to the front so he could keep an eye on the door, and she frowned at the name of a law office in the corner. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” he shrugged.  “Some douchey lawyer brought it by, said it was from Charlene.  It was busy when he came in, so he gave me that to read and told me to call him in the morning.”

“Fucking Charlene?” She balked.  “What, is she suing you for not wanting to be her boyfriend?”  

“I haven’t had time to open in, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

A group of people came in, and two looked like they were 16, so Steve carded them.  

Robin ripped the top of the envelope open. You stepped in front of her on your way to a table, and the two of you collided.

You said a quick apology and were about to ask if she wanted a drink, when Shana shouted across the bar to tell Robin the phone was for her.

“It’s your boss from the motel,” Shana continued, holding her hand over the bottom half of the receiver.

Robin gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “She’s going to ask me to work a double shift tomorrow, I just know it.”

She shoved the paperwork at you that she’d just unfolded, but not yet read.  “Hold this for me? Be right back.”

“Oh—okay,” you had the paperwork pressed flat to your chest as you made your way over to stand at Eddie’s shoulder.  He was talking to Wayne, but he reached back and squeezed your thigh in greeting.  

You hadn’t meant to look, to eavesdrop on their private business.

But once glance was all it took

For you to be fully invested

Charlene’s name was the first thing to catch your eye

And then, The Velvet Hammer

You took a few long blinks, unsure if what you were looking at was real.

You mouthed a few of the words quietly just to make sure you were reading them correctly.

The way you froze made Eddie curious, and he turned his head to see what you were doing.

“What’s up babe? What is that?”

“It’s, uh—” you stammered.  “It’s Steve’s.  You’re never going to believe this, but um—”

“Can I see it?” 

He tried to meet your eyes as he took it from you, but you couldn’t seem to look away from the words on the paper.  Your mind was reeling.

Robin returned just as Eddie held the papers out in front of him, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back to read over his shoulder.

Steve meandered over; his curiosity officially piqued at what you were all huddled together about.  

“What’s it say?”  He had a smoke bobbing between his lips and his hands in his pockets.  “Did I win the lottery or somethin’?”

He chuckled, but then you all turned to him in unison, unblinking, mouths agape.

“Yeah man,” a smile curled on Eddie’s lips.  “Actually, you kinda did.”

—------

Charlene was on the plane to Hawaii when she read the newspaper article.

A glass of first-class champagne and a window to her right, an empty aisle seat to her left.  

There he was, right on the front page of The Hawkins Post: 

Steve.

In a bigger city, a business changing hands could fly under the radar, but in a small town, it was newsworthy when a local biker and bouncer becomes a business owner overnight.

A Cinderella story, the reporter called it.

The cover photo was of him out on the sidewalk, standing next to the red door entrance to the Velvet Hammer.  Shana was in the photo with him, as were Robin, Jackie, Erika, and you.  

Not pictured was Eddie Munson, whom the article mentioned Steve had chosen to take on as a partner.

The article talked about their plans for the Hammer, including bringing in a tattoo studio to the vacant storage space next door.  

She ran her finger over his face on the newsprint.

It wasn’t until the end of the article that she got the wind knocked out of her:

“Steve and his longtime partner, Astrid Bautista, are expecting their first child together in the spring.”

She hadn’t expected that.

She had to look away and take a generous gulp of champagne.  

Her eyes got a little wet and her vision blurred, but she read it again.

“Did you miss me?” Billy sank into the seat next to her with his sunglasses on and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist of his jeans. He smiled around the pink gum he was chewing and craned his neck to see what she was reading, but she folded the paper hastily and turned it over.

She didn’t answer him, she just stared out the window over the clouds and tried to forget she ever felt a thing.  

------

authors note: wow, we did it. This is my first fic series to finish ever 😭 If you've made it this far, you know how much this story and the characters have evolved since those first couple chapters. If this were an actual novel, I'd go back and make it all sync up, give it more continuity, and reveal nicknames like War Machine and Taz earlier in the game. But the cool thing about posting this way for a fandom is that you, the reader, are able to see in real time how the characters develop a mind of their own and take over the story in a way not even the writer can predict. In this case specifically, you can also see how I went from having no idea how to write a reader insert fic to becoming more and more comfortable with it.

I never had any intention of making Charlene a villain. She was literally based off of the wealthy woman in the Bruce Springsteen video for his song I'm on Fire. Just a gal who had a crush on her mechanic. Some of you voiced that you wished Charlene could get killed, or hurt somehow, and for those of you, you can trust that she is hurting. Knowing that Steve will be having a family with someone else is a deep wound.

I've had several requests for a separate biker Steve story with a new reader, and until two chapters ago, I fully intended to follow through on that. But the more I wrote him with Astrid, the more I felt it was wrong to keep them apart. If you are a fan of their love story, I highly recommend visiting THIS masterlist from @texasblues who created Astrid's character. But I do plan to bring a slightly different biker Steve back in a new au, stay tuned 🥰

This of course, is not the end. I plan to drop an epilogue on you all when you least expect it, and it will take place a year or two after the events here. If you are a friend of mine, you will laugh at this because whenever I say I'm going to write an epilogue, I never do. But this time I mean it.

I can't express in words how much your comments, asks, and messages about this story have meant, and will always mean to me. I was living through one of the darkest years of my life when I joined tumblr back in April and started writing this fic, and you all have held me together, whether you realize it or not. I love you and am deeply grateful for you all.

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724

[panjakes]

Can I get dad!Yoongi comes back from tour and his daughter and black wife come pick him up from the airport? Also I love your writing❤️

Thank you!!!❤️🫶🏼

Yoongi couldn’t wait for this damn plane to land and everyone could tell. Jimin who was sitting next to him smirked before nudging him a bit.

“Can’t wait too see the family?” He asks

“It’s been a while since I’ve physically seen them…and I just wanna be in my bed” he mumbles making jimin laugh

“Yeah I feel you” jimin says making yoongi side eye him

“Well, on the bed part” jimin says making yoongi nod and chuckle

Before he could respond the flight attendant announced they would be landing soon. Yoongi didn’t wait to pull out his phone sending you a quick text.

Not wasting time to get his overhead bag and getting into the isle to get off the plane. The rest of the members laughing at his excitement

After being the first person off the plane, yoongi did wait for his members who met him inside the airport.

Staring down at the watch on his wrist looking at the time

“Are you going to eat? I want food” jungkook says as the rest of the members walk over to yoongi

“Took you long enough” yoongi mumbles taking the sunglasses off his face

“We get it! You miss the family! Gosh” Jin says rolling his eyes as they start to walk

“Don’t be upset because you don’t have your own family to go home to.” Yoongi mumbles

Yoongi looked around the empty airport. It was slightly dark outside and there was surprisingly no cameras and no army inside which he was glad for

He looked down at his phone to see where you parked.

Stepping outside in front of the airport yoongi and the guys looked around for you and the tiny angel.

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile when he looked over across the street and seen you holding your three year old daughter who was holding a sign with different colors and sparkles.

“Mommy!! It’s daddy!” He heard her scream

“I know babygirl! Let’s go get him” you say smiling at her

Yoongi waited for the two of you to cross the street. Your daughter kicked her legs ready to get out your arms and into yoongi's.

"daddy!! Hi!" She shouts waving her tiny hand

"Hi princess" Yoongi says pulling you and the small child into a hug. Leaning over to kiss your forehead then your daughters. Yoongi sighs in relief at finally being home

"Look!" Your daughter says holding up the sign she made almost hitting you with it

"she insisited that we make you a sign" You say playfully rolling your eyes

"It pretty?" she ask looking at yoongi with her big wide eyes. He chuckles before running his hand through her curls

"Very pretty princess. Whats going on with your hair?" Yoongi asks noticing her hair wasnt in its usual twist or braids with beads

"She gave me a hard time when I tried to do it. So shes rocking the baby fro" You say

"Hey yn you cooking?" Jungkook asks walking over to the three of you

"Excuse you? Cant say hello to my wife?" Yoongi asks

"Dont do that, me and yn are cool like that. I'm just hungry" Jungkook says waving yoongi off

"Uncle Kookie!"

"Hi pea! Where you good for mommy?" He asks taking your daughter from yoongi,

"Yeah!" She screams excitedly

"Yeah Im cooking but it'll be later. Me and ava had pancakes" You say pushing her air out of her face

"Yeah later, now go away so I can have my family to myself" Yoongi says grabbing ava from jungkook

Jungkook glares at him before smacking his lips and looking over at you.

"He cried the third day on tour because he said he missed you guys" Jungkook says pointing at yoongi who smacks his lips

"I did not" Yoongi says

"He did, the stylist had to redo his makeup he was crying so much" Jungkook says making yoongi push him a little bit

"Get out of here" He says making jungkook laugh and leave

"I did not cry" Yoongi mumbles

"well Ava did" you say making her gasp

“Mommy! Stop!” She says feeling embarrassed

“Yeah mommy stop! She’s a big girl” yoongi says making your daughter agree

“Yeah whatever, get in the car I know your tired” you say patting his back

“Daddy can we play?” Ava asks

“Ava daddy’s tired you can play tomorrow” you say walking over to the car

“No tomorrow” she says pouting as yoongi puts her into her car seat

“It’s okay princess we can play all night” yoongi says kissing her forehead making her giggle

You shrug going over to the drivers side to open it but yoongi quickly shuts it and shakes his head

“What’re you doing?” You ask

“I’m driving” he says

“No baby your tired. I can drive” you say

Yoongi ignores you taking the keys from your hand and pushes you over to the passenger. You sigh and obey anyway.

The car ride home was filled with you filling yoongi in on what happened while he was gone. Everything was about Ava but yoongi was glad to hear.

Once you three were settled inside the house, Ava immediately pulled yoongi too her big pink purple and yellow room filled with every toy a three year old could have

While you were in the kitchen you couldn’t help but smile as you heard Ava’s loud giggles. Sooner or later the giggles were no longer heard.

Just as you turned off the stove, you walk upstairs to Ava’s room to find yoongi in her tiny bed and her in his lap. You take out your phone taking a pictures smiling. You knew he was tired.

Before you could wake him up you heard someone knock on the door. You go down the stairs to open it to find jungkook

“Oh so you was serious about getting this plate” you say letting him in

“Of course! Where’s yonngi and Pea?” He asks

“Asleep. They played for about two hours” you say going to make his plate

“Really? Alright I won’t bother y’all. I’ll get my plate and go” jungkook says following you too the kitchen

“Take some to jimin and taehyung” you say handing him the extra plates

“Nah I think I’ll keep them to myself” he says laughing

“Bye jungkook” you say laughing

“Bye Yn! Thanks for the food” he says opening the door and leaving.

You make yoongi and Ava’s plate putting them in the microwave knowing they’d probably wake up at the same time and want to eat.

After cleaning the kitchen you go back to Ava’s room to check on the two. They were still sleeping just in a new position that made you laugh.

Yoongi was on his back with his feet hanging off the end off the tiny bed with Ava laying on his back.

You don’t say anything. You just take another picture and go to your bedroom. Quickly showering and getting dressed.

Getting into the bed yoongi wasn’t far behind

“Wassup baby” you say making him glare at you

“Ain’t no wassup, why didn’t you wake me up to get in the REAL bed” he says making you chuckle

“You looked comfortable so I left you alone” you say shrugging

“Bullshit. You know that plastic bullcrap isn’t comfortable. Plus Ava kicked me in the mouth” he says rubbing at his jaw

“How?” You ask chuckling

“I don’t know but I do know I’m going to bed” he says climbing into the bed throwing his arm around your waist

“Okay goodnight” you say turning off your lamp and turning you attention back to Netflix

Soon enough yoongi was back lightly snoring and you were watching some reality show on Netflix. Not even 25 minutes later Ava came into the room with a pout

“Mommy!! Daddy left again!” She says sadly

“No he didn’t he’s right here baby” you say pointing to the sleeping man

She peeks over and immediately runs over to the big king size bed. She tries her hardest to get into the bed but she just couldn’t so she pats yoongis leg

“Daddy! Help” she says making you giggle at her cute little voice

Yoongi groans grabbing her from under her arms and putting her in between the two off you. He kisses her forehead and pats her stomach

“Go to sleep pea” he mumbles

“Okay” she mumbles snuggling closer to yoongi

You smile at the two before turning the tv off and snuggle into your daughter and yoongi.

[persephone11110]

rain is a good thing

Jake‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

PROLOGUE

warnings: breaking up, asshole jake seresin, pre-tpg.m, past child abuse, hurt people hurt people—NOT DEFENDING HIM, lack of communication skills, both oc and jake have self esteem issues, hurt no comfort, bradley is mentioned , mentions of alcohol->drinking and being slightly drunk, set in 2018-2019

author note: prologue and unfortunately please expect spelling errors, I want to make sure everyone knows that the prologue m is set atleast 2yrs before top gun maverick and the actual of chapters are before and after the uranium mission . Also i might tweak the ending a lil bit i cant tell If i I like it Thank you for reading— enjoy :)

WC: 900

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Series Masterlist

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“I’d never a break promise darlin, especially not to my girl”.

You sheded more tears than any human ever has, you sat at the table watching the clock on the stove hit 11pm. The candle you once had lit was now out along with the patience you had for Jake this was the third time he’s broken his promise, he assured you he’d be home three hours ago for the nice meal you made.

The two of you would finally have the chance to just be girlfriend and boyfriend. The worry about work and stress would be put aside for once, Jake even promised you he wouldn’t bring up Bradshaw and how much he hated him.“Fucking hate him”.

You tried to not doubt your boyfriend word, you knew how much Jake worked and you knew he deserved the biggest break. Yet you couldn’t help but realize how much time he’s been spendin at the hard deck instead of the apartment you both shared.

Was this Jake way of telling you that he didn’t love you anymore, you tried to think of a time were theres been so much distance between you and him, and you couldn’t think of one.

Maybe your mom was right, maybe you weren’t destined for the love.

Why didn’t Jake Seresin love you anymore?

You were to busy wiping at your face to hear the door slam or him slurring your name. “Y/n I’m home!”.

You were ripping clothes off the hanger throwing them into a bag you found on the floor. You really thought he loved you—you should’ve know better a man like Jacob Seresin doesn’t love, he just takes and takes until the shadow of what used to be you is left lingering.

“Baby you okay?” he startles you out of a bubble of self-pity. “Y/n we can eat now…I’m home”. He goes to wrap his arm around your waist and you move from him.

His eyes widened at the bag of clothes on the bed.“What are you doing baby, are we going somewhere?”.

He’s looking down at you and your staring at those piercing green eyes that made you falling in love him in the first place. The green eyes he used to get himself out of trouble with.

“I’m going somewhere not you”. Already turned around you miss the way his mouth replicated a fish blowing bubbles.

“C’mon baby just let me heat the up food and it’ll be fine”. He trys to touch you again on but on your shoulder, and again you jerked away from him.

Drunk or not Jake realized you weren’t happy with him again. “I’m really sorry Y/n my phone died while I was there”. He throws a lame excuse at you hoping you take it like you did the last two times.

You pressed your tongue into side of your cheek. Not wanting to cry again, you shrugged him off instead. “Its okay Jake Its just I can’t keep doing this with you.”

He nose wrinkled in confusion,“Y/n what are you talking about you can’t keep doing this?”.

You let the shirt fall out of your hand before turning back around to him. “All I asked for was a dinner with the man I loved, I didn’t ask for a luxurious gift— I didn’t ask for a expensive vacation— I just wanted to be with the man I loved”.

The color drained out of his face.

“Y/n you can’t walk away from me just because it got hard”. His voice laced with anger,“Look I’m sorry I’ve been stressing over being a possible candidate for top gun”.

You frowned instantly,“I’m not walking away because it got hard, I’m walking away because you already walked away first from the relationship Seresin”.

“Y/n please….”. You already made it up your mind that Jake didn’t deserve a chance to explain more.

“I thought you be different— you promised me you different from the men that hurt us”. tears filled your eyes,“You just broke my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible”. You watched the sadness appear on Jakes face.

“Y/n please let me make it up to you I know the last two times I’ve broken my promise but give me tonight and you can watch me choose you”.

You stared at him as he put your bag at the edge of the bed. You allowed him to drag into the bed you both shared, “I love you Y/n please forgive me”. He whispered in the dark.

You were up before him, staring at him as he slept.

Jake how no idea what he was expecting when he woke up the next morning. Reaching our for you he felt a crinkly paper -he also noticed your bag wasn’t were he put it last night. “I’m sorry Jake looks like we both broke a promise”.

The rain hitting the windows lulled him back to sleep as Jake cried, he just lost the girl he loved and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

You laid on your ole crappy couch with Jakes Texas sweatshirt in your arms. The smell of him lingered around in your apartment, the sheets and the comforter, and now the sweatshirt you accidentally stole from him.

Watch me lose you.

[mt-oe]

its finals season (again..) and huge projects for classes right now. can we get a stressed reader x modern mizu where reader is like actually tweaking out? like I mean pulling our energy shots, shivering hands, 'gotta lock in', hysterically crying on snapchat video and sending it to their groupchat for moral support type of tweaking out and the reader is going BANANAS over all the final papers, and studying for finals and mizu helps comfort reader?? i hope this would be a silly little write but also helpful to anyone going through finals season right now. much love! xoxo <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

To start this, I am absolutely sorry for being gone for so long. I had my thesis defense, practicals, laboratory works, deadlines, and my finals all in the span of two weeks AND I fainted twice, got sick twice, and nose bled a LOT.

I was chugging 3 cans of energy drinks a day, eating one meal per day, sleeping minutes less than how long I showered, and smoked quite a lot. Someone even caught me sleeping on the fire exit stairs (istg so embarrassing ;;). Honestly makes me wonder how I'm not six feet under by now.

To those who are going through their finals, please don't follow my lead. Vomiting at 3am from how dizzy you are while some Sepultura song plays in the background is NOT the experience you'd think it was. Try to plan when you'll tackle your work and get some sleep as much as you can, on your free time, on your commute. I swear, answering tests are SOO much easier when your vision isn't spinning or tunneling.

Chose to do this request first to remind you all to take care amidst your finals (or as a reward if your finals are finished, good job dear!).

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa <3

warning: not proofread, my corny jokes, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Blue orbs watched as you cracked open another can of Red Bull. A small grunt leaving your throat as the fizzy caffeinated drink went down your esophagus. Was this your second? third..no wait..fourth?

Damn.

How are your blood vessels surviving this onslaught of caffeine you've been shoving down your system? She had no clue. But what she did know was that you've had enough. This wasn't healthy at all. Your lips were already as pale as the palms of your hands which were trembling to the point where you couldn't stop writing because that meant you'd feel the quivering of your hands even more.

The two of you had decided to slave off at Mizu's apartment for your finals. It was mostly Mizu dragging you there since your friends have been bombarding her to take care of you since she had the closest to what was considered a free schedule. T'was something about you freaking out and crying over the finals. She didn't have a Snapchat account so she didn't know.

Usually, she wasn't even interested in these stuff, but when Akemi showed her a picture of you with a thumbs up, holding a can of Monster, dark circles under your bloodshot eyes, tear streaks on your face, with the caption 'Boutta pull another Kay Chung tonight', concerned didn't even begin to describe what she felt.

Boutta pull a Kay Chung?

What or who was this Kay Chung anyway?

She knew you were a hard worker, probably one of the most studious people she knew, so she already expected you to be busy studying. What she didn't expect was the mess you were in.

The moment she stepped into your unit, cans of energy drinks, bottles of energy shots, cups of coffee, and random paper strewn randomly littered your apartment. The only source of light was your window and a small dim lamp you had.

Was that cup noodle container growing mold?

Ew.

It was like the Capital Wasteland in here, and she was the lonesome wanderer, awaiting the dangers to come.

And you were a radiated ghoul hunched over your desk with the emptiest gaze she has ever seen. Your head in your hands, as you scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with your equation.

Now she understood the bombardment of messages from Akemi and the others, and damn was she grateful for the heads up because you looked like you were at death's door and death... Death just thought you looked too pitiful to let in.

The two of you were now sitting on Mizu's carpet, books, papers, and gadgets on the smooth wood of the coffee table. In her mind, she thought a bit of companionship would comfort you like it usually did. But she was wrong.

The shaking grip you had on your pen and the occasional 'what the actual fuck?' or 'the hell?' already told her that you were too locked in to relax even just a bit. You looked like you were losing it.

Her eyes peered over your review sheet before she raised an eyebrow at how scattered your handwriting looked, numbers and symbols italicized to the left and to the right as if they were dancing and your solutions scattered. Add this value here..derive the formula there..problem 3's solution is somehow on the back of the paper even though problem 5 was solved on problem 1's spot. It looked like a shit show.

"What...problem is this for? You did it wrong." Her tongue clicking as a slender finger encircled a formula you derived wrong, making you look at her with a mildly bothered look. Your eyes tiredly scanned your review sheet, looking away to the side to blink the heaviness of your lids away, then looking back at it before letting out a strangled sounding groan, shoulders slumping back onto the sofa as you covered your eyes with your hands before looking at your own solutions again. "I don't fucking know..maybe it's for..umm..for..fuuuuuck," you sighed defeatedly, realizing that you couldn't understand your own handwriting either.

You wanted to strangle yourself so bad right now or like, strangle your professor until they give you a passing grade. Maybe the threat of arson would scare the university admins into passing everyone for the semester???? The prospect of being a sugar baby is starting to sound better than trying to finish this degree.

It wasn't like you were an absolute idiot. You could solve these problems no problemo. However, your vision was already lagging and tunneling. Whenever you tried to read the problem or your own handwriting, it was like your vision was hyper-focusing on one spot and the areas around it were...spinning or it'd focus on everything else EXCEPT the ones you wanted to focus on.

The amount of caffeine you had consumed wasn't even helping anymore. Instead of waking you up, you just felt jittery like a hyper-charged toy. Before you were sleepy and slow, now you were still sleepy but faster.

And when was the last time you even ate anyway? Was that moldy cup noodle your last meal? You didn't even know anymore at this point. You could barely feel anything aside from the fear of your impeding academic doom. Not even hunger was strong enough to stop you.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at how miserable you looked before sighing and pulling a sheet of paper out of her own notebook. "Here," she sighed out, sitting beside you and scanning each problem you had printed out before re-writing each question you looked like you struggled with. Her eyes occasionally glanced at you, unseen worry rising with every hitch of your breath and every twitch of your eyebrow as you looked at the questions she rewrote.

"Mizu..I don't want to do those all again," you groaned frustratedly, ruffling your hair own hair aggressively, strands falling to the carpet below. A hand held yours firmly, preventing you from tangling the ends of locks even more. "I'm going to teach you, dumbass. We can't have you failing and dying at the same time," she huffed, grabbing your calculator and placing it in front of both of you. She leaned closer to you, hand on your waist to pull you closer before taking the pencil and pointing to the first problem she rewrote.

"I'm not going to repeat my explanations, so listen well,"

...was what she said.

However, Mizu was a big softie when it came to you. Every time she caught you spacing out or having a hard time in general, she took her time and explained it to you again, even explaining it slower, simpler, or more detailed as needed. She really made sure that you understood the principle of the problems and the process of solving them, handing the pencil and calculator to you to make sure you actually understood her.

After a while, you were slowly starting to understand you earlier mistakes, and with her help, you were able to finally solve the review sheet. Thank god for hot smart women.

A look of amusement crossed her face as she watched you slump back onto the sofa with a loud sigh of relief. Shaking her head with a small lop-sided smile, she took the pen again before grabbing your laptop and searching for similar problems. "Here," she said, turning the device towards you. "Solve these. I'll be back in a bit."

You looked at her in confusion before letting out a tired groan. The exhaustion was starting to let itself be known through the heaviness in your lids. Another problem set was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

Oh wait.

Fuck, you still had to edit your methodologies and results, and you haven't even started on the discussion yet. Oh god...

'Better get started, I guess,' you thought with a defeated sigh. Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you picked up your pencil and calculator and began solving yet another set of hellish questions while the dark-haired woman stood up and walked off somewhere in her apartment. Silence filled the room aside from the aggressive scritching and scratching of lead against paper and the sound of clacking from your calculator.

Every now and then, Mizu would come back with something to comfort you. May it be a cup of water, a bigger pillow, a hair tie, or to charge your phone for you. She didn't really speak though, fully wanting you to focus on your work.

It was like her quiet little way of telling you that she was here and that she cared for you.

Amidst your problem solving, the smell of something being fried hit your nose, making you look up. It was a bit oily, but at the same time, homely and savory. Your stomach growled slightly at the smell, reminding you of that uncomfortable feeling of hunger that you were somehow able to ignore during your study sessions.

Just as you had finished writing your answers, Mizu came out of the kitchen with a bowl of rice and a plate of what seemed to be fried fish. Kinda burnt but maybe that's a charm point...or something. At least she tried.

She set it down on a clear space on the coffee table and gently urged it towards you. "Here," she mumbled, looking at you expectantly. You stared at the food she prepared, snorting a bit at the charred skin, some bits missing which obviously stuck to the pan while she was frying it. "Err..Mizu...?"

"Don't mind how it looks just..just eat, okay?" she groaned, sounding a bit embarrassed, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks. Her eyes looking away as her hand went up to cover half her face. You couldn't help but laugh a bit. Mizu? Embarrassed? God that woke you up, didn't it?

The sound of your laughter made her feel even more embarrassed but at the same time relieved. Your laugh was so fucking cute. She was glad that you were starting to sound a bit more like your usual self. Hell, you were smiling now. A big improvement compared to the face of misery you were making earlier.

Eventually, your laughter subsided upon the realization sinking into you. She really did all this just to take of you. Dragging you to her apartment, tutoring you, fetching things for you, cooking for you...

She really does care. Doesn't she?

Your hands picked up the chopsticks before breaking into the soft flesh of the food in front of you, picking off the bones before taking a bite. It was salty, the char even made it a bit bitter, and for god-knows-why, even a bit spicy?? But it tasted so good to you. Heavenly, dare I say.

As you continued to eat, bite after bite and scoop after scoop, the shakiness in your hands slowly calmed down. You couldn't help but look up at your friend who was now checking your answers, the ghost of satisfaction making itself known through the barely visible smile she had. "Mizu..."

She looked over at you, raising an eyebrow to indicate that she was listening. "Thank you for uh..taking care of me," you said shyly, giving her a small smile. A low chuckle escaped her throat as she shook her head slowly as if in amusement. "At least you're not shaking like a leaf anymore," she joked, followed by you letting out a small 'hmph!', making her chuckle yet again.

Though she wouldn't tell it to you right now, she'd be more than happy to take care of you anytime you wanted or needed it.

The sound of your pen tapping on the paper filled the room again as her eyes narrowed at your answers, checking it carefully. After a while, she handed the paper back to you, looking very much satisfied. "Looks good," she said, eyes watching the proud smile on your face. "How 'bout a reward?...Some rest I suppose?"

Your smile faltered at the sound of rest. "I can't...my manuscript is due in a couple of days and I haven't even finished editing my methodologies and results," you explained, opening the files for each of your chapters. "The data isn't even tabulated in the required format. It looks like shit."

She stood up from her spot and sat next to you, placing a hand on your head to pat it gently as she looked at the screen. Her eyes narrowed again while you scrolled up the file for her before she sighed. "Yeah, it does look like shit," she agreed before suddenly grabbing your laptop and setting in front of her. "Go and take a nap or something. I'll do whatever I can to...whatever this is."

"But Mizu, this isn't even your field. I can't—" She cut you off with a finger to your lips before gesturing towards the sofa behind the both of you. "Nap," she ordered firmly. You sighed before standing up and laying down on the sofa. You knew there was no use arguing. When Mizu makes up her mind, she's deadset on it.

Her eyes scanned your figure for a moment, taking in every curve of your body and the way your face relaxed. Then, she took off her jacket and draped it over you, before giving you a small loving pat. Before you could even open your mouth to protest, she immediately shushed you and turned to your manuscript, scanning over it.

Your eyes observed the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way her eyes darted from word-to-word. The sound of her typing and clicking filling the room, oddly relaxing you.

It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep. And for the first time since hell week started, you finally relaxed.

No frustration, no stress, just...sleep.

You did nap for hours longer than expected though.

Don't worry.

Your methodologies were now updated, results properly formatted, and ideas in bullet points for your discussion were laid out in a new file. Even your references were fixed.

Damn, you really wanted to smooch Mizu reaaal hard after this.

[katz-chow]

not yet...

synopsis: john price is a very patient man. warnings: 18+ i will block ageless & minor blogs. soft dom price, gn!reader, (pretty extreme?) edging and denial, bondage, gags, face fucking, remote control vibrator, messy reader

a/n: horny, ovulation, womp womp.

thinking about how strictdom!price would definitely be in control of your orgasms.

how he would most definitely edge and denial you for hours maybe even days if he feels like it. it’s not your fault, it never is—you’re always his good play thing, so obedient. but he wants to have his fun too.

so when you give him the greenlight, he ties you up with a spreader bar, standing up against the wall. i think when he wants to be mean, he loves bondage. gags, especially ring gags so your spit just drips out and he can stick his fingers into your mouth, gathering it up and using it as live against your hard nipples.

standing there, hands tied up behind your back, drool rubbing down your sternum and stomach, and legs spread so far apart that your slick is falling in a string down onto the hardwood.

his fingers trail down from your nipples and he finally touches you, your legs buckling. his thigh lands in between yours, keeping one of your legs up and pinned against the wall.

then off goes one edge, you’re panting already, eyes hazy and whimpers loud, having no way to silence them.

then another.

and another

“come on baby, it’s just one more…”

“precious baby, look at you go. how many was that? 7? 8? aw…all swollen and desperate for my touch”

you whimper as tears flow down your face and saliva continue to accumulate on your chest, drying and then gathering again in a messy, dirty cycle.

you can hardly feel your legs another, mindlessly just standing as the cool air calms down your nerves. it’s extra sensitive now and you’re so desperate, knowing that just a few more minutes and that dam of heat in your stomach will break and burst.

panting, his hands find that specific spot again and your eyes roll back, knees buckling like a newborn fawn. your eyes trail him as your head leaned back against the hard wall, pleading him.

and just as you’re about to cum, his hand pulls away and you let out a cry, so understimulated and overstimulated that it’s all so confusing. you watch him intently as price’s lips meet the top of your head as his hands undo the knot that keeps your own locked up and away

you’re confused, aching, and utterly confused when he undos all your ties and gag and carries you into the bathroom, cooing praises and affirmations.

but you’re tired and so you nuzzle up against him, as he draws you a bath.

two days after that, you found yourself on a similar position, hogtied with your head at the edge of the bed.

price got more creative the next time around, finding the softest red rope he could find and tying you up in beautiful, intricate knots only a military man could do...oh wait.

you whimpers as his cock slips into your mouth, your gag was gone today which meant 1.) your jaw isn't sore anymore but also 2.) he's making you say things to get what you want.

"say it baby, say how much you want my cum in you" he looks down at you as his hand grips your hair, yanking your head up to look at him. you're too dazed to look at him fully, eyes hazy and lustful as he denies your orgasm until the number reaches double digits. it was getting harder and harder to even pay attention to his words, the remote-controlled vibe buzzing wildly in between your tied legs.

but just as you were about to cum, he stops it with his other hand on the control. you cry as tears flow freely down your face.

"you didn't answer me...too bad, darling, was feeling nice that time."

you whine and try to inch closer to him, nuzzling his slick cock onto your cheek as an apology. "i need you, please..."

another bubble bath was drawn soon after that.

third day and things were different, no more ropes, gags, vibrators, nothing anymore.

just you say on the john's lap, his lips nuzzled into the crook of your neck as his fingers play around with you, using your sensitive and eager slick as lube. every stroke, every feather-light glaze of his fingers tips and you were so so close to cumming, it felt embarrassing. like you've never been touched by him before, but you have over a hundred times now. if anything he can't keep his hands off of you.

unbeknownst to you, you not cumming was driving him crazy as well. the caretaker role that he lets take over him is screaming as you're left unsatisfied every night before now. but the primal, strict captain in him rejoices whenever he sees you beg, repeating a string of "please" and his name over and over like a prayer. god, it gives him chills. when you cry and throw yourself into his embrace, humping his thigh or arm, so desperate to get off... he feels bad, just a tad bit.

so now he has you gently held in his arms as your nails dig into his skin, feeling so so sensitive. you cry as he stop, begging for more, yet when he does touch you, it feels so overwhelming you beg him to stop. you're confused and your dumb little brain can't process it. he's just trying to make you feel good...

but then he finds the right pace and then the right pressure and you feel his chest rumble with a chuckle as you finally melt into his embrace and rub up against him, panting and letting moans fill your shared bedroom.

"making you feel so good yeah? going so light and gentle yet you're squirming already...gonna cum for me?" john cooed as his pace and pressure stayed consistent, even as your back arches and sweat covers your body.

you feel the familiar feeling at your lower stomach, the burning, cracking fire that's about to burst. more begging and whimpers fall from your lips as his hand continues. you're ready for him to stop, to leave you hanging, messy and slick coating you.

but the arm around your waist holds you still as his pace remains the same. you whimper, "g-gonna cum...fuck!"

he kisses and nibbles the tip of your ear as you scream, your orgasm finally, finally rupturing through you. you feel your back arch as your head digs into john's chest, mouth hanging open as your body tenses up.

the orgasm washing through you for what seems like ages before you can register anything again. the first thing you noticed was the lingering of john's cologne that you hadn't noticed when he had you strip in front of him. and how soft his hands were, holding onto the flesh of your stomach and thigh as he grounds you. and then you hear his voice.

"it's okay, love...poor thing. didn't that feel good, hm?"

you nod, absent-mindly as he holds you close, dragging a throw blanket over you as hooks an arm under your legs to turn you that he's cradling you. he gives you a kiss on your cheek, then your nose, and then a long, soft one on your lips, before one on your forehead, inhaling your scent.

master list | letter box | main directory

drop by the letter box!

[happypotato48]

Wandee Goodday EP 7 Unhinged Tangant Thoughts

Welp, i'm back to simping for Ai Phi Ter. god damn it, my hated for him only last a week i thought it would last longer than that. whatever i have no standards for men and and that hindenburg of a person is too much of a hot disaster for me to look away from.

this is a nice message and all but shouldn't there more set up for this?

well i appreciated that they tried to destigmatize mental health nonetheless. cause this topic is very much overlooked in thailand. like most older generations will outright tells young people to go to temples or get a grip instead of seeking professional helps.

Yak it's only been a few months give Dee more time my dude.

Dude i know you're mad and all but why you did that. go apologize to the poor custodian staff right now!

Eyebrows is right Dee stop making a mess and go smooch that hunk of a man!

Oh hi luke. i've never watch any of the shows he's in, but but but i had watched a behind the screen of a underwear photoshoot he modeled for and it was very very yummy :P

Make out make out make out. WHAT! don't look at me like that i said already i have no standards.

We are what we remember and liking Ai Phi Ter will always be a part of Dee, you just need learn to live with that baby boy.

How about you two dress up as a well adjusted people whose talks to each other for one, hmmm!

i'm still not going to the gym i don't care how many eye candies there is there i still hate exercises that are not walking/running. but also thanks for this shot show.

*Me when i saw this*

What with that face lol. i laughed so hard 🤣

Did you just came here in that outfit? this bitch has no shame.

If this were me he would already got me at free food. what can i say i'm easy like that.

Heaheahea that smile got me. he so slimy and evil. anyway what happened with what her face Ai Phi Ter!

*second murloc noise of the day*

And i both love and hate you for it you big doo doo of a man.

Ok this line literal translation is "why do you like to use violence like that" which i think is a better choice than what got subbed.

Thanks you gay gods and Yak for both giving me this look and for decking Ai Phi Ter in his stupid face.

You dumb bitches you dum-dums ahhhhhh.

Ok sorry, but crying over cringy bunny sextume will never stop be funny for me lol

saving budget bying never leave the room, smart moved but also give me japan god damn it!

God bless this mess of a man.

Oh comeon! don't drag this girl into this mess show just leave her alone with that other cute boy.

*third murloc noise of the day*

Ok you betted on this match for money didn't you.

Fucking finally!

It's not dull alright baby.

That was a hot mess oh my god, Yak feels off in this ep and yes i do think they're trying to go with mental health problems as an explanation but that was too underbaked for me idk. and for Dee i do get it that he still has lingering feeling for dr. devil but why did they made him goes to Ter's room in that outfit and not trying way harder to get out. i feel like they just went with the early draft of that scene with out changing with how much they've changed the characters. anyways i'm manifesting cherry magic th ep 8 energy for this ep and hope it was just a blip in judgement by the director.

[codfanficedits]

Final tribute

If you're looking for a sign to stay alive, this is it.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

Summary: Suicide.

Wordcount: 4968| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: SUICIDE, mentioning of self-harm, mentioning of shoplifting, mentioning of a fucked up childhood.

A/N: Today (third of November) marks the 9 years anniversary of my best friend killing herself. It has taken me years to come over the guilt, and even 9 years later I still wonder if I could've prevented this. But I couldn't and she is gone. In a way I hope she'll live forever through me and my stories. We were teenagers, having to cope with shit that adults couldn't even cope with. I love you and even though you'll always stay 19 you're still my best friend. Until we meet again. A/N 2: If you're struggling yourself. Please know that life will be worth it, the sun will shine on you too one day, and you'll find the joy in life once more. I've struggled with suicidality and sometimes I still do. But. It. gets. better. I promise.

The silence lingers in the air as he sits on the chair next to your bed. You’re sleeping, getting some much deserved rest, but he can’t help but be angry at you. Angry for attempting, angry for not sharing what was going through your mind, angry at the professionals, for just letting you go again. But his anger gets replaced by guilt as he watches you sleep. Because if you were to die, it would’ve been his fault, at least to Simon.

Except that it wasn’t his fault. You just weren’t made for life and you knew it. Depression had been weighing you down since your teenage years, following you like a ball and chain into adulthood. No matter how much you tried, how hard you tried to fight it, it was a losing battle. A cruel dance with fate. Simon’s eyes wander around the self-harm scars that cover your body, a reminder of your battle, a reminder of every time your mind won the battle against your will to live.

As Simon’s guilt deepens, tears fall from his eyes. You always used to tell him “a cry a deep keeps the demons away.” So, he cried. You had always used your humour as a shield to cope, as a shield to keep people out of the dark abyss of your mind. No one would suspect a thing if you just kept joking about it.

It was a painful realisation – the guilt, but also the truth in those words. It was what he missed most about you, your smile, your warmth, your kindness. He misses your wisdom the most. Maybe if he had tried to understand you more, none of this would be happening. His heart ached with regret and longing.

Simon felt lost. He remembered your humour, but he could never make the thoughts leave his head. How you were always so lively and funny, but had suffered in silence for so long.

This had worried you the most. Not the dying alone part, you had made peace with dying alone a long time ago. But the failing of your plan, and how it would hurt the people around you.

He knew you hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he didn’t think he could find the way to forgive you yet. As for himself, he felt he could never forgive himself for not noticing earlier. How close you had been to death. How far he had allowed this to go, without a single moment’s notice. Not that this would’ve changed anything for you, you would’ve done it either way. With or without him noticing. The depression that had been brewing in you for more than a decade was a ticking time bomb, being set off without anything mayor happening. But this had been a messy attempt, your mind too crowded to think properly, the pain of being alive too much to bear. So you had made mistakes, mistakes that caused your attempt to fail. Mistakes that would make you hate yourself even more. Mistakes that would be carved into your skin the moment you had the chance. Simon couldn't help but feel your attempts to hide your depression had been his fault. Had he not made you believe you had to? Or was this merely some cruel trick his mind was playing on itself? He wanted to hold your hand so badly, to feel your warmth, to tell you he loved you. But you were sleeping. His guilt consumed him. He began thinking of every moment you had been depressed, every instance he hadn't helped, every time he hadn't noticed a thing. But truth be told, you would never had let him help you, your depression had been weighing you down, pulling you under the surface while you desperately tried not to drown.

But drowning is a silent thing to do.

And you, you felt as if the whole world had to be carried on your shoulders. Professionals had failed you, and friends were not made to carry such a heavy load. So you carried it all by yourself, allowing yourself to slip under the surface of the water. Simon was terrified. The idea of you suffering in silence hurt him more than he ever imagined it would. He wanted to tell you how much you affected the lives of those around you. How he had looked up to you for your wisdom, your humour, your honesty. How you had brightened his days just by being there. He also wanted to say how sorry he was for not noticing your depression sooner. But you weren't awake. So he stayed beside your bed, waiting. Hoping. Praying that you would live.

The disappointment of being alive would wash over you soon enough, and you would have to live with that disappointment, a disappointment to yourself and your friend. Your eyes flutter as you begin to wake up, the sunlight burning through your closed eyelids, the pain you feel a reminder that you’re alive. But you don’t want to open your eyes. You can’t face reality, not yet. A wave of relief washed over Simon as he felt you stir. He was still angry, worried, confused, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He reached for your hand, wanting to hold on to the life he had thought he lost. Wanting to hold on to you. Wanting to let you know just how much you meant to him.

"Don't leave me again."

You can’t answer him, not yet. You have to deal with the disappointment of being alive first, before you can tend to him.

Fuck

How you wished you were dead, how you wished that you had succeeded, how you wished you had finally found your peace. You turn to your side, curling up as a ball, the sobs that leave your lips are raw, violent even. As if your soul got broken open and you can’t stop your feeling from pouring out. As Simon watched you curl up into a ball, his heart ached. He could feel your hurt, your anger, your pain, and wished he could take it away from you. And he felt you needed this, this release, this raw feeling. But he also understood how much you disliked your existence. How unfair this life had been to you. How many times you had been disappointed by it all. By other people, probably. But he hoped in the end, you would know how much he appreciated and cared for you. Your tears didn’t stop, by all means they just poured harder, more violent. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you have to be alive? Your feelings turn into anger, angry at yourself for failing, for staying alive, angry at the universe for playing these cruel tricks. “Fuck, Simon.” You sob. “I can’t do this.” Simon felt his anger dissipate, replaced by worry. He couldn't see you this way. So hurt. So depressed. So angry at the world, at life. That anger had always been the first thing he thought of when he pictured you, but not like this. Not the world's anger. Your own. "Hey hey, it's alright." He sat down next to you. "We can get through this together. Just me and you, like always." And that was when, for a moment, he almost believed it.

But you can’t, you don’t want to. You had been trying to get through it, with him, without him. But you’re tired. Tired of trying not to drown when the world is pulling you under. So, so, so tired. “I don’t want to, Simon.” You whisper and your voice sounds tired, as if you’ve been up for days. “I can’t fight anymore.” "Stop." he whispered, his heart aching. This wasn't the reality he wanted to admit, but it was one that was hard to deny. "Please, can't you see how many people care about you? I'm not talking about friends and family, I'm talking about me. Don't you think seeing you like this hurts me?" He knew you were tired. He knew you wanted to just disappear from the world of pain and suffering. And so he tried one last time. "Don't disappoint me." You squeeze his hand, to the point that your own hand starts to hurt from the power. You could see the pain in his face. The pain you had caused. And the guilt hit you like a ton of bricks. You feel so selfish, like you always have been.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through this.” "Stop... stop apologizing." He felt you squeeze his hand, and took it as a sign of hope. Perhaps there was still a chance, even at your lowest, to fight for life. "I'm your friend. I'll always fight with you, even when you can't fight anymore. Especially then. Maybe we can learn how to fight this together." He hoped it wasn't too far gone. He didn't want to lose you to the darkness. But what would you do if it wasn’t apologizing? It was all you did. Apologizing for existing, apologizing for not being good enough, apologizing for being depressed. For being alive. You give his hand a softer squeeze. “Thank you, Simon.” You mumble. “Thank you for being here, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.” "You've never let me down," he whispered back. His eyes were soft, and his expression gentle. All the anger, guilt and disappointment had vanished. He was thinking of you, how hard you had tried — harder than most would. He knew this. He felt this. He couldn't blame you for wanting an escape. An escape he wished he could provide.

"Don't you see? You're the strongest person I know. You're the last person to need to apologize."

His words. No matter how kind they were. They didn't register. You understood them, they were words you could even tell to others. But those words weren't meant for you. Not to someone like you.

So you laid there, curled up in a ball, the disappointment of being alive weighing on you. But they were meant for you. They were for you. Because even when you felt broken, he saw you as strong. When you were tired, you were resilient.

"Let me come a little closer." Simon shifted closer, trying to place his hand on your arm. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to feel you. Your warmth, your touch, your comfort in his hand.

You were hurt, but he wanted to hold that warmth, hold on to you. Because it felt like a treasure to him.

"Rest," he told you. And he meant it; he wanted you to take a break. You were so tired, so full of self-destruction.

He stayed with you in that bed, even as he felt your strength slip away. He wouldn't leave you until he was sure you could fight back. You would fight back, and he would do whatever he could to help you, to make the world a more bearable place. To give the light inside your soul room to heal.

And so your first attempt ended like this. With Simon holding you.

But you were broken, broken beyond repair, and one attempt turned into two, turned into three. All while Simon's life just continued. His missions, his deployments. And there you were. Feeling like a burden again. Simon felt his heart sink with each attempt, his anger growing with each disappointment. It made him feel powerless, unable to help you get better. To show you how much the world needed you. How much he needed you. "Not again..." His voice trembled with tears, a look of desperation on his face. He wanted you to recover, but felt hopeless. He felt that maybe he had already failed you, but didn't dare think it. Because if there was a chance for you to survive... he wanted you to take it. It must've been exhausting for him too. Not knowing if a call from you was just to catch up, or if he would hear just sobs, and rambling about how you couldn't take it anymore. How he had spent hours and hours talking to you. Unable to cope with the guilt of something would've happened to you.

But he was only human, and humans can only take so much.

You look at your phone. Tears streaming down your face as you had called him. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing..." He sighed. "I can't take this anymore. You can't keep doing this. Can't keep hurting yourself, can't keep hurting others, can't keep hurting me."

He didn't want to shout, but for the first time his anger began to surface. He wanted to see you get better, but his hopes were dwindling. "Just... please." Simon was at a loss of words. "How can I make you feel better about all this? What do you need?"

His anger was justified. In your attempt to stay longer on this earth you were dragging him along your misery.

"I'm sorry!" You repeat again, as the tears roll down your cheeks. "I don't know Simon." You hated that you had called him, once again. He was on deployment, unable to help you.

"Can you let me go?"

Simon felt his stomach knot. "Absolutely not." He knew his anger could hurt you, but had to hold on to his hopes of saving you. Because he had promised himself he wouldn't let you escape like this.

"No. No way." He let his voice raise, his anger making him feel stronger. "I am not letting you go." He would not hurt you further, but he would also not let you give up. He had to try.

A decision was made.

And you took a deep, deep breath. "Right." You mutter. "I'm sorry, again."

You wipe away your tears. "I know you're busy. And I really don't want to bother you. But can we just talk? Talk about our time at high school?" "Always." Simon smiled softly as the knot in his stomach disappeared. He felt more hopeful now that he had gotten your attention, and felt his anger melt away. "You know you're never a bother. How I wish the only thing I had going on was to speak to you." He tried to joke, but his concern for you clouded his humour.

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind. High school. Any memories."

A soft sigh left your lips. You could hear his concern. You could hear your heart crumble when he joked about all the things that were going on, and how you were just another add on to that pile. But you pushed it away. This phone call had to turn into a light one. One without more worries.

"Remember how we met?" You ask. "In our self-defence class. You were brand new and I was a black belt. We hit off immediately, and then it turned out we went to the same high school." A smile formed on your face. Better times.

"I remember us secretly smoking behind the building." You snicker. Simon's smile broadened, the memory coming back to him as if they were there a second ago.

"I've always wondered what would have happened if I didn't go to that class." The smile faded again, replaced by thoughtfulness, as Simon considered how different his life would have been. He likely would have never met you. "I wasn't as tough as you remember, I was just taller." He chuckled. "I remember my first day, and you told me about your past. And you asked me about my life — which I was very quiet about then. What else do you remember?" You can’t help but chuckle. "Yeah we definitely did some trauma bonding. Two people with a fucked up childhood."

You clear you throat. "I'm glad we both managed to escape our homelife."

At the mention of trauma bonding, the smile dropped from Simon's face. It was true, it was how you had bonded. And it was one of the worst ways to bond. But he knew you were still thinking about it, and didn't want to change the mood of the call. "Don't think about that," he said. "Come on now, we can't let a shitty childhood ruin our lives." He was one to talk. Running away at eighteen to join the military. You both knew that your childhood would haunt, till the end of times. But you dropped the subject. Not in the mood to ruin this phone call. "Yeah yeah." You mutter.

"I remember you sneaking out of school to shoplift a can of coke." You laugh. "I was so goddamn worried you'd get caught." "Not as worried as me." Simon laughed. "I didn't get caught, though. So my criminal record is still clean... for now." "Although it is a miracle you never got caught. I don't think I've paid for a single can of coke in my last year of high school, thanks to you."

Simon felt his spirits lift, as he recalled all the stolen sodas you and him had split. It had gotten harder to sneak them in as you went up the year grades, but you had enjoyed those stolen moments of sweetness together.

For a few moments, it was as if you were still in those high school halls. Stealing drinks, telling each other about your past, and trying to escape your family life by spending all your time together. But now you were far apart, and there were other problems in your lives. Life had changed. "God. We were idiots." You sighed. "The amount of times we skipped school just to hang in the park and smoke."

"I still don't get how we graduated." You add with a smile, the phone call was helping to take your mind off things.

"We were almost too late for our math final." "We were extremely late for our maths final," he corrected. "But it got us through, didn't it?" He chuckled nervously, thinking of how close you came on several occasions to being kicked out.

"We weren't idiots. Life was just hard." He sighed, his eyes growing softer with each word, "We just needed to find ways to escape. And somehow, we made it." He knew you were feeling better, and thought for a moment. Perhaps he did want to push you a bit, to help you heal.

Of course you remembered, life had been hard for the both of you, yet somehow he had managed better.

"Somehow we made it." You repeat. "Thanks for staying on the phone with me, Simon. I know you're busy, and I'm feeling better right now. I'll keep you updated through text, okay?" "The day you don't call me on your lowest is the day you stop being my friend." Simon tried to joke. He wanted to lighten the mood, but also make you feel wanted. It was important to him that you did not feel like a burden.

"And don't apologize. Your emotions are the most important to me... don't push them away. I just wish I could be there to hold you through it all."

"You don't have to rush." Simon added, a sense of finality to his words.

"You staying on that call meant more than you'll realise." You said. "I'll text you soon okay? Take care Simon."

You ended the call, with a soft smile. Outgoing call: 57 minutes and 26 seconds. It did you more good than you had expected.

Simon sighed. Although it had been a long call, it felt like it had gone by in a flash. He kept thinking about that joke he made, about the day you stopped calling him on your worst days. And how he didn't want that day to ever come.

He knew you had been hurt too much in your life, so he was happy to keep being with you. To keep talking, to keep lifting you up again. He thought he had succeeded, too. Maybe you wouldn't try to hurt yourself again.

"I'll talk to you later." He muttered to himself.

You did feel better. Your house got cleaner, you started going out more. No longer calling in sick to your job that often.

You snapped a pick of a sunrise, sending it to Simon. "Made me think of you." You texted before you went on with your day. A little check in to let him know you were okay. He smiled as he read the message, feeling his heart lift as he read it. It was more than just a little message to Simon. It was what he needed to see, to know you were recovering, and happy. To know that all of the time and effort he put into helping you was paying off. He wanted to tell you right now that he was proud of you, that he was happy for you. But maybe you didn't need that yet. So, he kept it to himself for now. He responded with a simple "Thanks" message.

You did it every day. Usually in the morning. Sunrises. A flower. A dog. Anything that made you happy. And he usually responded with a "Thanks." But that was enough for now.

Your therapist applauded it, and that made you happy too.

You crouched down during one of your walks. Making a picture of one of the first fungi you had spotted during her walk. You send the picture to Simon.

"First one! When is your next deployment?"

Simon was glad for the daily pictures, and did his best to keep it up. He wanted you to feel like you were important to him, so he had to try and be more attentive to your messages. He stopped in the hallway as he read your latest message.

"Uh, this weekend. For three weeks." He texted.

He wondered if he should say more, but did not want to overwhelm you. He was happy already. You were alive, and looking at flowers and fungi. You were feeling better.

Ah. Three weeks. You knew he didn't have any service while deployed. Something with safety and all that. But you didn't mind. The cold November air hit your face, and it made you feel alive. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs.

"That sucks :(. I'll keep sending you the nice things I find on walks, even if you can't see them right away." You texted back.

Simon was glad you understood, and didn't want you to think he didn't care. He tried not to think about the length of the deployment, or the fact that he would likely not be able to talk to you for three weeks. But it didn't matter, because you were recovering.

"Send whatever photos you want, I won't be able to respond, but I will love looking at them." He texted. "Three weeks go by faster than you'd think. I'll be home before you know it."

You did the math. He would be gone on the first of November. And he would be back around the 22nd.

"Do you think you'll be home for Christmas? It’s been a while since we celebrated together." You texted him back.

Your text felt like a punch to the gut. It was true, it had been a while since you had celebrated Christmas together. Your last Christmas together had been two years ago, and it had been an awkward one at that.

Simon tried to put on a brave face. "I'm going to try." He texted. "If I'm lucky, I'll be back late December... maybe even early." He wondered if you would take these answers well, or if he had just made things worse.

"That's great. We'll work the details out when you're back from deployment, no worries." You texted back. There was a light spring in your step as you walked to your job. As if the weight of the world had fallen off your shoulders. "I'll text you tomorrow before you leave for your mission :)"

"Sounds good." Simon was glad to see you in high spirits again. "Talk to you soon."

You and Simon continued to exchange photos for the remainder of the week. He sent you images of training exercises, and you sent him photos of birds, and flowers. It was the highlight of both your days. On Saturday morning, the day before Simon was to depart for the mission, he sent you a voice message. He was standing in his room, as he talked.

"Hey. How are you today?" Some days you just exchanged pictures. The others you had whole conversations. But that was okay, you understood he was busy, and you didn't need his attention all of the time. You smiled when you got his voice message, it was nice to hear his voice again.

"Simon! I'm good, best I've been in a while." You answered through a voice message. "How are you? What time are you leaving?"

"I'm glad." That was always Simon's response, when he heard you were doing 'well.' He had grown to love seeing your photos, and the few conversation you had together throughout the week kept him going. He sounded excited when he spoke, and you could hear a little of the anticipation in his voice.

"Leaving in 20 minutes." He sent. "I'm feeling pretty good, to be honest. A little nervous, but I'm looking forward to the mission."

"You're a good soldier, Simon." You responded through your voice message. "Those three weeks will be over in no time, and when you're back we can go plan Christmas. In the meantime. I'll send you my daily pictures, so you have something to look at when you get back." You added in another voice message

Simon smiled when he heard you call him a good soldier. It felt nice, to be recognized. And to be seen.

He sent back one message that simply said, "Thanks."

He got ready for the mission, grabbing his gear and getting into his squad vehicle.

As he drove in quiet, he thought about planning Christmas. It felt nice, looking forward to things. Maybe you and him could go on a little trip, or do something fun together.

He was optimistic, and couldn't wait for the next three weeks to be over.

On November first you send him a picture of a sunset.

"Reminds me of you. I miss you :)"

But you got no answer, knowing he was out in a mission and had no reception.

On November second you send him a picture of a dandelion, a cat, and the moon.

"Even though we're apart we're looking at the same moon."

And again you got no answer, but you knew he had no reception.

On November third you send him a selfie, a smile on your face.

"I will miss you Simon. Take care. I will always love you. You've been a great friend. You've been my best friend."

On November third you put your phone back on your desk before you left your home. The walk to the train station was short. You had led them all on, but it was your time to leave.

You had held on to life as long as you could. But you were done. You were tired. You couldn't live another day, but at least he would have some good memories of you.

"I'm sorry." You mutter as you saw the train approaching.

One deep breath.

You and Simon always had a habit of sending photos to each other. Especially of the sky. Simon felt a sinking feeling come over him as he saw your last pictures. It was a beautiful sunset, but the words you chose had taken away much of its beauty.

"God damn..." He whispered as he read your message. "Is this what I think it is?" He started getting a thousand thoughts at once, all flooding through his brain.

What could he have done?

Should he have said something different?

You were going to be okay. You were getting better.

Nothing. Nothing could've been done. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't the fault of your therapist. No one was at fault.

Some people just weren't made to grow old, and you were one of them. Your depression had haunted you and had finally taken you to the dark abyss. You were finally at peace.

Simon tried to push away the thoughts of all you were going to miss. All of the life you were going to miss. He could not believe it. He simply couldn't. The person he tried to cheer up, was gone. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault... He kept repeating that to himself, but deep inside he knew that had always been true. He had done all he could. All he had been able to. And that would never be enough to make you stay. Simon's eyes were growing red, but he tried to keep himself strong. It had only been hours after you died, and he was already questioning everything.

"I'll remember you." He said, to no one. He thought of all of the times he tried to help you, the pictures you sent him. The jokes. the little conversations you shared. He couldn't believe it. Simon tried to dial you, to call you, to call for an answer. But he knew that there was nothing he could do now. Nothing but hope that heaven was real. Nothing but hope that he would see you again. Nothing but hope that this was all a horrible joke, a sick nightmare.

The photos of the sunset, the cat, the moon, all lay in front of him. They looked like a cruel joke. Like reality's cruellest and sickest joke of all.

You weren't supposed to end.