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I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43
part one
an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol
wc: 5.2k
Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.
But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.
The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadnât once thought it was rightâhe had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. Theyâd been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. Thatâs what heâd told himself, anyway.
But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel theyâd rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadnât been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasnât he?
The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. Heâd travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.
And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldnât shake the thought of her. The way sheâd looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monzaâbefore she left for good. The way sheâd walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.
What if I had chosen her?
He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. Sheâd moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasnâtâsteady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasnât tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram storyâher laughing, the two of them in a cafĂ© in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happyâhad been the final blow.
That was the last straw.
And now, three years later, here he wasâabout to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasnât his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. Sheâd followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasnât sure he loved her anymore. He wasnât sure he ever had.
She had been the easy option. She fit into the world heâd built for himselfâthe shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.
But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one whoâd loved him first and probably would, even when he didnât deserve it. Even when he hadnât been able to see it for what it was.
He hadnât thought about her for a whileânot in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. Heâd buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angeloâs name pop up, or when heâd hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldnât help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?
He could only imagine the life sheâd built without himâthe kind of life she deserved.
But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if heâd ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldnât help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?
His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancĂ©e. A text: âHey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!â
He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard.Â
He knew he shouldnât, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadnât heard from her in so long, hadnât even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.
But, for some reason, there he wasâtyping out an invitation to his wedding.
Itâs the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. Theyâd spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.
He hit âsendâ before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.
It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinnerânothing fancy, just pasta and wineâand now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.
Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.
She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since sheâd thought about himâsince Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way heâd looked at her before everything changed.
Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.
I hope this message finds you well. Itâs been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. Iâm getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldnât feel right without including you.
I understand if youâre unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.
I hope everything is going well in your life.
All the best,
Fran
She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.
Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud ofâone that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldnât be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.
And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.
She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angeloâs gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made togetherâtogether, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Francoâs message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.
She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasnât hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?
Why am I even asking myself this?
She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didnât want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.
The following morning, the soft clink of Angeloâs keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.
She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.
âHey,â he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. âYou seem a little quiet this morning.â
She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. âIâm fine. Just tired, I guess.â
It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Francoâs invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldnât escape.
âWhatâs up?â Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.
She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.
Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldnât bring herself to look at him. She wasnât sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.
Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. âHeâs getting married, huh? I didn;ât believe it when I saw it on the news.â he said softly.
âYeah,â she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. âI guess he thought I should know.â
âYouâre not planning on going, are you?â Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.
She shook her head, biting her lip. âHeâs my past now. It doesnât matter. Itâs⊠itâs not something I need to revisit.â
Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to herâhow he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.
âI havenât seen Franco since we were sixteen,â Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. âI know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.â
She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. âClosure?â she repeated, almost incredulously. âI donât need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.â
âI know,â Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. âBut I think sometimes itâs easy to say weâve moved on, that weâre over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing himâseeing that lifeâwill help you put the final chapter behind you. Donât you think?â
She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasnât about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.
âI donât know,â she murmured, shaking her head. âI donât want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I donât want to go and be reminded of something that doesnât exist anymore.â
Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. âIt wonât. I promise. Youâre the one I want, mi amor Youâre the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, thatâs not us. Itâs not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then Iâll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.â
She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like thatâsteady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didnât hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.
With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. âYouâre right. Maybe it would be good to go. I donât know what Iâll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.â
Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. âThen weâll go. Together.â
She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his lifeâwhatever that was nowâcould stay in the past, but she wouldnât be running from it anymore.
âThanks,â she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. âFor always being here.â
âAlways,â Angelo replied, his voice warm. âNow go. You donât want to be late for your shift.â
She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.
Three months later
The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.
She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.
She was here. With him. With Angelo.
He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. âYou look beautiful,â he said, his voice tender.
She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.
âThank you,â she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. âYou look handsome, as usual,â she added with a smile.
He chuckled softly. âI try,â he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. âAre you ready for this? I know itâs been a long time coming.â
She nodded, squeezing his hand. âYeah. Iâm ready. Itâs just⊠itâs strange. You know? Weâre not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like Iâm finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.â
âWhatever you need, you have it,â Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.
She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.
âIâm going to step outside for a second,â she said, pulling away from him gently. âIâm going to grab a photo of the schedule. Iâll be right back.â
âTake your time,â Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.
She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremonyâs schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.
That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.
Franco.
He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years agoâhandsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.
Her stomach tightened.
âYou came,â he said, his voice soft with surprise.Â
She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. âI said I would,â she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.
He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldnât quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadnât expected.
âI didnât think youâd follow through,â he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
She didnât know what to make of that. She shrugged. âI thought Iâd at least be polite.â
A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Francoâs gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.
âCan we talk?â he asked, his words hesitant.
She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didnât want this. Didnât want to go back to the pastâdidnât want to open that door again.
âIâd rather not,â she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.
Francoâs expression softened. âItâs been three years. Three years overdue, donât you think?â
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didnât owe him anything, and yet, a part of herâperhaps the part that had loved himâknew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadnât been able to shake off.
She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. âFine,â she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. âBut just for a minute. I donât have time to rehash everything.â
âThank you,â Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. âMy roomâs just down here. I wonât keep you long.â
They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasnât sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasnât going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.
It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.
âCan I get you anything?â he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. âWater? A drink?â
She shook her head. âIâm fine.â
There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.
âSoâŠâ Franco began, taking a breath, âI guess this is awkward, huh?â
âYeah,â she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. âA little.â
Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.
âI never meant to hurt you,â he said, his voice quiet. âI know I did, but that wasnât ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I shouldâve done better. I shouldâve realisedâŠâ
Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.
âI shouldâve told you,â he started, voice low, almost regretful. âI should have told you that I loved you.â
She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. âDonât,â she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. âYou canât do that. You canât come here and say things like that after all this time. Itâs... itâs mean.â
Francoâs jaw tightened, but he didnât back down. âI shouldâve told you,â he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldnât quite placeâguilt, perhaps? Regret?
She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. âWhy are you still with her, then?â Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.
He didnât answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. âItâs easier to pretend to love her,â he admitted, his voice flat. âItâs easier than facing the truth.â
âThan what?â she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. âThan admitting you love me?â
The silence that followed was deafening. Francoâs eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.
âYou donât understand,â he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. âI was scared. I didnât know how to handle what I was feeling. I still donât.â
She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. âYou canât do this,â she said, her voice cracking with frustration. âYou donât get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You donât get to say things that undo everything we went through.â
Francoâs gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. âSay it, and Iâll leave her,â he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. âSay you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and Iâll do it. Iâll walk away from her. Iâll choose you.â
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was thereâfamiliar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasnât that girl anymore. She wasnât the girl who would wait around for him to realise what heâd lost.
âI canât,â she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. âI canât do that anymore. Iâm happy now. Iâm happy with Angelo.â
The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Francoâs eyesâstill searching, still wantingâshe realised that she meant it. She really did.
Francoâs face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. âYou donât understand,â he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. âI never stopped loving you.â
She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. âNo,â she said firmly, her voice resolute. âYou donât get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when Iâve spent three years getting over all of this. You donât get to come here and break my heart all over again.â
For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.
âI canât undo what happened,â she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. âBut Iâm not that girl anymore. And Iâm not going to be someoneâs second choice.â
Franco didnât say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything theyâd been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.
She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.
âIâm happy now, Fran,â she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. âAnd you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I canât be part of that anymore.â
She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.
The wedding was beautiful.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.
She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautifulâeverything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldnât shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasnât.
She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.
âYou okay?â he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.
She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. âI donât know,â she murmured. âSomething feels wrong.â
The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.
After a few more minutes, she couldnât hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. âDo you think heâs going to come?â
Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. âI donât know, cariño. Maybe somethingâs happened. Heâs probably just... running late.â
But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasnât just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.
And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw himâFranco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasnât in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.
The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of facesâhis family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didnât speak immediately.
He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the brideâs family sitting in the front row.
âExcuse me,â Francoâs voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. âIâm sorry for the disruption,â he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. âI... I canât do this. I canât marry her.â
The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldnât look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.
âIâm sorry, I thought I could,â he went on, his voice quiet but steady, âbut I canât marry her when I love someone else.â His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had beenâit was all there in that single glance. But she didnât feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone elseâs dream unravel.
The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors heâd just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.
âIâm sorry, I justââ Franco continued, his voice breaking, âI canât do it. I canât go through with it. Iâm sorry. IâI just canât.â
Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.
The room was filled with stunned silence.
Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didnât know how to feelâdidnât know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.
And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.
She couldnât help herself.
The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.
It was her fault.
the end.
an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah
tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#formula one#formula one x y/n#franco colapinto x yn#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto#fc43#fc43 x reader#fc43 x you#fc43 imagine#williams racing formula one#williams formula 1#williams f1#williams racing#williams#formula one x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1#ann speaks#ann talks#angsty#angst#franco colapinto angst
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This is really weird.
I met the spousal person when someone else Iâd recently met introduced us when he rode by on his bike. I started hanging out with him and a couple of other guys. A month later I had picked up on enough signals to feel okay emailing him and asking him if he wanted to hang out without our other friends. He said he considered it for a while because he was worried about ruining the friendship, but he said yes. That was 25 years ago, and we still are very much friends. Friends who have been very happily married for 22 years.
If no one has ever told some of you in the notes this, Iâm telling you now. You can do whatever you want forever.
TV shows and movies are fiction created by a small group of people. Some people just wrote a script that they personally imagined and then some people acted it out as directed by other people. They are just some people telling a fictional story. You do not have to copy them to be a human.
If the media you engage with is making you feel miserable and less than human because you are not exactly like the fictional characters in the media, then you are allowed to stop engaging with that media. No one who is safe to be around will get mad at you or think less of you if you stop engaging with things that make you feel alienated and miserable. If someone gets mad at you because you stopped watching a TV show or a movie they are not safe and you need to put up some boundaries with them.
Also it sounds like maybe some of you need to greatly expand your experiences and social networks and media diet. If you think thereâs only one way to be a human and to have relationships thatâs a sign that your view of reality and its possibilities is extremely limited, and I mean extremely.
Things you can do to expand your view of human experience and what it means to be a human:
Go to your local library and read books youâve never heard of.
Go to the streaming sites where you are watching the extremely vanilla media and see if you can pick something you have never heard of, perhaps from another culture and in a different language.
Go outside. Go somewhere in your community and watch people for a while. See if you can find local communities to join or local events to go to.
There is a world outside of whatever prison youâre in that has made you think human experience is so extremely limited. Break the bars and leave. Youâll be much happier with a much fuller life if you can manage that.
Hey, today I learned that my catalogued lack of dating experience is cited in an academic paper
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âFIDELITYâ |part5
MASTERLIST -`âźÂŽ- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank
Summary: Kook!Readerâs world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely personâJJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.
Warnings: sadnesses.
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Heâd never thought of himself as someone who could be in a serious relationship. He never thought he could be devoted enough, or love someone that deeply. For Rafe, it was beyond impossible. Fleeting interests had always come first in his life.
Itâs not that he found it difficult to connect or share feelings with someone; he just never wanted to. Heâd always seen it as a waste of time.
Whether love even existed was something he still wasnât sure of, because he didnât believe in it.
But he was sure the feelings he had for you were real. He couldnât say it was loveâhe wasnât even sure love existed in that way. But the affection he felt for you was beyond words.
Yes, he was richârich enough to support his family for three generations. But he quickly realized that the bond he had with you was his real wealth.
Heâd never thought of you as different from anyone else. To him, you were a typical Kook: rich, aware of your own beauty. To overlook that beauty, he would have to be blind.
Yes, heâd liked girls before. He liked spending time with them, preferring quick, physical flings over emotional entanglements. He was the kind of guy who enjoyed one-night stands.
Until he met you.
Youâd met in a completely ordinary way. You already knew of each other; you both came from the islandâs wealthiest families. It was impossible not to know one another.
When you ended up side by side at one of those dull Kook events, neither of you thought you'd hit it off. You weren't much of a drinker, usually preferring lighter, non-alcoholic cocktails. But that event was so painfully boring that you thought you couldnât get through it without a drink in hand.
You hadnât expected him to be there. You hadnât expected him to want to escape the event, just like you did. And you certainly hadnât expected that, while grabbing different drinks, the two of you would start talking.
You ended up spending the whole night together, maybe just to pass the time, maybe because you actually enjoyed the conversationâyou couldnât really tell.
But after that night, neither of you could stop thinking about the other.
Surprisinglyâ you were the first girl to linger in Rafeâs mind without him sleeping with her. He couldnât get the length of the conversation, or your laugh, out of his head.
From then on, things began to change. At every party, his eyes searched for you. At every Kook event, he hoped to find you aloneâwatching for those rare moments when you werenât with your family. He didnât see you as some object of desire; he saw you for who you were.
He didnât just want to have sex with you; he wanted to spend time with you.
At parties, the second he saw you, he unconsciously pushed away any girl sitting next to him. He wanted you to see him differently, even though you already knew his reputation.
When he realized you were starting to show up at every party, he started distancing himself from other girls. Not only did he push them aside, but he wouldnât even let them come close to him. He acted without thinking, because if he had thought it through, he would have found a way to stop himself.
He didnât want you to see him as a playboy. He wasnât sure how he wanted you to see him; he just wanted you to see him as⊠a good person. Even he couldnât believe he was trying to change himself, but he couldnât help it.
Rafe looked at you with the same awe an eight-year-old might have if they saw Spider-Man in person.
He couldnât help but want you. But it wasnât just desireâhe was crazy about you.
Every time you talked, he wanted more. For you, heâd probably break down the atom just so you two could talk about it for hours.
It didnât take long for the two of you to share a bed. But for the first time, Rafe didnât feel fixated on that. He didnât just have sex with you; he made love to you. Every kiss ignited a warmth in his chest. Every time you moaned his name, his heart pounded for you. Every time you held hands, he couldnât help but kiss your hand.
Heâd never felt this way for anyone. No one else was like you. You were the only woman who made him feel like he even had a heartâaside from his mom.
And it went on like that. Rafe stayed loyal to you. Even when you werenât officially together, when you were just flirting and spending nights together, he never looked at another girl.
At parties, he couldnât keep his hands off you. Whether it was your hand, your arm, or your waist⊠he always stayed close. He liked acting as if you two were in a real relationship.
Rafe thought he was just feeling things more intensely than usual. Heâd never felt this way about relationships before. You were the woman whoâd stayed in his life the longest.
When you two finally got together, it felt like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect, and it stayed that way. Every time he saw you, his heart warmed. Every touch, every time you called him âmy love,â it erased the world around him. There was only you. His whole world revolved around you.
Everything was perfect.
Rafeâs life had been nothing but a sea of gray. But the moment you entered his life, all the colors returned.
During the year and a half of your relationship, Rafe felt like he was lying on a beach, listening to the ocean waves. Every moment with you brought a peace to his life like birdsong.
Yes, there were arguments. But you two always found a way through. It was surprising, but he couldnât stay away from you; he couldnât stand being apart. You two never even talked about breaking up.
Not until now.
Neither of you had the strength for a breakup conversation. To do that would mean it was truly over. That the beautiful year and a half was done. Rafe had never wanted that. But somehow, he knew his reactionsâthe way things had spiraledâhad led to this moment, and it scared him.
A few weeks back, youâd sent a message saying you were keeping the baby. He hadnât known what to say. He was afraid, afraid things would stay just like this. And a message saying you were keeping the baby definitely felt like a breakup message in your language. He was sure of that. His heart and mind were at war.
Every moment with you had made his heart race with love and excitement; heâd never felt this kind of weightâespecially from you.
âEarth to Rafe! Get it together, dude.â Kelceâs voice snapped him out of it, and Rafe looked up from his drink to find Kelce looking ready to shake him. He hadnât even realized how lost in thought he was. His day-to-day was becoming affected.
He was lovesick, but he was the one whoâd pushed you away.
Rafe dropped his hand from his chin and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated looking weak. Heâd worked so hard to prove that he wasnât. He wanted to show everyone a breakup wouldnât break him. His eyes, lips, and face might lie, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. âIâm fine,â he replied, his voice firm. He felt like he was losing his mind when he wasnât with you, but he wasnât ready to accept what came with you.
He liked risk, loved adrenaline. He enjoyed going full throttle, ignoring the dangers.
And you were pregnant. With Rafeâs baby.
There were so many times he wanted to erase that thought from his mind. He wanted to pretend it didnât exist. He loved you like crazy, but this wasnât the life he wanted or was ready for.
He didnât feel good enough to be a father. He wasnât at an age to start a family. He had a whole life to live. He could spend years with you, but he wasnât ready to start a family. All he wanted was you. Just you, without all that extra.
Rafe rubbed his eyes, feeling suffocated by his thoughts, glancing around. He was sick of this stupid place. Golfing, hanging out at the country clubâit all felt so fake. He felt like he couldnât breathe, as if he was suffocating even though they were outside.
It was like the sunny sky suddenly turned to pouring rain in front of his eyes.
âThis place is boring as fuck. Iâm out.â He raised a hand to call for the check, noticing the questioning looks from Topper and Kelce. He didnât owe them any explanation. Who were they to him anyway?
As if they were so importantâŠ
âI swear, serious relationships are a disease. If itâs gotten even to Rafe CameronâŠâ Rafe exhaled heavily, watching the waiter approach as Topperâs mocking laughter echoed. Even his friends talking like that was getting to him.
Heâd already gotten into a fight with Kelce over you weeks ago. Even if things were over between you, he wasnât going to forgive Kelce, not after heâd slut-shamed you. Topper clearly wanted things to cool down, hoping his two closest friends would both be at his upcoming birthday.
"It's like he's had a serious relationship before and found someone to actually date," Topper snickered, while Kelce nudged him under the table. Kelce looked ready to lunge at him, clearly annoyed, and Topper seemed just as irritated. Bringing up your situation, knowing it would rile Rafe, made him look like he was out for a fight. If they werenât at the golf club, Rafe was sure Kelce would be on him in a heartbeat.
"Talk like your dating historyâs any better, itâs hilarious. First, there's Ruthieâtotal bitch nightmare. Then there's Sarah Cameron, your best friendâs sister. Clean up your act first, creep."
Rafe could hardly stand it anymore. If he heard Kelce mention one more name from his life, he was going to knock him out. Heâd rather throw himself off a cliff than lose more brain cells listening to these two idiots. When their chatter finally died down, Rafe took a deep breath. He hated this.
"Hey Sofia, you look as⊠Pogue as ever. You guys just love that, donât you?" Topper grinned, watching the waitress as she met his gaze with a blank look, as if his very presence annoyed her. She quickly shifted her attention back to Rafe. Watching the exchange, Topper nudged Kelce, amused by the interest sparking in Sofia's eyes. He couldnât help but find it funny.
As Rafe took out his wallet, he listened to his friendsâ ongoing conversation. "I can't be alone here with you in this dumb place. I canât stand you and your girlfriend. Itâs like the two of you found your perfect match.â Instead of responding, Topper rolled his eyes and ignored Kelce as he took out his wallet.
Topper, like Kelce and Rafe, took out his wallet, muttering, "Right, says the guy with so many partners heâs practically a walking biohazard."
Kelce's eyes widened as he insisted that wasnât true, making Topper chuckle. He loved stretching the truth for a laugh. Kelce rolled his eyes, quickly handing his card to the waitress, while Rafeâs gaze drifted to his open wallet. He couldnât help but notice the photo tucked insideâa picture of you and him.
Was this how youâd keep showing up in his life?
Would you just appear, throwing yourself in his face whenever he least expected it?
He hadnât seen you in weeks. Rafe wasnât sure if you were avoiding him or if you were holed up somewhere, in your own world. He sighed as he looked at the photo, memories washing over him. He missed the old days, and the weight of this picture hit him so hard he felt disoriented. Your cheeks pressed together in the photo, with Rafe's arms wrapped around your waist while you snapped the shot. That smile on your faceâit was so beautiful he couldnât look away. He couldâve stared at you for hours, just watching. He had watched you sleep so many times. Somehow, you only grew more beautiful each time he saw you.
His love for you was a flame that refused to die, and it didnât take a genius to see it. He loved you.
Though he couldnât admit it, he was scared. It shouldnât have ended like this, but he didnât know what to do.
Rafe wasnât one for big moments. He wasnât known for making the best decisions. Heâd usually take his time, mulling things over until he was sure they were right. But in quick decisions, he tended to mess up and stumble.
Hearing about your pregnancy face-to-face had sent a wave of panic crashing through him. Even though he had no idea what to do, he tried to keep his composure. He couldnât forget the moment youâd tearfully said the two of you were a mistake. He wasnât used to seeing you cry. Those red eyes of yours were burned into his memory.
He didnât want regrets. He didnât want to wish heâd done things differently.
But the thought of a happy ending with you? That had never even crossed his mind.
As he kept looking at the photo, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He couldnât help but remember that day. Time with you had been so perfect, filling him with warmth every time he thought of it.
He remembered it so clearly. It was your third month together, seven months since everything between you had started. Youâd shared countless special moments. Every experience with you was a first for him. Whatever you two did, he felt like a clueless schoolboy with a crushâand he meant that.
Who had he ever woken up with, wrapped in his arms? Who elseâs hair had he smelled as he fell asleep? Who elseâs eyes had he gazed into, getting lost? Who else had made his heart race like this?
No one. In some ways, Rafe Cameron was a total virgin Mary.
For the first time in ages, your family had to go overseas, leaving you home aloneâfor a week. Being with you felt like a vacation to him. You swam, you cooked, he tried to make you breakfast, you showered together, you sleptâŠ
That week was so perfect he felt like he was filled with peace. Heâd replay it in his mind over and over again. You and those memories were always there. Always would be.
This photo was taken just after youâd both showered, right before cooking a meal together for the first time. You both made dinner that evening. It wasnât the best, but because youâd done it together, no amount of money could buy a meal that meaningful.
It was honestly an achievement for you both. You went into the kitchen at six and finally finished cooking by nine. At one point, you even considered ordering pizza but convinced each other you were close to done. And then you spent another two hours in the kitchenâguess it wasnât so âcloseâ after all.
It was such a beautiful day.
After dinner, youâd made sex.
As he felt his smile widen at the memory, a sudden jab to his leg snapped his attention back. His smile faded instantly, replaced by his usual hard look. Trying to figure out what had happened, he noticed the waitress waiting for him. Frustration bubbled up in him for interrupting his happy thoughts of you. He looked away from the photo, quickly pulling out his card without making eye contact. He knew that if he looked at you, he wouldnât be able to look away.
"Sofiaâs waiting. Just give her what she wants," Topper teased, a smirk on his face, as Rafe sighed and tapped his card.
If he gave attention to every girl who showed interest, like he used to, heâd never be able to keep a serious relationship. Not that he was sure your relationship was even still⊠ongoing.
But he was certain heâd be off the market for a while. Touching someone else after you didnât feel right. Embarrassingly enough, he doubted heâd even, well, respond to anyone else.
He stood up, grabbing his keys as he hurried past the waitress without a second glance. As crazy as it might make him to be alone, he couldnât handle his friendsâ stupid conversations any longer.
Even if it drove him mad, he couldnât stay by Topper or Kelceâs side for another second.
As soon as he got in his car, his phone rang, and he let out a long sigh. Not a single moment of peace today. His thin veneer of calm was barely hanging on, and it felt like the day was determined to shatter it. Starting the car, he glanced at the number on the screen before it even connected.
Wheezie Cameron.
What on earth could she want?
Honestly, if Wheezie was calling him, itâd better be because she was in actual danger or Rose had finally stormed out of the house for good.
He was really hoping for the second one. He didnât have a penny to spare right now.
âWhat?â he answered, not hiding his irritation. All he wanted was to get out of this trashy place and be stretched out at home with the ocean in view. No Wheezie, no Rose, and definitely no Ward. In fact, heâd had it with all of them. He was so done with seeing the same faces every day.
All he wanted was silence.
âHello to you too, Rafe.â Rafe couldnât help but roll his eyes at her tone. It drove him crazy. He wanted to chuck his phone out the window. Whatever Wheezie needed, sheâd better spit it out so he could say no, hang up, and blast Kendrick Lamar.
âJust tell me, Wheezie. Iâm not in the mood.â Wheezie was still young, and Rafe triedâhalfheartedlyâto keep from cursing around her. Ward and Rose had chewed him out about his language, and sure, they had a point. But it was annoying. He was the big brotherâthough honestly, heâd have preferred being an only child.
âNope,â she said smugly. Rafe tightened his grip on the wheel, jaw clenched. Why did both his sisters have to be such idiots? It was like God deliberately made both his sisters total morons. âIâm not telling you a thing until you say hello properly.â
Rafe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to yell. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. He was driving, after all, and the last thing he wanted was a crash. But if Wheezie kept this up, heâd be losing control of the wheel voluntarily.
âHello! Hello, Wheezie! Now, spill it!â The words came out as a shout before he could stop himself. Immediate regret hit him. His temper was awful lately. You were gone. In short, he was a mess.
When he heard her give a dramatic sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasnât fazed, of course. She was used to this, barely fazed by him anymore. Classic Rafe, right? âSo, I was out today. Shopping with Roseââ
Rafe knew how his sister workedâunfortunately. She wasnât excitable, but she loved to narrate. Whatever the hell had happened, she was going to start from the million hours leading up to it. With a deep breath, he braced himself for the full play-by-play, including the time of day and every store clerkâs name. God help him if she started counting her stepsâŠ
The Kendrick Lamar dream was officially dead.
He had zero interest in listening to a full breakdown of her day with Rose, but if he hung up, Wheezie would go ballistic. Sheâd tell their dad, and Ward would chew him out for that, too. That he couldnât deal with. Right now, he just wanted a bit of time to himself. Just some peace. Just him, alone.
âThen, I saw this blue dressââ
Rafe wanted to drive the car straight off a cliff. He couldnât handle this. This was killing him. Every pointless detail Wheezie added wrecked his efforts to calm down.
â...and then we left, and we ran into Sarah. She asked about you. Can you believe it? Then she said she wanted to meet upâ Family reunion!â
What theâwhat is even happening?
Even when you were holding your baby in your mind, all you could think about was ice cream. The cravings were off the charts. Sometimes, you wanted something so badly it felt like the world might end if you didnât get it. Lately, strawberries were your biggest craving. You couldnât stop. If your hands werenât stained red from eating so many, you felt like youâd explode.
But right now, your mind had drifted back to ice cream. You wanted vanilla ice cream so much you couldâve dived into a whole tub of it.
You wanted someone with you when the cravings hit. Someone whoâd put up with your fussingâlike Rafe.
Just thinking about him made you tense, which was happening way too often these days. Especially now, carrying his baby, it was almost always on your mind, making you anxious.
Being alone was really hard. Youâd never felt alone in a crowdâuntil now.
You waited.
You really waited. When you told him you were keeping the baby, youâd waited for some kind of response. Youâd waited for him to call, to come over, to tell you heâd be there. But he never showed.
He didnât text, didnât call, didnât make an effort. He left you to handle this alone.
To be honest, you hadnât been sure youâd even keep the baby when you first told him. You were just so angry, youâd wanted him to think you would. But even so, your mind never actually veered toward an abortion, though you had the right. There was nothing wrong with choosing an abortionâbut youâd decided you wanted this baby.
The idea of a man controlling a womanâs choices was sickening. Having an abortion was a right, just like having a child was.
When you went for your first appointment and saw the baby for the first time, your heart raced. They asked if the father would be coming, and you didnât want to answer, but a quick âNoâ slipped out. Your mind wanted him nowhere near this, but your heart couldnât quite let go.
Luckily, youâd always been someone who chose her head over her heart.
An âalmost-manâ whoâd abandoned you with his childâhe wasnât worth it. He wasnât even a man at all; he was just a boy.
Taking responsibility was part of it. Youâd respected his boundaries. Heâd made it clear he didnât want this, so youâd made your choice to raise the baby on your own.
Single motherhood would be hard, but you wanted this child.
And youâd do what Rafe wanted. He didnât want the baby, so youâd make sure heâd never see it. Youâd make sure heâd never touch, never meet this child.
When you were on that exam table, he should have been the one holding your hand.
But he wasnât.
The support came from where you hadnât expected it.
Your mom.
She was still upset you were keeping the baby, but it didnât take her long to understand this was your life. The day youâd left home in anger had seemed to shock her into a full 180.
You knew your dad didnât approve, either, but theyâd never once turned their backs on you. Maybe they were scared youâd leave and never come back. Who knows?
When you learned the baby was healthy, you felt a deep calm settle over you. The doctor told you it was too early to know the gender, but you could wait. That was okay.
You were two months and three weeks along.
Despite everything, all the heartache, when you listened to the babyâs heartbeat, it was like none of it had ever happened. When your mom saw your eyes welling up, she quickly looked down, but she squeezed your hand and smiled.
From the woman whoâd once shouted for you to get an abortion, to the one tearing up over her grandchildâŠ
It was strange.
The baby was healthy. There was no sign of any issues. And soon enough, in just a few weeks, youâd know the gender. That made you happy.
Your hands were shaking when they gave you the ultrasound photo. You didnât feel shy about asking for a few extrasâyou wanted to put them everywhere. The reality of it struck you all over again. You were going to have a baby, to be a mother, and there were only months left to go.
Youâd be a mom, and youâd do whatever it took to give this child a good life.
You
Are you still working at the ice cream shop?
JJ Maybank
Nah, got fired.
Why?
You
Shit. I really need some ice cream.
JJ Maybank
Ok.
Vanilla or chocolate?
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Everything has changed | H.J.
Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader
Summary: in a game party you find out that your friend, Jisung, might have a crush on you and after that night you might have developed a crush on him too.
Warnings: Han is a loser, awkwardness, jealousy, pool sex đ
đ», pussy eating, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), a bit of handjob.
Words count: ±3,400
THIS CONTENT IS FOR +18 PEOPLE ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!
A/N: I have some weird ass writers block right now(have been like this for months đ) but I'm not dead, I'm still alive and thinking about a hundred fics a day, I just don't seem to manage to write them đ€âđ» anyways, this fic was inspired in this post because Han Jisung got some crazy biceps going on here and I'm on my biceps biting era soooo đ
đ»(don't come for me if it's trashy, I haven't written in a hundred years)
If you like my writing don't forget to reblog, comment and like too. xoxo love yall
âWhat do you think about Jisung?â Was the question Changbin asked when you chose truth in the game of truth or dare you were playing.
You smile sheepishly as all the boys stare at you excitedly and the girls have a little smirk on their lips, as if everyone knows something you don't.
âHm, he's niceâ, you shrug.
âYou know that's not what he meantâ, Ryujin says, raising a brow.
âWell, then be more specificâ, you roll your eyes.
âWould you fuck him?â Karina asks, making the whole group gasp with her bluntness. Your eyes dart to Jisung, who's as red as a tomato, his bottom lips are stuck between his teeth while he stares at you anxiously.
âThat's- I never thought about that, so I'm not sureâ, you answer nervously. Seeing Jisungâs shoulders go down and a pout form in his lips.
âThen, there's your answerâ, Karina shrugs, turning the bottle so someone else can go.
You were being truthful, you never thought about your friend in that way. You know he's handsome but you always avoid having second intentions with someone so close to you because you don't want to lose a friendship.
However, after that day and after seeing Jisung's reaction to your answer, you can't shake the feeling that maybe he's into you. You constantly catch his gaze lingering on you, when you guys are alone he keeps stuttering and even when your other friends are around, he treats you differently from them.
A few weekends after that night, Chan invites everyone to a get together in his house so everyone's going to sleep there after. Karina, Ryujin and Lia stop by your house in the early afternoon to get you so you can all go to Chan's together. When you get there, the guys are in the pool playing some sort of game, Felix and Changbin are on top of two floats, fighting while Minho is attacking Changbin with his water gun and Jisung is in the middle of both.
You stop in your tracks, watching as Jisung holds Changbins thighs, his biceps are deliciously showing and flexing as the older man falls out of the float and the younger one catches him, grabbing his bottom slightly but you can't help but wish you could be the one being grabbed by him like that.
Yes, you weren't lying that night when you said you had never thought about Jisung in that way. The problem is, that after you did, you couldn't stop. Everything he did from that night onwards caught your attention. His eyes on you, his lips, the way he smirks when someone says something dirty and he thinks no one's paying attention. The way every piece of fabric he wears hugs his body like it was made just for him. Your girlfriends are already onto you, they know something is off and they have the feeling that you finally opened your eyes to the puppy in love in your group of friends, but they decided not to say anything for now, afraid that they are going to scare you off and make you bury your new found attraction for Jisung deep in your heart, afraid to ruin your friendship.
You shake your head, listening to what the others are talking while you go inside to put your things in the guestroom Chan has prepared for you.
You spend the afternoon mostly just sunbathing while observing the guys joking around and other people arrive little by little taking your attention away from the pool.
While you eat, you can't help but notice a blonde laughing too loudly, catching your attention. She pushes Jisung playfully, throwing her head back, making you huff annoyed, you're sure what he said isn't even that funny.
âI'm gonna get some more beer, does anyone want something from the kitchen?â Jisung gets up, asking around.
âI'll helpâ, the blonde smiles, following him after some people ask for their beverage of choice and your eyes linger on his figure, as he walks away with the beautiful girl.
âOh, y/n, can you get some more napkins for us?â Ryujin asks. You frown, you're sure you just saw a mountain of napkins somewhere but you have no idea where it went as you look around and can't find it.
âSureâ, you nod, getting up to go to the kitchen.
As soon as you enter the house you can hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath trying to gather the courage to go inside and see something you're not sure you want to.
The girl is close to Jisung, too close for her own good, attached to his arm, practically hanging on to him. You scowl, feeling the blood in your body boiling, if you weren't sure about your feelings for your friend, you are damn sure now seeing as you're basically foaming at the mouth with the view right in front of you.
Jisungs gaze lands on you immediately when you enter the kitchen, his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, detaching himself from the girl.
âAm I interrupting?â You ask, knowing well that you are and ignoring the glare the blonde gives you.
âYe-â she tries to say, but is cut off by the man whose gaze hasn't left your figure since the moment you arrived.
âNoâ, he gulps, âwhat are you looking for?â Jisung asks.
âNapkinsâ, you say, tilting your head and leaning over the counter. Your elbows rest on the surface, purposely bringing attention to your chest.
âJust a minuteâ, Jisung gulps, turning around and opening the fridge. He takes out four cans of beer and gives it to the blonde. âYou can go back first, I'll bring the rest in a minuteâ
She looks at him for a whole 10 seconds, stunned and then huffs, marching out of there.
âYour girlfriend is lovelyâ, you tease him, walking around the counter to get closer to him.
âShe's not my girlfriendâ, he laughs sheepishly, âwe were just talkingâ
âI'm sure you wereâ, you say sarcastically and stare at him for a moment. âSo? The napkins?â You ask.
âOh, yeah! Yeah! Hereâ, he says, turning around to open the door to the cabinet on top of the sink.
Jisungâs arms look especially strong when he's flexing like that to pull the packages, it's something so mundane but it makes you blush the same way. He closes the door after and hands the products to you. âI'm going to get the beer for the others and follow you in a momentâ
You nod, realizing that everything is different now that you know that you like your friend. You like Han Jisung.
You wake up the next morning feeling like shit, you tossed and turned in your bed until you finally fell asleep. You thought about all the things that could go wrong now that you liked one of your friends. What if things didn't work out between you two, you're sure it would cause a rift on your friend group.
Most people went home after midnight, Chan lets only his close friends crash in his house so you know everyone that stayed the night. Lia is by your side, yapping about what you're planning to do in the afternoon while you bite into your bread and try to not freak out when Jisung shows up in the living room. You keep avoiding his eyes, like you're guilty of something, and you definitely are, guilty of liking one of your friends.
In the afternoon you go out with Ryujin, Felix and Hyunjin, you all wanna walk around in the city and buy some clothes you definitely don't need. In the car you stare outside, your friends notice you're dozing around but prefer to wait for you to tell them if something is wrong.
After buying a new bikini, you just accompany your friends in their shopping spree. When you have no more room in the car for any more bags, you finally sit to get something to eat and while you wait for your order, you seize the opportunity to ask what's been on your mind in the last hour.
âDoes Jisung like me?â You ask, you want to be sure that he doesn't want to just sleep with you.
âWhere did that come from?â Felix frowns.
âThat night I was asked if I would sleep with himâ, you blush, âI was just wondering if he likes me or just finds me attractiveâ
Below the table, your fingers are pressing and scratching one another, you're nervous.
âI thought it was pretty obviousâ, Hyunjin says, shrugging and getting elbowed by Felix.
âI don't think we are supposed to talk about thatâ, the younger one smiles awkwardly.
âOh, please. It's not like the guy has made any effort to keep it a secretâ, Ryujin rolls her eyes. âClearly y/n likes him, that's why she wants to knowâ, your friend completes, laughing as your eyes grow wide. âIt's not like you are making any effort to hide it eitherâ
âYes, he likes youâ, Hyunjin says, ignoring Felixâs worries, âbut he was very disheartened after that night when you said you never thought about him in that wayâ
âIt's a lie, but you don't need to know thatâ, he thinks to himself. Hyunjin is much more experienced in the love field, opposite to you and Jisung, so he knows you just need a little push for things to start working out and he doesn't mind being the one shoving you to each other.
âOhâ, that's all you can say.
That means maybe he doesn't like you anymore, right? That girl from the other night was very pretty, maybe she's his new type. She looked very girly and soft, you don't know if you would be considered any of that. Most importantly, she was clearly interested in him, maybe he wants to go after someone who doesn't reject him in front of everyone he knows.
You toss and turn once more in bed, Ryujin is sleeping right next to you and you're afraid of waking her up because you can't sleep. Your mind is so full of thoughts, a million per hour and you just can't stop thinking about how you ruined everything with the guy you like.
Even with the AC turned on, you're still hot and since you don't want to wake up anyone, you silently grab your bikini, putting it on before going to the pool.
You didn't expect to find Jisung there, he's just floating in the water with a pout on his lips and eyes closed, maybe he fell asleep?
You sit comfortably on the edge of the pool, putting only your feet in the water and watching Jisung. After a few minutes of complete stillness, the man opens his eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into the water.
He comes back a few seconds later, back turned to you and you can't help but watch him. His back is muscular, broad shoulders with a tiny waist. When he turns around, he flinches, seeing you there, staring at him.
âI didn't mean to scare youâ, you chuckle.
âIt's fineâ, he scratches the back of his head, âI thought I was the only one still awakeâ
âIt's really hot, I couldn't sleepâ, you say, it's not the whole truth but you're not sure if you want him to know that he's the reason you're still wide awake.
He nods, awkwardly looking around while his hands play with the water. Since that game, you both have been feeling weird near each other, you for discovering these new emotions towards your friend and him for being embarrassed that you knew about his one sided crush.
âMaybe it's worth itâ, you think to yourself. He already risked it all when he let you know about his crush, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't like you anymore, you just have to ask.
âAbout that nightâŠâ, you ask out of nowhere with a courage you have no idea where it came from. âDo you still like me?â
Jisung opens his mouth a few times, closing it right after, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath before answering.
âI'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anythingâ, he sighs.
âDo you still like me?â You frown, repeating your question.
âYeah, I doâ, he shrugs, embarrassed.
âI never thought about you that way beforeâ, you say, seeing the pout growing in his lips, âbut after that night I kinda didâ
Jisung stares at you for a minute before speaking again.
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean that I like you backâ, you feel your whole face heating while you wait for him to react. You both are still far from each other, Jisung in the middle of the pool while you're at the edge. His eyes grow wide and his lips open like he has something to say but doesn't know how.
He starts coming close to you, your heart beating faster as the distance between you both lessens, until the man stops in front of you, his hands landing on each side of your thighs but still not touching.
âCan you repeat that?â He blushes, âI don't want you to say you like me back just because you pity meâ, he bites on his bottom lip and you smile. You cup his face with your hands, bending down so you can kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes good, sweet, like something you would never get tired of. His hands finally touch your skin, sliding to your thighs and squeezing the plushy flesh.
âIf you knew me at all, you'd know I would never lie about liking someoneâ, you let go of him, smiling and giving him a peck before growing the distance between your faces.
âI just really like youâ, he blushes, biting his bottom lip, finally letting his gaze travel down your body, going through your tits pushed up by the bikini top and going down your stomach, until it reaches your bikini bottom, his hands squeezing your thighs even more to the view of your body in front of him.
âIs that so?â You smirk, âshow me thenâ, you smile, bending down to whisper in his ear. âShow me how much you like meâ
Jisung doesn't waste any time, grabbing your face with only one hand and squeezing your cheeks, kissing you harshly. His other hand slides up, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom so he can untie the bow. He pulls away from you, leaving kisses down your neck, he has his hand down on your pussy, putting on a finger and watching your reaction to it.
You moan, grinding your hips against his hand so you can feel him deeper. Jisung has his mouth slightly opened, dazed with the little whimpers you let out when he adds another finger inside you. Your hands go instantly to his shoulders, nails burying in his skin while his other hand unties the top of your bikini, freeing your tits. Jisung watches them bounce with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He can't help himself, coming closer, his mouth closing on your left breast, his tongue playing with your nipple, making you moan.
His thumb slides to your clit and you bite on your bottom lip, trying not to make too much noise â at least not more than you're already making.
The man smiles, kissing down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy and you can feel his breath hitting the skin, making you tremble.
He licks a stripe between your folds, your hands fly to his hair pulling the locks. Jisung's hands slide to your thighs, pulling you more to the edge of the pool. Putting your legs over his shoulders and grabbing your ass so he can eat you out more intensely.
He looks like a man starved, the way he groans and moans just by feeling your taste. Jisung is so turned on he could come just by feeling your tight pussy in his mouth. The sounds you make are divine, he can't believe he gets to hear you like this, because of him, just for him.
âI- I'm gonna-â, you can't even finish your sentence, moaning the moment you try to say more than three words.
âCome for me, babyâ, he stops eating you out just to say it, going back to work as soon as the words leave his mouth, he stares at you intensely from down there, working even harder and making you come undone in his mouth.
You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed. You can't believe how good he's at this and it also makes you a bit jealous, how did he get so good?
You watch as the man cleans around his mouth with his thumb, immediately taking the finger to his mouth to lick it clean and you hold the moan that wants to escape your mouth.
âDo you want to keep going?â He asks, not expecting you to but hoping that you do.
You nod, untying the other side of your bikini bottom, throwing the piece of fabric behind you.
You take Jisung's hands in yours, guiding them to your waist as you push yourself into the water. The man holds you, kissing your lips as soon as you are close enough to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs when he pulls you towards him, wanting to feel your body on his and you can feel the heat growing all over your body again.
You slide your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his dick and making him whimper in your mouth. You bite on his bottom lip, your hand makes movements of back and forth, making Jisung bend down and bite your shoulder, trying to suppress his moan. You groan, it feels good having him so close to you, marking you as his.
You pull his shorts down all the way down, pushing yourself up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Jisung grabs his cock, rubbing his tip on your entrance, slightly teasing your clit.
âAre you sure about this?â He groans, trying to control himself, âafter this I won't let you goâ
You nod, closing your eyes in anticipation.
âWordsâ, he whispers, barely being able to hold himself back.
âFuck.me.nowâ, you say with gritted teeth, opening your eyes to stare at him, holding onto his shoulders when he finally enters you.
You feel like heaven when he's inside you, your velvet walls tightening around him make him groan.
âShitâ, he cusses, biting on his bottom lip. âYou're so hotâ, he gets closer, kissing you deeply. His lips are so soft, you could never get over it.
Jisung starts thrusting, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer, fucking you deeper.
Your hands slide to his hair, pulling the locks while his lips go down your neck. He bites on your skin, sucking the area until it's red and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. One of his hands goes to your clit, rubbing the bud, making you get closer to your climax.
âI'm closeâ, he says, his thrusts faster and his fingers working diligently.
âI'm close tooâ, you say, kissing him, feeling his thrusts getting sloppier. You feel the hot liquid being spilled inside you, but he doesn't stop. Jisung keeps going, putting more pressure into your clit until you're trembling around him. He whimpers in your mouth, his hips faltering and both of your breaths growing tired.
He rests his head on your shoulder for a few seconds, before moving away from you, staring at you like you're going to fight him and run off.
âI guess you like me a lotâ, you smirk, watching him blush and smile.
âDo you wanna go out with me?â He asks, biting on his bottom lip.
âI thought you'd never askâ, you smile, giving him a peck on the lips. âI even already have the reason for our first fightâ, you raise one brow, laughing as his eyes grow wide.
âWhat?â
âYou are going to have to explain to me how you got so good at eating pussyâ, you tease and he smiles.
âI guess I'm just a naturalâ, he shrugs, making you shake your head in amusement and kiss him.
You could get used to this, you definitely can.
#skz#stray kids#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#han x reader#han x you#skz x you#skz x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz scenarios#han scenarios#han jisung scenarios#han smut#han jisung smut#stray kids scenarios
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Guns and Roses: Chapter 10
I KNOW I POSTED LAST NIGHT BUT I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF - HERE ENOYYY EEEEEEKKK
TW: VIOLENCE ANGST PUNCHING BRUISING
masterlist
âThat guyâs a fucking asshole,â Caleb muttered as you walked in from dinner. You barely glanced his way, too emotionally drained to unpack the nightâs events. The weight of it pressed down on you as you stood by the nightstand, brushing your hair in silent, rhythmic strokes, hoping the familiar motion might somehow clear the ache in your chest.
But even now, you could still feel the ghost of Joelâs hands on your face, his touch lingering as though heâd never really pulled away. He had been closeâcloser than youâd prepared forâand in that charged moment, you felt an undeniable pull, an ache that seemed to pulse through you, quietly urging him to close the distance. His lips, soft and pink, flashed in your mind like an oasis you hadnât dared to reach, a forbidden place youâd denied yourself.
A wave of regret washed over you as you remembered the way heâd paused, held back, waiting for the smallest signal from you. You hadnât given it, hadnât let him know. And now, here in the quiet of this room, the memory of his nearness was all you had, and you couldnât help but wish youâd crossed that line.
When you didnât respond, Caleb lowered the book heâd been reading, placing it flat on his chest, his gaze heavy as he studied you through the mirror. The silence between you was thick, pressing down on you with an unspoken weight that made your hands falter as they brushed over your hair.
"Did you two ever�" he asked finally, the question hanging in the air.
You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze for a moment before looking away. "No. We didnâtâŠnever." The words were out quickly. You focused on your reflection, refusing to let your eyes drift back to his, hoping he wouldnât see the flicker of hesitation that even you could feel deep down.
"Good." His reply was soft, almost a sigh, but it held a note of finality, a quiet relief he wanted to believe.
And it wasnât a lie. You hadnât crossed that line with Joelânot in the way Caleb feared. But there was something there, something you couldnât name or give shape to, something that felt almost tangible in the way it filled every moment you shared with him. It was more than physical; it was a pull, a quiet force that youâd been holding back from fully understanding.
The memory of Joelâs expression tonight crept into your mindâhow heâd looked at you with that pained intensity as you told him it was too late, that you were marrying Caleb. Youâd said it with such conviction, surprising even yourself. The words had sounded so solid, so sure. But beneath that certainty was a war raging, a clash between the promise youâd made and the longing you still felt, a pull rooted so deeply in your gut it left an ache.
And now, in the stillness of this room, with Calebâs expectant silence pressing against you, you wondered if that ache would ever truly fadeâor if it was something youâd carry, a quiet, constant reminder of the path you hadnât taken.
It wasnât fair to Caleb. Every time he reached for your hand or pressed his lips to yours, you felt a pang of guilt, knowing he deserved someone who loved him without reservations, without ghosts lingering in her mind.
He deserved someone who wouldnât drift away in thought at the feel of his hand, someone who didnât close her eyes and wonder what it might be like if it were someone else.
You could feel the warmth of his affection, the weight of his love, and yet here you were, holding pieces of yourself back, leaving parts of your heart that he would never reach.
As you slipped into bed, Caleb broke the silence again, his voice hesitant but with a hint of determination. âI was thinkingâŠmaybe we could bring the wedding forward. Why wait?â His eyes searched yours, hopeful, trying to find some reflection of his own certainty. But you kept your gaze on the ceiling, your mind somewhere distant.
A part of you wanted to say yesânot out of some sweeping, undeniable love, but out of a quiet desperation for stability, a need to root yourself in something certain, someone who could finally drown out the constant hum of Joel in your mind.
You hoped that by making those vows, sealing your commitment in words as binding as they were final, you might stitch a clean line across the tangled feelings you held for him, quieting them to a faint, harmless echo.
But as the words hovered on the edge of your tongue, a knot of unease twisted deep in your gut, a silent protest rising within you, unyielding and impossible to ignore.
"âŠLetâs talk about it tomorrow. Iâm tired." You rolled over onto your side, putting a small but needed distance between you.
âAlright. Goodnight,â he murmured softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your shoulder.
It should have felt comforting, groundingâsomething to pull you closer to the life youâd chosen.
But as he settled beside you, you lay there, eyes shut, wishing to feel something, anything at all.
âąâąâą
Days passed, and somehow it felt even worse knowing that Joel was somewhere in town, close but entirely out of reach. The weight of it settled in your chestâa hollow ache that you knew you had no right to feel. After all, youâd been the one to tell him it was too late, that you had chosen a different path.
But really, what choice had there been?
Life with Joel had always been a storm, unpredictable and wild, leaving you to gather the scattered pieces of yourself whenever he was gone.
As you moved through your days, running errands, keeping busy with mundane tasksâpicking up supplies, stopping by the market, helping Maria with the gardenâyou found yourself glancing up each time you heard footsteps, your heart giving a hopeful leap before reason set in. Every time the doorbell chimed at the general store or someone rounded a corner on the main street, youâd scan their face, just in case it might be him. You told yourself it was foolish, that you shouldnât expect him, but the habit was unbreakable.
Each disappointment left a quiet bruise. The truth was, you felt lost, untethered, like you were moving without a map. You were standing at a crossroads, one side offering you the safe, steady life you thought you wanted, and the other pulling you toward a need you barely understood, a pull so strong it scared the light right out of you.
Later that afternoon, as the sun dipped low, casting a warm, golden haze over everything it touched, the world seemed to glow in quiet reverence. Long shadows stretched across the ground, and the leaves caught the fading light, turning them into flickering embers of orange and red. It was a rare, perfect moment, as if the day itself was holding its breath.
âHey, Ellie,â you called softly, spotting her standing at the edge of the porch. She stood with her gaze lowered, her shoulders tight, her usual spark dimmed and subdued. When she looked up, there was a heaviness in her eyes, a weight she carried with a quiet resilience that made your heart ache. You could see itâthe struggle she didnât want anyone else to notice, the weariness sheâd tried so hard to hide.
"Did you want to come in?" you offered, gesturing toward the door.
She shook her head quickly. "NoâŠout hereâs fine."
You nodded, leaning against the railing, giving her space. She shifted on her feet, hands shoved deep in her pockets, a trace of hesitation flickering across her face.
"I wanted toâŠsay sorry about dinner," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. âThat was really fucking stupid of me.â
You offered her a gentle smile. "Hey, donât worry about it. Really."
But you could see the regret in her eyes, a silent apology lingering there. Without thinking, you opened your arms, and after a momentâs hesitation, she stepped forward, letting you pull her into a hug. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, and as she leaned into you, you felt her release a small, shuddering sigh, like sheâd been holding her breath under the weight of everything she couldnât say.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes met yours with an unusual intensity. "Has JoelâŠspoken to you?" she asked, her voice careful, like she was treading on fragile ground.
You nodded, averting your gaze, not quite sure where this was headed. "YeahâŠweâve spoken a little. Why?" Your tone came out a little guarded, betraying the unease stirring within youâyou hadnât expected her to bring him up.
Ellie hesitated, a look of vulnerability flickering in her eyes. "Did heâŠexplain everything?"
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the admission settle over you. âHonestly? I was so angry, I didnât really give him a chance to explain.â Running your fingers through your hair, you let out a weary sigh. âAndâŠIâm not even sure it would change anything.â
She paused, her eyes searching your face, a flicker of disappointment shadowing her expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, choosing her words carefully.
Finally, with a surprising gravity, she looked directly at you and asked, âDo you love him?â
"What?" you whispered, caught off guard.
âDo you love Joel?â she repeated, her gaze unwavering. âBecause if you do, it matters.â
You were about to respond, ready to deflect, but Ellie didnât give you the chance. In a quiet, deliberate motion, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing an unmistakable bite markâjagged, the edges tinged with an unnatural red, yet somehow healed into a scar that seemed etched into her very soul. Your heart stopped, your breath caught as you stared at it, struggling to comprehend a reality youâd never imagined possible.
âIâm immune,â she said, her voice steady, though it carried an ache that had clearly weighed on her for a long time.
The world seemed to narrow to that bite, to the raw truth it held. Immune. The word echoed in your mind, almost too big to grasp, reshaping everything you thought you knew. That scar wasnât just a markâit was a revelation, a silent testament to survival against the impossible.
âI got bitten, years ago,â she began, her voice even and steady, each word carefully controlled, like sheâd repeated this story to herself so many times that the shock of it had dulled, fading into a familiar ache. âAndâŠI didnât turn.â She paused, letting the weight of those words settle between you, their meaning unfathomable.
âBefore we left, I was on patrol,â she continued, her gaze distant, focused somewhere beyond the room. âThose raidersâthey knew about me. They were after me, after what I am. They want a cure, and to them, Iâm the key. Thatâs why I had to leave Jackson, why I had to disappear.â She swallowed, a shadow flickering across her face. âTheyâd kill me to get what they wanted.â
She turned back to you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. âJoel left because he was protecting me,â she said, her voice soft but unwavering. The words seemed to carry a depth of gratitude, pain, and loyalty that went beyond anything sheâd ever let show before.
Her words sank into you like stones, heavy and undeniable, pulling you into the depths of everything sheâd endured. For a brief moment, she looked scared, as if expecting you to recoil, to look at her with fear in your eyes. But all you could see was this girlâthis brave, burdened girl who had lost so much and carried this unimaginable weight alone.
âOh, EllieâŠâ you whispered, pulling her into a hug, holding her tightly, hoping it might lessen the weight she carried, even if just for a moment.
She mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled but tinged with her usual dry humor, âAre we just gonna hug all day?â
âYes,â you replied softly, your arms wrapped around her. âYes, we are.â
With Ellie against your chest, you found yourself lost in thought. Joel hadnât abandoned you out of indifference; he had shouldered the enormous weight of keeping Ellie safe, protecting a secret that was far bigger than either of you. You thought about all heâd lost, the sacrifices heâd made, and the toll it had taken on himâthe way it had hollowed him out, leaving a shell of the man you once knew.
A pang of guilt twisted within you, regret pooling in your chest as you realized how quickly youâd dismissed him, how you hadnât given him the chance to bare his soul, to explain the truth heâd been carrying alone for so long.
Last night, he had practically begged for that chance, and you had turned away.
You pulled back, subtly brushing a tear from your eye, but Ellie noticed. She looked at you, her voice soft, gentle, as if she understood just how deep this conversation was cutting. âSoâŠitâs not his fault. If you love himâŠplease, donât let this be the reason you donât.â
A pang of guilt twisted in your chest, sharpening the ache that had already settled there. âEllie, IâŠI spent a year thinking you two were dead. He couldâve left a noteâŠanything.â The hurt slipped out, raw and honest, surprising even you.
Ellie snorted, a wry smile breaking through the tension. âYeah, well, Joelâs a fucking idiot sometimes. But heâs your idiot, yâknow? And if you feel even a tiny bit of what he does for you, then youâve gotta let that Caleb guy go.â
You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. âEllie!â
âIâm serious!â she threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice taking on that familiar blunt edge. âJesus, I feel like a damn couples counselor here, but come on. Think about it. Really think about it.â
Her words lingered in the air as she turned to leave, cutting straight to the heart of your indecision, leaving you with no easy escape. You could only give her a silent nod, your mind louder than it had been in a long time.
âąâąâą
It was your birthday.
Once, this day had been filled with meaningâsun-soaked afternoons at the beach, laughter stretching into late nights, bouquets of flowers from a boyfriend who felt like he knew you better than anyone. Back then, it was a day to celebrate, a marker of joy. But now, it felt different, a quiet reminder of time passing, of things that had faded and slipped away.
You groaned as the blinds opened, spilling bright, uninvited light across the room, tugging you from the last, lingering fragments of a dream. Caleb leaned over, pressing soft kisses across your face, each one gentle and warm.
But somehow, the touch feltâŠmisplaced, like an ill-fitting piece in a puzzle. Your mind betrayed you, drifting to thoughts of Joelâto the imagined sensation of his rough beard brushing against your cheek, the warmth of his presence unmistakable, something that lingered even in his absence.
"Good morning, baby. Happy birthday," Caleb murmured, his voice warm, affectionate, grounding.
You forced a smile, whispering, âMorning,â while your thoughts drifted somewhere else.
Caleb clapped his hands together, the sound bright and eager. "Alright! Get up, get dressed. Iâve got a surprise for you," he announced, his excitement almost childlike, lighting up the room.
You groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. âYou know I hate surprises.â
But that was a lie, wasnât it? You remembered the time Joel had taken you to the farm, how heâd planned every detail with an unexpected tenderness. And that other time heâd led you out under the vast night sky, revealing that heâd named a star after you, his shoulders brushing against yours.
The man had literally gifted you a piece of the heavens, and that memory burned brighter than anything else.
âąâąâą
You got dressed, brushing off Calebâs playful protests as he tried to convince you to let him blindfold you. âCome on, just this once!â he begged, grinning as the two of you strolled side by side down the street. But you could already guess where he was leading you.
Mariaâs house.
Sure enough, as you reached her porch, he made one final attempt. âOkay, let me put it on now, just so they think we walked the whole way like this.â
âFine,â you relented, laughing as you let him tie the scarf over your eyes. His laughter mixed with yours as he guided you up the steps and inside.
The warmth of Mariaâs house wrapped around you instantly, filled with the familiar scents of home-cooked food and fresh coffee. You could hear rustling, hushed whispers, and the occasional stifled giggleâa poor attempt at hiding what was clearly waiting for you. But it brought a genuine smile to your face, their clumsy enthusiasm both endearing and comforting.
âAlright, take it off now,â Caleb whispered, barely containing his excitement.
As he slipped the scarf from your eyes, a chorus of voices filled the room. âSurprise!â
You blinked, taken aback even though youâd guessed it. Around you stood everyone who matteredâMaria, Ellie, Tommy, each face smiling with warmth and sincerity. You took it all in, grateful for each of them. But as your eyes swept across the room, you felt a small, inexplicable pang in your chest.
Joel wasnât there.
Of course he wouldnât be. Youâd been the one to end things, to say it was too late. He had no reason to show up, no reason to pretend it didnât still hurt. And yet, the emptiness of his absence gnawed at you, a hollow ache you hadnât expected, a vacancy that cast a subtle shadow over the gathering.
For a moment, you almost laughed at yourself, at how foolish it was to feel his absence so sharply amidst people who loved you.
Mariaâs hug grounded you, pulling you back into the moment. âHappy birthday, sweetheart,â she murmured, her voice a gentle warmth that seeped into your heart.
âHappy birthday, sunshine!â Tommy chimed in, his baby balanced on one hip, his grin wide and teasing. âYouâre getting old!â
You snorted, rolling your eyes. âNot as old as you, Tommy.â
Ellie was next, bounding over with her usual mischievous smirk. âHappy birthday! Donât worry, I didnât get you anything lame,â she added, with a wink that drew a laugh from you.
You glanced around, noticing the mismatched wrapping paper on a small pile of gifts, streamers drooping from the ceiling, looking like theyâd survived a few birthdays already.
Somehow, the makeshift charm of it all was perfect. âGuysâŠyou didnât have to do all this,â you said, a hint of emotion tightening your voice.
Tommy grinned, nodding at Caleb. âAll your manâs idea. He wanted to make this one special.â
You looked over at Caleb, his face beaming with pride and affection. âThank you,â you murmured, giving him a soft kiss, hoping the gesture might quiet the conflicted feelings bubbling up beneath the surface.
âAlright, enough of that,â Caleb said, clapping his hands with a grin. âLetâs get to the presents!â He gently steered you toward the center of the living room, where the small pile of gifts awaited, each one carrying a personal touch from those who cared about you.
You settled onto the floor, surrounded by colorful packages, each one wrapped with care. Caleb handed you the first gift, and you carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a beautifully scented candleâa blend of lavender and cedar, one of Lydiaâs creations from her little workshop on the edge of Jackson.
âOh, I love this! Whoâs it from?â you asked, holding up the candle and breathing in the familiar scent.
âUh-uh,â Tommy chimed in, grinning from the couch as he crossed his arms. âYou gotta guessâmakes it more fun.â
You smiled, glancing around the room, already having an idea. âMaria. She knows Iâm obsessed with this scent.â
âGuilty,â Maria laughed, raising her hand with a playful shrug. âThought itâd be perfect for you.â
Next, you picked up a small, oddly shaped package wrapped in newspaper with tape clumsily slapped on every edge. Inside was a mug, boldly painted with â#1 Old Personâ in bright letters, complete with a cartoon of a grumpy face and a cane.
You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. âLet me guessâŠEllie?â
Ellie groaned, crossing her arms. âWhat? I thought it was perfect!â she said, though her grin was unmistakable. âI mean, youâre getting up there, arenât you?â
You couldnât help but laugh, holding the mug up to show everyone. âThis isâŠincredibly accurate. Thanks, Ellie,â you said, trying to look serious as you held back a smile.
Ellie shrugged, her smirk widening. âJust keeping you humble.â
Tommyâs gift came next, wrapped in an old flannel shirt and tied with a strip of leather. You unwrapped it to reveal a sturdy, worn pocketknife, the blade engraved with delicate etchings of mountains and pine trees, like the landscapes around Jackson. It had clearly seen its share of use but had been cleaned and polished until it gleamed.
âThought you could use a reliable blade,â Tommy said with a grin, leaning back with that familiar glint of pride. âGot a lot of history in that one. Used to belong to one of the rangers around here, way back when.â
You turned it over in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the handle that felt perfectly worn to fit. It wasnât just practical; it felt like a piece of the land, of all the paths youâd come to know.
âThank you, Tommy,â you said, meeting his gaze. âItâsâŠperfect. Really.â
Soon, only two small packages remained beside you. You looked around, eyebrows raised, wondering who mightâve gone out of their way to get you two gifts. You picked up the first one, turning it over in your hands, curiosity prickling at you.
The package was wrapped with a care and precision that immediately drew your attention. It was covered in a soft, natural brown paper, the kind that felt textured under your fingertips, like it had been chosen intentionally. A delicate rope ribbon was tied around the top, carefully knotted and finished with a small, neat bowâa touch that made it feel personal, thoughtful, like someone had taken their time to make this moment feel special.
You slowly undid the ribbon, your fingers grazing over the rough twine as you pulled back the paper. Inside was a packet of rose seeds, their delicate promise of life and color held in each tiny seed. The simple, quiet beauty of it took you by surprise, and your heart swelled, a rush of unexpected joy flooding through you.
Seeds like this were rare, a near-impossible find. Youâd managed to cultivate a few hardy plants in your garden, but rosesâroses were a dream youâd given up on long ago. Caleb must have gone out of his way, venturing further on patrol, searching specifically for these, knowing how much theyâd mean to you.
Without a second thought, you jumped up, wrapping your arms around him, the weight of the gesture sinking in.
In this moment, everything felt rightâsolid and certain, grounded in this small but powerful act of care. For the first time, you felt a sense of calm about your future with him, a glimmer of peace in the middle of all the chaos.
âCaleb, this is incredibleâhow did you even find these?â you asked, your voice filled with wonder.
But as you looked up at Caleb, a strange, pained expression crossed his face. His eyes flickered, a brief moment of something almost like discomfort, his smile fading as he seemed to brace himself.
He looked queasy, unsteady, as if something within him had just cracked. âUhâŠthatâs not from me,â he murmured, his voice sounding hollow, almost broken. He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet your gaze.
The words sank in slowly, and you felt yourself pull back, the warmth of the moment slipping away as confusion took its place. The room fell into a tense, awkward silence, a stillness that felt like it stretched forever. You glanced around, searching for answers in the faces around you, but all you found was the same look of surprise and discomfort reflected back at you.
Then, with a crushing inevitability, it hit you.
Joel. It was Joel.
The truth settled over you like a weight, dragging you down as the air seemed to still around you. The seedsâthe rare, impossible seeds, the effort someone would have gone to just to find them, to make them yours. It had Joel written in every detail, every small, unspoken gesture meant to convey what words never could. The realization clawed at you, turning what had been a moment of pure joy into something complicated, something unbearably tender and painful all at once.
Your fingers tightened around the packet, the tiny seeds now feeling impossibly heavy in your hands, as if they held all the things left unsaid between you.
You didnât dare look up, didnât want to see the pity or confusion on anyoneâs face, least of all Calebâs. The warmth of his love, the comfort you had just found, suddenly felt fragile, slipping through your fingers as your heart twisted with the undeniable truth that, despite everything, Joel had left his mark on you, deep and unshakeable.
âąâąâą
You sat with Maria on the couch, the gentle hum of conversation around you fading as Tommy, Ellie, and Caleb headed outside to set up a fire pit. Their voices blended into low laughter and the crackle of kindling, a comforting sound that drifted back to the house.
Caleb had gifted you a leather-bound journal, its pages blank and waiting, a thoughtful gesture, especially since yours had nearly run out of space. Yet, somehow, the gift felt strangely hollow, unable to fill the silence left behind by everything else you couldnât voice.
Mariaâs voice cut softly through your thoughts. âHeâs on patrol,â she said, her tone quiet but knowing, as if she understood more than she let on.
You looked at her, catching her gaze, something flickering there that made you feel seen in a way you werenât ready for.
She nodded gently. âHe wanted to come,â she continued, âbut he couldnât miss his shift.â
âOh.â You tried to keep your voice even, unaffected, but you felt an unbidden rush of relief mingling with a strange disappointment.
Why did knowing he wanted to be here, but couldnât, make your chest tighten? Why did it bring that bittersweet feeling creeping in, like a sigh you couldnât let go of?
He would have been here if he could.
âBut heâll be there tonight,â Maria added, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, her tone light but carrying a hint of something unspoken.
âTonight?â You glanced at her, feeling a sudden stir of curiosity tangled with a wary edge. âWhat do you mean?â
Maria raised her eyebrows, her expression feigning innocence but laced with amusement. âAh, Caleb and his damn surprises. Guess he didnât tell you?â
You shook your head, an odd mix of dread and excitement swirling in your chest, tightening like a knot. The idea of seeing Joelâof being in the same room after the weight of todayâs revelationsâleft your mind in a quiet spin.
âWeâre all heading to the Tipsy Bison tonight,â she said, giving your knee a reassuring pat. âFigured weâd celebrate properly, give you a chance to unwind.â
âSoundsâŠnice,â you murmured, managing a small smile.
Maria leaned closer, a playful glint in her eyes. âWell, I have another gift for youâŠbut I didnât want to show Caleb up. Though, I think that ship mightâve already sailed.â
âMaria!â you protested, but you couldnât help laughing with her.
âIâm kidding, Iâm kidding,â she said, her chuckles spilling over as she led you upstairs. âSorry, that was mean.â She caught her breath, grinning. âBut stillâyouâre gonna love this.â
âYouâre such an ass,â you teased, nudging her as you followed her into her room.
âHere it is,â she said, reaching into her closet.
There it hung - a dress crafted by Maria, a vision of elegance and simplicity. Made from a soft, creamy fabric, it hugged the body in all the right places, flowing naturally down to a midi length that grazed just below the knees. The neckline was a gentle scoop, the capped sleeves curved gracefully over the shoulders, lending the dress a vintage charm.
Scattered across the dress were small, floral cutouts, almost like dainty stars punctuating the fabric, allowing subtle glimpses of skin beneath. The fabric managed to be both demure and alluring, with a timeless, almost ethereal quality, as if it belonged to another era yet felt perfectly suited for the present.
It was a dress that could turn heads in any roomâsimple, beautiful, and quietly captivating.
You stared, momentarily speechless. âMariaâŠthis is stunning.â
She smiled, giving you a nudge. âI thought you might like it. Figured it was time you had something as beautiful as you are.â
Your cheeks flushed, and you ran a hand over the dress, feeling the luxurious fabric beneath your fingertips. âIâll wear it tonight,â you said softly, a touch of excitement sparking within you.
âąâąâą
You felt a flutter of nerves, the unmistakable butterflies in your stomachâa feeling you hadnât encountered in a while. It was both thrilling and unnerving, like something had shifted inside you, but you couldnât quite name it.
As you walked toward the Tipsy Bison, your mind wandered to Joel. You pictured him leaning against the bar, his usual presence a quiet, magnetic force.
Would he say hello? Would he give you space, giving no more than a polite nod? Would he even bother to acknowledge you?
As you made your way through the crowd at the bar, the subtle signs of birthday decorations became apparentâscavenged balloons in soft pastel shades, a few whispers of âHappy birthdayâ as you passed familiar faces. Calebâs hand rested lightly on your lower back, a small but constant touch that didnât go unnoticed.
When Caleb saw you come down the stairs from Mariaâs room, wearing that dress, his breath caught in his throat. You were a vision in cream, the soft fabric catching the dim light of the bar, and for a split second, he thought about you standing at the altar, ready to take his last name, ready to belong to him completely.
"Letâs get the birthday girl a fucking drink!" Tommy exclaimed, his voice already tinged with the warmth of a few drinks, clearly eager to get the night started.
"Cheers to another year older and wiser!" he added, lifting his glass high with a grin.
"Cheers," you echoed, raising your glass, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders as you took in the faces around you. The warmth of the room, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses felt almost surreal.
You found yourself scanning the room, searching for Joel, an unspoken urgency tightening in your chest. Where was he?
âLooking for someone?â Calebâs voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned, feeling a flicker of disappointment you couldnât quite hide.
âOh, there you are,â you replied, forcing a smile, but the words felt hollow, empty. The brightness in his eyes didnât reach you, and for a brief, guilty moment, you couldnât ignore the ache in your heart that only one person seemed to fill.
âLetâs dance,â he said, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor. His touch was warm, but there was something detached in the way he held you, something that didnât settle right in your chest.
âYou look beautiful,â he murmured, as you began to sway to the soft thrum of music in the background.
âThank you,â you replied, your words automatic as your gaze flickered toward the door of the Tipsy Bison, your heart still fluttering with anticipation.
You tried to focus on the rhythm of your movements, the way the soft music swirled around you, but your mind kept drifting, restless.
A voice summoned Caleb away, murmuring something about a cake you werenât supposed to know about. He shook his head, clearly frustrated that the moment had to end. "I'll be right back," he promised, his gaze lingering.
You chuckled softly, not wanting to make it harder for him to leave. âItâs fine, really. Go onâIâll find Maria in the meantime.â
You turned to find her and Tommy somewhere in the crowd, but then you felt itâthe pull. A visceral, gut-wrenching tug that stole the breath from your lungs, like some magnetic force had wrapped itself around your very core.
It was something primal, something undeniable, surging through you like lightning, an irresistible draw toward the one person you hadnât been able to shake from your heart, not even for a moment.
He was here.
You gasped quietly, the sound caught somewhere between a breath and a whisper as you turned. And there he was.
Joel.
Your heart thundered wildly, drowning out every other sound as you took him in. He looked achingly handsome, cleaned up in a way youâd never seenâhis beard trimmed to perfection, each hair deliberate yet effortlessly rugged. He wore a dark button-up that fit him with an almost devastating precision, every line and curve of him highlighted, yet softened by the shirtâs deep hue. His hair was slicked back, adding a polish to his usual rough edges.
His gaze swept the room, searching, until it found you. And when his eyes landed on you, a subtle shift crossed his faceâa flicker of uncertainty melting into something so tender, so open it felt like a gift.
A slow, guarded smile broke across his lips, the kind of smile that felt rare and carefully offered. And despite yourself, you mirrored it, warmth spreading through your chest, leaving you breathless, your heart catching as you looked back at him.
He started toward you, his steps almost tentative, as if each one took more courage than the last. There was something shy in the way he approached, and it was so painfully sweet that it left a hollow ache, a dizzying rush, a feeling you couldnât name but felt in every fiber of your being.
âHappy birthday,â he murmured, pulling you into a hug that felt like it wrapped around every inch of you, enveloping you in a warmth that made the world fall away.
His arms were strong, steady, and as he held you, you felt your knees weaken, the weight of his presence overwhelming yet grounding. You clung to him, not daring to move, as if letting go would break whatever fragile spell had pulled him here, to you, in this moment.
âThank you,â you whispered, your voice trembling, the words barely making it past the thundering pulse in your ears. It felt like your heart had taken up residence in your throat, every beat a reminder of how real he was, how close.
âI, uhâŠâ He trailed off, his voice catching, and for a heartbeat, you saw himâtruly saw himâvulnerable, a hint of hesitation softening the hard lines of his face. âI wanted to come by earlier, but I got caught up on patrol.â
âMaria told me,â you replied, your words spilling out before you could even think, laced with a breathlessness you couldnât hide.
He nodded, a flicker of something almost bashful passing over his face, his jaw tightening as if he was struggling to hold back. There was a gentleness in his expression, a quiet depth that made your chest ache, that left you wanting to memorize every line, every flicker of his gaze.
âDid youâŠdid you get my gift?â he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. That roughness in his tone, usually so sure, now carried a raw, unguarded edge, and in that single question, you could feel the weight of every unspoken word between youâtender and vulnerable, lingering just beneath the surface.
You nodded, your smile deepening. âIt was perfect,â you murmured, warmth flooding your chest as you thought of the rose seeds heâd chosen, each one a promise, a quiet gift just for you.
A genuine smile broke across his face, softening those guarded lines, and you realized how long it had been since youâd seen him like thisâunguarded, open. âGood,â he said, almost tenderly. âFor your garden.â
His gaze traveled over you, lingering in a way that made your heart pound. âThatâs⊠a hell of a dressâ he murmured, his voice low, eyes tracing every line and curve, his stare lingering on you as if he was seeing you for the first time, taking in every detail.
A blush crept up your cheeks under the weight of his attention, a rush of warmth that spread through you, leaving you both exposed and exhilarated. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, a fire you couldnât look away from, and yetâŠyou didnât want to.
âThanks⊠Maria made it,â you replied, voice softer than you meant, struggling to find your footing under his gaze.
He nodded, his gaze flickering briefly around the room, watching the couples swaying together in soft rhythms on the dance floor. There was a pauseâa flicker of something in his expression, something that felt like hesitation, vulnerability even. Then, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he asked, âMay I?â
This was dangerous, recklessâyou shouldnât, you thought. Not with your fiancĂ© just a few feet away, busy in the kitchen preparing your birthday cake.
But something in you betrayed that logic, and after a heartbeat, you nodded, surrendering. His hand slipped around yours, warm and steady, and he led you onto the dance floor. The moment felt surreal, as if the world had slipped into a different time and space where only the two of you existed.
Everything around you dissolvedâthe lights, the murmurs of other people, even the steady hum of music. All that was left was him, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you in gentle steps that felt too right, too natural, like you had always been meant to move this way together. The rhythm of the song was a soft thrum in the background, intimate and unhurried, but it was his presence that overpowered it, anchoring you, drawing you closer.
With each step, every subtle shift, you felt yourself spiraling deeper into his orbit, as if the universe had tilted just to place you here, in this fragile, fleeting moment. And for now, just this once, you let yourself be swept away, the rest of the world dissolving like a forgotten dream.
The soft fairy lights strung across the Tipsy Bison cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating his eyes until they looked like molten honeyârich, deep, filled with secrets and stories youâd give anything to know. Those eyes were the kind that made the air hitch in your lungs, made you feel as if you were the only person in his world.
And under his gaze, you almost believed it.
Your hands intertwined perfectly, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt like a homecoming, as though theyâd always been meant to find solace there. His other hand settled low on your hip, his thumb brushing gentle, rhythmic circles against you, a touch so grounding yet tender it sent a warmth spreading through you. His movements guided you in a slow, unhurried sway, the two of you falling effortlessly into a rhythm that matched the musicâs soft, steady beat.
âWhere⊠whereâd you find the seeds?â you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant, eyes searching his face, trying to catch every flicker of expression.
âWhen Ellie and I were⊠uh, gone,â he began, his voice steady yet laced with something raw, something fragile. He looked down, his gaze drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. âFound âem and thought of you. Kept âem, just in case I everâŠâ He trailed off, the unfinished words hanging heavily between you, laden with all the things heâd never said, all the things that had gone unspoken but never unfelt.
The space around you thickened, the weight of his thoughtfulness settling into every unspoken inch between you. He hadnât merely thought of you in passingâheâd carried you with him, held onto this small piece of hope, even when it seemed like whatever you had was just a distant memory, too far gone to ever reach again.
âOh.â The word slipped from your lips, barely above a whisper, your heart thundering in your chest as you absorbed everything his quiet confession held. You looked up at him, feeling the impact of everything youâd just learned, the depths heâd gone to, the things heâd kept close.
âEllie told me.â
You felt him still, his hand pressing a little firmer against your hip, grounding himself in the moment. âShe did?â His voice was barely audible, tinged with an emotion you couldnât quite nameârelief? Regret? A complicated blend of both.
âYeah,â you replied, voice trembling. âShe told me everything⊠about her bite, about why you left.â
When he finally looked back at you, there was a glimmer of something vulnerable in his eyesâa quiet, almost desperate hope that made your chest ache.
âWhy didnât you tell me, Joel?â The question slipped out, your voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy enough to linger in the air. âWhy didnât you wake me up? Or⊠at least leave a note?â
The sounds around you faded, the music dimming to nothing as his expression shifted, his gaze dropping. He seemed to struggle, the silence stretching out between you until it felt like it could crack under the weight of everything unsaid.
Finally, he spoke, his voice rough and raw. âI know,â he muttered, barely above a whisper, each word weighed down with regret. âI know it wasâŠfucking stupid. Shouldâve told you, shouldâve explained. Thereâs no excuseâI shouldâve justâŠshouldâve told you, I think.â He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze dropping as though he couldnât bear to meet your eyes. âI was scared, and I know that sounds like a damn pathetic excuse, but⊠itâs the truth.â
He took a shaky breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. âI thought if I just⊠left quietly, it wouldnât feel so real. But saying goodbye⊠I couldnât face it. Couldnât face you.â His voice wavered, a crack of vulnerability slipping through. âAnd now Iâd do anything to go back, to change it all. Anything.â
There was a painful honesty in his tone, an ache that seemed to reach down to his very core. His shoulders tensed, his jaw set with the weight of guilt heâd been carrying, a guilt that had carved itself deep into him.
You could see it in the way his gaze wavered, as if he couldnât quite meet your eyes, as if he was bracing himself for whatever judgment you might cast. In that moment, he was laid bare, stripped of his usual guarded strength, showing you the bruises he kept hiddenâthe hurt heâd caused himself by walking away.
You stayed silent, the words tangled up in your chest, knotted and aching, fighting to break free.
âI missed you,â you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, carrying a weight that felt almost too heavy to bear. The words hung in the air, soft yet resonant, filled with regret, with longing, with an ache you hadnât realized was still so raw.
He looked at you, his eyes widening just slightly, a glimmer of something fragile lighting in his gaze. âYou⊠did?â His voice was barely above a murmur, hesitant, like he didnât dare believe it, yet there was a quiet desperation in his expressionâa need to hear it, to let himself hope, even if it was dangerous. The look he gave you made the air feel heavier, thick with all the emotions youâd been holding back.
âOf course I did,â you replied, meeting his gaze and feeling your heart twist at the vulnerability in his face. âYou took care of me in ways I didnât even realize until you were gone.â Your voice dropped, and you looked down, feeling your chest tighten. âIâI couldnât sleep for months without you there beside me. Didnât want to admit it, but⊠it felt like I was drowning without you.â
He looked at you now like you were the answer to something heâd been searching for, as if those words had bridged a chasm heâd thought was too wide to ever cross.
The confession slipped out, raw and unguarded, before you could even think to hold it back. You had spent so long convincing yourself that you were better off without him, telling yourself that youâd moved on, that you didnât need him.
But the truth was, you hadnât been whole since he left. Each night, lying alone in the vast emptiness of your bed, it felt as though some vital piece of you was missing, like a wound that refused to heal.
âI thought about you every day,â he murmured, his voice thick, laced with a depth of emotion that made your chest ache. The words lingered between you, heavy with the weight of everything heâd kept buried.
In his eyes, you could see itâthe regret, the longing, the silent, unyielding truth heâd been carrying alone. And in that moment, he wasnât hiding anymore; he was letting himself be seen, stripped of all pretense, finally letting you see the vulnerability heâd kept locked away.
His hand slid down to your hip, then rose slowly, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away, before settling on your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a touch so light it felt like it might disappear if you blinked.
It was intoxicatingânot the whiskey, but the overwhelming gravity of him, the way his mere presence made you feel more alive, more vulnerable, than youâd ever thought possible.
Only he could do thisâmake you feel utterly exposed and entirely safe, with just the whisper of his fingers against your skin.
His thumb drifted down, grazing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, his gaze following the movement with a fierce, aching intensity, as though he were memorizing every detail, committing the sensation to memory. âTo think,â he murmured, his voice a rough blend of regret and yearning, âI never got to kiss these lips.â
âJoelâŠâ The whisper slipped from your lips, trembling, as if your own voice could barely contain the weight of his name. The ground beneath you felt like it was crumbling, the world narrowing to this one breathless moment. Your knees weakened, a quiet surrender overtaking you, and for the first time, you felt helplessly, beautifully powerless, lost in the ache between his fingertips and his gaze.
You felt his hand slip to the back of your neck, steadying you as he drew you closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, the solid strength of him grounding you in a way that nothing else could. He gave you a sad smile, one that broke something inside you, because it was tinged with so much sorrow it never quite reached his eyes.
âYou donât have to say anything,â he murmured, his voice soft, a little rough, almost like a plea. His hand slid up, guiding you until your head rested against his chest, your ear pressed to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. âJust⊠let me hold you,â he whispered, his words thick with an ache he couldnât hide. âPlease⊠donât say anything.â
You nodded, sensing the unspoken fear in his eyesâthe fear that you might tell him to stop, to pull back, to shatter this fragile closeness he so desperately clung to.
In his arms, you felt something deeper than comfort; it was a sense of belonging, a promise wrapped in the warmth of his hold, a silent assurance that, for this brief moment, everything was as it should be. And yet, somewhere beneath that warmth, there was an acheâa quiet sadness that made it feel like both a beginning and an ending, like a promise and a goodbye, woven together in the quiet, unspoken understanding that neither of you dared to break.
What you didnât see was Caleb, emerging from the kitchen with a smile that radiated warmth and excitement. His eyes sparkled with the joy of seeing you again, eager to sweep you back into the celebration, to lose himself in the laughter and dance that had defined the night. But as his gaze landed on you and Joelâyour hand pressed against Joelâs chest, his arm wrapped around you, the two of you standing impossibly closeâCaleb froze.
In an instant, the warmth in his chest turned cold, hardening into a knot of dread that twisted painfully, souring the joy heâd felt only moments before. He saw the way your hand lingered on Joelâs chest, how Joel looked at you with an intensity Caleb could never ignoreâa look filled with longing, regret, a depth that seemed to cut straight through him.
Calebâs chest tightened, his pulse pounding as he took in the scene before him. Here was the man who felt like a shadow over everything Caleb dreamed ofâa silent barrier between you and the life he wanted to build, a man who symbolized not just an obstacle, but a threat to the future Caleb had envisioned with you.
âąâąâą
A cough broke the silence, slicing through the tension like a blade. Caleb stood in front of you, his expression tightly controlled, but the pain in his eyes spoke louder than words. He wasnât the kind of man to yell or make a scene, but the quiet devastation in his gaze twisted something deep inside you.
âMind if I steal my girl for a second?â he said, his voice tight, each word laced with barely contained frustration.
Joelâs shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of resignation crossing his face as he gave a silent nod. He met your eyes one last time, an unspoken regret hanging there, before he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.
You turned to Caleb, forcing a small, uneasy smile, hoping he wouldnât bring up what heâd just seen. But he didnât return your smile. Instead, he swallowed, his jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a hurt that made it hard to meet his gaze.
âWhat the hell was that?â he asked quietly, his voice carrying a restrained intensity, the simmering anger unmistakable.
âNothing,â you replied quickly, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow.
âDonât.â His tone was sharper than youâd ever heard it, a warning edged with pain. âDonât lie to me. Not nowânot when weâre supposed to be getting married in a month.â
âWe were just dancing, Caleb,â you insisted, but the words felt feeble, barely convincing even to yourself.
âStop,â he said, his voice rising slightly, drawing a few glances from the people nearby. His face twisted with a mixture of hurt and frustration, his control slipping. âDonât act like I didnât see what was going on. You think I canât see it? The way you looked at him?â
He took a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he continued, âI need you to be honest with me, because I canât do this if thereâs any part of you thatâs still holding onto him.â
âCan we talk about this later?â you pleaded, feeling the weight of curious eyes around you, your voice a quiet entreaty.
âNo.â Calebâs response was immediate, his frustration evident. âWeâre talking about this now.â
âCaleb,â you whispered, glancing around at the people watching, feeling exposed. âPlease, not here. Not in front of everyone.â
âI donât care whoâs watching,â he said, his voice lower but unyielding. âI deserve to know whatâs going on between you twoâright now.â
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy and Maria edging closer, their faces etched with concern as they observed the tension building between you and Caleb. Their presence only added to the weight pressing down on you, the intensity of the moment nearly suffocating.
Calebâs gaze shifted, his frustration boiling over. âWhere the hell is he?â he muttered under his breath, his jaw tight.
As if summoned by the charged air, Joel appeared beside you, his expression calm but his gaze sharp as he looked at Caleb. âNo reason to be raising your voice at the lady,â he said, his tone low, but the quiet warning was unmistakable.
Calebâs face hardened, a bitter sneer twisting his mouth. âI need to talk to you, asshole,â he said, voice taut with anger as he took a step closer to Joel.
âCaleb,â you began, your voice pleading, but he didnât look at you. His eyes were locked on Joel, the rage barely contained.
âGo ahead,â Joel said coolly, crossing his arms as he met Calebâs glare head-on, unflinching.
Calebâs shoulders tensed as he moved even closer, his voice low, but the intensity behind it was unmistakable. âYou need to back off. I donât know what the hell you two had going on, but sheâs my fiancĂ©e. And I donât want to see you anywhere near her again.â
Joelâs gaze narrowed, his jaw tightening. âDonât think thatâs your call to make.â
âLike hell it isnât,â Caleb shot back, his voice rising enough to draw more attention, the frustration and hurt evident in his tone.
âCaleb, please,â you whispered, voice cracking, tears welling in your eyes. But he didnât look at youâhis gaze was fixed on Joel, anger and frustration hardening his features. Joelâs eyes, however, were on you, searching, his silent question clear: Are you okay?
âCaleb,â Joel said, his tone even, unshaken, âthis isnât the time. Itâs her birthday.â
Caleb let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing. âNow youâre acting like you know whatâs best for her?â He shook his head, his voice a mixture of hurt and disbelief. âI canât believe you. You waltz back into her life, and suddenly youâre the one who understands her?â
Joel held his ground, his expression steady. âIâm not pretending to know everything,â he replied quietly. âBut I know that right now, she doesnât need this.â
Caleb clenched his fists, glancing at you, then back at Joel, his voice rising. âAnd what she needs is you?â
âCaleb, stop,â you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, but the urgency in it held him in place.
âThis isnât the right time to talk about this,â Joel said, his voice low as he began to turn away, but not before casting a lingering glance your wayâa quiet, unspoken reassurance.
But Caleb wasnât done. âHey! You donât get to walk away from me, asshole.â He reached out, his hand gripping Joelâs shoulder, pulling him back with enough force to turn him around to face him directly.
Before you even registered what was happening, Calebâs fist flew forward, connecting with Joelâs jaw with a force that sent a shockwave through the crowd around you. The impact echoed, silencing the murmur of voices as people turned to stare, wide-eyed.
Joel staggered back, momentarily dazed, his hand rising instinctively to his jaw. But then he steadied himself, his gaze hardening as he looked back at Caleb, a dark determination in his eyes.
âCaleb!â you gasped, stepping forward, but the tension between them was thick, raw, and unyielding, as though neither could hear you. Calebâs chest heaved with anger, his fists still clenched, and Joel stood his ground, his posture unshaken, his gaze steady, daring Caleb to make the next move.
The silence around you was deafening, everyone waiting to see what would happen next, and you felt a mix of fear and desperation, knowing that whatever came next could change everything.
Joel turned to leave again, clearly trying to defuse the situation, but Caleb wasnât finished. He grabbed Joelâs arm, yanking him back once more. This time, Joel had reached his limit. In one swift movement, he gripped Calebâs shoulders firmly, pulling him close enough to speak low, his voice a quiet storm.
âEnough,â Joel hissed, his words sharp and precise, barely contained as he struggled to keep control. His grip on Caleb was firm, a grounding hold that left no room for further argument. There was a finality in his tone, a command that dared Caleb to defy him.
âYou got a problem with me, you come to me,â Joel said, his voice low and steady. âLike a man. You donât ruin her night.â
For a moment, Caleb faltered, his breath coming in heavy, uneven waves as he stared back at Joel, the weight of his words settling over him. The two of them stood in a silent standoff, the tension between them almost palpable, crackling with unspoken resentment and restraint. But Joelâs controlâhis refusal to let this spiralâspoke louder than any fight could have. His priority was clear, and it wasnât himself.
As he slowly released his grip, he cast a look back in your direction, his gaze softening for just a heartbeat, a fleeting vulnerability crossing his expression.
You thought it was over.
You thought the tension had finally dissolved, that the confrontation would end with Joelâs final, steady words. But just as Joel began to turn away, you saw a flash of movementâCaleb, his face twisted with embarrassment and anger, lunging forward, fists clenched.
Before you could think, you moved instinctively, stepping between them. âCaleb, stop!â you cried, reaching out, but in the flurry, Calebâs fist, meant for Joel, swung wildly in the chaosâand in an instant, pain exploded across your eye as his knuckles connected with you instead. You staggered back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, clutching your face as the room spun in shock.
Calebâs fist connected with your eye in a swift, unintended blow, and a sharp, blinding pain surged through you, leaving your vision faltering as the shock of it set in. You stumbled back, your hand instinctively flying to your face as the world spun, your eye already throbbing, the pain deep and immediate.
âJesus Christ, Iâm so sorry,â Caleb stammered, his face pale as he stared at you, horror and guilt flashing across his features. He reached out, hands trembling as he tried to come closer. âIt was an accidentâI didnât mean toââ
But the words hung there, hollow and helpless, unable to undo the pain or the impact. His eyes were wide, pleading, as though he wished he could take back the last few seconds, erase what had just happened. The shock in his expression, the way he hesitated, spoke to the gravity of the mistake heâd madeâa line crossed, one that couldnât be undone.
Before he could get any closer, Tommy stepped between you, his voice low and firm. âStep back. Right now.â
Calebâs hands froze mid-air, his face twisted in a mixture of panic and regret. âI didnât knowâI wasnât aiming for her. It was an accident, I swear!â
âNow,â Tommy repeated, his tone brooking no argument, his steady gaze pinning Caleb in place. The room had fallen into a tense silence, all eyes on the unfolding scene, the weight of what had just happened settling over everyone.
Joel was by your side in an instant, his hand gentle yet firm as it cradled your face, his thumb brushing tenderly just below your eye, which was already starting to swell and bruise. His gaze was frantic, worry etched into every line of his face as he took in the injury, his jaw tightening, eyes flicking with barely restrained anger.
âHey, darling,â he murmured, his voice soft, steady. âYouâre alright. Iâm hereâIâm right here.â
But the pain, both physical and emotional, overwhelmed you, a sob escaping before you could stop it. âI need to get out of here, Joel,â you managed, your voice breaking as tears slipped down your cheeks. âPlease⊠I canât be here.â
Without hesitation, Joel slipped his arm around you, his touch solid and reassuring as he led you away, his presence a shield against the stares and murmurs surrounding you. He held you close, his own voice low and steady as he whispered, âIâve got you. Just breathe. Weâre getting out of here, right now.â
Joel guided you home, the short walk feeling like miles with the throbbing pain in your eye. As soon as you reached the door, he had Ellie sprint to his place to grab some painkillers he kept stashed away for his back, the kind tucked into his drawer just for emergencies.
Now, he had you settled on your couch, his presence anchoring you as he sat as close as he could, his fingers brushing carefully beneath your swollen eye, his touch feather-light. His face was etched with worry, a raw, almost desperate guilt darkening his expression. âIâm so fuckinâ sorry,â he murmured, his voice thick and rough with regret. He looked like heâd take the pain on himself if he could.
âItâs not your fault,â you managed, choking on the words as quiet sobs broke through, your breath catching with each one. âI donât even know why I stepped forwardâI just⊠I didnât want him to hit you again.â
He stilled, his gaze softening as he reached up to gently wipe away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. âMy darlinâ girl,â he whispered, the endearment filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. âI canât stand seeinâ you like this, hurtinâ like this.â
He looked around, his concern shifting to impatience. âWhere the hell is Ellie?â he muttered, glancing toward the door as though he could summon her with sheer will, his urgency clearâhe couldnât bear to see you in pain one second longer than necessary.
And though the ache in your eye throbbed, his touch, his presence, and the warmth in his voice softened the edges, leaving you with the feeling that, as long as he was here, youâd be alright.
Just then, Ellie burst in, breathless and wide-eyed, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief as she took in the scene. âHoly shit,â she exclaimed, eyes darting between you and Joel. âThat was the craziest thing Iâve ever seen!â
âEllie,â Joel cut her off, his tone firm but gentle as he motioned to the bottle in her hand. âGive me those, and grab some water from the kitchen, would ya?â
Without hesitation, Ellie handed over the painkillers, her gaze lingering on you with concern before she hurried into the kitchen. Joel opened the bottle, easing you upright with one hand, his touch warm and steady.
âHere, baby,â he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet tenderness as he held the glass to you and placed a pill in your hand. âTake thisâitâll help.â
You took the pill, letting his words and touch ground you as you sipped the water he offered. The throbbing pain dulled just slightly in the warmth of his care, and as you met his gaze, you saw something thereâan unspoken promise, a reassurance that he wasnât going anywhere.
Ellie dropped onto the other couch, her brows knit in worry as she took in your bruised face. âThatâs a nasty black eye,â she muttered, her voice caught between worry and a strange sort of awe.
âEllie,â Joelâs voice held a gentle but unmistakable warning. âGo on home. Itâs past your bedtime.â
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. âItâs only ten!â she protested, but the look he gave her softened her defiance. With a huff, she stood up, glancing back at you with genuine concern.
âHey⊠I hope you feel better soon,â she said, her voice quieter, sincere. She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Joel before she added, âAnd, uhâJoelâll take care of you. Youâre in good hands.â
You managed a small, grateful smile, the warmth of her concern and Joelâs steady presence easing some of the ache. Ellie nodded, satisfied, and slipped out the door, leaving you alone with Joel in the soft quiet, the sense of safety he radiated settling around you like a blanket.
The pain had started to dull, though your vision remained blurred, Joelâs figure splitting slightly into a hazy double image as he leaned in close, his hand resting steady and grounding on your shoulder.
âYou alright? Warm enough?â he asked, his voice gentle but thick with concern, his eyes scanning your face as if he could will the pain away.
âYeah⊠yeah, Iâm fine, Joel,â you managed, offering a faint, wavering smile. âThank you for getting me out of there. I⊠Iâve never seen him like thatâso angry.â
Joelâs expression shifted, his jaw setting as something dark and fierce flickered in his gaze. He shook his head, his mouth tightening, frustration etched into every line of his face. âHe had no right,â he muttered, his voice low, barely restrained. âOf all damn nightsâon your birthday, no less. That assholeâŠâ His words trailed off, the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, as though he was holding back an urge to storm out and finish what had been started.
âYou know you deserve better than that, right?â Joelâs voice was soft but firm, his gaze steady as he looked at you, waiting for the words to sink in. âI would never⊠I canât imagine ever doing that to you.â
There was an honesty in his tone, a quiet conviction that made your chest tighten. His hand lingered on your shoulder, warm and grounding, and the way he looked at youâas if you were someone precious, someone worth protectingâstirred something deep within you, a feeling youâd buried for too long.
For a moment, the pain in your eye, the embarrassment of the night, all of it faded under the weight of his words, his presence.
âI know you wouldnât,â you murmured, your voice barely holding steady as you let out a shaky breath. Slowly, you lifted your hand, your fingers grazing the angle of his jaw where Calebâs punch had left a faint bruise, half-hidden beneath the roughness of his beard. Your touch was soft, tentative, tracing the bruise with a gentleness that seemed to make him wince, though he didnât pull away. His gaze stayed locked on yours, unwavering, intense, as though he was absorbing every part of this moment.
âBet I look awful,â you tried to joke, a faint laugh escaping, but the self-consciousness gnawed at you, awareness flooding in as you thought of the swelling around your eye, the bruises marking your skin. Embarrassment washed over you, and you began to pull your hand back, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his steady gaze.
But Joelâs hand moved swiftly, catching yours, his fingers curling around yours, holding your hand against his cheek. âDonât,â he whispered, his voice low and warm, a quiet command wrapped in tenderness.
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a look so unguarded, so filled with admiration, it left you breathless. âYouâre beautiful. Donât ever doubt that. Even now⊠youâre still the most perfect thing Iâve ever seen.â
His words settled around you, filling the space between you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
âJoel,â you whispered, your voice barely holding steady as you looked up at him, feeling every part of you drawn to him, helpless to resist. âKiss me.â
Something flickered in his eyesâa mixture of longing and relief, like heâd been waiting his whole life for this moment. In an instant, the space between you disappeared. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering for a heartbeat, letting every ounce of tension swell until it felt like you might break from it.
Then he kissed you, his lips claimed yours with a fervor that took your breath away, the kiss deep and consuming, as if he were pouring years of waiting, of unspoken feelings, into this single, electric moment.
His hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his heartbeat, wild and fierce, mirroring your own, a rhythm that seemed to fill every inch of you.
The kiss deepened, his lips moving over yours with an intensity that left you dizzy, the world blurring until nothing else existed but the heat of his mouth, the strength of his arms, the way he held you as if heâd finally found what heâd been searching for.
You clung to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as he pulled you impossibly closer, the space between you vanishing entirely.
When he finally drew back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless, he didnât let go. His hand lingered, fingers grazing your jaw, his eyes searching yours, a quiet intensity in them that made your pulse race all over again.
TAG LIST
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secret admirer part twenty-five
1043 words
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four
That morningâŠ
Eddie it really sucks that youâre the only you other than the fact that two eddies would be amazing on itâs own, i realized that you donât know how it feels to have your attention itâs so intense dude youâre so intense in the best way, of course i can only hope that i get to experience that feeling more in the future maybe in the present, too p.s. i got your book again yesterday, hereâs hoping second timeâs the charm -H
Yesterday, Eddie thinks, he should have been more present and paid attention to what Hâs note said. Heâd sort of gone into tunnel vision when heâd been - however jokingly - accused of not understanding one of his books. It kind of made him wish for the first time that he could talk back. Heâd contemplated just walking up to Hagan during lunch, but decided not to. He wouldnât want to make anyone suspicious of the guy, no matter how much of an asshole he tends to be to everyone else. Eddie just isnât that kind of person.Â
The audacity of a jock whoâs admitted to only reading books for school - and for Eddie - to allege that Eddie needs to read a book more than once in order to understand it.Â
Has he read all of his favorite books more than once? Yes, but thatâs only because theyâre his favorites!
And does he notice something new nearly every reread? Also yes, but he chooses to believe thatâs what Tolkien intended. Itâs like a scavenger hunt of foreshadowing and little things to get excited about even when you know the ending.Â
Anyway, Eddie is decidedly less preoccupied today and heâs been wondering what book H is reading.
His curiosity leads him to venture into the schoolâs library before he heads to the lunchroom.Â
He tries to recall which books heâd checked out the last couple of months. Once heâs compiled his mental list, he tracks them down one by one. Eddie checks the card thatâs in a pocket inside the front cover of each book on the off chance that Haganâs name is logged on any of them - itâs not.Â
Eddie does find it interesting, though, to see a pattern in a few of the names he does see. Those that pop up multiple times are mostly people he recognizes from Hellfire.
He slowly eliminates each book until heâs left with one thatâs not on the shelf. The Return of The King. The last book in the The Lord of the Rings series.Â
Most staff - like the students - at Hawkins High arenât very happy when they see Eddie âThe Freakâ Munson approaching them. The school librarian isnât one of them, though. Eddieâs been traipsing through this library for the better part of four years.Â
Before heâd procured his prickly personality and style as a defense mechanism to the hostile environment of high school in rural Indiana, Eddie found shelter among the creaky furniture, shelves lined with books, and Ms. Hewitt.
Sheâs seen his sorry face more times than you can count and has always greeted him with a smile. Today is no different.Â
He asks her about The Return of the King.
âSomeone beat yaâ to it. Nice young man, he was.â
And while Eddie wouldnât necessarily refer to Tommy Hagan as nice, he would for H.Â
Eddie thanks and bids her farewell and then heâs off to lunch.Â
Heâs still having trouble conflating Hagan and his better half as the same person.Â
So, H read the last book of an already complicated series without any backstory. No wonder he was so fucking confused. Eddie laughs to himself just imagining it. Against his better judgment, heâs hopelessly endeared.Â
Heâs late to lunch, but itâs not as if he was planning on paying for what the school thinks passes for food, anyway.Â
When he takes his seat at the head of the table, Jeff places an apple from his homemade meal in front of him without even looking his way or pausing his debate with Gareth (the freshman whoâd flipped Eddieâs world upside down by unknowingly revealing Hâs identity as the one and only Tommy fucking Hagan).
Eddie absentmindedly munches on the fruit as he takes up his usual lunchtime hobby of gazing at a certain jockâs table. He finds it sort of odd when Harrington - Steve - forces Hagan to play musical chairs or some shit, but Eddieâs not intrigued enough to care, really. He does catch sight of Haganâs red face and clenched jaw, though. If he didnât know any better, heâd think the guy was pissed.Â
The change of seats provides Eddie with something more worthwhile to look at, so heâs not complaining. Steve seems in high spirits, and Eddie feels his own mood brighten in return.
When their shared elective comes along, Eddie finds himself jittery as he awaits the boyâs arrival. It makes him feel sort of silly, but not enough to lessen the excitement when Steve finally arrives.
The jock takes his seat between Eddie and Carol and turns to greet the latter.
âCarol, Robin.â
âSteve,â the girls say simultaneously without looking in his direction at all. Eddie doesnât pretend to know whatâs going on there, and he honestly doesnât want to.
Steve then turns to his left to face Eddie, and the last thing he needs is to be limited to the same dry conversation - if you could even call it that - so he cuts him off once he starts.
âEd-â
âSteven Harold Harrington III. How now?â Eddie has never been the best at English accents, but he figures it gets the point across just fine.
Steveâs face splits into a grin before he forces his expression into a stoic one. He continues to adopt the most heinous English accent Eddie has ever heard - including his own. âThatâs His Majesty Steven Harold Harrington III to you, Edwin,â he says snottily.
Eddie canât help but break into his own grin. Never mind the fact that Eddieâs name isnât fucking Edwin, but Edward. Few people embrace his antics, let alone engage in them.Â
Eddie is so gone on this boy. He was kidding himself thinking he could stay away.Â
Steve Harrington might just be the end of him.
tag list (closed)
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#cuties#eddie is so easy to please#he's so oblivious#i love writing his pov#i tried to make this one a bit longer than usual bc i was starting to piss myself off a teensy bit#also#love that i'm the only one who knows what's happening behind the scenes in the bubblescoops universe#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#tommy hagan
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Over the Limit - pt.iv
jenna ortega x female reader
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv
summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?
word count: 12.8k
ââââ
"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"
"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief withâsomeone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.
"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."
"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"
Did everyone see that?
You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."
"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."
You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.
"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"
You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunterâhe's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.
"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."
Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"
"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"
You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing thingsâwhispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"
Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"
You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"
Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."
You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe himâbut because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.
The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.
"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."
You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."
Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."
Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.
"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."
"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.
He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."
Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.
ââââ
While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealingsâall for the sake of a girlâyou would have called them insane.
When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.
"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"
"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.
You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normalânot tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.
"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.
"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"
She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."
You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something differentâyou're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn muchâand the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.
Or you do. And that was the scary part.
A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.
But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your nameâbut now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.
When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream togetherâand, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemicâall because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.
You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.
Exceptâyou didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.
Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?
"Y/n?"
Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.
"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.
Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.
"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."
"You're not a bad mom, stopâ"
"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."
Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.
Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.
Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.
"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.
Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.
She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."
You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."
"And what do you want?"
"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.
She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"
Racing. The Club. The Sinners.
But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.
"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."
"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."
"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."
"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"
"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"
"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.
"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.
You sit, your frustration simmering.
Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."
A shadow of confusion crossed your face.
"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."
Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."
The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your fatherâthe man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the clubâwanting to leave felt impossible.
"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.
She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."
You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.
"Why didn't he leave, then?"
Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last raceâthe one that took him from usâit was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."
You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and griefâit had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.
"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had becomeâthe danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."
You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your fatherâlegendary racer, fearless leaderâbegan to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.
"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."
Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneathâthe fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.
"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.
Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."
You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choiceâa choice you'd have to make on your own terms.
"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"
A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.
She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."
"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.
A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."
"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."
She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash trayâa habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.
For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burdenâone that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.
You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilotâthere was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid
"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriendâ"
You face palm, "for fuck sakes."
ââââ
"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"
"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.
You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinnerâshe's a Viper, though."
Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.
It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.
You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.
"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.
"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"
You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.
"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"
You shake your head, biting your lip. "IâI can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"
He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal lifeâdefinitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"
You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."
"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"
A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring upâthe memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"
"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"
You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"
"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.
Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"
You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apartâyour life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.
You can't let that happen.
"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.
She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourselfâyou'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.
"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."
Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"
You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."
Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"
"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."
Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."
But that's the problemâyou can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."
Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two haveâit's something realâ"
"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."
Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.
Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, thoughâbecause if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.
"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, whatâyou're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"
You hesitateâeven after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.
"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."
You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.
And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.
ââââ
"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"
Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"
Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone againâor got caught waiting on a textâI should throw a microwave at your head."
Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Waitâhold on. I am not falling for anybody!"
Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."
Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."
Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."
The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."
"I just know you too well. Face it, sisâyou're hooked."
Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She'sâ" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.
"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."
"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.
Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.
The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."
Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."
Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."
Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"
Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.
Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"
For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"
Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.
Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.
"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."
"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken realityâthat Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyahâlingered between them, heavier than any words.
"Dad shouldn't have made youâ"
Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."
Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."
Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."
Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.
"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."
Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycleâa life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.
"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."
Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"
Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."
Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.
"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.
Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"
Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."
Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought
Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."
Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."
Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.
"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."
Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."
Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."
Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"
"Aliyah."
"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."
"I don't like her."
"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when Iâ"
Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."
"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.
Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."
Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.
She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.
ââââ
Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest projectâthe stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.
You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.
Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screenâJenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.
Out of sight, out of mind.
As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.
"Y/n?"
You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"
She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.
You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"
Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."
Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.
"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"
Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.
You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.
"Trouble in paradise?"
You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."
Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my drivâ
"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.
Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.
"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.
You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.
Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.
Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.
The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusionâit all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.
Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"
Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."
You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garageâand everything it representedâwould be good for you. Even if just for a moment.
You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.
The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.
"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."
You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."
Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."
"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.
The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"
The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."
Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.
"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."
You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.
"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.
Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."
She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberatingâa break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.
But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.
ââââ
Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.
The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.
Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."
Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.
"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.
Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."
Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it isâthis life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."
Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.
Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.
"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.
Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."
Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."
"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.
Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.
"Aliyah, waitâ"
Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chestâa foolish, fragile thingâas she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.
It was from Percy.
Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.
Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.
Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.
Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipersâand what a shame it would be to lose it.
Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.
With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.
Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.
It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.
The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.
Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.
Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.
Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.
Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.
"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.
"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.
Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.
Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.
"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"
Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."
But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.
ââââ
Before you knew it, Friday had arrivedâthe day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few daysâin the garage.
You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.
The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.
The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.
The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.
"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.
You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"
"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.
You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.
"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."
"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."
"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know.Â
Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"
Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."
Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forgetâsometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.
You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."
ââââ
Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steadyâexactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.
You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at nightâdarker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.
You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing byâit was all you needed. Just you and the road.
And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.
You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listenedâreally listenedâand kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.
She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.
For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.
But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meetingâunprepared, vulnerableâmade your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?
But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.
The place where it all went down.
You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a waveâyour father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.
You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.
You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.
You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting youâwhat are you going to do Y/n?
You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.
ââââ
"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"
Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."
Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."
Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.
You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.
Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."
Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.
Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."
Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."
Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.
Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.
"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.
Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."
They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club orâ?"
Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."
And then, they saw him.
He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.
Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more realâso much more dangerous.
On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."
Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.
Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"
Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrongâlike they were in deeper than they had anticipated.
She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.
Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.
She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy? Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.
Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.
Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.
Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.
She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.
Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.
Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men.Â
But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.
Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fallâshe was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.
She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.
But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.
There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.
In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatmentâa taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.
For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.
Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for somethingâanswers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.
You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.
She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment. You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.
Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?
You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.
âWho thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?â Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.
âWe canât afford any slip-ups,â the unknown man replied curtly. âLetâs keep this brief.â
The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. âWeâve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,â he said, voice smooth but full of intent. âNo hiccups, no heatâjust a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, theyâll be begging for more.â
"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"
You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.
Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "Itâs not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."
"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.
His girl?
"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."
Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I canât blame the guy. Itâs hard to stay focused when your girlâs a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.
A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.
But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.
Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. âAnd what if this operation doesnât go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.â
The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown manâs expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. âLetâs hope it doesnât come to that,â he said, voice low and chilling. âWe wouldnât want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.â
You freeze.
But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.
âHey! Whoâs there?â one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.
Hunter.
He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jennaâs urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.
âWe have to go,â she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girlâclearly someone Jenna trustedâwas already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunterâs for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.
This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.
Jennaâs grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sightâyours.
âStop right there!â A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.
âHey!â you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driverâs seat.
The three of you scrambled inâa blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.
âGo, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,â Jenna commanded.
Aliyah didnât hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.
No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.
Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.
âHunter, what the hell are you doing here?â you demanded, voice tight.
âHow the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?â Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.
Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jennaâs way. âYou didnât tell me Greaser was cute!â
"Since when did you know how to drive?â Jenna shot back at Aliyah.
The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.
âDid you follow me here?â you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.
âYeah, I did. And Iâm glad I did.â His voice was filled with concern. âWhat the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?â
âI donât know, man. Iâm just finding out about all this today, too.â
Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. âWe need to tell Anton. Theyâre trying to destroy Brimstone.â
You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. âYeah, this is bad. Real bad.â
As soon as Antonâs name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.
Hunter could see it in your eyesâhe knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.
Up front, Jennaâs voice broke the silence. âOkay, yes, I get it! Sheâs cute. Can you just⊠shush? Sheâs right there,â she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.
Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldnât wrap her head around itâPercy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.
The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over. She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality.Â
She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.
Despite everything, Jenna couldnât ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it allâlearning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldnât just let you back in without confronting it, could she?
But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like youâd retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didnât blame you. Tonight had been a mess.
She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.
Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldnât help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didnât look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.
Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunterâs car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadnât even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.
When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.
Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. âIâm sorry, Y/n,â he said, his tone full of empathy. âThat mustâve been a hell of a lot to take in.â
It wasnât easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.
Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Antonâs dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You werenât wrong.
Your father and uncleâs deaths wasn't an accident. Theyâd been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.
#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x female reader#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x y/n#tara carpenter imagine#tara carpenter x female reader#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x y/n#beetlejuice#jenna x you#jenna x reader#jenna marie ortega
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male yandere! streamer x gn! fan reader
feeding your parasocial relationshipsđ«¶
was tempted to make him a username called masonjar but whateves letâs just stick to a classic name.
got inspired by the post I saw by @blood-smiles !
warnings: parasocial relationship (kinda from both sides) jealousy, yandere themes, obsessive behavior.
Mason was an insanely popular streamer the type to have both guys and girls fawning over him, edits of him with people thirsting over his good looks but despite the sheer amount of fans he had, you took the liberty of naming yourself his biggest fan.
somehow you ended up being noticed by him, it started with him noticing you in his streams and comments and then seeing you in every single one of his meet-and-greets. Always wearing his merchandise, your account only had a select few pictures of yourself that drowned in all the posts that centered around him. He couldn't help getting curious, you were just so loyal and obsessed with him that he thought it was adorable.
he started chatting with you, the way you freaked out when he messaged you was so cute, he had a grin stretched on his face the entire time. Because of his active interaction with you you became known to his other fans and gained popularity.
he was having thought of meeting up with you frequently, maybe even a few collabs..this could be a big break for both of you!
but as time went by it seemed like you were just...moving on.
you didn't interact with his socials as much anymore, missed more streams than the ones you watched, even your content started to stray further away from him. You either didn't post as much or you were posting about other low-stream influencers who didn't even compare to him. He was popular, good looking, and skilled. Everyone on the internet loved him and you were lucky enough to get noticed by him and you're just throwing it away?!
he knows it's silly and that he shouldn't care but you were his loyal fan..did it mean nothing?!
truly you were moving on, Mason has a special spot in your heart but your interests were changing. It was a habit of yours where you get obsessively hyper-fixated on something or someone and then hop on to the next thing.
you didn't do anything wrong you honestly thought Mason forgot your existence but the spam messages that filled up your inbox later proved that that is far from the truth.
Mason: so what you just got bored of me huh?
Mason: you were drooling over me just two weeks ago and now you're over here praising someone else?!
Mason: answer me
Mason: why aren't you answering me?!
Mason: are you too busy obsessing over a new guy to even send a text back?
his jaw clenches and his hand shakes from the tight grip he has on his phone as he almost burns a hole into the damn thing from staring at the screen so hard while waiting for you to see your messages.
he gets fed up and sets his phone down and put on his headphones getting ready to start the stream.
he acts normal in front of the camera but his eyes keep sliding down to the comments trying to find you there. He tries to mask it by reading and replying to other people's comments even though he doesn't truly care.
he only wants your eyes to watch him.
your praise.
your devotion.
surely you'll come back to him..won't you?
#yandere streamer#fan reader#make yandere#gn reader#streamer oc#yandere streamer x reader#jealous yandere#obsessive yandere#yandere headcanons#new oc#yandere blog#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere fanfiction#jealous yandere x reader
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Ex husband Eren:
warning: smut, angst and whatever else my mind can come up with on a whim :)Son's name is Lennox
word count: 14070
I didnt proof read this, i just wrote
Ex husband Eren:
Eren wasn't sure how he went from landing himself the best woman he ever had in his life. It wasn't only your looks that drew him in. It was the way you cared for him when no one in his life did. You were the first person to show him love, care, the works. Part of him knew he should've been around more; said I love you more. He knew the divorce was his fault in the end
but that being said, he is determined to make up for lost time.
your pov
Today is Eren's pick-up day for your 3-year-old son Lennox. he's splitting image of him. The only difference is he's tanner and has curly hair. You were well trying to wrangle your son to get ready to spend the usual 3 days with his father. "Lenny, baby, Mommy has to get you ready to go see Daddy" You watch him smile and run off screaming obviously thinking you both are playing a game.
Erenâs POV
Eren watched you through the screen door as you tried to keep up with Lennox, who was darting around the room like a flash of tan curls and excitement. He could still picture the last time he tried to wrangle the little guy, getting lost in his joy. Lennox was so much like you in spirit, so much like him in looksâa constant reminder of everything Eren could have had if heâd just been the man you deserved. But the past three months had been eye-opening, pushing him to reflect on what went wrong.
Now, more than anything, he wanted to show you that he could change.
Your POV
"Gotcha!" you exclaimed, finally scooping Lennox into your arms as he squealed and laughed. "All right, mister, letâs get you packed for Daddyâs place," you murmured, knowing Eren would be at the door any moment.
You felt the telltale rush of nerves every time he came by to pick Lennox up. But you knew what this was about: Erenâs endless excuses to linger, his almost-too-frequent âaccidentalâ brushes against your hand when he passed you something, the way his gaze lingered on you just a bit too long. Even now, a small part of you couldnât ignore the slight thrill that ran through you whenever he looked at you with that hungry, brooding expression.
When the doorbell rang, you opened it to find Eren, a faint smirk on his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes moving over you in a way that felt all too familiar.
Erenâs POV
As you stood there, holding Lennox on your hip, Eren couldnât help but let his eyes roam over you. God, you hadnât changedâyou were still stunning, more so now, with a soft confidence he hadnât appreciated enough before. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to play it cool, but every part of him screamed to close the gap, to reach for you.
After a few minutes of small talk, Eren, still standing close, tilted his head. âYou know,â he began, lowering his voice as his fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of your arm, âif youâre free later, maybe we could talk. Just us. Iâve missed you, andâŠI think we both know thereâs more to say.â
As Lennox wiggled away from your grip, he made a quick dash for the lamp on the side table. "Lennox," you sighed, moving to stop him, but Eren took the chance to gently nudge you aside, his hand lingering on your waist just a bit longer than necessary.
"I got this," he murmured, stepping forward to deal with your son, who was now pouting up at him with a little frown that looked way too familiar.
âHey, Lenny, remember what I said last time? Lamps are not toys,â Eren scolded gently, lifting Lennox into his arms. His tone was calm, but firm, his gaze softening as Lennoxâs pout deepened, looking almost identical to yours when you were annoyed with him. Eren couldnât help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips as he saw your reflection in your sonâs stubborn expression.
âHeâs a handful,â you muttered, crossing your arms and trying not to notice how easily Eren handled Lennox. It was moments like these that reminded you of why youâd fallen for him, back when things were simpler, back when he wasnât soâŠabsent.
âWonder where he gets it from,â Eren quipped, casting a sidelong glance in your direction. When you rolled your eyes again, he chuckled, that low sound you used to love. "What?" he challenged. "You know, youâre still the most beautiful woman Iâve ever laid eyes on. Friends or not, thatâs not something that changes."
A part of you wanted to brush it off, to laugh or scoff, but his voice was different this timeâlow and earnest, with a hint of regret and maybe something else. For a moment, it felt like you were back in the early days when he could sweep you off your feet with just a few words. You swallowed, trying to hold onto the resolve youâd built up over the past few months.
âEren,â you started, keeping your tone firm. âYou know why this doesnât work anymore. Weâre not the same people we were back then.â
He shifted, pulling Lennox close before meeting your gaze again. âMaybe not. But that doesnât mean I donât miss us. And it doesnât mean I wonât try to fix thingsâno matter how long it takes.â
âYou should go, Eren,â you said, your tone firm but with a hint of exasperation as you watched Lennox starting to rub his eyes. âYou know he gets cranky if he doesnât nap soon.â
Eren gave a sly smile, leaning just a little closer. âOr,â he replied softly, âI can just stay.â
âThatâs not a good idea, Yeager.â You crossed your arms, trying to keep your tone steady, but his closeness made it difficult.
âOh, so Iâm âYeagerâ now? Not Eren?â His smirk widened, but there was something softer in his eyes. âJust my last name, huh?â
âIt is your last name,â you shot back, holding your ground.
He let the silence linger, his gaze not wavering. âItâs yours as well,â he murmured, leaning even closer, voice dropping to a whisper. âWas, Eren. It was.â
The words hit him harder than heâd expected, and for a moment, he stood there, at a loss. Then he sighed, nodding and glancing down at Lennox, who had started nodding off in his arms. âRight. But it doesnât have to be that way,â he said softly, almost to himself.
His words made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly shook it off. "Thatâs in the past," you replied, taking Lennox gently from his arms and feeling the warmth of Eren's lingering touch. "JustâŠtake him for the weekend, Eren.â
Eren nodded, but his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment. âIâll see you soon.â He left with a final, lingering glance, and as the door shut, you couldnât help but wonder if the past was as distant as you tried to make it.
Eren strapped Lennox into his car seat in his Matte black G wagon Lennox was giggling and smiling in the back seat heading back to his place. Eren wishes he didnât have to leave their⊠y/nâs home.
Later, as the kids finally passed out after an eventful evening spent with Onyankapon's daughter Rummie and Connieâs son, Connie Jr., Eren sat around with the guys, unwinding with a couple of drinks. Inevitably, the conversation turned to wives and relationships, as it always didâexcept this time, Eren felt the strange, familiar sting of being the only single one in the room.
Ony smirked, scrolling through his phone. âKaylahâs out clubbing tonight,â he muttered.
âHer too,â Connie chimed in. âSoleneâs going with her.â
Ony shrugged. âYeah, I heard theyâre all going to that new place, Paradia. They even convinced Y/N to go.â
Erenâs jaw tightened at the mention of your name. âWait. Whoâs going?â
Ony shook his head, already seeing where this was going. âNot this again, Eren. Leave her alone, man.â
âNah, nah, I just asked a question,â Eren muttered defensively, but there was an edge in his voice.
Ony glanced at him, exasperated. âThatâs why she left your ass in the first place.â
Erenâs eyes darkened as he set down his drink. âAnd what do you even know about my marriage, huh?â
Ony didnât back down. âMore than you, apparently, âcause Y/Nâs been complaining about your shit for years.â
Connie raised a hand, trying to de-escalate. âYo, Ony, chillââ
But Ony wasnât stopping. âNah, someoneâs gotta tell him.â
Eren clenched his jaw, barely able to keep his temper in check. âTell me what, man?â
Connie sighed, glancing at Eren with a mixture of frustration and pity. âEren, lookâyouâve been neglecting her for years. Choosing to hang with us instead of being home with her, ignoring her calls when sheâs just checking inâŠarguing over money when you both know thatâs not even an issue for either of you. You act like she doesnât mean anything to you, like sheâs just there. You want me to go on?â
Eren was silent, his fists clenched, staring at the floor as their words started to sink in. He knew, deep down, that they were right. And yet, hearing it laid out like that hit him harder than heâd expected.
Ony didnât hold back, his voice steady but with an edge that cut deep. âAnd letâs not forget about that toxic-ass friend of yours. The one who kept telling you to bail on her, hyping you up to act like she didnât matter. You listened to him, man. When she needed you the most, when her dad was sick, you bailed. She went through that whole thing alone. You didnât show up, didnât even check in on her.â Ony shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. âYouâre a realâŠfuck-ass niiââ
He cleared his throat, almost laughing bitterly. âWeâve talked about this with you for years. Hell, you even got into it with her brother because of that same âfriendââthe one you let threaten her. Your wife, bro! And now, you wanna act mad because sheâs out having fun, living her life?â
Eren tried to brush it off, tried to hold onto that defensive anger, but each word chipped away at the front heâd put up. Ony leaned in, eyes sharp. âHow do you plan to fix any of that, huh?â
Eren looked down, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table, Onyâs words echoing in his mind. âShe met you when you had nothing, man. Look at your life now. Sheâs the one who was there, lifting you up, pushing you forward, making sure you had everything you needed. And howâd you repay her? By being aâŠa fuck-ass loser, gaming âtil 3 a.m., blowing her off when she needed you the most.â
Eren clenched his jaw, the reality hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to keep his cool, but Ony wasnât done.
âAnd now youâre saying you want her back? Now that sheâs gone, you finally wanna try?â Onyâs voice softened, but the disappointment was clear. âMan, sheâs out there living her life. Youâre gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than just âwant her backâ if you even think about being part of it again.â
âIt wasnât like that,â Eren muttered, struggling to find his footing. âI was dealing with a lotââ
Connie scoffed, shaking his head. âAnd you think she wasnât? She married you, gave you a son, helped you get on your feet, twice. She was right there with you through everything. And what does she get? A husband who thinks sheâs supposed to be grateful just âcause you didnât cheat?â
Ony shook his head, his expression hardening. âNah, man. Youâre a full-on waste man. Weâve been your boys for years, telling you about this for years. But itâs like talking to a wall. Youâre still friends with that toxic ass Elijah, arenât you?â
Eren shifted uncomfortably, but Connie cut him off before he could respond.
âDid you even know he drove by your house talking wild about her when she was pregnant with Lenny?â Connieâs eyes bore into Erenâs, a rare mix of anger and disbelief on his face. âHe was saying sheâs gotta go, talking reckless, wishing her dead, man. And she told you about it, and what did you do? Took his side. You chose that trash over her, the woman carrying your son, the woman whoâs been down for you from day one.â
Erenâs face darkened, guilt and anger mixing as he listened. He wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of his friendsâ words left him speechless.
âYour own cousins had to step in to protect her,â Ony added, leaning back with a scoff. âAnd you? You did nothing. Didnât even stand up for her. And now, here you are, mad that sheâs finally out there living her life, trying to be happy. ManâŠfuck outta here with that.â
Eren swallowed hard, feeling the truth of every word, the silence that followed thick and suffocating. He could feel the resentment in the roomâa long-standing frustration that had finally boiled over. And for the first time, Eren realized how far heâd let things slip away, and how much heâd lost in the process.
Eren leaned back in his chair, his hands running through his hair in frustration, his voice thick with regret. âMan,â he muttered, the weight of it all sinking in. âI messed up. I know I messed up. But⊠I donât know what to do anymore.â
Onyâs eyes narrowed, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. âMessed up? Thatâs an understatement, bro. How you gonâ be around a man who threatened your wife, huh? She wasnât your ex-wife, not even your girlâyour wife, man. How you gonna fix that?â
Eren opened his mouth to reply, but Ony wasnât done. âYou had a chance to protect her. To stand up for her. And you chose to do nothing. You donât just get to walk back into her life like nothing happened.â
Connie leaned back, taking a swig of his drink, then sighed, shaking his head. âOny, man, youâre wasting your breath. Look at him.â He gestured toward Eren, a sharp bitterness in his voice. âEren cares about Eren. Itâs obvious Y/N ainât mean that much to him anyway.â
Erenâs chest tightened at Connieâs words, but he tried to defend himself. âShe does, man, sheââ
Ony cut him off with a harsh scoff, leaning forward. âE, tell it to someone who cares.â He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing. âYou think you can fix this with a couple of âIâm sorryâsâ? With a text, or showing up when itâs convenient for you? Nah, man. Youâve gotta do the work, and you didnât.â
The sting of their words hit harder than anything physical, and Eren slumped back in his chair, the anger, regret, and frustration churning inside him. The realization that he had lost herâand possibly themâfor good was something he wasnât ready to accept. But the truth was, he wasnât sure how to make things right. He wasnât even sure where to start.
Connieâs words hit hard, slicing through the room like a cold wind. He sighed, his tone heavy with frustration. âWhy do you even still hang with that man, bro? Did you ever love Y/N, or was she just convenient âcause she loved you when no one else did?â
Eren froze, unable to respond right away. The question hung in the air, burning like a brand. His mind raced, but all that came out was silence. He knew Connie was rightâhe had let Elijah stick around for way too long, even though heâd known for years that the guy was trouble. Heâd always had issues letting go of things, of people. But now, hearing it out loud, it made him feel like a fool.
And then, just as the tension threatened to suffocate him, Eren laughedâbitterly, almost hysterically. "Y/N told me this would happen. That she'd leave. She told me everything...but I have to repay her for everything she did for me, man." His voice wavered, but he tried to hold onto some semblance of pride.
Ony didn't buy it. âMaybe you can repay her by letting her go, Eren. Stop holding on like this is something you can fix by force.â
Erenâs heart slammed against his chest, panic bubbling inside him. âI canât do that, man. I love her,â he said firmly, almost pleading, as though saying it out loud would make it true.
Connie burst out laughing, the sound sharp and mocking. âYouâre funny, man,â he said, wiping his eyes. âYou love her? Youâve been so busy with everything else that you didnât even see her. You canât just love someone when itâs convenient, bro. Love is action, not words.â
Erenâs laugh faltered. It was like a cold splash of water, the reality sinking in. He could say all the right things, but he knew it didnât matter if he didnât change, if he didnât prove it. He was losing her, and the regret was like an anchor weighing him down.
Onyâs voice was low and steady. âIf you love her, you need to let her be. Let her have the space she needs to breathe again. You canât fix whatâs broken by holding onto it too tight.â
But Eren wasnât ready to hear that. Not yet. Not when everything inside him screamed to fight for her, to make it right somehow.
âIâm not ready to let her go,â he muttered, the words feeling like a confession he wasnât proud of. âBut I donât know how to make things right either.â
Slight time skip.
The weekend with Lennox passed by in a blur, each moment spent with his son pulling Eren deeper into the quiet realization of how much he had messed up. Lennox was so full of life, so innocent, and every laugh, every hug, every small gesture made Erenâs chest ache with regret. He watched the way his son looked at him, as if he was the most important person in the world, and it made him realize how much he had taken for granted.
You had given him everything. When he could barely afford to feed himself, you made sure he ate. You were the one who supported him when he had nothing, when his dreams were just thatâdreams. You fed him, clothed him, and helped him build a life, and he had been too blind to see it. You took away all his burdens, but in return, it seemed like he had left you with nothing but more.
Later that night, after Lennox had fallen asleep in his room, Eren found himself scrolling through your Instagram. He tried not to, but his fingers betrayed him as they tapped on the screen, his eyes scanning through the pictures and videos from your night out. You looked happy. You looked free, laughing with friends, living a life that didnât include him.
The pang of guilt hit him again. It stung more than he expected. You had always been beautiful, but now, in these pictures, it was different. You looked so alive, so at peace. And it hit him hardâyou never really smiled with him. Not like that. The way you smiled in these photos, the way you were carefree and glowing, was something he hadnât seen in a long time. It was as if all the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, you were truly yourself again.
Erenâs heart twisted in his chest. He had been so focused on himself, on his struggles, that he hadnât even noticed how much he had drained you. How much he had left you to carry on your own while he just kept taking.
The thought of how much he had messed up, how much he had hurt you, hit him like a ton of bricks. You had given him everything, and he had given you nothing in returnânot even the basic decency of truly being there. He had let you go, and now you were living your life, and he was left with nothing but regret.
His finger hovered over the screen, a text message to you sitting in his drafts, but he couldn't bring himself to send it. The words seemed empty, not enough to fix what he had broken.
Eren sighed, setting the phone down on the counter. The weight of his mistakes hung heavy in the air, suffocating him.
Your POV
You hadnât heard from Eren all weekend, and to be honest, you were kind of relieved. The quiet had been nice, but it wasnât without its own weight. You missed your little boy, Lennox, more than you cared to admit. The house felt too empty without him running around, causing chaos, or asking you a thousand questions. It was strange, the silence.
You figured if you called his iPad, heâd ignore the call as usualâtypical Lenny. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes. âBad ass kid,â you muttered under your breath, but the thought of him made you smile despite yourself.
With a sigh, you decided to call Eren directly instead. Maybe, just maybe, you could talk to him about Lennoxâs day. Itâs not like you expected any real conversation, but you knew Eren wouldnât ignore you. He picked up after three rings.
His face appeared on the screen, and you could immediately tell he was exhausted. Dark circles were under his eyes, his hair a little disheveled, and his expression was heavy.
âWhatâs up with you? Lenny wear you out with his antics?â you asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but there was a softness to your tone, a mix of concern and amusement. âI told you, heâs a handful.â
Eren let out a tired sigh, rubbing his face. âLemme guess,â he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. âYou called his iPad and he ignored you?â
You snorted. âYou know heâs bad. You really think heâs gonna pick up for me?â
Erenâs eyes flickered for a second, a small, tired grin tugging at the corner of his lips. âHe gets that from you,â he said, the words almost too quiet, like a fleeting moment of honesty.
âYeah, right,â you said with a sarcastic smile, but your voice softened. âPut my son on the phone. I miss my baby.â
Eren hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. Then, with a quiet exhale, he shifted his camera and called out to Lennox, his voice a little more gentle. "Lenny, come here, bud. Mommyâs on the phone."
You waited eagerly, your heart tightening in your chest as you saw Lennoxâs little face pop up on the screen. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and his smile made everything feel right again, if only for a moment.
"Mommy!" he exclaimed, his tiny hands reaching for the screen. "I miss you!"
Your heart melted. "I miss you too, baby," you said, voice soft, a smile tugging at your lips. "Howâs your weekend with Daddy?"
He started talking a mile a minute, telling you about his time with Eren, his adventures with his toys, and all the little things heâd been up to. It wasnât much, but to you, it was everything. It was the little pieces of him that made you feel close, even if you couldnât be there with him.
Eren watched the exchange quietly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to watch Lennox. There was something in his gaze, something you couldnât quite place. It wasnât just tiredness, not just exhaustionâthere was a depth there, a mix of regret and yearning that made your chest tighten. But for now, you pushed that aside, just grateful to see your son smiling, happy, and alive on the other side of the screen.
You listened intently as Lennox babbled on about his day, your heart swelling with every word. The way he spoke with such enthusiasm, like the world was his playground. It was one of those moments where, despite everything that had changed, you could still find a piece of normalcy in the way he talked about his little world.
"And then when I woke up, Daddy was talking to Unca Connie and Unca Ony about mommy," Lennox said, his voice full of innocence as he continued recounting his weekend.
Your smile faltered for a brief second, and you looked at Eren. His expression was unreadable, but the way he was holding the phone, the slight stiffening of his posture, made something stir inside you. You raised an eyebrow, a playful yet pointed look on your face. "Oh, really?" you asked, curiosity mixing with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yah," Lennox said matter-of-factly, not picking up on the weight in the conversation. "Apparently they made Daddy look really sad. But then I watched Coco Melon with Rummie and CJ."
You couldnât help the small laugh that escaped your lips. "Coco Melon," you mused, "the cure for all things, huh?"
Eren didnât respond right away. He just stared at the screen for a moment, his gaze briefly flicking between you and Lennox. You could tell he wasnât exactly thrilled about the conversation Lennox had just mentioned. It made your chest tighten a little, but you didnât press it. Not yet, anyway.
Lennox, oblivious to the shift in the conversation, turned his attention to Eren with a sudden change of subject. "I want snacks, Daddy," he said, his voice demanding, just like any three-year-old who had a sudden craving.
Eren blinked, snapping back to the moment. He gave a small chuckle, the smile on his face genuine but tired. "Alright, alright, buddy," he said, his voice soft as he looked at his son. "Iâll get you something."
You could see the change in him when he looked at Lennoxâhis walls softening, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he focused on his son. It made your heart ache in a way you hadnât expected. You were reminded of the man he used to be, the man you had fallen for, even if it felt like a lifetime ago.
"How about some fruit and crackers?" Eren offered, his voice light as he moved toward the kitchen, still holding the phone.
Lennoxâs face lit up. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his little hands.
You smiled fondly at the interaction, but your mind was still spinning from what Lennox had said earlier. Eren had been talking about you with Connie and Ony? You wondered what exactly they had said to him. What had made Eren so sad?
Before you could dwell too much on it, Lennoxâs attention returned to you, his voice suddenly small. "Mommy, when can I come home?"
The question hit you unexpectedly. Your heart twisted, and you had to swallow the lump that formed in your throat. "Soon, baby," you said, keeping your voice steady, though your eyes felt a little warmer than usual. "Youâll be back with Mommy before you know it."
You caught Eren looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldnât quite place. It was hard to tell if it was regret, guilt, or maybe just the weight of everything between you two. But for now, you held on to the moment, the quiet peace of seeing your son so happy.
Eren watched as Lennox dashed off toward the living room to grab his iPad, making zoom noises with each step, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. He sighed, leaning back against the counter as he rubbed his forehead. "I don't know where he gets all this energy from," he muttered, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips as he watched Lennox run off.
You didn't let him linger on the moment for long. You werenât in the mood for small talk or pretending that everything was fine. Cutting straight to the heart of the matter, you asked, "You talking about me with Connie and Ony, Eren?"
His smile faltered, and his shoulders tensed. He didnât look at you immediately, eyes flicking toward Lennox before finally settling on you. There was a moment of hesitation before he sighed again, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.
"Yeah," he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. "They were... trying to talk some sense into me. Youâve been on my mind a lot, and they know it."
You couldnât quite pinpoint the emotion that surfaced at his words. Part of you was relieved that he wasnât trying to dodge the question, but the rest of you felt a tightness in your chest. You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to snap, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, "And what exactly did they say?"
Eren ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his posture. "They⊠they made me realize a lot of things I didnât want to face. About us. About how I treated you." His gaze flickered toward the ground, as if he couldnât quite look you in the eye as he said it. "I messed up, Y/N. I know I did. And I didnât want to hear it from them, but... theyâre right."
You took in a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Iâm not here to listen to your excuses, Eren," you said, your voice softer but firm. "Iâm not some⊠Iâm not some lesson to be learned from your friends. You had the chance to make it right a long time ago."
Eren nodded slowly, the weight of his regret sitting heavily between you both. "I know," he said, his voice low, like he was ashamed to say it aloud. "I didnât show up when I should have. I was so caught up in myself, I didnât see how much you were doing for me. For us. You were right... you deserved better than that."
The words hit you harder than you expected. There was so much history between you, so many moments youâd both buried under years of silence and unspoken resentment. But hearing him admit it, even just a little, stirred something in youâsomething that made you hesitate before responding.
"You donât get to just fix it all with a few words, Eren," you said, your heart beating a little faster. "Iâm not your savior anymore. You chose all this."
Erenâs eyes softened, guilt flooding his gaze. "I know, and I donât expect you to forgive me right away. But Iâm trying, Y/N. I really am. Iâm not asking for you to come back, or anything like that. But I need to show you that I can be better, that I can do right by you and Lennox."
For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of everything lingering in the space between your words. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but after everything that had happened, you couldnât help but wonder if it was too late for that kind of redemption.
But then, as if to interrupt the tension in the room, Lennox came bounding back into the kitchen, holding up his iPad triumphantly. "I got it, Mommy!" he cheered.
You couldnât help but smile at the sight of him, his energy pulling you out of the heavy silence. Erenâs gaze softened again as he watched Lennox, and for a brief second, you saw the man he used to beâthe one who had cared, who had loved. The one who still wanted to do right by his son.
You exhaled slowly, giving him a small nod. "Youâve got a lot to prove, Eren. But for now, letâs just focus on him." You pointed to Lennox, who was eagerly awaiting your attention.
Eren nodded, his expression quiet but resolute. "I will. I promise."
You said your goodbyes to Eren and Lenny. Eren asked if he can keep Lennox longer, you said you will call him back later with an answer. you then called up your group.
You leaned back against the counter as you listened to the back-and-forth in your group chat. The sound of their voices was comforting, a small reminder that you werenât going through this alone. But the frustration, the anger, that still lingered inside of you came to a head with Jaynaeâs words.
Jaynae didnât hold back, as always, but her words were sharp and right on target. "Eren is a fuck ass white boy..." she started, and you could hear the anger in her voice. "Like Y/N doesn't know. What has he done for Y/N really? Nothing, even now, heâs stressing her about how he cares now and shit... fuck him, and Iâm saying that bold."
Solene quickly jumped in, trying to tone things down. "Jay, donât say that. Weâre all feeling this way, but you donât need to be that harsh."
Reinerâs voice cut through the background, low and calm, as he spoke to his wife. "Babe, relax." You could hear the concern in his voice, but Jaynae wasnât having it.
You stared at your phone for a moment, absorbing everything they said. The anger in their voices mirrored what you had been feeling for so long. But part of you didnât want to hear it from them, even though you knew it was the truth. You knew it deep down. You were so tired of carrying the weight of Erenâs actions. So tired of forgiving him every time he came crawling back.
You spoke up, your voice steady but strained. "I didnât want to tell you guys this, but Lennox said something tonight." You heard them go silent, waiting for you to continue. "He said that when Eren was talking to Connie and Ony, he sounded really sad, like he felt bad about everything. He said he was talking about me and how he messed up."
Kaylah was the first to respond, her voice soft but knowing. "So Eren finally gets it. Took him long enough."
Solene agreed with a sigh, adding, "Doesnât matter, though. He doesnât know how much you cried over his shit. How many nights you spent worrying about him, about the future of your family, while he was out there⊠just not caring."
You didnât know what to say. Part of you wanted to defend himâbecause, in a way, you always didâbut the truth was, you couldnât anymore. You had given him enough chances, let him back in more times than you cared to count, only for him to mess it up again.
Jaynaeâs anger was palpable through the phone. "He doesnât get to come back and act like he cares now. He fucked up. And I donât care if he finally understands or not. Itâs too little, too late." Her words hit you hard, but you knew she was right.
You felt a pang of guilt for not being able to protect yourself sooner, for not realizing how much damage had been done. Youâd let him back into your life each time, hoping things would be different, but they never were.
Reinerâs voice cut through the chaos of emotions. "Babe, relax. We know youâre mad, but yelling isnât going to fix it."
Jaynae let out a frustrated huff, but she seemed to take Reinerâs advice. "Fine. But Eren needs to hear this. He needs to know that this isnât just about him feeling bad. Itâs about the years of bullshit he put you through. The neglect. The selfishness."
You nodded, even though no one could see you. "Yeah. Itâs about time he realized it, but I donât know if I can just forgive him, even if he gets it now."
Kaylahâs voice was warm, understanding. "Donât force yourself to, Y/N. Youâve done enough for him. Itâs his turn to make things right, but you donât owe him forgiveness if youâre not ready for it."
Solene agreed, adding, "You have to do whatâs best for you and Lennox. Donât let him back in unless you truly feel heâs worth it."
You felt a small bit of relief in their words. You werenât alone in this. You didnât have to make this decision on your own. Your friends, your support system, were there, reminding you that you were allowed to be angry, to take time, and to protect yourself.
"Iâll call him back later," you said, finally. "But I donât know what to tell him. I canât just⊠go back to how things were. Not after everything."
Jaynaeâs voice softened. "Do what you need to do, girl. Weâve got your back, no matter what."
You smiled slightly, feeling the weight of the support from your friends. Maybe you didnât have to figure everything out tonight. Maybe you just needed time to breathe, to think, and to make sure that whatever decision you made, it would be the one that was right for you and Lennox.
For now, you just needed to focus on him, the only person who had been there for you through everything. And that was enough.
You sometime after the call to clean up the house, put away Lennox's toys and do a quick target run. your car was in the shop so you had to Uber there. Part of you with Lennox was here right now, he loved you guys' lil target runs. while picking up his lil snacks and stuff for yourself. You heard someone say, Mommy, you follow the voice to see Lennox running towards you and Eren not too far behind.
You stood there for a moment, the sight of Eren and Lennox in their matching sweat suits catching you off guard. The last thing you expected was to see Eren, out of the blue, walking toward you with a cart full of healthy snacks and juices for Lennox. You had come to Target for a quick run, and now you had to face himâlooking tired, a little off, but still... there, with your son.
Lennox was practically bouncing with excitement, running up to you with a wide grin on his face. "Mommy!" he called out, his voice full of joy as he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs.
You bent down to hug him back, smiling despite the tension that was bubbling inside you. "Hey, baby," you said softly, trying to hide the little knot of unease that had started forming in your stomach. You glanced up at Eren, who was standing not far behind, pushing a cart of what looked like the same things you had in yours. Healthy snacks, juices... the usual, but with a few extras. The toy car was definitely a surprise.
Lennox pulled back from you, eyes sparkling as he tugged at your sleeve. "Daddy took me to get snacks, Mom, and a new toy car! I want a big one! Can I get a big one?" he said, excitement practically radiating off of him.
You glanced at the toy aisle in the distance, then back at Eren, who simply shrugged as if to say, "What can I do?" You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, Where is he going to put that thing?
Eren gave you a tired smile, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you and then at Lennox, who was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation. "Letâs get a smaller one for now, okay?" he said gently to Lennox, who immediately pouted but nodded his agreement.
Lennoxâs little face scrunched up in disappointment, but he obeyed, knowing that once he got to pick something, it would be hard to say no to him.
Eren then looked over at you, his expression soft but tired. "Want me to take over for a bit? Just add the stuff in your cart to mine, and Iâll finish it up for you," he offered, his voice low but calm.
For a moment, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to refuse, wanting to maintain your independence, but then you saw the exhaustion in his face. You couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of sympathy for him, despite everything. He looked like he was trying, but... was he really?
You glanced at your cart, the small stack of things you had grabbed already, and then back at Lennox, who was happily distracted by a row of toy cars. Maybe it wouldnât hurt to let him help for once, especially when you had your hands full with so much already.
"Fine," you said, keeping your tone neutral, but there was something in the way you said it that made Eren pause for just a second. You added the items in your cart to his, keeping your gaze on Lennox as he fidgeted and glanced between the two of you. "Just donât go overboard with the snacks this time, okay?" You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
Eren nodded, pushing the cart a little closer to yours. "I wonât," he promised, though his voice held a hint of the same weariness that was obvious in his posture.
It felt oddâstanding here with him in Target, talking about mundane things like toys and snacks when just the other day you could barely stand being in the same room with him. Yet, you couldnât help but wonder if this was an attempt, some small sign that he was trying to make things right. But was it enough? Was he enough?
You couldnât let your guard down just yet, even if you wanted to.
You and eren walked through the aisles, picking up stuff for your son's and your respective houses. You paused for a moment as Eren casually placed another item in the cart without asking, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. The simple gesture brought a flood of mixed emotions that you quickly shoved down. You'd been trying to keep your distance from him, both physically and emotionally, but somehowâhere you were. Walking the aisles of Target with him, the man who had been a stranger in your life not so long ago, doing things for you without hesitation, like it was just another day in the world you used to share.
You gave him a sideways glance. "You donât have to do that. I can handle my own, you know?" you said softly, though you didnât move to take the item out of the cart.
He didnât look at you right away, but his voice was low and steady when he responded. "I know you can, babe...Y/N...but just⊠let me, okay?"
The way he said your name, soft but insistent, made something in your chest tighten. You didnât respond right away. Part of you wanted to insist on doing everything yourself, as you always had. But another part of youâsomething deep downâwanted to let him help. To let him in. To stop carrying the weight of everything all on your own.
Before you could process any more of that, you heard Lennox laughing and shouting as he ran ahead of you both, waving snacks in his tiny hands at strangers and telling them, "Hi!" like they were his best friends.
"Hey!" you called after him, but it was no use. He was already off, running toward the next group of people to share his little treats with. You couldnât help but smile, even though you were mentally trying to corral him from a distance.
Eren watched him for a moment before turning to you, his gaze more serious now, and you could feel the weight of what he was about to say. "Youâre doing a great job with him," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You know that, right?"
You paused, trying not to let the compliment make you feel anything more than what it wasâjust words. But it still hit you in a way you didnât expect. Youâd been doing everything for Lennox on your own for so long, putting in the work and making sure he was always taken care of, even when it felt like you were running on empty. To hear it from himâit was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
"Thanks," you said quietly, your eyes briefly meeting his. "Itâs not easy, but I try. Heâs worth it."
Eren didnât reply right away, but you saw the look in his eyesâa mix of regret, pride, and maybe even something else you couldnât place. The whole situation felt surreal. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to understand the weight of everything youâd been carrying.
But before you could get lost in your thoughts, Lennox came running back, face lit up with excitement as he tugged on your sleeve. "Mommy! Mommy! I want this one!" He showed you a toy car, the same one he'd pointed out earlier.
You smiled at your sonâs enthusiasm, even as you glanced at Eren, who was still standing beside you, silently watching the exchange. You could almost feel his presence like a quiet support, as if he was trying to be part of this moment with you. Trying to fix things, even if it was just in little ways.
"Alright, Lenny," you said, leaning down to his level. "Letâs grab it and then we can get going. Daddy and I still have some shopping to finish."
Erenâs voice cut through before you could get back up. "Let me take care of the toy. You grab the rest."
You met his eyes again, studying his face for any hint of insincerity, but there was nothing there. Just that tired, yet genuine look.
After a moment, you gave in, nodding. "Okay."
It wasnât about the toy. It wasnât about the groceries. It was about thisâthis moment where you were both trying to figure out what came next. Trying, in your ways, to make things work for Lennox. Maybe, just maybe, it was enough for now.
You were finally up at the register, you went to tell the cashier to pass you a divider to separate your items and Eren stopped you and paid and handled everything.
 Eren pushed the cart out with Lenny sitting it looking a lil sleepy.Â
Eren asked 'Where are you parked."
 "My car is in the shop."Â
Eren sighed. Lemme drop you home then "Eren it's fine I'll call an uber." Eren eyed you up and down and put all the items in the car while strapping Lennox in the car seat "Just get in yn...please"
You hesitated, your hand still hovering over your phone to call an Uber, but the look Eren gave you made you pause. His expression was somewhere between pleading and frustration, like he didnât want to leave you to handle everything on your own. You could feel the weight of the momentâhis insistence, the tension between you two that had never really gone away, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.
You looked down at Lennox, who was already half-asleep in the cart, his little head drooping as he fought to stay awake. You knew youâd have to carry him from the cart to the car anyway, so maybe it would be easier just to let Eren drop you off.
"Please, Y/N," Eren repeated, his voice quieter now. "Just get in. Iâm not trying to do anything. I just want to make sure you and Lenny get home safe."
His words caught you off guard, but there was sincerity in them. You could see it in the way he was carefully placing the bags in the trunk and strapping Lennox into the car seat, like he was trying to make up for everything that had happened.
You sighed, feeling a mix of exhaustion and confusion. The old part of youâthe part that used to rely on himâwanted to say yes, wanted to just accept his help. But there was still that wall between you, that part of you that had been hurt too many times to let go easily.
"I donât need you to do this, Eren," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I can handle it on my own."
Eren stood up, closing the trunk, and gave you a look that was almost... sad. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, this time more quietly. "I know you can. But that doesnât mean I canât help, Y/N. Let me do this."
You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was exhaustion and... maybe regret? You didn't know if it was enough to make you let go of your pride, but you could tell he wasnât going to push any further.
With a sigh, you gave in, finally nodding. "Fine."
Erenâs face softened, relief flashing across his features, but he didnât say anything more. He simply opened the passenger door for you and waited, stepping aside to let you in.
You climbed in, shutting the door behind you, and Eren quickly got in on the other side. As he started the car, the familiar hum of the engine filling the space between you, he didnât say anything for a while. He seemed focused on the road, both hands gripping the wheel, his jaw tight as though he was holding something back.
Lennox was still half-conscious in the backseat, his little voice murmuring softly as he tried to stay awake. The car was quiet except for the sound of the road and your son's occasional mumble, but the silence between you and Eren felt different this time. Less cold, maybe even a little softer.
You couldnât help but feel the weight of everythingâthe past, the present, the things left unsaid. But for now, you let it go, and for the first time in a long while, you just allowed yourself to be in this moment.
Eren's povÂ
She fell asleep in the passenger seat of my car. I took out my phone and took a picture of her then one of Lennox passed out in the back seat. I felt terrible.
While I was out there acting like yn didn't mean anything to me, putting fake friends above her. All she ever did was love me and try to learn to love me when I didn't love myself.Â
Erenâs heart tightened in his chest as he stared at the photos on his phone. He didnât care that it felt wrong to snap the pictures without her knowingâhe had to see it. He had to remind himself of what he lost, of the love that had once been so constant in his life and now felt like a distant memory. The photo of Y/N, peaceful in the passenger seat, her hair falling across her face as she slept, made the guilt burn in his stomach. She looked so... contentâsomething he hadn't given her in so long.
He stared at Lennox in the rearview mirror. His son, just like him, already fighting sleep, but the exhaustion won out. The sight of Lennox sleeping soundly made the pain cut even deeper. He wasnât just hurting Y/N; he was hurting their son. Their family.
This is what I lost.
The words echoed in his mind, over and over, until they burned into his skull. Heâd made a mess of everything. While he had been out there, pretending he didnât need her, letting people like Elijah cloud his judgment and get in his head, Y/N had been thereâalways there. Loving him in the way that only she could. And what did he do? He pushed her away, took her for granted, chose everything and everyone else over her, and watched her slowly break apart.
What did she even see in him? What kind of man was he, that he let something so real slip away?
He turned the wheel, taking the turn toward her house, his fingers gripping the wheel with a mixture of desperation and regret. He didnât know what else to do, or what to say. Words felt useless now. He had to show her, somehow, that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. If sheâd even let him.
But the thought of her moving on without him, of him being just another chapter in her past, gnawed at him. He hated it. The thought of her smiling, truly smiling, with someone elseâsomeone who could love her the way she deservedâwas unbearable.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he forced the thoughts away.
No. He wasnât going to let that happen.
He glanced over at Y/N, still asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady. She had always been so strongâtoo strong for her own good. He didnât deserve her, but he wasnât going to let her go without fighting for her. This time, he wasnât going to fuck it up. This time, he was going to show her that he saw her. That he valued her. That he loved her.
It was time to stop being the man who kept running away from his own feelings. It was time to be the man who could fight for the woman he loved.
The woman he still loved.
Your pov
He woke you up gently, letting me know he was here, his voice soft enough not to wake Lennox. You watched as he unstrapped Lenny from his car seat, carefully lifting him into his arms, his hands steady as he held our son close. He carried him inside with that effortless ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world, then went back out to bring in the bags.
You took Lenny to his room, and got him ready for bed, tucking him in and whispering a goodnight before slipping back out. When you returned to the living room, Eren was busy unpacking the bags, putting away all the things weâd picked out at Target, as if this was still his home too. The quiet between us was heavy, and you found myself glancing over, wondering what was going through his mind.
âAbout the stuff you were gonna take for Lenny,â you said, breaking the silence.
He shrugged, barely looking up. âIâm good for it. Just wanna make sure things are straight here first.â
you nodded, taking in his familiar expression, the hint of something behind those tired eyes. âThanks, Eren.â
He paused, his gaze finally meeting mine. âY/N⊠can we talk? Like, for real?â
His voice held a rawness you hadnât heard in a long time.
Part of you wanted to tell him to leave, to protect yourself from whatever promises or apologies he had for you now. But another partâthe part that still felt the sting of lost years and wasted dreamsâwas curious. Maybe, after all this time, he had something real to say.
"Alright," you finally said, folding your arms and leaning against the kitchen counter as he finished putting the last few items away.
He turned to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking more like a man on the verge of spilling his soul than the self-assured Eren you once knew. âI know I messed up,â he started, his eyes finding yours with a mix of remorse and determination. âI didnât just mess up... I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.â
You stayed quiet, letting him get it out, though the words struck a chord.
âI took you for granted, Y/N. I was so focused on everything elseâthe guys, the business, my own prideâhell, I donât even know what I was so focused on half the time. And the worst part? You were the one constant, the one person who showed up, who never quit, even when I didnât deserve it.â
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away like he was ashamed. âIâm not asking you to forgive me or take me back. I know it doesnât work like that. But... I need you to know that I see it now. I see what I did to you, and it eats me up inside.â
A lump formed in your throat as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. Youâd waited so long to hear something like this from him, but now that he was finally saying it, it was almost too much.
He continued, âIâm trying to be better. For Lennox... and for you. Even if we never go back to the way things were, I need you to know that. And if I can ever make things right, if thereâs ever anything you need, Iâll be there. I swear, Iâll be there.â
You took a shaky breath, glancing at the man in front of youâthe man who, for the first time in a long time, seemed honest. Vulnerable. And maybe even a little lost.
âErenâŠâ you started, choosing your words carefully. âI needed this... a long time ago. I donât know if I can ever forget the things we went through, and I donât know if itâll ever feel the same.â
He nodded, his expression a mixture of regret and understanding. âI know. I donât expect you to. I justâthank you for hearing me out.â
There was a silence between you, filled with all the words you couldnât say, all the apologies he could never fully express.
As Eren moved to leave, you felt something stir inside you, a mixture of anger and longing that you couldnât hold back any longer.
âEren, wait,â you said sharply, and he froze, hand on the doorknob. He turned back, eyes searching your face with a glimmer of hope. âStay,â you said, your voice softer this time. âI mean⊠for Lennox. Heâd probably want you here when he wakes up.â
He hesitated, clearly surprised, but you saw the flicker of relief flash across his face. Eren nodded slowly, stepping away from the door and back into the room.
You crossed your arms, not fully ready to let your guard down. âDonât think this changes anything,â you said, unable to stop yourself from letting the bitterness show. âThis⊠confession or apology or whatever this is. You donât get to just walk back in here like nothing happened.â
âI know that, Y/N,â he said, his voice low. âI know I donât deserve a second chance, especially not from you.â
You laughed, though there was no humor in it. âYou think an apology can undo years of you putting everyone else before me? Making me feel like a fool for sticking by you?â
His jaw clenched, eyes hardening. âYou think I donât know that? You think I donât hate myself for it? Iâm here because I want to make things right, not pretend that I didnât screw everything up.â
You stepped closer, the tension between you sparking like electricity. âBut you didnât care when it mattered, did you, Eren? When I was crying, begging you to put us firstâyou were out there, with your boys or with some leech of a friend. And now, after all this time, you want to feel bad?â
Erenâs face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. âYou donât think I know what I did?â he shot back, his voice rising. âYou donât think I see it every time I look at you and realize that I lost the only person who ever gave a damn about me? I know Iâm too lateâI just canât sit here and do nothing about it.â
You let out a shaky breath, the anger warring with an ache that had never fully left you. âYou say that now, but itâs easy to regret it all when youâve already lost. Itâs too late to go back, Eren. You canât just show up now and act like youâre some savior.â
He took a step forward, closing the space between you, his eyes intense, filled with something raw. âYou donât think I know Iâm too late? Iâm just trying, for once in my life, to do the right thing. Even if you hate me.â
Your chest tightened as he looked at you like that, with a fire in his gaze that was so familiar, so maddening. His presence filled the room, suffocating yet strangely comforting, a reminder of all the nights you spent hoping heâd say these words.
âI should hate you,â you whispered, almost to yourself. âI should hate you for all the ways you hurt me. And yetâŠâ
He held your gaze, his expression shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. âAnd yet⊠what?â
You shook your head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. âI donât even know anymore, Eren. Part of me wants to push you out and never see you again, and part of meâŠâ
You trailed off, feeling foolish, but Erenâs hand reached out, brushing against your arm. The touch sent a jolt through you, reigniting emotions youâd tried to bury. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a pang of the old connection that had once been your everything.
âIf thereâs any part of you that doesnât want me gone,â he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, âthen let me try. Even if itâs just for Lennox.â
You searched his face, torn between the anger, the hurt, and the memories. âFine,â you said finally, voice thick with emotion. âYou can stay tonight. But donât think this is some invitation to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. You have to earn every bit of my trust back, and right now, youâre starting from nothing.â
Eren nodded, a glimmer of relief crossing his face. âIâll take it,â he said softly, as if he knew the magnitude of what youâd just allowed.
You turned away, heading towards your room with one last look over your shoulder. âMake yourself comfortable,â you said, voice steadier than you felt. âIâll see you in the morning.â
It was 1 a.m., and sleep just wouldnât come. You slipped out of bed and made your way downstairs, hoping maybe a glass of water or the stillness of the night would bring some calm. When you reached the back porch, you spotted Eren outside, sitting alone, his silhouette softened by the dim glow of his cigarette. You watched for a moment, noticing his lips moving, unsure if he was on the phone or just talking to himself.
âMan, I donât know if I can handle this,â you heard him murmur, his voice barely cutting through the quiet night air. âI know I deserve this, but⊠I really love her.â
And then another voice came through the lineâa voice you recognized all too well: Elijah.
âFor what, her?â Elijah scoffed, his tone dripping with venom. âI been told you she ainât no good. Her and her whole fuck-ass family. You think itâs her thatâs got you where youâre at? Itâs all you, man. She divorced you, took half of what you worked for, and you didnât even want children in the first place.â
You stayed quiet, pulse quickening, curiosity and a hint of hurt holding you in place. You wanted to hear Erenâs responseâneeded to.
Eren sighed, his voice quieter, wearier. âWhy you hate her so much, man?â
ââCause she ainât shit, bro,â Elijah snapped, a hint of anger and arrogance. âSheâs useless, ainât ever taken care of you, ainât no good.â
A beat of silence stretched between them. Erenâs jaw clenched, his profile shadowed but strong. His reply cut through the tension.
âThis is why I was tryna keep my distance from you.â
Elijah cursed, his voice harsh and biting, words meant to tear at Erenâs resolve. But Eren didnât respond. His grip tightened on the phone before he muttered, âIâm good, man,â and hung up, letting the phone drop beside him. He leaned back, took another long drag from his cigarette, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his shoulders.
You stood there, unseen but unable to ignore the quiet intensity of the scene, a small crack of light on the depth of Erenâs struggle⊠and maybe something else.
You watched him quietly from the shadows, your heart pounding at what youâd just heard. Eren seemed worn down, his shoulders slumped as he took a long drag, staring out into the night. You didnât know whether to feel vindicated, hurt, or relievedâmaybe all of it at once. Youâd suspected for a long time that Elijah was one of the reasons behind Erenâs distance, but to hear it confirmed felt like reopening an old wound.
After a few moments, Eren seemed to notice your presence. He turned, his eyes widening slightly before settling into a tired look, one you recognized as the same mix of shame and frustration that always appeared when he was forced to confront the mess heâd created.
âCouldnât sleep?â he asked, trying for a casual tone, though he seemed to sense there was no use in pretending.
You shrugged, stepping closer and crossing your arms. âFunny, I could say the same about you. Heard enough to know I was right about him.â
Eren exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping as he stubbed out the cigarette. âYou donât need to worry about Eli. I⊠Iâm done with him.â He sounded as though he was convincing himself as much as you.
âEren,â you began, searching for the words. âYou kept him around for years, even when I told you what heâd been saying, even when you knew what he thought of me.â The words felt heavy as they left your lips, carrying the weight of all the nights youâd tried to explain why it hurt you that he valued Eliâs word so much.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. âI know. And I should have listened to you. Hell, I should have seen it myself. I was so wrapped up in trying to hang onto everything⊠my friends, my pride, my independence, that I didnât realize what I was letting go of until it was too late.â He paused, his voice softening. âAnd now, itâs you Iâm trying to hang onto.â
You crossed your arms tighter, steeling yourself. âWords donât mean much, Eren. Not anymore.â
He looked at you with a kind of desperation that made your resolve waver, just slightly. âI know they donât. But I need you to know that itâs not just words. Iâve been cutting off people who arenât any good for me. I want to be better for Lennox⊠and for you, if thereâs even a chance I could earn that.â
You shook your head, trying to keep your composure. âItâs going to take more than just getting rid of people, Eren. Youâve hurt me in ways I canât just forget.â
He looked down, guilt flashing across his face. âI know. And if that means we never get back together, then⊠then I have to live with that. But I donât want to hurt you anymore.â
Silence hung between you, heavy and charged, as you watched him, conflicted. His words sounded real, but the years of broken promises made it hard to trust anything he said. Still, the vulnerability in his eyes made it hard to turn away.
You finally nodded. âThen prove it. Not just to me, but to Lennox. Show me that this isnât just another empty promise.â
Eren stubbed out his cigarette, his gaze softening as he noticed you by the doorway. Without a word, he reached over, taking your hand and pulling you gently onto his lap. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the lingering scent of smoke as he held you close, his chest rising and falling beneath you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was scared to let go.
The weight of his words, his touchâit all felt like it was tugging you back into memories youâd tried to bury. His breath was warm against your neck as he murmured, âI remember you picking out the colours for every room, saying how you wanted a place Lennox could run around in, how you pictured us⊠growing old here. I couldnât see it then, but I can now.â
You shifted slightly, feeling a pang in your chest. âEren⊠weâre not the same people we were back then. You say you love me now, but where was that love when I needed it most?â
He pulled you closer, his voice thick. âI know I canât make up for all the ways I failed you, but Iâm asking for a chance to be better. To give you the love you deserved from the start.â
You wanted to keep your resolve, to remind him that you werenât someone he could just pull close when it suited him. But the way he held you, the sincerity in his voiceâit was everything youâd wanted to hear, but it also reminded you of every hurtful memory, every time youâd felt alone in a house that should have been filled with love.
âYou think itâs that simple?â you whispered, half-pleading, half-defiant, trying to keep from giving in completely.
âNo. Itâs not simple. Itâs going to take time, and I know you might never forgive me fully. But if thereâs even a small part of you that still wants me, that still remembers why we fell in love in the first place⊠then let me show you. Let me prove Iâm not that selfish guy who didnât appreciate you.â He looked into your eyes, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face. âPlease, let me stay⊠for you and Lennox.â
The weight of his words lingered, stirring up feelings you werenât ready to face. But with his arms around you, it felt, for just a moment, like maybe things could be different.
You sighed, a mixture of frustration and longing swirling inside you. Maybe it was a mistakeâone that would pull you back into the hurt and anger youâd worked so hard to get past. But as you looked into his eyes, so filled with regret and something that almost felt like hope, you couldnât bring yourself to push him away.
âOkay,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. You looked away, not wanting him to see the vulnerability youâd just let slip. âBut donât think this is a reset. Things canât just go back to how they were.â
Erenâs grip on you tightened, and you could feel the relief in his touch. âI know. I donât want things to be the way they were. I want them to be better. I want to⊠earn this. Whatever it takes, Iâll do it.â
You held his gaze, seeing a glimmer of the Eren youâd fallen forâthe one whoâd been lost to pride, mistakes, and years of neglect. It felt like standing on the edge of something you werenât sure would hold, but a part of you, buried beneath the hurt, was curious enough to see if it could.
âJust⊠donât make me regret this,â you murmured, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your ear, steady but strong.
Eren leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper. âI wonât. Not this time.â
As you sat together, the silence between you felt both familiar and new, like the beginning of something unsteady but hopeful.
Erenâs lips brushed against yours, gentle at first, testing boundaries, as if he wasnât sure if youâd pull away. The kiss was soft, slow, filled with an ache you hadnât felt in ages, like he was searching for something in you heâd lost a long time ago.
His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the hesitation in him, the desperation, and yet⊠you let yourself get lost in it, sinking into the warmth of him, the familiarity of his touch that still managed to feel brand new.
His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. It was like he was afraid to let go, like he knew this moment was fragile, and he didnât want to shatter it. You could feel his heart pounding against yours, each beat reminding you of what youâd once sharedâand the pain that had come with it.
You broke away, just slightly, catching your breath, looking up at him. His eyes were heavy with emotion, raw, and for a second, you saw the vulnerability heâd kept hidden for so long.
âEren,â you whispered, barely able to say his name, feeling the weight of everything it meant.
âIâm not gonna mess this up again,â he murmured, his voice rough but filled with certainty. He searched your face, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. âIâm here. Iâm not going anywhere this time.â
Eren kissed you again this time picking you up and carrying you to your bed, the one you shared with him. Eren looked around the room for a moment âYou didnât change anything in here much.
You laughed âNah, I liked the decor.â
Eren slowly pulled your pants down your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare skin with hungry eyes. He nudged your thighs further apart, settling between them like a man starved.
"Baby, please," he rasped, voice raw with desperation. "I need you back. Need to feel you again, all of you."
He lowered his head, tongue flicking out to taste your slick folds. Eren groaned at the first intimate brush of your essence on his tongue, the flavour igniting something primal deep within him. He lapped at your feverishly, delving deep with each broad stroke.
"Fuck, you taste divine," Eren gasped, mouth glistening with your arousal. "Missed this sweet cunt, missed hearing you scream on my tongue."
He sealed his lips around your clit, suckling the sensitive bud. His fingers joined in the assault, pumping in and out of your dripping channel in tandem with the thrusts of his tongue.
"Take me back, love," Eren pleaded, the words muffled against your skin. "Let me worship this pussy, fucking ruin you for anyone else."
He added a third finger, stretching your wide, feeling your walls begin to flutter around the intrusion. Eren knew you were close, could taste your impending release, and he doubled his efforts.
"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low growl. "Let go and fucking drench my face."
Eren sealed his mouth over yours again, tongue delving deep, fingers curling just right. He could feel the telltale tremble in your thighs, the sharp inhale
Fuck Daddy Ouu..Right there, you groaned.
Eren groaned against your heated flesh as you cried out for him, your thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could feel you getting closer and closer to the edge with each stroke of his tongue, each pump of his fingers.
"That's it, baby," he rasped, words muffled against your soaked folds. "Let go, cum all over Daddy's face."
your hands flew to Eren's hair, fisting the brown strands as he relentlessly worked you with his mouth and fingers. your body began to quake, back arching off the bed as your release crashed over you in waves.
"F-Fuck, Eren!" you wailed, hips bucking wildly against him. Eren held you down, keeping his mouth firmly in place to catch every drop of your essence. He lapped up your release greedily, the taste and sound of her pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock.
As your tremors began to subside, Eren pulled back, licking his lips in satisfaction. He crawled up your body, hovering over you with a predatory glint in his eyes.
"Mm, delicious as always," he purred, grinding his still-clothed erection against your sensitive clit. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby girl. Still need to feel this tight little cunt wrapped around my cock."
Without warning, Eren sat back on his heels and yanked his pants down, freeing his straining dick. In a quick movement, he flipped you onto her stomach and lifted your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Eren groaned, catching a glimpse of her swollen glistening clit as he positioned himself behind her.Â
The sight of your delicate, wet folds, still flushed and slick from your recent orgasm, made his mouth water. He had to taste her again, had to feel her come undone on his tongue again. Â
"Shh, relax baby," Eren cooed, his breath ghosting over your heated skin. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."Â With that, he dipped his head, extending his tongue to lap at your tender bud. Your sharp inhale was music to his ears as he started to work you over with long, broad strokes.Â
He alternated between fast flicks and slow, deliberate licks, teasing you mercilessly. "That's it, let me hear those pretty little moans," Eren encouraged, one hand reaching up to pinch and roll a pert nipple. "Gonna suck this clit, make you ride my face until you're seeing stars." He sealed his lips around the sensitive nub, suckling gently before grazing it with his teeth.Â
At the same time, he slipped two fingers into your dripping channel, pumping them in time with the thrusts of his tongue.Â
 Your hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as Eren relentlessly stimulated yourr most intimate places. Your thighs began to tremble, a telltale sign of your impending climax. "Cum for me, baby," Eren demanded, voice low and authoritative. "Coat my tongue with your cum. Let me drink you down like a good boy."
Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through her, her inner walls clamping down around Erenâs fingers as she came undone on his tongue. He lapped up her release greedily, swallowing every drop of her essence with a low groan of appreciation.
As her tremors began to subside, Eren slowly withdrew his fingers from her needy cunt. He crept up her body, pushing your braids to one side to press open-mouthed kisses along the column of your sweat-slicked neck.
"Thank you, baby," he rasped against her skin, voice rough with emotion. "For giving me another chance to show you how much I need you, how much I fucking love you."
Eren felt his thick cock poised at her entrance, the blunt head nudging insistently against her swollen folds. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, Eren sheathed himself fully inside her, stretching her deliciously.
"Shit, you feel incredible," he groaned, hips rolling into yours. "Love being buried in this perfect pussy."
You whimpered, trying to rock your hips back to meet his slow, deliberate thrusts. But Eren held you firmly in place, using his weight to pin you down.
"Ah ah," he tutted, delivering a sharp smack to her ass. "Patience, baby. Gonna take my time with you, make this last."
You keened, the edge of frustration, "Please, Eren," she begged, "I need it harder, faster. Fuck me like you mean it!"
"No, not yet," Eren refused, voice a low growl. "Gonna make love to you first. Gonna make this last, take my time worshipping this gorgeous body."
He dipped his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers of frustration. One hand slid up to cup your breast, fingers toying with a pebbled nipple.
"Relax, love," Eren murmured against her mouth. "Let me make you feel good. Wanna savour every inch of you."
He pulled back slightly, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, skin glistening with sweat and hair mussed. The visual alone nearly undid him. Slowly, torturously, Eren rocked into your welcoming heat, each leisurely thrust burying himself to the hilt. He groaned low in his throat at the exquisite drag of your inner walls along his sensitive length.
"Fuck, baby," he rasped, dropping his forehead to hers. "You feel so damn good. Could stay buried in this sweet cunt forever."
Eren's hands roamed your body as he continued his steady, unhurried pace - mapping the dips and curves of your waist, gripping your hips to pull her flush against him. His thrusts remained deep and measured, stoking the embers of pleasure in your core.
"Gonna make you beg for it," Eren promised darkly, a smug smile curving his lips. "Wanna hear you plead for Daddy's cock, for me to fill this needy little pussy up."
Eren's voice was a low, demanding rumble in your ear. "That's it, baby. Beg for me like you had me begging for you to take me back. Let me hear how much you need this cock, how much you need me."
He pulled her hips flush against him, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each deep, deliberate thrust. The friction was maddening, stoking the fire in her veins.
You couldn't hold back, not with the way Eren was touching her, not with the way he was filling you so perfectly. "Please, Eren," you whimpered, your voice cracking with need. "I need you. I need your cock, need you to fuck me harder. Please, Daddy, I'm begging you. Take me, use me, make me yours. Fuck me like you'll never let me go."
All you cared about was the feeling of him buried deep inside you, the promise of release hovering just out of reach.
Eren groaned, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. "Fuck, baby, listen to you. So desperate for Daddy's cock. Such a good girl, coming undone on my dick."
He shifted the angle of his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every drive of his hips. Your moans grew louder, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him desperately.
"That's it, cum for me," Eren rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Cum all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking desperate for it," Eren growled, his voice a guttural rasp. "Need Daddy's cock splitting you open, don't you? Need me to fill you up until you're fucking drowning in it."
He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that sweet spot inside her that had you seeing stars. Your inner walls clenched around him, fluttering and grasping as if trying to pull him even deeper.
"Gonna make you cum so hard," Eren promised darkly, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each stroke. "Gonna flood this pussy, mark you from the inside out. Let everyone know who you belong to."
He leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers and moans. you clung to him, nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake.
"Do it," you gasped out, your voice raw and desperate. "Fill me up, make me yours. Fucking breed me, Eren."
The words seemed to snap something inside him, and Eren reared back, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the bed creaking in protest beneath them.
"Fuck, baby, gonna - shit, I'm gonna - " Eren's words cut off with a strangled groan as his climax hit him like a freight train. His cock jerked as his release overtook him. Thick, hot spurts of his seed filled your spasming cunt, marking you from the inside out. Your orgasm followed shortly after, your inner walls milking him for every last drop.
"Fuck, baby," Eren panted, his hips still twitching with aftershocks. "You're so fucking perfect, taking everything I give you."
He collapsed on top of you, blanketing your smaller form with his larger one. For a moment, they simply lay there, catching their breath as the afterglow washed over them.
Slowly, Eren pulled out, his softening cock slipping free from your well-used cunt. He immediately felt the loss, the emptiness that came with not being connected to you.
With gentle hands, he rolled you onto your back, gathering you close. Eren nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the sweat-slicked skin.
"I love you," he murmured, the words a raw confession. "Love you so fucking much, baby. Gonna spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you'll let me."
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his green eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was love, trust, and a tentative hope.
#eren yeager x black reader#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger#eren x reader#eren yeager x black reader smut#eren yeager#eren smut#aot x reader#aot x black y/n#aot smut#ex husband eren#plug connie#connie x black reader#connie x black y/n#connie attack on titan#connie springer#connie aot#onyankopon x reader#aot onyankopon
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He wants to snark back like itâs a preconditioned response, barely even aware heâs doing it. But he doesnât actually have anything snappy to say back to that, and when he realizes it, he snorts instead. Itâs nice being around Shiro again. It shouldnât be, he should still be pissed, and heâs just tired instead.
Ichigo glances over, kind of surprised Shiro asked. That suggestion sounds incriminating though. He shrugs. âHavenât thought about it. I figured Iâd keep living a while and wait for it to come to me.â Plus, it wonât matter if he doesnât make it to being old. Ichigo rolls his eyes again. âThatâs not all you are, dumbass. Itâs all you want people to think you are.â Some of that is probably about survival. Which is fine. Ichigo doesnât think less of him for it. He also thinks itâs something Shiro tells himself, because if he acts like this is the only life he deserves, he wonât be disappointed when itâs all he ends up with. Except he is disappointed. He says it all the time in little ways that would be blatant if anyone bothered paying attention. And maybe its not so much that being a back alley drug dealer is all Shiro wants people to think he is, as much as itâs all he thinks people will let him be. That thought doesnât sit well with Ichigo. âIf thatâs all people see when they look at you, they donât have you figured out at all. Which is what I meant. Maybe thatâs what Iâll write a book about.â
Ichigo blows out a breath âDoesnât everyone?â he mutters. Because heâs really not immune to a hot guy saying yes even if he acts like it.Â
He presses his lips then pushes out a breath and looks away, and refuses to answer directly. âWhat I want and what I should want arenât the same thing anymore.â Heâs not so selfish that heâd put his wants over everyone elseâs best interests. He realizes that now. He messed up with Shiro, he wanted to be with him and so he threw everything else out the window. And everyone is paying for that now. He nods. It sounds like a good plan to him. It also sounds like Ichigo himself would have a hard time getting in unexpectedly and maybe thatâs best.
He blows out a breath thatâs so harsh itâs almost a growl. âIâm not worried about it. Why would I be worried about it or him? Iâm worried about you and whoâs going to be around to watch you when Iâm not.â Because Shiro needs to be watched. Heâs so subtly self destructive. Ichigo thinks that was a lot of words just to say Shiro's boyfriend wouldnât have dated him if he had a problem with drug usage. âWeird or smart?âÂ
Ichigo finishes looking around and huffs. âWhat, carrying bodies around in a sports car wasnât working for you?â As if he can talk. Heâs definitely had a body or three in his trunk. The difference is his car is made for that kind of thing.
"Oh, you were bein' a smartass?" There's a heavy dose of sarcasm in his tone while he rolls his eyes. But it's good to hear that Ichigo is still thinking of his sisters in this. Ever the protector. Has to make sure his sisters are alright, had to interrupt his own life to make sure Shiro gets through this treat.
He smirks slightly about that. "What would it be about? What it's like runnin' around the streets doin' everyone else's dirty work?" He scoffs, but it's good natured. "Whatever, I'm not that hard to figure out. How to understand a back alley drug dealer for dummies." He laughs, amusing himself.
Aiming a look at Ichigo, he arches a brow and disagrees. "I always need a bunch a' guys saying yes to me. Preferably hot ones." Not that he's sleeping with his staff. He tried that exactly twice. The first time was disastrously annoying and it was not a fluke.
It is a fair question, and he wants to argue that, but Ichigo keeps going to answer the question anyway. "I wasn't asking what you think, I was asking exactly what I asked." But he got Ichigo's option anyway and it doesn't surprise him. He notes that Ichigo didn't actually say yes or no to wanting him there, though. He's talking around the answer the same way Shiro did about the shirt. "I already plan on laying low for a while. As much as I can, at least. I think I'll stay in the penthouse for a while. It's a lot safer than the mansion but it'll seem less like hiding." And he can higher some muscle to keep around easy enough, like Ichigo's suggesting, he's stubborn about it. He has always been his own muscle. He's never needed security or guards, but this is getting bigger than he can handle on his own. It's getting bigger than he thinks he warrants, but he has made himself notoriously hard to get rid of.
He doesn't know how to feel about Ichigo trying to keep him and his maybe-boyfriend situation intact. It's good of him, it's the morally right thing to do. The only real problem with it Shiro has is that it's just further proof that he and Ichigo have no chance of being together again. "I'll figure things out with him, you don't need to worry about it." Or he wont. Maybe he'll sabotage his own building relationship and blame it on all the chaos of attempted assassination. His features even out. "All my habits?" This better not turn into a lecture. "He thinks I indulge a little too much sometimes, but otherwise he tolerates it. I doubt he expected anything less from a dealer. Most people don't know I was ever clean, only you. It was always weird for me not to use the product I was sellin'."
He slides into the driver seat and starts the car, then looks over at Ichigo and snorts. "You mean boring?" He shrugs. "I needed something with more cargo space that didn't stand out so much. It's easier to clean, too. Less work for my cleaner."
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Storm - Mouthwashing
A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator đ«¶đœ
VersĂŁo em portuguĂȘs no wattpad: Livros de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)
âąPre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader
synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night
Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.
Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.
It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.
Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.
Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.
Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.
You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.
Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-
"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.
Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.
"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."
He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."
"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"
Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.
Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.
Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.
"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.
"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"
Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.
"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.
"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.
You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.
It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.
Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.
You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...
He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.
Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.
You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.
"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.
You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"
"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."
"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.
"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.
You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.
You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.
So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.
The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.
Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-
"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand
"It's not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.
A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.đ«¶đœđ
#mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#swansea mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#tw jimmy#jambalaya#captain curly#anya#daisuke#swansea#we all hate jimmy#captain curly x reader#curly x reader#mouthwashing x reader
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Hey Justin! Quick question (okay maybe not so quick after I write this),
What are you and the other guysâs (Adam and Brian) thoughts and plans after you release II S2 E18? Are you planning to do anything with the characters after it?
What are your thoughts on (I donât want to say ending oh my goodness) finishing? this season. Is there going to be anything else or are you just done for good. (NOT IN A MEAN WAY IM SORRY)
Iâm just curious since Iâve been hyperfixating on II for a while now, and Iâve been working up courage to just ask my idol a quick thing but AAAGGGHHH WHO KNEW HOW SCARY IT IS.
Anyways, I hope youâre having a great day or night, and hope you arenât overwhelmed or overworking yourself.
AAAGAGGHHHH BYEEE STAY SAFE HUBFRBFHURBFHURDR
- đ Queer ahh anon (OKAY IM SORRYHUCNFUHFR)
Hihi! Thank you for the sweet words.
Unfortunately I can't give a clear answer right now, because it's so up-in-the-air. We've thrown around ideas for II and non-II things. It really comes down to what inspires us most after this season has wrapped. If there's a big II story still to tell, we'll tell it. If something else calls to us, then we'll turn in that direction.
I don't have a lot of time to search it out, but I'm sure there must be at least one or two asks on this subject from a long time ago in which I responded with like "it would definitely be a very different world after this season" and I'm sure you can see why already haha.
I would be sad if I had to say bye to II forever after this, though. Whether or not there's anything more, season two's finale is written so that it could be an ending. So we'll seeeee.
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INTERVIEW 030. KICK-ASS murdrtober 2024 remnants. sex machines
Really, you and Kick-Ass should have a handler. Maybe that would keep the two of you from getting into irresponsible, and frankly, odd, situations. Such as this one. 1k+ words MDNI 18+
God, this is so irresponsible. The two of you are irresponsible.Â
You originally offered to team up with Kick Ass to watch each otherâs backs and hold each other accountable. A team, albeit a small one, nothing comparable to Justice Forever.
No other superhero is as active as the two of you, and being alone was never a good look, especially for you. So you needed someone with you, someone strong and recognizable. Someone who sent a message to anyone who even had the idea to threaten you.Â
Who better than Kick Ass? Plus, you thought he was reliable. Save for the brief stretch where everyone assumed he abandoned his patrols, Kick Ass had been a steady figure in the community, always there to help whoever needed it. In the idea you conjured up of him, he would be that sort of figure in private, too. Someone who would keep you from dicking around as soon as there was a lull on the streets.Â
Someone who would keep your head straight on your shoulders.Â
Unfortunately, Kick Ass seemed to be as much of a dumbass as youâpossibly even more.Â
âI mean ⊠when else are you gonna have the opportunity to use something like this.â
And Kick Ass does have a point. The two of you already got what you came here forâa tiny harddrive tucked in your top that you know to have intel about the latest crime boss to terrorize your neighborhood. The penthouse is empty otherwise, and the owner shouldnât be back for a while, considering she's serving time and all.Â
You and Kick Ass have the place all to yourselves, but that shouldnât matter. You should be leaving the way you came out, but as Kick Ass claims: whereâs the fun in that?
âWhatâs it feel like?âÂ
You swallow a moan before attempting to respond, and even when you do, you speak methodically, trying to ward off the way your voice threatens to wobble.Â
âIt feels like Iâm being fucked by a machine.â
Kick Ass scoffs. You watch him put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his back flexing. Has his suit shrunk in the wash, or is he just getting buffer by the day? Knowing Kick Ass, it could truly be either. His head turns to the side as if heâs about to turn around, but he stops at the last minute, likely remembering that the one thing you had asked of him was to not look.Â
âWell thatâs not very descriptive.â
âOh, Iâm sorry, did you want me toââ Whatever snarky comeback you were going to throw at him embarrassingly dies before it can be completely born. You canât help but let out this moan, and to make matters worse, itâs loud.Â
Louder than the mechanical whirring of the machine working. Louder than the squelch of your cunt sucking up the silicone dildo attached at the end of the mechanism.Â
You think you see Kick Ass physically shudder, but you canât tell when youâre struggling to keep your eyes open.Â
âIs it âŠâ Kick Ass hesitates. He clears his throat and tries again. âIs it better than ⊠you know ⊠a guy?âÂ
You donât say anything for a minute, too busy trying to balance focusing on the pleasure and attempting to figure out where to go from here. Eventually, you simply say, âKick Ass?â
When he says, âYeah,â his voice cracks, but neither of you acknowledge it.Â
âYou can turn around.â
You expected him to question your change of heart. Maybe ask if you were sure. But he doesnât. He just turns around, the heavy thud of his Timberlands knocking against the hardwood floors one after the other.Â
You watch his light eyes settle on your face at first, and then slowly crawl down until heâs watching the faux-cock slip in and out of you. His lips part, a voiceless word slipping past them and out into the air.Â
You donât have to tell him to come closer, he does that completely on his own. He kneels beside you, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between your spread legs and your eyes with a slight squint that leads you to believe he might need glasses.
Whatever barrier that existed between the two of you before has been completely broken down. Youâll never come back from this, so you might as well feed into it.Â
When you tell him to kiss you, he doesnât hesitate. His gloved hands hold your face in place as he practically assaults his mouth with his. Itâs sloppy, uncoordinated, and so hot. Youâre feeding him moans and he quickly swallows them. Youâre sliding your tongue and tongue, mimicking the action of licking ice cream. At one point, you suck Kick Assâ tongue into your mouth, and he whimpers like a girl. You think he might wet like one, too.Â
Only one way to find out.Â
When you pull away, unattractively heaving in breaths of air, you ask him, âDo you wanna fuck me instead? Help me see which is better?â
The pressure is definitely on for him, but heâs so eager with the way he slips his suit and Timberlandâs off that you donât think this could go wrong. And youâre so, so right.Â
Kick Assâ eagerness is as useful as it is attractive. You expected his thrusts to be strong and jack hammering, and for a second it is, until you tell him to slow down and then he has passion behind it. Grinding his cock into you, sending all of his length deeper and deeper and gliding his girth along the ridges of your walls. Itâs so much better than the unforgiving pace of the machine, and you make sure he knows, too.Â
Scratching his back, threading your fingers into the curls youâd never seen before today, wrapping your ankles around his back and pulling him as deep as you can get him. You donât know what you expected, but he certainly exceeds your expectations.Â
He does wet like a girl, too.
And heâs loud. So vocal as he sings praises about how good your cunt feels (your pussy, as he calls it), how thankful he is that youâre letting him do this, how heâs thought of this ever since the two of you teamed up for the first time.
âI know, Kick-Ass,â you tell him, minutely nodding as you dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you. âI know. Me too.â
âDave,â he corrects.
You tell him your name, and then not even a second later youâre moaning his name. He slumps forward, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. His hand comes to the top of your head, holding you to him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
âYou close?â
You nod, your nose brushing against his shoulder as your breathing increases. âIâm so close, Dave.â
âYeah? You gonna come?â Dave asks, and you can hear the smile when he says it.
You hit him, because you just said that, but all of the strength in your body is focused on getting you there so itâs nothing more than a weak punch that actually makes him laugh.
âProve it to me,â he taunts, the competitive side to him that you're so used to coming out. âCâmon. Show me.â
#kick ass x reader#kick ass smut#dave lizewski x reader#dave lizewski x you#icarus writes misc#murdrtober 2024#kinktober
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Well I just finished improvising chapter one of Mecha AU :D
I recommend you read it on BlueSky because the formatting and redacting there is better but you also can read it all here under the cut
Summary:
Jazz huddles in the cockpit, turns on the comm channel, and habitually ignores the static
âThis is 1061. I don't know if you guys can hear me, but I have news. I've found other mechs in space! But..â
He taps nervously on the console panel
âI am not sure they're piloted by humans.â
---------
Jazz isn't sure at what exact moment his life turned into anime completely. It was probably when a huge monster appeared in the sky above his home? Yeah...it must have been then.
The big green thing blew up almost half the city before it was destroyed with so much explosives that the government probably had to empty their pockets to scrape together that much.
In the future, of course, they had to repeat the feat.
And then again.
And again.
Either the government of these monsters had a lot of extra money, or the monsters were free volunteers.
Jazz tried to watch from a distance. Ideally from a place where it would be hard to yank him out. Even with a stick. Even for a massive space monster.
%%%%
If you think about it. This wasn't anime yet. It was more in apocalypse film territory.
The anime started when a smiling man in a surprisingly expensive suit came to Jazz and offered to take a few tests to see if Jazz was suitable for some sort of special earth protection program of his. The pay was suspiciously good, and the list of medical forms was suspiciously long. But last week, a huge shark-like thing had trampled Jazz's last workplace and well...there wasn't much else for him to go to.
The man smiled and looked like a toothpaste advertisement as he shook his hand.
Yeah, the anime definitely started with that.
-----
It's actually amazing how a shitty thing like alien monsters and giant robots can become habitual. Maybe even beloved. Not monsters, of course. No.
But robots? Definitely.
Jazz is one hell of a pilot. One of the best, as his superiors like to say. They don't really have a way to test who's the greatest pilot in the world because the life span of the average pilot isn't usually very long. Jazz doesn't mind. He knows he's good, but he doesn't want to think about how good. Other pilots like to compete for the top of the charts. Numbers, kills, promotions and everything else that goes with it.
Jazz is mostly just vibing.
His early tests don't show very high or impressive potential for compatibility with combat mech technology, but once he's out of the simulator and into the real thing....
Jazz can't explain it. He just feels it. He just stops seeing the dashboard in front of him, stops thinking about how comfortable the pilot's seat is or how to hold the controls.
Jazz gets in the cockpit and stops being human.
Jazz gets in the cockpit and turns into metal and machinery. Rockets and joints. Hydraulics and thousands of sensors.
His hands become huge, able to crush a car. His legs gain new articulations. His body moves in ways completely impossible for a human and it feels so familiar, as if he's always been like this.
It feels like him. Like home.
Jazz isn't interested in promotions because important people aren't allowed to operate mechs. Not allowed to be mechs.
Jazz wants to be a mech.
He's just not ready to trade that feeling for anything else.
ââââ
War gets crazier as time goes on.
Every time Jazz thinks it's going to end now, someone steps on Chekhov's gun in the ceiling.
The aliens aren't going to die out or leave.
Humans refuse to go extinct.
It's a tug-of-war that inevitably leads both sides to think that if they can't win with the âpull harderâ method, they should try something new. Something creative.
Thatâs how Jazz finds himself in the middle of developing a mech capable of travelling through space.
Because whoever is making the decisions up there has decided it's time to get more aggressive and start fighting on more than just their own territory.
The aliens have so far been too comfortable taking advantage of the fact that space is inaccessible to humans. They've always had places to retreat to. Places to hide to lick their wounds. Jazz thinks it makes sense. Sort of. If there's anything left in this world that respects logic.
The development department takes some time and an absolutely obscene amount of money to figure out how to launch a giant robot into space without the human inside it turning to paste.
They show an incredible ability to organize space and play a game of tetris where instead of blocks there are vital systems like air storage and provisions falling from the ceiling.
Jazz, as someone who has been forced to participate in hundreds of their tests and observe their tenacity, is genuinely proud of them.
His pride even overcomes the fact that they have been close to turning him into a paste more times than he is comfortable counting.
They stick him in hundreds of variations of different armor and plating and make him perform the same boring motions a million times to âmake sure there's no risk of depressurizationâ.
Sometimes he's shoved to the bottom of a swimming pool and asked to perform mission simulations without coming out of the water. This is the only part of development that Jazz actually genuinely loves. Swimming is fun when you're metal and don't have to breathe.
%%%%%%%
At the end of the tests, Jazz is left with a hundred or so system upgrades, increased weight by almost half, nice new armor, and added height. His legs now have another joint in them. Some of the pilots complain that it hurts them to even look at Jazz's freakishly bendy legs, but their opinion fades under the weight of delight.
Jazz loves the new joints. New joints mean he can navigate even wackier surfaces now.
For the first official space mission, the superiors choose him without much hesitation.
Space is unfamiliar territory. And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully recreate its conditions without being there. This means that no amount of training and simulations can fully prepare pilots for what will be waiting for them there. They're going to have to adjust. Improvise. Find ways and solutions on the spot.
Jazz is good at that. Exceptionally and impressively good. He also has enough thirst for adventures in him to go along with the idea.
But most importantly, he's undeniably the best when it comes to controlling a battle mech. His ability to â I donât know Iâm just vibing you knowâ is envy-inducing and wary at the same time. Mechs are huge and heavy, and in the hands of someone who doesn't fully know what to do, they're pretty damn clumsy.
Jazz is one of the few who can control a battle mech as naturally as his own human body.
In theory that means if he's thrown into a zero-gravity environment, he can handle it just fine. No worse than if he could do it without the mech. Or at least not fail dramatically enough to embarrass the entire engineering department.
Jazz promises to do his best, shakes all the hands necessary for pretty pictures, and uploads a file with simple instructions.
This mission shouldn't be anything too bizarre except for its location. He is warned that a lot can go wrong, but then immediately assured that a whole crowd of experts will be waiting and watching and will respond at his first call.
Jazz politely thanks them and does a few simple movements to make sure all the joints in his legs are working properly.
His boss smiles like he's advertizing toothpaste and promises him a nice big raise if he'll continue to work on space missions.
Jazz somehow manages to forget that this is where anime usually begins.
________________
Things are going very wrong very fast. Most unfairly, for a completely unexplainable reason.
Jazz is quite successful at getting around in space. The lack of gravity is incredibly uncomfortable at first, but he adapts. It takes time to understand the movement, but nothing beyond the plan.
At one point he even has fun. He spots a satellite orbiting the Earth and waves cheerfully at it, hoping it is recording.
He confidently completes the exploration and is about to turn back when something huge and possessing an uncomfortable number of limbs materializes in front of him literally out of nowhere.
He is surprised and a little disgusted, but the monster's appearance wasn't entirely unforeseen. His instructions are simple. Anything larger than an elephant and not a human being must become dead.
A fight with a strange space thing is no problem. The problem is that the thing is losing very quickly and is clearly panicking about it. Jazz is just about to rip another leg off of it when an unidentifiable bright green light flashes around them and suddenly the whole world starts to feel bloody wrong. Space feels like it's stretching and shrinking at the same time. Jazz can't tell if he's feeling the pressure or if he's being torn apart.
He's screaming. Not from pain, but from surprise.
And finds himself standing in the middle of a crowd of similar monsters.
The one he was just about to kill makes some gurgling, panicked noises. The other monsters freeze, either surprised or frightened, it's impossible to tell.
Jazz manages to notice that he's inside some kind of room. His brain finds no suitable alternative for a quick description. He has never been in such strange places before
He doesn't even have time to take a step when there's a muffled click from behind and he's blinded by the green light again.
He doesn't know what to expect when he opens his eyes.
The first time, the strange green light dragged him through every possible sensation in just a couple of seconds, and that was enough to scare the hell out of him.
The second time, it feels like it lasts forever. He tries to look at his watch, but his eyes refuse to work properly. Which ones of his eyes? He doesn't know. One overlaps with the other. He feels terribly tiny but at the same time it's like his body is everywhere at once. Somewhere in the far corner of his brain, flickers the thought that mixing experimental technology with obscure alien magic is a spectacularly bad idea. The amount of things that could go wrong wouldn't fit in any insurance policy, even if they were writing small text under a microscope. Who âtheyâ are, he's not imagining. His boss and his advertising teeth probably.
Jazz clenches his fists, closes his eyes, and tries his hardest to at least just not pass out. The Engineering Department will owe him so much pool time for all of this.
That's assuming he survives long enough to see the engineering department again.
He tries to focus on the simple things.
Everything around him feels like âWRONGâ.
He can't breathe.
Maybe the urge to stay awake has been overrated.
He's falling.
*********
When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is cold hands on his head.
Someone is gently turning it, probably to examine him.
There are voices above him. He doesn't recognize them and can't distinguish what they're saying.
The palms of the hands are hard. They feel like they're made of metal.
He hears more voices.
For a scary second he worries his brain is broken, but the more he listens the more he realizes it's just another language.
A completely...unfamiliar language. Unlike anything he's ever heard before.
Hands move away and he chooses that moment to open his eyes.
Long time ago, he used to go to all sorts of movie and art fan festivals. There were always a lot of cosplayers trying to outdo each other in the art of character creation.
The picture that meets him is actually a surprisingly strong reminder of those times.
The people crowded around him are extremely colorful. Also quite small compared to his metallic body.
The strange thin lilac creature is saying something. It sounds questioning.
The other lilac creature shakes its head negatively and judging by its intonation redirects the question to someone else.
Jazz tries to figure out if the green light could have made him see things. Because it's unlikely the afterlife looks like this.
Someone very furry peeks out from behind the backs of the lilac creatures and authoritatively pulls out a thing that looks like a regular tablet. They poke at it for a couple seconds and then show everyone in the crowd a picture of some kind of robot simultaneously pointing at Jazz.
The crowd disagrees.
One of them says something poking Jazz with his hand. He wonders idly if it's the same hand. No, it's the wrong size.
The picture changes to a different one.
The effect is the same.
Another round of poking and prodding later, Jazz's fried brain gets it.
They're trying to figure out what he is.
Little colorful things. Probably never seen a robot like this before?
He doesn't have time to process the thought properly when the floor he's lying on starts to shake violently.
The creatures shriek in frustration and Jazz, who until then had been sure he was in some kind of building, suddenly realizes that. Oh, shit. No. The surface is moving.
Is he being taken somewhere???
Jazz looks around in confusion, trying to figure out who it belongs to.
He makes an attempt to jump to his feet and all the creatures crowding around him all start screaming at the same time. He doesn't understand it, but it sounds hysterical, angry and so damn unpleasant to his poor head. Someone shrieks and from somewhere to his left there are sharp clicks and the floor shakes and Jazz wants to go back to the bottom of the pool where it's dark and quiet and
Someone picks him up under his elbows from behind. Not exerting much pressure or holding him down. Just offering support.
A new voice comes from the back of the room. Louder and much lower than all the previous ones and, notably...not from the floor.
And meets the gaze of another giant robot.
__________________________
Side note: to those of you who went to hang out with me while I was writing. Thank you hejdhfngn I appreciate the companyâ€ïž
Oh by the way Iâm in the process of writing the Mecha pilot au right now you can read if you want :D
#jazz#prowl#jazzprowl#transformers#maccadam#Mecha pilot Jazz au#manâŠI need a decent name for this au
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Treat You Better â” Matt Sturniolo
summary: matt could treat you better than your current boyfriend. he's sure of it.
Itâs raining, of course.
Matt pulls his hood tighter around his face, eyes cast down as he trudges through the wet pavement on his way to class. The rain isnât that heavy, just a slow drizzle, but it feels heavier with every step, like the sky is mocking him. The world around him feels gray, blending into the dull ache heâs been carrying for weeks now, ever since you started dating him.
Matt clenches his fists in his pockets, trying to shake the thought away, but it clings to him, relentless. It always does.
He imagines you now, sitting in his car, laughing at some joke as the two of you drive to class together. He picks you up every morning, without fail. The perfect boyfriend.
And Matt? Well, Matt walks alone.
He can picture it so clearly: the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like you donât have a care in the world. He can almost hear your voice, light and carefree, filling the silence of the car, a sound that heâs only ever heard from a distance.
Because youâre not his.
In his head, though, you are. In his daydreams, in the moments when he allows himself to think about youâand God, does he think about you all the timeâyouâre his. Youâre sitting next to him, your hand in his, your head resting on his shoulder as you talk about everything and nothing. Youâre his, not some guy who doesnât even seem to appreciate what he has.
Matt kicks a loose rock down the road, watching it skid along the pavement before it disappears into the gutter.
He hates that guy. Not just because heâs your boyfriend, though thatâs a big part of it. But because Matt knowsâhe knowsâthat he could treat you better. He knows that when youâre feeling down, heâd be there for you in a heartbeat. He wouldnât let you hide your pain behind that brave smile you wear so well. He wouldnât just brush it off like itâs nothing, the way your boyfriend seems to do.
Would he hold you when youâre feeling low?
Matt shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts that are starting to spiral. Itâs not his place. It never was.
He stops at a red light, watching the cars pass by, and his heart sinks when he sees a familiar car pull up to the intersection. Your boyfriendâs car. And there you are, sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the window with that same distant expression you sometimes get when you think no oneâs watching.
Matt bites his lip, hands tightening in his pockets. He knows he should look away, should keep walking, but he canât. Not when youâre right there, so close yet so far away.
As the light turns green, your boyfriendâs car pulls forward, and Matt watches as you disappear down the street. The rain continues to fall, soft but unrelenting, and heâs left standing there, alone again, wondering how he ended up here.
He doesnât even remember when he started falling for you. Maybe it was that day in biology class when you partnered up for a project, or maybe it was when you started hanging out more with his brothers and him, laughing with Nick and Chris in a way that made Mattâs heart twist with something unnameable.
Whatever it was, it doesnât matter now.
Because youâre not his.
But, God, if it were him, he would love you in a way that would make you feel like you were the only person in the world. Heâd hold you close when you felt like everything was falling apart, heâd be there for the big moments and the small ones. Heâd make sure you never had to feel alone again.
Matt swallows the lump forming in his throat. Heâs never been good with these kinds of thingsâfeelings, emotions, letting someone in. But with you, itâs different. With you, he wants to try. He wants to let you in, to show you the side of him that he hides from everyone else, the part of him thatâs terrified of rejection but even more terrified of missing out on something real.
If only you werenât with him.
Would he say heâs in love?
Matt snorts bitterly to himself. He doubts it.
Sure, your boyfriendâs got the car, the looksâeverything Matt doesnât. But does he love you the way Matt would? Does he even know how lucky he is to have you?
Matt kicks at another rock, his heart heavy in his chest.
You deserve more than someone who treats you like a prize to be shown off. You deserve someone who looks at you like youâre their entire world, someone who holds you when youâre feeling low and doesnât just brush it off.
And if it were him, Matt knows heâd do all of that. Heâd love you with everything he has.
But heâs not him. Heâs just Matt, the guy who walks to class in the rain while you ride in a car with someone else. The guy whoâs stuck on the outside looking in, constantly playing a game heâs destined to lose.
Reality ruined my life.
The thought hits him hard, sinking into his chest like a stone. Because no matter how much he dreams about what could be, no matter how many times he imagines you being his, it doesnât change the fact that youâre with someone else. Someone who, for whatever reason, has what Matt wants more than anything.
But Matt keeps walking. He always does. Because thatâs all he can do. Keep moving forward, even if it feels like the weight of unspoken words and missed chances is dragging him down.
Would he treat you like I would?
The answer is no.
Matt knows that. But you donât. And thatâs what hurts the most.
With a heavy sigh, he turns the corner, his mind still spinning with thoughts of you and what could have been, the rain falling around him like a reminder of all the things he canât control.
And he keeps walking.
tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove
#spotify#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets x reader#matthew sturniolo x reader#sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#the sturniolo triplets#the sturniolos
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Something something Ember Island Something something Changing Emotions
Katara coming to a horrifying realization. A terrible, no good, realization that only could've happened on Ember Island.
Zuko is attractive. A shocking realization, she knows.
Of course he is. That's just an objective fact, she reasons to herself. Even back in Ba Sing Se, she always knew he wasn't a bad looking guy. Bit of a temper, and nostrils flared to much for her taste but... He was a little handsome.
Now that things are okay between them, Katara can't help but look at him. Really look at him, and all she sees is a kind guy, who is very attractive. And that's just ruins her whole day because it's not fair. She supposed to be preparing for the comet, not oogling one of her closest friends.
He's not making it any easier on her. Does he really have to firebend with his shirt off? She doesn't waterbend in just her sarashi! ...Okay she does, but that's different.
Still, she asks him as much. Sweat is still dripping down his neck and chin. Whatever else evaporated from his heated body. She can feel his blood pumping through his body, the exertion in the pink dusting on his cheeks. Or maybe that's a normal blush cause she did just ask why does he need to be shirtless. Showing off his muscular build, toned arms and--ugh! Does he have to look at her with that puppykit look in his eye? Now he's just being unfair!
"It helps," Zuko explains like it's nothing, "It's like a grounding technique I guess. Feeling the flow of energy through your body as you bend fire. Besides, you bend in your sarashi sometimes, what's the difference?"
'It's totally different!' Katara wants to claim as she hands him a towel. She's not...him. And she'll say that as much when her own face is burning with a blush. Katara decides to leave it be for now, and heal up the small burns he did get from Aang's fire on his hands. Because she's just that mature and yes it is completely necessary to hold both his hands as she heals him. His firm, rough hands from handling his dao... It's more than a little unfair that his hands are bigger than her's too.
It's also unfair how he tucks her hair behind her ear and says "Are you okay? You're kinda warm." In that low voice only meant for her to hear. Her heart stutters in chest. He's just looking at her with a little bit of worrh, why the stupid butterflies in her stomach? And why does she not want him to move his hand away from her? Well, she knows why, but she doesn't wanna say it. Or maybe she does, but he's going to have to make it up to her somehow.
"I-"
"Hey Katara, check it out! I'm finally getting the hang of my fire bending stances!" It's like a cold splash of water over a fire. Katara shakes her head, plastering on that gentle smile. Aang is excitedly waving for her attention across the court yard.
She catches Zuko's golden eyes before turning to the Avatar, "Good job Aang! You're really improving!" She thinks anyways. Zuko kinda snatches her attention each and every time during their sessions. "I'm going to get some fruit juice inside. You want one?"
"Yes please!" Aang wants to go with her, she can sorta tell in the way his eyes keep looking between her and Zuko. He doesn't get two steps before Toph is dragging him with her now. "You had your time with Zuko, now it's time for some real fun." Katara can be concerned about the giant crash later. Another crash of rock. Waaaaayyyyy later.
She spares a glance over her shoulder, and takes a little pride in how he jumps. "Well? Shall we?"
"We shall?" He responds, confused.
"Did you think I wasn't to get a fruit juice for you too? Besides you said I was too warm so..." She slides her arm in to his. And if she stands a lot closer to him than necessary, than fine. She beams up at him with a pleasantly, sweet smile, "Let's go get some."
Now it's his turn to blush. Good, let him be flustered and dumb over a pretty person. It's his turn anyways.
#Zutara#Katara#Zuko#atla#oh to be a girl with a crush#and the horrifying realization that your best guy friend is actually kinda cute#it's so funny Katara gets a crush on jet and she's all soft and sweet about it#i write her with a crush on Zuko and she's mad#both feel in character tbh#sheep writes
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