#he shouldn’t have had that responsibility

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

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[gpcwsl]

would love an enemies to lovers with leah!!

Warnings: suggestive (if you squint), kissing.

Leah Williamson x Reader

- Under the same sky -

MasterList

The animosity between you and Leah Williamson was palpable from the moment you signed for Arsenal. As one of the top midfielders in the league, you came in with a stellar reputation, but Leah didn’t seem to care. The captain’s icy reception caught you off guard, especially since you had idolized her for years. She was the epitome of leadership and grace—at least on the outside.

On the pitch, you two clashed constantly. If you pressed too high, she’d snap at you to drop back. If she misplaced a pass, she’d glare at you as if it were your fault. Training sessions felt like a battlefield, and the tension between you was undeniable.

“Are you two ever going to get along?” Katie McCabe joked one afternoon after another heated exchange during a practice match.

“Doubt it,” Leah muttered under her breath, her sharp tone cutting through you like a knife.

The worst part was, no matter how much she irritated you, you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull she had. Leah was effortlessly stunning, her sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes only adding to her intimidating presence. But every time you thought about how beautiful she was, you’d quickly remind yourself of how insufferable she could be.

The rivalry between you and Leah escalated during a crucial league game. A miscommunication in the backline—one you both were partially responsible for—led to the opposition scoring.

“What the hell was that?” Leah shouted, storming toward you as the ball hit the net.

“Maybe if you actually listened instead of trying to control everything, that wouldn’t have happened!” you snapped back, chest heaving.

The referee intervened before it could escalate further, but the damage was done. Fans, teammates, and even the media started noticing the friction.

Post-match, Jonas Eidevall called both of you into his office. “This stops now,” he said sternly. “Whatever’s going on between you two, sort it out. I don’t care how. The team comes first.”

Forced to spend extra time together in team-building exercises, you and Leah were paired up for a drill designed to improve communication. At first, it was awkward—stilted conversations and passive-aggressive comments—but gradually, something shifted.

“You know,” Leah said one afternoon as you worked on passing drills, “you’re not half bad when you’re not trying to get on my nerves.”

You smirked. “Funny, I was about to say the same about you.”

The banter became less hostile, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of the Leah you’d admired from afar. She was witty, fiercely intelligent, and, when she wasn’t scowling at you, surprisingly kind.

One evening after training, you found yourselves the last two in the locker room. The conversation turned personal, and Leah opened up about the pressure of being captain, about the expectations and the weight of responsibility.

“You make it look easy,” you admitted.

She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “It’s anything but.”

There was a vulnerability in her eyes that made your heart ache. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing hers. The contact was brief, but it lingered in the air between you, unspoken but undeniable.

The first time Leah kissed you, it was an accident—or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.

It was after a particularly heated training match. You’d scored the winning goal, and Leah had begrudgingly come over to congratulate you. The adrenaline was still pumping, your bodies mere inches apart as you exchanged barbs laced with amusement.

And then it happened.

Her lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, she deepened the kiss, her hands finding your waist. It was fiery and desperate, a culmination of months of tension and unspoken desire.

When she finally pulled back, her breath was ragged. “We probably shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, but the way her thumb grazed your cheek told a different story.

“Probably not,” you whispered, though you were already leaning in for another taste.

What followed was a whirlwind of stolen moments—kisses shared in the shadows of the locker room, lingering touches on the bus ride to away games, whispered conversations late at night.

It wasn’t easy. You still bickered on the pitch, but now there was a playful edge to your arguments. Your teammates noticed the change, though no one dared to comment outright.

One evening, after a particularly grueling match, Leah showed up at your apartment. You were exhausted, but the sight of her standing in your doorway, a bottle of wine in hand, made your heart skip a beat.

“I thought we could celebrate,” she said, a rare smile gracing her lips.

The night blurred into soft laughter and stolen kisses. By the time the bottle was empty, you found yourselves tangled together on your couch, her lips trailing down your neck as your fingers threaded through her hair.

“Stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Leah paused, her eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, pulling her closer. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Keeping your relationship a secret proved increasingly difficult. The team’s sharpest players—Katie, Viv, and Beth—figured it out first.

“You two are terrible at hiding it, you know,” Katie teased after catching you and Leah exchanging a lingering glance during training.

Eventually, the entire team knew, and to your surprise, they were nothing but supportive. Jonas even pulled you aside one day to assure you that as long as it didn’t affect your performance, he had no issues.

But the media was another story. When photos of you and Leah sharing a kiss after a hard-fought win surfaced online, the headlines exploded.

Leah handled the scrutiny with her usual grace, releasing a statement that was equal parts defiant and heartfelt:

“Love isn’t a distraction; it’s a strength. I’m proud to have someone by my side who challenges me, supports me, and makes me better—on and off the pitch.”

The backlash was minimal, and soon the focus shifted back to football, where it belonged.

One night, months into your relationship, you and Leah lay on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the stars.

“It’s funny,” Leah said, her voice soft. “I used to think you were the most infuriating person I’d ever met.”

You laughed, turning to face her. “And now?”

“Now you’re still infuriating,” she teased, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You smiled, your hand finding hers. “I wouldn’t either.”

Under the same sky, with the stars as your witnesses, you knew you’d found something worth fighting for.

[jesuistrestriste]

Cowgirl reader x art when

𐚁 ✮⋆˙ needy!art donaldson x cowgirl NSFW 18+

—

art doesn’t even know why he agreed to go with patrick down south for an impromptu boys trip.

it’s stickier down there; the humidity so high that the air is practically drinkable.

the heat suffocated him and climbed down his throat the second he got off the plane, and patrick had unsurprisingly laughed at him when he developed sweat stains on his tee shirt after only ten minutes in the uber to their hotel. it wasn’t his fault, he just never handled high temperatures well.

he blamed the desert, or whatever hellish fire-breathing beast was desecrating this part of the country with such unimaginable warmth. he could hardly think straight with the way his clothing clung to his heat-prickled skin.

he regretted going on the trip from the moment they touched down at the airport. he wished he had stayed back home, then at least he could get some time on the courts. but no.

and so he ruminated on the idea that he shouldn’t have come.

that is, until he and pat went out to a bar that first night.

patrick had already gotten drunk in the first twenty-five minutes and was feeling up a stranger, staggering with them off into a booth buried at the back of the establishment to get handsy. art’s eyes had rolled so far back that he was sure the earth had almost tipped with them.

he leaned over the busy bar, sipping his underwhelming tequila soda until he felt someone different slip into the space next to him.

a woman.

a pretty—no, sexy one at that.

glossy lips, a loose tee shirt that hung off of one shoulder (pink bra strap on display), dark flare jeans that hugged her in all the right places, brown leather boots, and a cowboy hat.

she couldn’t look more typically southern. but fuck, she was hot.

she turns her head and smiles up at him, her hat tilting up with her neck’s movement to expose more of her face.

“hey,” she hums, her eyes scanning him up and down before he can even speak, “… you’re not from here, are you?”

her voice is warm and silky, like dark chocolate. it floods his brain and immediately dilutes his thoughts into incoherent ramblings.

god, why hasn’t he said anything?

say something, damnit!

“ha..! no, no.. not from here,” art chuckles out nervously after a brief clearing of his throat.

she just smirks. putting her pearly whites on display for everyone to see. or maybe just for him..?

“yeah, i could tell by the way you’re dressed.”

was.. was that an insult?

is he supposed to laugh?

shit, she smells like the most delicious—

the thoughts in his brain are cut off abruptly when he feels her hand on his chest, dragging down.

oh fuck.

“relax, city boy,” she purrs with an intoxicating drawl, her free hand taking the hat off of her own head and placing it on top of his blonde curls, “i didn’t mean to get y’all worked up.. i’ll buy you a drink, hm?”

“i.. uh, i mean— okay, yeah, uhm, sure. i’ll take a drink..”

—

an hour comes and goes, and then art somehow winds up in the back of the girl’s car; parked on the outskirts of the small gravel lot.

it’s a shiny, cherry-red convertible. fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. a picture of a well-groomed black horse tucked into the driver seat’s personal mirror (which she flipped up once the two of them were taking off their clothes).

patrick was still somewhere in the bar, preoccupied, so art felt less guilty about letting this woman drag him out the backdoor towards her vehicle. all it had taken was one sloppy kiss, and then he was willingly trailing behind her like a sick dog.

art can hardly process that now they’re completely naked; his flushed back sticking to her leather seats as she sinks down on his cock. a shuddering groan is pulled forcefully from his chest, spilling out in the next instant. he feels his balls draw up once, twice, three times in response to the feeling of her tight cunt gripping around him, and he swears he could almost come right then and there. she’s like a fucking goddess.

“can you handle me?” she smirks down to him, starting to rock her hips rhythmically like she’s riding a mechanical bull, “i wanna hear an answer, darlin’…”

“can’t—“

ugh, he’s choking on his words. shaking hands holding her waist with the desperation of a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year. he’s allowed to be a bit pathetic.

“can’t?” she repeats, bouncing now on his slicked-up shaft, her nails running down his tensing abdomen and leaving red stripes in their wake.

he shakes his head, a loud whimper and gasp following suit. his thighs are starting to tremble. toes already started curling thirty seconds ago.

“can’t— can’t last, not gonna last—“

the woman just laughs lowly and rolls her pelvis in slow circles. art’s body vaults up in response, pushing against her weight on top of him as he feels a blurt of precome erupt from his tip and surround him in the condom— daring him to disappoint her and let it all go before he gets the go-ahead.

“ohh… aah— you really aren’t from around here, are you? poor lil’ thing…”

he doesn’t know why that statement from her makes his gut stir with pre-orgasmic convulsions. he’s trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, but he’s losing stamina fast. every buck of his body into her pussy sends a sharp bolt of pleasure right up his spine. he’s sweating almost as much now as he was when he first arrived. probably moreso, if he’s honest.

and shit, he can’t be anything but honest at this point.

she’s making him forget everything he ever disliked about this part of the country.

she’s making him feel like her pussy could solve all of his problems.

she’s making him feel like… like… like—

“oh, god—!” he hiccups, squeezing into her torso, head tipped back and biceps curling as he tries to tug her down closer, “i’m sorry, i can’t hold it— i’m gonna come, can’t— can’t stop-!”

she giggles, and then there’s the voice again. warm, smooth, low. dripping right into the crook of his neck.

“alright, city boy,” she whispers, “come then.”

and that’s all it takes.

art’s eyes squeeze shut, his jaw slacks, and he lets out the most desperate strangled cry as he feels the scorching waves of pleasure consume him from all sides. he feels his cock kick against her palpating walls, pulses of his sticky white release webbing on the inside of the latex.

he’s practically vibrating by the time the aftershocks roll around, his baby blues looking up dazedly to the smiling woman still connected to him. her hands cup his flushed cheeks, her thumbs wiping beaded sweat from his temples and his forehead.

“there ya go… thaaat’s it, darlin’… let it all out…”

art sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpers as he feels his dick stir inside of her, threatening to shoot again just from her words.

“haah… ha-aahngh… hnngh,” he quakes, gasping for air and trying to calm himself down, “h-how did… ngh— how did y-you do that t-to me..?”

trying not to sound so utterly wrecked is easier said than done, he’s realizing that now. he really can’t prevent it- he’s nothing more than a limp mess underneath her perfect form.

he winces and hisses softly with sensitivity when she torturously rocks just once more over his spent parts.

“oh, honey,” she laughs, “we just do it different down here.”

… god, he loves the south.

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends

So we’ve come to the end of the 2k special. I’d like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who I’ve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldn’t have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; it’s not just about transformation, there’s a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and it’s something I’ve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which I’ll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.

Lastly, there’s a pun (or more) in the title of this story. 🙃

Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.

Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“Steele, we’ve got a situation,” Jenkins said, his tone serious. “Lee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no one’s seen him.”

Steele’s heart raced. “What do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?”

“Just a few hours, but it’s enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, he’d been complaining about his brother’s behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.

“I told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?”

“What I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out what’s going on. This could have serious implications,” Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.

“Implications? What the hell are you talking about?” Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the board’s experiments or Tyler’s recent transformation if shit hit the fan.

“Let’s be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, you’re authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.” Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!” Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steele’s greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.

He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler’s situation and what he could have done differently.

After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldn’t savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.

After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. “What the hell happened to me?” he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.

After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.

“How did I end up here?” he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt he’d shine, but it’d be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steele’s greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steele’s gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldn’t get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration… maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine… Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the day’s work.

…..

The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.

“Look who’s here! The king of farts!” Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.

“For God’s sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!” Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.

Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. “Attention, attention! The champion of burps is here!” He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.

“You and your special talents, Rafe. One day you’re gonna win an award for that!” Miguel joked, while getting dressed. “Most retarded award!”

The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.

“Dude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?” Miguel commented, winking at the others. “She was totally checking me out during practice. Bet she’s in love with me!”

“Probably out of pity for your malnourished state!” Adam replied, laughing. “But it’s true, she’s hot. I’d hit that too.”

“Malnourished? I’m ripped, you fatass!”

“That’s just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?”

“Jealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!”

As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. “Man, my brother’s been an ass lately. Lee’s always been a bit too uptight, but lately, he’s just straight-up unbearable,” Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.

“Like, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. I’ve told him Cs get degrees,” he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

“Well, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?”

“As if you’re any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and we’re all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, that’s not enough; it’s like he wanted another brother instead of me.”

Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. “Dude, I get it. It’s tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants what’s best for you, right? Maybe he’s just worrying too much.”

“Maybe… but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s being a total pain. He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s like he thinks life is only about training and studying,” Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.

“Man, you need to put him in his place then. One day, he’s gonna realize life isn’t just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!” Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.

“Whatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,” Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.

What the boys didn’t realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.

“Is that what I heard, Tyler?” Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. “You’ve been ignoring your brother?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Uh… I’m just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,” he said, trying to justify his behavior.

Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but he’s your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isn’t the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,” Steele said, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I just need some space, that’s all,” Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.

“I get that you need space, but that doesn’t mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, don’t ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,” Steele said, with a serious look. “Now, let’s go, finish getting ready. It’s almost time for practice.”

The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.

“Today’s the last practice before the finals,” Steele began, capturing everyone’s attention. “That means we need to give it everything we’ve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But they’re gonna face the Titans, and we’re gonna show them what that means!”

The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. “Great job, boys!” he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. “You’re ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.”

The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. “One last thing: rest up! I don’t want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, I’ll skin you alive!”

Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steele’s seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.

With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.

…

Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the day’s practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. “Tyler, we need to talk,” he said, looking intently at his brother.

Tyler frowned. “Lee? WTF? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“You. Something’s not right with you,” Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. “I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel like something’s changed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. “I’m great! I’m about to crush it in the game tomorrow!”

Lee shook his head, frustration growing. “It’s not that, Tyler! It’s like you’re… different. Like you’re not really you. I… I’m worried.”

“What the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You don’t know anything about me! I’m never good enough for you, right? You’ve always been the favorite, the family talent!” Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. “But I’m gonna prove to everyone that I’m better than you, that I’m the best player!”

Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. “Tyler, I’ve never cared about that. For me, there’s never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You don’t have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that you’re yourself.”

“You don’t get it! I can’t just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that I’m finally getting attention, I can’t let it slip away!” Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

“I… I think I understand more than you realize,” Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.

“You’re not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, that’s everything!” Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.

“I really thought I could trust him… I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I’ll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.”

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. “Coach, I… I need to talk to you,” he said as soon as the call connected.

“Sure, Tyler. What’s up?” Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.

“It’s about Lee. He was just here… and he doesn’t seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things… he thinks something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like I’m the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this… please help him!” Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

“Tyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?” Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.

“I don’t know, coach. No, he didn’t say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that… that he’d try to help me… and that he hoped next time we met, we could… recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.”

“I do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!”

“Always, Coach!”

…

Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.

….

Lee walked toward Steele’s mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brother’s words echoed in his head. “What’s wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; I’m not making any sense! Still, I know… that’s not who he should be!” Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasn’t the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through this with his own brother.

As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe that’s why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. It’s also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele “at all costs” also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.

Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.

“Lee, I was expecting you,” Steele said, his expression serious. “Sit down and grab a glass.” The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.

“You know I don’t drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?”

“To explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you don’t drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, you’re gonna need it.”

Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.

“Coach, I don’t need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother… more than that… I need to know who my brother really is… or I think I’m gonna lose my mind… I need you to reverse what you did.”

“It’s not that simple, kid. What you’re asking isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.”

Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

“Good, good. The story I’m about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, it’s real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was… revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.” Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.

“In one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that should’ve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and I’d like to believe the NFL wasn’t affected, but I can’t know, the man’s insanity was that great. The Board can’t say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coach’s megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it should’ve been, that is, more or less…” Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.

“The kid had no way of knowing about the board’s existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coach’s work, developed the current protocols.” Steele continued with a serious air.

“I discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that can’t handle anything, snowflakes is the term you’ll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldn’t accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should be…

“You… I… did you do something to me?” Lee asked, his voice trembling.

“No, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I don’t know if I would’ve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I would’ve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasn’t enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the player’s own perceptions of what each of the acronym’s specifications represents and uses the individual’s genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be… disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones you’ve been feeling.”

“You mean to say that Tyler…?”

“Yeah… the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing???” Lee asked, outraged. “You just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?”

“That’s still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. They’re still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but don’t treat them like things.”

“I can’t believe the size of your hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But I’ve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, there’s no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.”

“Then help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!”

“It’s harder than you can imagine, Lee. There’s someone out there with that capability, but you don’t want to get in his way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he would destroy everything I’ve built, everything you know too, because that’s his mission. And I can’t allow that.”

“And what’s stopping me from going after this guy on my own?”

“The fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear I’d rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, it’s better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!”

Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.

Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steele’s eyes widened, and he shouted: “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.

As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.

“Lee, you need to resist!” Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily… buuuuuuurp…

“This can’t be happening!”, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Lee’s face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. “Why is this happening?!” confusion dominating his thoughts.

The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. “No, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!” he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.

As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.

Lee’s worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, they’d see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.

With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.

As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. “What have I done...,” he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupil’s transformation.

Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Lee’s transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “What did you do?” Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadn’t seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. “Just what you should’ve done a long time ago. But the specifications weren’t yours.”

Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. “Hey, Bull Dawg, how’s it going?” he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.

Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. “I’m feeling kinda funny,” he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

“Must be all the whiskey you’ve been drinking,” Jenkins remarked, laughing. “You’ve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.”

Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. “You know me too well,” he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.

"Alright, alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."

"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But I’m taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.

Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giant’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.

“A true masterpiece.” Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.

“So, Steele,” Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, “what do you think of all this?”

Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. “What did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?”

“Oh, Steele,” Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. “You yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though there’s always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, that’s so 2000s… no, no, with Jason Kelce’s retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a “more fit one”, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two… So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have Olívia Rodrigo manager's phone number. I’ll have to figure that out too… So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!

"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.

"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."

"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."

"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."

Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkins’ words echoed in his mind. “I’ve always been loyal to the board’s guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. I’ve always put the rules first.” His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.

Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Loyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didn’t see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.”

Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. “I didn’t hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “Hide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board can’t allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now you’re gonna pay the price.”

Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. “Jenkins, please, I beg you!”

“Oh, but I have no choice, Steele,” Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a way to deal with types like you? You’re gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. It’s what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.” Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.

“But cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided it’s finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.”

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkins’ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.

….

The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steele’s house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.

Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.

"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "I’m so proud of you!"

"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! I’m ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.

Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, I’m really glad I won’t have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, I’d be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day we’ll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."

Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, don’t worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, I’ll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. I’ve outgrown what a Tight End should be.” He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. “So, if all goes well, we’ll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."

Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? That’s amazing! But… how are we gonna figure out who’s the better player?"

Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck who’s better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If it’s alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."

As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyone’s attention in the backyard.

"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.

As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.

"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.

Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.

“Bull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!” they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, “Now I gotta do something bigger!”

“Chill, T-Dawg, you’ve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!” Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.

At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the board’s criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey, boys! Time to stop the show!” Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.

“Come on, coach! We’re just celebrating!” Tyler said, laughing.

“Celebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!” Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “This season wasn’t just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, we’re stronger. And that’s not just a motto; it’s our truth.”

The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.

“You learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. That’s what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,” Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.

“Now, I have something important to share with you. I’ve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,” he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.

“Wow, coach! That’s awesome!” Rafe shouted, clapping.

“I know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means I’ll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,” Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.

“I want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and I’ll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, I’ll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,” he said, looking into each player’s eyes.

“And for the rest, don’t worry! I’ll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust I’ll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.”

The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. “Thank you, coach! You’re the best!” they shouted in unison.

“Now, get back to having fun! Go Titans!” Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: “Go Titans!”

[plaidpajamallama]

(You scared me) RHEA RIPLEY X JEY USO

Chapter 25

_________________________________________________

Rhea was sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car. Damian got they were on their way to the Intuit Dome.

The music from her playlist blasting over the radio as she stared out the window

She felt nervous about what the day would bring.

This was her last shot at her title; if she lost this, then it was over. It was Liv’s, and she would have to move on and accept it.

She turned to Damian. You think I can do it?

He turned down the music, looking over at her. Yeah, you're going to win.

And if I don’t?

And if you don’t, then you find something else, something better. There’s a whole new title to go after; there’s Tiffy the Rumble. Besides, you never needed a title to be the best; you just are the best. Rhea

She grabbed his arm, laying her head against it. Thank you.

No problem. For the record, you're going to win.

She sighed. It’s going to be a long day.

Yeah, it is, but I don't have anything to do, so if you need me—

I’ll come find you, she cut in.

Thank you, and please don’t just run off after your match with Jey.

I won’t. She chuckled, letting go of his arm. I don’t think there will be any running off tonight.

He looked at her with a confused expression. What happened? What did he do?

Nothing; he didn’t do anything! She said quickly. He’s just got a lot going on with Roman right now, so we’ll see what happens tonight.

She sank into her seat, resting her head against the window. She was a little worried about what might happen; this whole day could end horribly.

Not just could she lose her final shot at what was rightfully hers; she knew she took the first shot at Liv, but Liv took more than was fair, and now this was the end. What happens happens if she lost; it was over, and if she won, she was finally done with all of it.

Then on the other side she had to worry about Jey.

Not just in his match; she believed in him. He could handle Drew; she knew Drew pretty well from when he helped them out in war games.

She would bet good money on Drew letting his emotions get the best of him.

But then she could say the same for Jey; there was a lot on his mind right now.

She wasn’t sure when they would talk to Roman, but if that was anytime before his match, whatever Roman says will affect him in the ring.

She kept making up different scenarios in her head of how this whole thing might go.

She knew some of the things Roman did, but she didn’t know the full extent of said things until she got with Jey, and he told her.

He never said it exactly, but just the way he spoke told her enough about what happened when he was in the bloodline.

This was eating at him, and she couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

none of this would’ve happened if she didn’t make some big deal out of it If she didn’t pick a fight with him about him not fucking talking to her, then they wouldn’t be here. Jey wouldn’t be going through all of this right now.

She let out a sigh, her breath fogging up the window.

God, she shouldn’t blame herself; if she told him any of that, he would be even more upset that she ever thought, even for a minute, that it was her fault.

She heard the music stop, and all of a sudden, she picked her head up off the window.

The screen on the dashboard lit up with a text from Jey saying they made it to the arena.

He slid his phone back in his pocket as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk before slamming it down.

He told Roman that they needed to talk sometime before he left.

He had gotten there a little early since he had to do something before the actual show along with the normal thing he always had to do.

This day wasn’t all bad, though he not only was going to beat Drew’s ass, he also got the opportunity to walk out with Travis Scott.

So if shit went bad with Roman, at least he had that to look forward to, and he means Rhea winning what was hers, of course.

He pushed through the back doors of the arena. Waving at the security guards standing out front as he passed

He was excited for Rhea; she had this one. There was no doubt in his mind she was going to walk out tonight empty-handed. He had no doubt in Roman winning either; he believed in Solo; he was going to give him a run for his money. for sure

But Roman was going to win, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Solo may not have been the best, but he surely was as bad as Roman.

Everyone in Solo’s bloodline was there because they wanted to be, not because they were forced to be.

Roman has been drunk on power ever since he got it. Before he got it, he was now getting humble. He thought about all the time Roman got knocked on his ass while he walked down the long hallway.

Rhea was sitting with her eyes closed as she got her makeup done.

As the show got closer and closer, she could feel her nerves creeping up but also her adrenaline

If this really was the end, she was going to fight like hell to win. If Dom and Raquel felt the need to intervene, then she would take care of them to

Nothing or nobody was going to stop her from winning tonight.

Hey, babygirl, it’s good to finally see you. He sat down at one of the vanities along the wall.

She smiled. I wish I could see you.

You look beautiful, Mama.

And I’m not even done yet. Claire chimed in.

Don’t feed his crazy

It’s not crazy if it’s true; you're beautiful, right?

Oh yes, you look beautiful, and you will only get more beautiful from here.

She laughed at both of them. Do you need something, love?

I just wanted to see you. I've been busy; I had to work the red carpet. You know he popped his collar.

Oh! I know, and I don’t know if I appreciate you showing everybody what’s mine.

People see all that all the time; it ain’t new. Now all that other shit, yes, it’s yours.

As long as you know it, I would hate to have to show you, she said sultrily.

She smiled to herself when she heard him get quiet; she could feel Claire smiling back at her.

This wasn’t the worst thing she had overheard in these chairs; shit, this wasn’t the worst thing she had even seen in these chairs.

She heard him clear his throat as he stood up.

The devil is a lie, he said before walking by her.

She grabbed his hand. Hey, when do you need me? She said gently.

Um, after you get done here, if that’s cool?

Yeah, of course, I’ll come find you. She brought his hand up, placing a kiss on it.

See you in a bit, Mama, he said, walking away.

I think I like him more than Dom. He’s much better to look at, that’s for sure.

She laughed, Ooh, by a long shot.

Ok, now stay still so I can finish.

It didn’t take long for Claire to finish her makeup. A purple look with a black lip, as always. She already had on her gear, so she just needed to get her hair done, but she would do that after everything with Jey.

She met him outside the man’s locker before walking to Roman’s

She checked with him one last time if he wanted her there before they made it; he told her he wanted her there before knocking on the door. Heyman answered the door and let them in.

As soon as they walked in, the air was thick with tension. Roman was sitting back in his chair, manspreading, rubbing his wrist in his hand.

He had on his ring gear along with his gloves.

She had seen him before, but in this light he was even more intimidating than he was in the ring.

They sat down on the couch, his hand letting go of hers as he clasped his together.

Heyman sat down on the couch on the side closest to Roman.

She had forgotten how loyal he was to him; he found it a little weird then, and she still found it weird now.

So what do you want? Roman seemed already tired of this conversation.

Why lie if you already know about us, uce?

Because you wanted to tell me, so I let you.

He sucked his teeth. You let me?

Yeah, you made a big deal about telling me, so I let you

You could have told me after I told you.

Maybe I was, but you ran away.

He scoffed, I ran away? I walked away because you were being an asshole, uce.

He scowled. Jay I told you I don’t care about all this he gestured between him and Rhea. I was just looking out for you.

Looking out for what? You haven't been here. What were you going to do, uce? You haven't even been here to handle your business, he said, annoyed.

Roman sat up in his chair, leaning forward, his arms hanging off his knees.

See, Jey, you always get caught up in your emotions.

He scoffed, Here we fucking go, he muffled under his breath.

This isn’t about you and her; it’s about business.

What fucking business!? I don’t work with your ass anymore; you don’t get to decide what I do! I’m a grown ass man; I can do whatever I want!

You don’t act like one, Roman said weirdly calm. You don’t get it, do you, Jey? Everything I do is to take care of you.

Bullshit!

He ran a hand over his chin, letting out a frustrated sigh. You can think whatever you want, but that's the truth: the Wiseman only looked into the her for you.

I didn’t ask your ass to do that shit, uce!

Roman looked him dead in his eyes because that's what family does, Jey; they try to help each other even when they don’t want it.

He ran his hand over his face. There you go with your bullshit again, Uce, he said as he stood up.

Roman stood up to meet him; he didn’t say anything, just looked at him, and that’s all it took before he started to avoid his gaze, finding anything else to look at.

I was just looking out for you, Jey. I just wanted to make sure you were happy, but all you want to do is fight. I’m fighting for this family. In 20 minutes, we both agreed that Solo can’t do that yet.

He’s not ready, he said softly, but maybe one day you’ll be ready. But if you keep acting like a goddamn child and picking fights, you won’t be, so get it together! He didn’t yell or raise his voice; he kept his voice soft and calm, but the bass in it hit him in his chest.

I don’t want to see you until you beat Drew, and if you lose, I don’t want to see you at all.

He shoved him back, his heels hitting the front of the couch.

He didn’t respond, just nodded before storming out the door, hitting the wall behind it.

Rhea stood up to walk out after him, but Roman stopped her, putting his arm across the doorway.

She looked up at him in his eyes. Move She said confidently, which seemed to catch him a bit off guard.

He eyed her down before moving his arm out of her way.

She walked out mumbling under her breath, as she did so, she walked down the hallway looking for Jey. She found him sitting on a crate with his head in his hands.

Baby, she put her hand on his back. She was about to ask if he was okay, but she already knew the answer to that question.

Baby, it’s fine.

He let out a breath through his hands. No, it’s not. I let him get to me, and now

Don’t worry about that, my love; just focus on Drew. That’s all you have to worry about tonight.

She bent down in front of him, putting her hand on his knee. Okay?

He’s moved his hands away from his face, looking down at her. I just need a minute, Mama.

Okay, I have to go get ready for my match. It’s after his, so I’ll probably see you after yours.

Okay, he kissed the top of her head before she stood up, walking away.

He let out a deep breath, falling back against the wall.

He couldn’t believe he let Roman get to him like that; it brought him right back to all the times before when he had put him in his place.

But now he was on the same level as him. Shit, he let him walk out last at war games.

But he so quickly brought him down back to the level he thought he belonged at.

It was funny, actually, that he thought they could have a normal conversation.

He was so damn confused why he was making such a big deal out of this for no fucking reason.

It’s not like he told him to sit down and have a talk with her, but he wanted to bring her around without it being weird, but maybe he was asking for too much.

He cleared his throat, hopping off the crate. He needed to get started getting ready for his match, and sitting around thinking about Roman wasn’t going to do that.

_________________________________________________

Rhea ran to go find Damian; she finally got her baby back, and she was over the moon.

It didn’t take long for her to find Damian; he was coming to find her as well.

She jumped up into his arms, her title hitting against his back.

So many emotions were running through her right now: happiness, sadness, just a mix of emotions.

I knew you could do it, he said, wrapping his arms around her to hold her up.

She could feel tears welling up in the corner of her eyes, tears of happiness.

She couldn’t believe it that she was finally champion again, that the title was hers; she wasn’t just holding it because Liv dropped it.

It was hers, actually hers; it was in its rightful place, and it was never gonna leave her again.

She hopped down, feeling off balance; her legs felt like they were going to buckle at any moment.

Damian grabbed her by her shoulders. You good?

Yeah, I think I’m just in shock, she said with a nervous giggle.

Ok, here, sit down. They moved to the side of the wall. She slid down the wall, sitting on the floor.

He sat down next to her, putting his hand on her knee.

You see me out there? You see my new friend?

She said teasing him

You are never going to not rub that in my face, huh?

Nope, because I meet the Undertaker, she said in a sing-songy voice.

I hate you, he said, shoving her away.

She playfully scoffed. No, you love me, and soon enough we’re both going to have gold again.

She stood up off the ground. But for now you can hold mine if you want to fill the void.

I hope they lose your nameplates. He said, standing off the ground.

Oh wow, and I was going to let you do an interview with me, but

Oh come on, we’re going to be late, or do you want to go see Jey first?

No, he’s already set for his entrance. I’ll see him after his match.

Alright then, come on.

Jey walked through the curtains out of gorilla

He beat Drew; all that was behind him now.

He handled it just like he was supposed to.

He walked through the halls looking for where Rhea was.

He thought about going to see Roman, but that thought left his mind as fast as it came.

He found her with Damian, standing in front of a TV; she was bouncing off the walls.

Jumping up and down as the replay played on the screen

He sneaked up behind her, grabbing her waist, feeling the cold metal of her title under his hands.

She giggled, Hi, baby.

Hey, babygirl, you like my match? He asked with a smirk.

No! She hit him in his arm. You scared me half to death!

Okay, okay! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you, Mama. I’m good, alright?

Ok, just don’t do it again.

I won’t. He turned his attention to Damian. Sup, Uce? How you been? He said dapping him up

Good, just keeping an eye on this one, he ruffled her hair.

She pushed his hand off of her head. I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.

Alright, you did good out there, man.

Thanks, Uce, finally starting to put all this shit behind me.

I'm going to put this whole thing with Finn to rest next week.

Look at that; we're all moving on to better things. Rhea chimed in, Who would have thought, huh? She smiled.

Speaking on moving on, he said, Looking at Damian, give us a minute, Uce.

Yeah, see you guys in a bit, and please remember you both are on the press show, he yelled as he walked away, making her laugh.

Yeah, yeah, he said, waving him off.

He turned his attention back to her. You look good with that title, babygirl.

It should. That’s where it belongs, love.

I like my woman with gold. He said, his hands wrapping around her waist.

Mmm, we still have work to do, baby.

So fuck the press conference.

I thought you were going to enter in the rumble tonight?

I can do that next week on Raw.

Or you can do it when you’re supposed to, or are you that needy baby?

He felt a shiver down his spine as her words left her mouth; she had a smirk on her face as she moved her hands to his waistband, pulling him closer. Do you need Mami that bad baby? Or can you wait like a good boy? She said with a pout.

He felt his pants becoming tighter as she slipped her fingertips into his waistband.

I’ll wait, he said, stumbling over his words.

She raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He leaned closer to her, just inches above her ear. I can wait like a good boy.

His pants definitely felt tighter now he lifted his head up.

She had a pleased grin on her face. See, baby, you always make this so hard, she said with a giggle, sliding from under him and grabbing his hand.

Now let’s go find a place to watch the end of the show.

Damn you, you aren’t going to give me a second girl all that shit you just pulled.

You started it, baby, and I’ll finish it later, but for now we have shit to do, so come on, she said, pulling him down the hall to where Damian went.

Fine, fine, but can we stop by the locker room right quick, though?

Sure, whatever, baby.

Jey slid the keycard into the lock, throwing the door open, not caring where their suitcases went.

as they stumbled into their hotel room, their lips crashing into each other

He closed the door with his foot; the light from the hallway disappeared, leaving them in the dark.

His hands grabbed at her waist, her title still around it; she pulled off his shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Her hands roamed his body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went.

He pushed her up against the wall, beginning to take off her shirt; he tossed it on the floor before kissing and biting at her neck, pulling a moan out of her. She flipped him around, holding him against the wall.

They both took this opportunity to catch their breath, just the look of lust in their eyes.

Damn, babygirl, what you trying to do? he said in between his breaths

Mmm, I have a couple of things in mind. She said with a grin, moving her knee between his legs, pushing it against him.

Fuck Mami! his head hit the wall, his now aching cock trapped under her knee

You have been so needy lately, and I don’t know why, baby. Her knee pressing harder against his cock

Shit, he said breathlessly, slightly bucking his hips.

God, baby, people would think I have touched you in weeks with the way you're acting.

Mami I didn’t mean to—his words died in his mouth as he saw the look on her face.

I want you to take your pants off and go sit on the bed while I do something.

He said, "Okay, letting a whimper leave his lips as she took her knee away, turned around to get her suitcase, but realized they were still in the dark. And get the light too, love.

She heard a click before yellow light filled their hotel suite. She chuckled seeing their suitcases just thrown in front of the door.

She rolled them into the living area in front of the coffee table, laying hers on the floor and unzipping it as she heard his shoes hit the ground.

She slipped off her shoes, then took off her pants, leaving her in just her bra and panties, her title hanging low on her hips.

She walked around the room diviner seeing Jey lying on the bed with his hands under his head, watching TV in just his boxer briefs.

She leaned against the column of the diviner, her hands behind her back, eyeing his body as he lay there, her eyes tracing over him.

His skin shined under the yellow light from the lamp on the nightstand.

She could see a few faint marks on his chest that were later turned into bruises. If she didn’t know his body so well, they would go unnoticed due to all his tattoos covering his body.

She loved the way they looked; she followed them down the sides of his waist to the top of his underwear. There was a visual bulge in his boxers; they were high up on his thighs, showing off the rest of his tattoos. his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the ground

His eyes finally flickered over to her, the air getting trapped in his throat.

She sauntered over to the bed, swinging her hips.

You turned on the TV?

Didn’t know how long you were going to be

She crawled onto the bed.

Mmm, you look real good with that gold mama.

Thank you, she giggled, throwing her leg over his hip, straddling

Her fingers ran against his skin, giving him goosebumps as she leaned forward, kissing him.

Moving down his jawline and neck, leaving marks along them

Fuck, the cold metal pressed against his skin as she moved down his body; he winced as her hand touched his rib, subconsciously pulling away from her touch. Shit baby

Sorry, I didn’t mean to love you. Are you hurt? She sat up, her hands resting on her thighs.

No, I mean, yeah, but I’m not injured or shit.

But you are hurting? She said, eyeing the marks on his chest.

Yeah, just that spot, though these are just marks he gestured at himself.

So you’re ok? She said with a worried look.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her back over him, just inches away from his face. I’m okay, Mama. Do you still want to do this?

Yeah, I just didn’t want to hurt you.

You won’t Rhea. He said, hooking his finger under her chin, pulling her into a deep kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, making him groan into her mouth.

She grinded down on him, feeling him through the layers of cotton between them; she could feel the warmth between her thighs growing with each groan and moan that left them.

He grabbed her hips, pulling her down against him. She reached her hands behind his head into his hair.

You want me to take it off? He said, breaking their kiss, his hands going up her back.

Go ahead, she said, kissing and marking his neck.

He unhooked her bra. His fingers grazed her hot skin as he pulled down her bra straps, throwing it to the side.

God baby, you're so beautiful. his hands cupped her breast, causing the air in her throat to get stuck

She gave in to his touch, his big hands kneading her breast, his rough palms brushing against her hard nipples.

Her moans vibrated against his collarbone, going straight to his dick as he played with her

He moved his hands down to her hips under the leather strap of her title, grabbing her ass.

She pushed back into them. Take them off, baby. Fuck Mami, he groaned as she brushed against his hard, trapped cock.

She giggled as she brushed up against him again. I love those little sounds you make, baby.

He slipped her panties down her thighs, throwing them on the floor.

The cold air hitting her dripping pussy, she held herself up with one hand, using the other to tug down his boxers, his cock popping out over the waistband, falling against his stomach.

Oh, but I’m needy, he grinned.

She smacked her teeth. Shut up; she raised her hips up, lining him up with her, his tip rubbing against her cunt.

He threw his head back, feeling her warmth drawing him in, but she just held him there.

Mmm, Mami he said, coming out like a whine

Tell me what you want, baby.

Fuck I want you please right there, Mami, please, please, please.

She slowly sat down, throwing her head back at the feeling of herself stretching around him.

Shit, baby, you're so fucking tight.

She took all of his length inside her; she always forgot how big he was until she had to take him, feeling him deep in her gut.

She put her hands on his chest as she began to move her hips, both of them moaning at the new sensation.

Fuck Mami! He grabbed her thighs, his nails digging into her skin.

She leaned forward, her hands next to his head.

God, baby, you are full Mami up so well, you feel so good; she felt his cock twitch at her praise.

You're such a little praise slut, baby, she said with a grin. You would do anything I asked if I told you you were a good boy, wouldn’t you?

His nails dug into her skin deeper; his face contoured, his mouth fell open, but no words fell from it, just broken babbles.

God baby, I wish you could see yourself; you look amazing like this.

Every word that left her mouth was fuel to the fire; he couldn’t even think of the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as she moved her hips up and down.

He moved his hands up her waist, grabbing onto her title, his thumbs sliding under her title, touching her burning skin, his fingertips brushing against something.

Holy shit, baby! He shouted with one hand on her stomach and the other on her title.

She giggled, pushing her hair out of her face. I told you you were a big baby; she arched her back down. So big you almost split me in half the first time she whispered in his ear.

Fuck Mami, please, he moaned.

What love? She nipping at his ear

He sighed, Mami, come on.

Oh baby, if you can be needy, you can beg, so let me hear that beautiful needy voice of yours.

He threw his head back. Fuck Mami, please, just please

You can do better, love. Come on.

He groaned. Please, please let me cum. Mami, I’ll be good, so, so good, please. He gripped her hips tighter.

She felt the warmth in her stomach growing, her movements growing faster. Keep going, baby.

Please, please, I’ll listen. I’ll... I’ll fuck! Just please, Mami, I can’t. It’s shit! His words turned into a moan as she squeezed around him, her body shuddering as her orgasm rips through her. His following a second after

She fell down onto her elbows trying to catch her breath.

He brought his hand up onto her hair, pushing it out of her face. You good? He said in between breaths

Yeah, just need a sec.

He unclipped her title, pulling it out from under her, letting it fall to the floor. Here is that better?

Yeah, thank you. She kissed his cheek before raising up off of him with a gasp, lying down next to him.

What the fuck are we watching? She laughed.

I don’t know; I haven't really been paying attention like that, babygirl, he chuckled, standing up. I’ll be right back.

Ok, will you get me some water?

Yeah, of course.

He walked into the bathroom, grabbing a towel, wiping himself off, and catching a look in the mirror.

His chest was covered in marks along with his neck. Damn, babygirl, you fucked me up!

He flicked off the light walking into the kitchen. He set the cup down on the TV stand before crawling back on the bed in front of her.

We should really start putting a towel down or something.

Yeah, we should, but will we?

Not a chance. He stood back off the bed, grabbing her cup. Here, babygirl

She sat up. Thank you.

You want to take a shower?

No, I will take a bath, though my body's still sore.

Ok, I’ll draw us one where he kissed her forehead before walking away.

They sat in the triangle-shaped tub, both at different points. bubbles covering them

Don’t think I have taken a hot bath in years. Jey said his arms were lying on the sides of the tub.

It’s nice, plus I’m in it, so it helps her smile, her foot popping out above the water.

That does help, so what are you going to do now?

I don’t know. I’ve been chasing Liv’s ass for so long I don’t really know what’s next. I guess whatever comes my way. What about you? Who are you going to from when you win the rumble?

Don’t know shit; I might not even win.

She playfully scoffed. She splashed him in the face.

Girl! He turned his head to the side.

You’re gonna win!

Okay, damn girl.

Jay I’m serious; you're going to win. Don’t doubt yourself.

It’s not doubt; it’s just I don’t know, maybe it’s doubt. He rubbed the back of his neck.

You're gonna win, baby. I would bet good money on that shit; I would put my title on the line for that.

Ok, don’t be crazy, Rhea. You just got that shit back; don’t risk it.

I’m not. I’m just saying if you act like you already lost, then you're going to lose.

I know, I know.

So say it, say you're gonna win.

Are you serious?

Dead, she said, straight-faced.

He chuckled, Really?

Come on, what you got? She nudged him with her foot.

I’m going to win the rumble. he said halfheartedly

Oh come on, you can do better; you just did a whole lot better. She said, her mouth curling into a grin.

I’m going to win the rumble, he said this time with more confidence but still not good enough.

Aw, it’s cute that you call that conviction, and you were a heel for years.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer. I’m gonna win the fucking rumble and beat both Cody and Gunther’s asses this time, saying it like he believed it this time.

See, I knew you had it in you.

He sucked his teeth. Girl, get on; he playfully pushed her back down.

She laughed settling back down against the edge of the tub Baby, can we talk about this morning?

He sighed, his body tensed up. He didn't want to talk about that shit.

Jey, if I knew that would’ve happened, I wouldn’t have told you to talk to him; I would’ve dropped it immediately. She sat up, putting her hand over his.

It’s not your fault, babygirl; he’s just like that.

I know just I wouldn’t have pushed you—

You didn’t push me to do shit, Rhea. He shifted, running his hand over his face. I wanted to talk to him; I just needed a little help to get there. I told you Roman was an asshole.

Jey, that’s not just him being an asshole; that’s-

I know what it is; his eyes flickered away from hers. I know what it’s called; he hung his head.

Then why take it? She moved forward, his knees in between her legs. Why put up with it?

Because he’s family, and if you don’t, it’s worse than what you saw—his voice cracking just a little, or you’re out of the family.

She grabbed his hand. My love

Seeing all that happened today showed her why Jey acted the way he did, why he would shut down, why he was so scared to lose her, and why he never wanted to talk to Roman or get involved with the bloodline again in the first place.

It was all trauma. Roman broke him and then put him back together the way he wanted.

My love It’s ok; I got you.

I know he put his hand over hers, gripping it tight.

I will never let Roman hurt you like that again, ok?

You can’t make promises like that, Rhea. he said, shaking his head

Yes, I can, because I mean it. She lifted his head up to look at her; there were tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. I will never let anything happen to you, my love.

He looked like he believed it, but the look behind his eyes looked like he didn’t want to trust it.

She brushed his hair out of his face. I love you, and I will always be here for you no matter what. You will never lose me. Do you understand me?

He nodded his head in response. Come here.

He said almost as a whisper, he moved his legs, making space for her.

She moved, sitting with her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close; she could feel his breath was a little shaky.

She knew his mind was racing; she rubbed his arm, her head falling against his shoulder.

I love you too.

_________________________________________________

Woo this one is long but I think it’s well deserved since it was the first raw on Netflix

Also i hate to say it but the next chapter will sadly be the end of their story (who knows what will happen down the line) I will probably do a one shot here or there but as a series this is the end I hope y’all still rock with me after this is over 🖤

[lesservillain]

Worst Enemy

Playtime Masterlist

cw: enemies to lovers, omegaverse, mentions of drugs and alcohol

wc: 5k

“Daddy, it’s not polite to eat with your mouth open.” Eddie looked up from his take out box, noodles still hanging from his lips as he watched his daughter stand in front of him with hands on her hips. The disappointed look on her face was both cute and horrifying in their own ways.

Eddie loves his daughter. Spending time with her gave him a rush that he’d never had before. Nothing he ever drank, snorted, or smoked over the two year tour he had been on for part of her life could compare to all the time he spent with her over the last six months of being back in California.

But, there was one thing that his sweet girl did that was beginning to grind his gears.

Melody had started to correct and nit pick every little thing that Eddie did when it came to his “manners.”

After a few issues in the past, Eddie didn’t trust people he didn’t know in his house. So he did what most other people of his status didn’t do; he cleaned things himself. It was something he didn’t mind doing, but he liked to do things at his own pace. So when when he left his clothes laying around the large house, fully intended on picking them up…eventually, Mel would pester him to clean it up.

Calling him gross was another thing. Anytime he burped or farted around her, or if he scratched his ass, even OVER his boxers mind you, he was gross. When he would wipe his hands on his pants, he was gross. When he would clip his toenails into the toilet, he was gross.

She also would scold him for being forgetful, like when he left the toilet seat up and she dragged him by the hand to shut it so she “doesn’t fall in.” Or when he forgot about her early hair appointment and didn’t set his alarm.

Now, Eddie wasn’t totally against his daughter’s rightings. He was happy that she strived to be a well mannered girl for her age. But, Eddie couldn’t help the annoyance that fronted instinctually when a four year old tries to parent you. She already was way too much like her mother in many ways for Eddie’s liking, always wanting things to be clean and perfect. He hated that it reminded him of why her mother and him weren’t together anymore to begin with.

Well, one of the reasons why they weren’t together.

When they met at the time, Chrissy was another young blonde omega trying to make a name in the modeling industry. Around the same time Eddie and his band had just gotten signed to their first major label, the both of them making it big within the same span of time.

With how much partying goes in the streets of Hollywood, it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths. They hit it off right away and soon became a Hollywood “IT” couple for their contrasting looks.

After being on and off for 10 years, marrying almost 5 years ago, having a child 4 and a half years ago, him and Chrissy officially split when Melody was two. Chrissy tells anyone who asks that it was because they had grown apart. But Eddie knew she was upset with him prioritizing his tour over his family.

The drugs and drinking also probably had a part in everything. But the sake for his own mental health he tells himself the break up was mutual.

“Sorry Mel,” he says as he slurps the rest of his noodles in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full either,” she scrunches her nose at him. He sticks his tongue out at her, half chewed food on full display to Melody’s dismay. She gives him a high pitched “ewwwww,” followed by a squeal when he hops off the couch to chase her around. “Noooo, daddy, don’t get your food on me!”

“But it’s my responsibility as your dad to feed you! Now open up, baby bird!” He grabs her and lifts her in the air. The massive TV room is filled with the sound of childish laughter as tosses her around, pretending to almost drop her to get that extra belly laugh out of her.

Sweet as syrup music begins to play as the old program transitions into a new show. The familiar tune gives Eddie an instant ick, but Melody’s disposition instantly shifts when she hears it.

Thrashing in her daddy’s grasp, she shouts.“Daddy, put me down! Miss Bee! Miss Bee!”

The toddler is practically clawing to get out of his grip, so Eddie obliges. He watches her curls bounce with every step as she goes to stand in front of the large screen. She’s doing a little dance as she sings along with the theme song, large letters appear that read “Play Time with Miss Behave.”

He watches as a bunch of puppets parade around on the screen, following close behind a chick wearing a goofy get up and some over exaggerated makeup as the song comes to a close. You introduce yourself as the host, Miss Behave “but you can call me Miss Bee for short.” You talk directly to the audience about some kid friendly bullshit that his daughter unfortunately eats up. He doesn’t get her hype over you; the show is pretty much the same as Sesame Street to him.

About 5 minutes later the phone rings. He happily jumps up to answer it; anything to get him away from this TV.

“Munson residence.”

“Eddie, is Mel watching Play Time?” Asks the chipper voice of his ex wife.

“Yeah, how did you know,” he asks, peering over his shoulder at the TV. A small gasp followed by a squeal erupts from the small girl as she jumps around the living room.

“DADDY LOOK, IT'S MOMMY! MOMMY AND MISS BEE!”

“Oh you’re joking,” Eddie groans as Chrissy appears on screen and talks with you.

“Ah, I’m so glad she’s excited!” The reaction Chrissy gives is practically identical to their daughter’s. “It was so hard to keep it a secret from her for so long.”

“I don’t get it,” he says with a huff. “I mean I get why you would like her, little miss prim and proper bullshi—“

“Eddie,” Chrissy says sternly over the line, “please don’t start today.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face as he leans into the wall. “Sorry, sorry. Mel’s just been on me about every little thing and it’s driving me up a wall.”

“Hmm, maybe if a child is telling you to get your shit together you should listen?” Her faux sweetness jabbed at the layer of ice that Eddie had over his heart to protect it.

“I’ll take it into consideration,” he says sarcastically. He could hear her scoff into the receiver, the visual of her eye roll popping into his head.

“Anyway,” she said with annoyance, “besides making sure Mel got to see me on the show, I also called to let you know I’m taking her this weekend with me to New York.”

Eddie stands up straight, brows furrowed, “What? Why?”

“I’m taking her to see Miss Bee in concert. I’m already going for a walk so I got tickets for her since she’s performing the same weekend.”

“Okay but who's going to watch Mel while you do your runway shit?”

“Lisa, duh.” Chrissy says as if it’s obvious, since Eddie should know who’s been watching his daughter while she works this whole time. “She’s already put together a schedule of things for them to do while I’m at the show.”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. He’d only had Melody with him for a little over a month this time while Chrissy was doing some business in France. Even though she was testing his patience with her nitpicking, he still missed her a lot when she was at Chrissy’s and really didn’t want to give her up already.

“What if I tag along?” He asks after a beat. “I have a lot of connections in New York so I think I can keep her entertained. Give her the full authentic New York style pizza experience. She’ll flip when the slice is bigger than her head.”

There was a pause on the phone, Melody’s loud singing being the only thing he can hear. For a moment he thinks Chrissy’s hung up on him, until she finally speaks again.

“Okay, that sounds like a great idea!” Her tone was surprisingly animated, and it worried Eddie a little. “You can pay for the tickets then,” she said sweetly. There it was. But Eddie begrudgingly agreed, and the two straightened out all the details before hanging up the phone.

Walking back into the TV room, Eddie caught the last few minutes of the show as it played. The ending of your show usually consisting of a recap of what the audience was supposed to have learned from you and your stupid friends.

Eddie hates that he knows that.

He also hates watching you dance and sing with his ex wife on TV.

Honestly, Eddie hated everything about you.

When Melody watched your show around him the first time he really only found you kind of annoying, like most other kids shows she watched. It was clear that you had an influence on Mel’s recent harping.

“Clean your room, be nice to everyone, don’t tell lies.” All things that he should be happy his daughter is learning, right?

But, the straw that broke the camel’s back was over one particular episode, because he knew you were talking about him. It was an episode talking about respect. Innocent enough, right? That was until there was a cut to a skit being performed by some of the puppets on the show.

Majority of these skits would be reenactments of things in movies or TV, sometimes of real events, all performed by the various puppets. In this skit in particular, they were in a hotel room and they were completely destroying it.

That was until you came in, Miss Can-Do-No-Wrong, and scolded the puppets about respecting other people’s property. He had to take a moment to process what he was looking at…

The four puppets all dressed to look like him and his bandmates. One of them even had a shirt that said “crumbling cookie” in the same font as their band logo.

What was worse is that he was seeing this months after it’s original airing. Which, apparently, was only a week after his controversial hotel room fiasco, where he may have done just a tensy bit too much coke and tried to throw his mattress off the balcony at a Hilton in Nevada. It had been a big tadoo that the tabloids ate up, making up all kinds of rumors and casting him in a bad light. Apparently people can’t make mistakes in this world.

Normally Eddie really didn’t care much about what people had to say about him, all the bullying in high school giving him a thick skin. But he and Chrissy had made an agreement that Mel wouldn’t see the shit her old man got into if the both of them could help it. So for this show she loved so much to directly put him on blast like that?

Oh, you were his public enemy number one.

He told his agent to try and find any dirt that he could on you, but came up with nothing. Not even a parking ticket.

He tried to get Melody to watch anything other than your show, but it only resulted in a level 10 nuclear meltdown. When he told Chrissy about it, she said that Mel never even put two and two together to realize it was him. That kind of stung in a way, his own daughter not seeing him enough to recognize a caricature of him, even as a puppet.

His last ditch effort was having his agent contact the company and try to get the episode taken off air for good. If she wanted to be petty, he could be petty, too. They never got back with his agent, but he also hasn’t seen the episode rerun since.

“Before we go, I want to give a special Play Time shout out to a big fan of mine. She’s a very sweet little girl whose mommy and daddy love her very much. So lets all give a big, Play Time hooray for Melody Munson!”

The full ensemble hooray on Mel’s behalf. Even with Eddie’s constant exposure to loud sounds, he could never have been prepared for the screech that left his daughters mouth. He was both impressed and terrified. Maybe she had the pipes for metal some day; she certainly has the stamina with the way she’s running laps around the couch.

Oh, and now she’s trying to jump off of it.

“Mel, princess, let’s not break our limbs,” he grabs her mid jump and pretends to launch her like a rocket, sound effects and all before lowering her back down to the floor.

“Daddy, did you see that! Mommy and Miss Bee are best friends now!”

“I did see that,” he said with faux enthusiasm, “I’m sure they’re the best of friends.”

The thought of his ex wife and his mortal enemy being best friends made him feel sick to his stomach. Chrissy has ever given him reason to think she would try anything with Melody, but what if you and the stick up your ass were able to convince her that fatherhood and his rockstar lifestyle aren’t compatible?

He’s thought it himself plenty of times, during those lonely nights on the tour bus when he was trying to get better with Chris, turning down groupies so he could get a second…third…seventh chance to make it work with her before she finally served him with the divorce papers.

But, where he faulted at being strong for Chrissy, he strived at doing what he could for Melody. Even after having a spotty relationship with her, the two of them were thick as thieves when they’re together. And he wasn’t about to let you get in the way of that.

“Daddy, when will we see Pop-pop?” Melody asks for the 20th time, not taking her eyes off her coloring book, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she practices staying in the lines. Eddie tried taking a nap the first hour of the flight, but Mel was in her questioning stage and the two of them haven’t flown together before, so she’s pulling every question she can out of the crevices of her brain.

“About 45 more minutes, baby girl,” he says as he cracks open a bag of honey roasted peanuts open for her, little hands grabbing the nuts as quickly as he sets them on her tray. “What are you colouring?” He asks, unsure of what colouring book she insisted on packing all by herself into her bag.

“It’s Tilly, Daddy,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes with a roll of his eyes, “But who is Tilly? She looks like a muppet or something.”

“She’s not a muppet, Daddy,” Mel sighs, setting her crayon down and picking up the book to show the cover to her dad, “She’s Miss Bee’s neighbor!” Eddie cringes at the mention of your name. “Tilly likes to juggle. And she likes bugs!”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Eddie chuckles, poking his daughter playfully in the ribs, eliciting a small giggle from her. Once she settles, Mel starts to flip through the pages in her book, the first half full of colour as each page turns until she finally hits the untouched pages. Eddie watches as she carefully pulls a page from the book and places it on his tray.

“Here, Daddy,” she says as she sets some crayons in the hand closest to her, speaking with a very serious tone. “Don’t let them roll away.” Eddie nods, giving her a yes ma’am as she picks a new page for herself.

Eddie assesses the colourless page, hoping for some clown looking puppet or a cat or literally anything else other than the cartoon version of you holding a potted sunflower that graces his vision. With a flash of hope he flips the page to assess the back, only to find another picture of you, this time laying on the ground reading a book on a rug.

“Mel, wouldn’t you rather colour these pictures of Miss Bee?” Eddie asks, hoping that Mel would want to keep the pages of you to herself.

“Huh,” she looks up at him, seeing him flipping the pages back and forth. A little idea pops in her head, evident from the pinch in her brow. “No, Daddy,” she shakes her little head, “You gotta draw on one side, and then-and then, I--” she points a little finger to her chest,” --will colour the other side. And then when we see Mommy she can give it to Miss Bee.”

Eddie nods slowly, forcing a smile as Melody explains her plan to him. He’s not entirely thrilled at the idea, but how can he tell those big, brown eyes no? So he takes one of the crayons and begins colouring.

He makes no effort to make sense, your skin coloured red and your fluffy hair yellow, with a big lavender nose and matching circles on your cheeks. The temptation to draw devil horns and a tail is only outweighed by the prospect of upsetting his little girl, and possibly her mother, if she was insistent on gifting the colouring page to you.

After two days in the Florida heat, Eddie grips Melody tight in his arms as they make their way off the plane in New York City. He thought that they had made it out unnoticed when there wasn’t a single camera flashing through the entire airport. But, unfortunately for him, the crowd seemed to be waiting outside for the two of them to make their exit.

Eddie has them both with hoods up and sunglasses on as they are escorted to their transportation. Chrissy and him decided they would try and keep Mel out of the spotlight for as long as they possibly could, and had been fairly successful for the most part. Mel knew the drill by now, thinking of it like a game in her childlike mind.

But poparazzi in New York are about as ruthless as the ones back home in California, doing just about anything to get a picture. Whether it be of him or his daughter for the next issue of Insider. Cameras press against the glass trying to get one more good shot before they pull away. Eddie quickly flips them the bird just as the car begins to speed off.

Melody kicks her little feet in her seat as Eddie buckles her in.

“Daddy, are we going to see mommy now?” She asks, looking up at him excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a forced enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his ex-wife, quite the opposite really. But she’d really nailed it in his head that she was completely done with him and he was still healing the wound in his heart even two years later.

Melody looked excitedly out of the window, a childish wonder in her eyes as she soaked in the busy New York streets. A hundred “Daddy, what is that?”’s later, they finally arrived to the hotel Chrissy was staying in. The driver received their key and helped escort them to the elevator without incident. He almost cried when Eddie handed him a $100 tip as a thanks.

As the elevator topped out, the door opened to a spacious penthouse sweet. People walk back and forth past the open elevator door, some talking on their clunky cell phones, or carrying different dresses back and forth.

Eddie takes Mel’s hand and they step off the elevator, looking around at all the commotion. Eddie was used to this kind of frantic scene backstage at his concerts, but he wasn’t sure if Mel had ever been around this before. He kept her close to him as they stood by the elevator entrance, eyes scanning for a familiar face.

“Melody!” A woman’s voice called.

“Lisa!” Melody squealed, letting go of Eddie’s hand to run to the woman. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s met this chick before but he’s met a lot of chicks so it’s hard to say.

“I’m glad you guys made it okay. Chrissy’s in the bedroom getting ready. I’ll let her know you’re here?”

“I can do it--”

“No, I really think I should let her know,” Lisa stops him from going any further. “She is getting changed after all.”

“Okay suit yourself I guess,” Eddie shrugs, not really caring either way.

Lisa hands Melody over to Eddie and makes a beeline to a room down a the hallway. Not a few minutes later Chrissy comes from around the corner with arms wide open. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and some shorty shorts that make Eddie need to look away from her

“Hi my sweet angel baby!”

“Mommy!” Melody puts her arms out for her mother to take her, Chrissy scooping her up in her arms.

“Mommy! Mommy! I saw you with Miss Bee!”

Chrissy laughs, kissing her daughter on the cheek. “I heard! Were you so excited to see me with her?”

“I was so essited! Are Mommy and Miss Bee best friends now?”

“We are! And guess what?”

“What!”

“You’re going to get to meet Miss Bee!”

The sound that erupted from Melody just about took out Eddie’s ear drums.

“WHAT! FOR REAL LIFE?!”

“Yep! Tonight, after you have your fun day with Daddy! We’re taking you to meet her for her concert!”

“Oh em gee, this is the best day of my life EVER!”

Even though the context was less than ideal for Eddie, he still couldn’t help but melt over his daughters excitement.

“Wait a minute,” he interjects, “What do you mean we are taking her to see Miss Bee?”

“I got you a ticket,” Chrissy says with a coy smile.

“No, nope, no--”

“But Daddy, you have to go so we can give Miss Bee our colorings!”

“Come on, do I really have to?”

“Yes!” Chrissy and Melody say in unison.

And so Eddie was exactly where he didn’t want to be; side stage at your show.

To be fair, he had a blast in New York with Mel. They were able to avoid paparazzi all day and he even got her the big slice of pizza that she was in fact amazed by. But none of it could prepare him for the absolute bullshit that was this mockery of a concert.

Sure, there were plenty of people in the crowd. Most of them were kids, but it was still a packed stadium. It’s just that there was too much innocence. All the colors were bright and flashy. There were people dressed as puppets running around the back. No one had their titties out and people weren’t getting high in the bathroom before hand. Where was all the pizzaz?

Mel was excited, to say the least. Chris had a hand made Miss Bee outfit tailored to her, so she’d been sporting that for the entire outing today. She wouldn’t stop talking about how she couldn’t wait to show you. But you hadn’t made an appearance yet, thank fuck.

“Mommy, where’s Miss Bee?” Melody asks with her little patience showing.

“I told you, honey, we’re meeting Miss Bee after the concert. She has to put on a show for everyone first.”

Right on cue, the light dimmed on the stage and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Eddie liked the familiarity of the crowd's reaction, but it was soon spoiled by the sound of your voice.

“Is everyone ready?!” Your voice echoes over the PA system and Eddie fights the instant agitation. The lights come on not a moment later and soon you and your gaggle of idiot cast members enter the stage to begin your stupid show. The beginning of your intro song plays throughout the stadium and the crowd all joins you for your dance as they sing along.

Eddie looks down to see his own daughter copying your dance moves to the best of her ability. It was cute, and he admired her commitment to do her best. Eddie decided then that he would just pay attention to his daughter during the show rather than watch whatever the hell you were doing.

“Jesus will this ever end?” Eddie says under his breath. He felt like this show was going on forever.

“It’s only been 45 minutes,” Chrissy whispers back to him, causing Eddie to audibly groan. The slight head ache he was starting to get from all the lights told him he needed a break from all of this.

“I’m going to take a piss,” Eddie says before walking away.

“Where is daddy going?” He hears Melody ask as he walks away and it stings him for some reason. He wasn’t leaving, he just needed minute.

He did take his time in the bathroom, no matter how guilty he felt. The sounds of your show had paused for a bit and he assumed you were doing some kind of talk with the audience about brushing your teeth or whatever else you could come up with.

When he finally left the bathroom, she stepped out right into a slew of oncoming people. Before he knew it he was colliding with someone, almost getting knocked to the ground in the process. He tried to see who is was, but a spotlight was peaking over the curtain obstructing his view. All he could tell is that the person had landed on their ass as a result of their collision.

“Hey, sorry,” he said, sticking out a hand for the person to take. He felt them grasp their hand, and an instant shock wave went through his arm and into his body. It felt like he’d been electrocuted, all his alpha senses awakening in that moment.

He tried to jerk his hand away, but his firm grip just ended up pulling the person off of the ground. As he moved from the spotlight, he found himself holding hands with…Miss Bee?

“Woah,” is all you said as the two of you made eye contact. Eddie felt like he was stuck. All the hatred he normally felt for you in this moment had dissipated and he felt a strange…need for you. Despite all of the other people running around, the room felt like only the two of you were in it. And his senses started to fill with the smell of sweet vanilla and honey. He wanted to wipe all that silly clown makeup off your face, but he wanted to be the one to do it.

A name is called from somewhere next to where the two of you are standing and it seems to pull you out of the trance that the two of you were in. You hesitantly pull your hand from his and take off into the chaos that was suddenly very clear to Eddie.

“What the fuck?”

“There you are. See, I told you daddy was coming back,” Chrissy says to Melody as she dances around the side stage.

“Daddy, Miss Bee went on a break. We only have a little bit more time, and then we get to meet her! Then I can give her my colorings!”

“That’s great sweety,” Eddie says as he stands next to Chrissy again.

“You okay?” She asks him lowly.

“Y-yeah I’m good. My head, it’s just, you know, bothering me.” He does his best to lie.

“Do you want some tylenol? I have some in my purse.”

“Actually, yeah, I’ll take some.”

Chrissy fishes around in her purse and finds the bottle just as the lights dim again. Eddie instinctively cringes as he prepares himself for the next round of whatever is about to happen on stage.

“Alright, everyone, ready for more!”

Eddie is slightly surprised to find that your voice isn’t grating his nerves this time around. In fact, he almost likes hearing it. What the hell was happening to him?

The rest of the show goes on and Eddie seems to have conflicting feelings. Something about you has changed in his mind and he’s not sure what, but he doesn’t like it. Well, he does, but he doesn’t want to like it.

“Thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This has been an amazing experience and I am so happy to have shared it with you all.” The crowd cheers as you speak and the people around you bounce and cheer as well.

“We have one more song for you tonight! And I have a very special guest that I would like to come out and share it with me!” You turn to look at the side stage and it feels like you’re looking right at him. Oh, shit, were you looking at him?

“Give it up for my special friend, Melody!”

“What?” Eddie turns to look at Chrissy, but she’s already taking to the stage with their daughter pulling her all the way. He watches as his daughter runs to you and gives you a big hug.

Eddie starts to panic a bit. There’s no way that this show isn’t playing live on some TV station. And he’s sure with Chrissy being out on stage with Melody, who looks like the spitting image of Eddie, that there’s no way that every news station and magazine isn’t going to be putting her face out there to the world.

Irate doesn’t even begin to describe the way Eddie is feeling in this moment. He watches from the sideline as Melody and Chrissy dance with you and he decides then and there that he needs to be the one to bring your downfall. He doesn’t care how he does it, but he will make sure that you’re blacklisted from every media station in Hollywood.

He WILL see you fall.

Thanks for reading!

[chenziee]

Young Love

Written as a part of the free Calendar Project by @newscoozines! There are three printable calendars (2 gen ones and 1 shipping) -- this story is for January in the shipping calendar!

Check the project out to see, among many others, the georgeous art done by Florakitz to go with this piece 🤍

Get all the links here, or go directly to each calendar: Ship || Gen 1 || Gen 2

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI ]

—————

When the Straw Hats had left the Flower Capital, Jinbe had thought that was the end of the celebrations and festivities. After all, they headed to the snowy Ringo—just so that Zoro could pay his respect to the late samurai Ryuma for… whatever reason. Jinbe didn’t quite understand the ‘because I fought him’ part.

He had thought the festival over… but he soon learned to not underestimate his new crew’s thirst for partying.

As he walked around the festival, snow crunching under his feet, Jinbe took in all that the festival and its many stalls had to offer; for the most part, it was much similar to the festival in the Capital—same games, same drinks, same food… except there was no shaved ice and no fish scooping, replaced instead by bowls of steaming hot ramen and snowball fights.

The mood, however… that was exactly the same. Laughter and music were dancing in the air wherever Jinbe went, happiness almost tangible as people celebrated their new-found freedom. And, just like in the Capital, the Straw Hats were right at the heart of it all.

It almost felt ridiculous, to be honest. Jinbe wasn’t used to this sort of thing. Wasn’t used to people joyfully celebrating with pirates—celebrating pirates.

But that was precisely why he had decided to join this particular crew, wasn’t it?

A wide smile spread on Jinbe’s lips at the thought; he really was glad he had decided to take this step and accept Luffy’s invitation.

“Dango!!”

Speak of the devil…

Jinbe chuckled at Luffy’s unmistakable shout, one full of excitement and hunger for food. And sure enough, when the fishman looked up, the young man himself was already bouncing towards a dango stall, demanding ten sticks before he even made it close enough for the cook to see him.

Jinbe was about to call out to his captain but then Luffy stopped abruptly before he turned on his heel and called, “Torao! How many do you want?”

“Just one’s good,” came a tired response from somewhere around the corner—the direction that Luffy had burst in from just a moment earlier.

Huh… Was Luffy spending time with Trafalgar Law? Earlier, it had seemed like Law didn’t want anything to do with the Straw Hats now that the alliance was over—Jinbe didn’t even know he came to Ringo as well—but now they’re walking around the festival together?

Maybe Jinbe shouldn’t be too surprised; Luffy did have that effect on people. After all, Jinbe himself was no exception.

Chuckling at the way Luffy immediately bit into the sweet, multicoloured dumplings handed to him—all four at once—Jinbe finally stepped forward.

“Luffy!”

Luffy paused, tilting his head back… before his face split in a wide grin. “Oh! Hi, Jinbe!” he greeted, speaking around the food in his mouth. “Did you see the snowmen back at the giant bell thing?”

“Not yet.” Jinbe shook his head. “I was watching Brook’s stage with Robin and Franky.”

“You should go, it’s super fun!”

“Not anymore,” a new voice interrupted. “Not after someone destroyed more than half of the statues.”

Immediately, a pout appeared on Luffy’s face as he turned to glare at Trafalgar Law. “It was an accident!!”

“Sure. If you consider ploughing through a bunch of statues while trying to carry a huge snowball an accident,” Law noted with a smirk as he accepted a dango stick Lufffy had offered to him.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d agreed to help!”

As Luffy’s pout only grew and Law’s smirk widened, Jinbe couldn’t help the easy laughter that bubbled out of his chest. If he didn’t know who Trafalgar Law was, he would think he was a part of Luffy’s crew. The way they were talking and interacting with each other, no one would think they were two rivals in a race to rule the sea and stand at the pinnacle of the world.

“Jinbe~,” Luffy whined, turning to his helmsman for support.

With an amused huff, Jinbe finally interjected. “Sounds like an accident to me alright.”

Law clicked his tongue, shooting the fishman a look. “Nami-ya’s right, you are coddling him.”

As Luffy stuck his tongue out at his companion, prompting Law to ruffle his hair in a teasing manner—yet another action that would have caught Jinbe by surprise just days ago—, Jinbe shook his head. Somehow, he felt like he was intruding.

With a final chuckle, Jinbe stepped away, waving the two of them goodbye before excusing himself.

They’d become such great friends over the course of this alliance; they should be allowed to get some time to spend together before the crews parted ways!

—————

Over the course of the night, Jinbe was happy to spend some down time with the Straw Hats, getting to know their habits and personalities better. He didn’t get much opportunity to do so during the festival in the Flower Capital since that was a much larger happening, not to mention they all ran off before the chefs at the Shogun castle even finished their work. To be fair, they had asked Jinbe to leave with them, but the fishman simply felt too bad for the hardworking cooks who took so much time to prepare the elaborate feast.

Here in Ringo, however, no such obligations were a problem. No one even knew them here—no one aside from a large, beautiful flame fox who had tried to pick a fight with Zoro for some reason and acting like the two knew each other well, much to Zoro’s own confusion. Which wasn’t to say that stopped the swordsman from rising up the challenge, of course.

At least before Nami stopped them while yelling something about property damage, debts, and interests.

Jinbe decided he didn’t want to know anything about that.

He met Usopp at the shooting games at one point, the sniper causing nothing but despair for the poor vendor there. He saw him again a little while later, standing proudly on an impromptu stage surrounded by a small crowd as he retold the heroic events of the raid and subsequent battle of Onigashima. With a few… tweaks to the story, one could say.

Chopper, of course, was busy running from one stall selling sweets to another, often accompanied by someone else from the crew—be it Robin, Nami, Usopp, Luffy, or even Yamato.

Sanji, as far as Jinbe could tell, spent the whole time taste-testing all the food he could get his hands on, soliciting recipes from people… when not too busy chasing after women. Or swooning over Nami and Robin in their kimonos and haoris. Or fighting with Zoro.

All in all, there was a lot of energy.

Jinbe still had a long way to go to be able to keep up with them!

Most surprisingly, however… Whenever Jinbe saw Luffy, Trafalgar Law was never far behind—and the other way around. Even when Jinbe saw Law walking around the festival with his crew, or saw Luffy laughing and playing with Usopp and Yamato, the other was always close. Almost as if they were scared to let each other out of their sight.

Jinbe couldn’t figure them out; Law always claimed they weren’t friends while Luffy kept declaring Law his crewmate. They bickered a lot, Law often threatened to cut one or more of Luffy’s body parts while Luffy bothered him endlessly… yet the man never followed through, instead indulging Luffy in everything he decided would be fun. It was a strange dynamic to be sure.

And somehow, it only kept getting stranger.

It was about three hours after the crew had joined the festival when Jinbe, a red bean taiyaki in one hand and a sake cup in the other, headed for the outskirts of the happenings to enjoy the event away from the crowds. It had started snowing heavily not long ago so most of the sheltered seating areas were already occupied, but Jinbe didn’t mind. He walked a little further away, up a small hill where a few trees stood, providing shelter of their own; surprisingly, he didn’t see any people up there, even though he was sure the view was very nice from up there.

As he trudged through the snow and came closer to the summit, however, he started hearing familiar voices.

“I don’t understand how you can still have so much energy,” one of them muttered tiredly.

A quiet snicker followed. “You’re just old, Torao.”

“I’m literally twenty-six,” Law deadpanned, and Jinbe could just hear the eyeroll.

“I mean your brain. Or your people energy. Or whatever. You just get tired way too quickly around people, like a hissy cat,” Luffy said, his voice shaking with laughter, completely unapologetic.

Law clicked his tongue. “Well, excuse me for liking my peace and quiet. Which I never fucking get with you around.”

“You love it,” Luffy teased.

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks,” Luffy shot back with another happy laugh accompanying his words.

“You’re impossible,” Law groaned… but his tone sounded light, almost as if he was holding back a chuckle himself.

Just hearing the exchange, Jinbe wasn’t sure if he should be interrupting them; their conversation felt… strangely intimate. Jinbe took another hesitant step forward and finally, the two of them came into view—immediately making Jinbe freeze in place.

They were sitting on the ground under the tallest tree, which in itself wouldn’t be strange, it was what Jinbe was expecting… Except they weren’t just casually enjoying the view of the festival like Jinbe thought and was planning to do himself.

No; instead, Luffy was sitting in Law’s lap, his arms thrown over the taller man’s shoulders while one of Law’s hands rested casually on Luffy’s thighs, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the fabric of Luffy’s kimono. His other hand was brushing back Luffy’s hair, hair which was covered in so much snow that he almost looked like his awakened form. Soon, Law was stroking Luffy’s cheek, guiding him closer… until their lips connected.

Jinbe felt a blush rising to his face.

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t be here.

As he slowly turned away and started going back the way he came as quietly as he could, he thought back to two years ago, to the time when Law appeared in the middle of Marineford, risking his own and his crew’s lives to get Luffy to safety for seemingly no reason. 

He thought back to the two weeks they had spent in the confines of Law’s sub, the surgeon spending every waking moment with Luffy, making sure his vitals were stable and he wasn’t in danger. Back then, Jinbe assumed it was simply doctor’s pride that didn’t allow Law to stop looking after his critically injured patient. He believed Law when he said he had decided to save Luffy’s life on a whim. He concluded there was nothing really to it other than Law finding Luffy interesting after their encounter on Sabaody.

And when Luffy looked almost panicked when he realised Law and his crew were gone after he and Jinbe returned to the shore after Luffy’s rampage on Amazon Lily, Jinbe attributed it to him being grateful for their help and wanting to thank them.

But now…

Now Jinbe saw a much different picture.

A picture that made a little bit too much sense in retrospect, and Jinbe couldn’t figure out how he hadn’t seen it sooner.

After all, the way Law had  been looking at Luffy this whole time, the way Luffy always asked about Law’s whereabouts whenever he didn’t see him around for more than ten minutes, the way Luffy was always touching Law in some way—and Law letting him…

It was all so painfully obvious now.

A smile pulled on Jinbe’s lips when Luffy’s snicker reached his ears; he wasn’t sure how long this was going to last—they were all pirates, after all—but seeing how happy they both were… Jinbe decided to support them for as long as they wanted it to last.

Young love and all that.

[911onem]

There was no thought to how long he had sat in that chair, just thinking about what he was going to do for the rest of the night. All he knows is he was pulled from his silence by a knock on the front door, his head tilting in confusion as he stood and quickly made his way to the front of the house. He peeked through the side window, smiling gently as he unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal Eddie standing there with a pack of beer.

The brown eyes were dull, but still sparkled as he lifted the drinks, waving them around carefully as he stepped inside and headed toward the fridge.

“Since we are both missing our favorite people tonight, I thought that maybe we could just hang out together. The two of us, like old times.”

Buck shrugged from behind him, making his way back to the stool as Eddie eyed the groceries, shooting his friend a look from across the counter.

“How long have these been sitting here?”

He shrugged again, fingers twisting together as Eddie gently placed the bottles on the top shelf before grabbing one of the bags and beginning to unload them.

“Buck, are you alright?”

“I came here.”

Eddie shot him a glance, pausing for a second as if asking him to continue.

“Instead of the loft, I came here. I forgot that he had left.”

He felt himself shrink as he watched the floor, Eddie still rummaging through the grocery bags as he must have been thinking of how to respond. It only took a minute, freezer sliding open as he heard him take a breath.

“I walked into Christopher’s room when I got home, was already talking to him as if he was at his desk doing his homework.”

Buck sighed, eyes watering as he thought about the kid he hadn’t seen or talked to in what felt like years.

“I miss him, he’s not answering any of my calls.”

“Yeah, but he’s a teenager. My mom said he’s spending all day at the lake with his friends, he’s barely talking to them either. I think he’s got his mind stuck on Shannon, which is clearly my fault.”

“You didn’t mean for him to find out, Eddie. It’s not like you asked for this-”

“No,” he interrupted gently, closing the freezer and shuffling over to the pantry, “But, I shouldn’t have even humored going back to that store at the promenade. I should have gone to Frank instead. Where does Tommy put these snack bars?”

“Third shelf to the left.”

He kept his gaze on the floor, feeling his knuckles pop as he continued to twist his fingers around, keeping the room in silence for a little while longer.

“Buck?”

He hummed softly in response, waiting a few seconds before looking up to see Eddie staring at him from across the space.

“What's going on?”

His chest grew heavy, body weighing him down as he shrugged his shoulders, trying to avoid eye contact as Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back against the pantry door.

“You know, he’s just gone for a couple days-”

“I know that-” He spit, anger rolling off his shoulders as he turned the stool to face away. A part of him regretted it, but neither of them spoke until feet made their way over and Eddie fell into the stool next to him.

“Buck..”

“I don’t need you to tell me I’m acting ridiculous, Eddie. I don’t need anyone telling me that he’s only gone a week- I know that.”

“I didn’t mean to make you think I was making fun of you, I'm sorry. Hey, can you look at me?” The hand that landed on his shoulder was heavy, trying to comfort him despite how difficult he was being. The moment his eyes began to swell he knew he wasn’t going to turn, arms crossing against his chest as he stared out the window just across the living room.

“You know, he texted me about an hour ago. He asked me to swing by and check on you.”

His hands shook as he rolled his eyes, a single tear sliding at the motion.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, we never have before.”

The attitude dropped at the words, chest aching as the hand on his shoulder pressed down a little harder, using him as leverage to lift his body up and walk until he was standing directly in front of his partner.

“I’m here for whatever you need to talk about.”

“It’s stupid,” he groaned, sob pulling from his chest as he lifted a hand to cover the side of his face. His fingers were still shaking, face going red in embarrassment as he struggled to suck a solid breath back into his lungs.

“I bet it’s not,” Eddie argued carefully.

“Your son is in another state and I’m throwing a fit about my boyfriend being gone for a week-”

“Hey,” the voice was stern, cutting him off as both hands took places on each of Buck’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Cut that out.”

“I always make things about me-”

“No, you don’t. I know we make stupid jokes, but you don’t make things all about you, Buck. How you feel is important, and you’ve been down all day and I’m worried about you. Now talk to me, tell me what's going on.”

He took a deep breath, pushing into his hand as his bottom lip quivered, losing the battle within himself rather quickly. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat and it wasn’t until a hand raised onto the back of his neck that he thought about Tommy doing the same thing at the airport; That thought alone had him choking on another sob.

“I’m scared, Eddie.”

“About what?” He questioned softly.

“That he’s not going to come back and I’ll be stuck in this house just like I was with Abby.”

Eddie froze, sighing in understanding as he pulled his hand away from his shoulder and dragged the nearest stool underneath him. They mirrored each other, Eddie giving him his space as he ignored pulling Buck’s hand away to rest it on his knee instead.

“Listen, I know I came around at the end of all of that, but what Abby was going through had nothing to do with you. She seemed to have a lot of issues and none of it was your fault-”

“What if it was?” He argued sadly, chest shuddering between breaths. “What if it's just me that no one can stand?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because,” he wept, “everyone leaves me at some point and I can never get them to stay. Daniel, he died because of me. My parents, I wasn’t enough to keep them from their grief. Maddie left, Abby left, Ali left, you left, Chim left, Bobby just retired- It’s all because of me-”

“Listen, Bobby retiring wasn’t because of you, and you and I both know he’s trying his damndest to get back to the 118. Maddie, she came back. Chimney, me? We came back, we just needed a break. None of it was your fault, I can promise you that with everything I am. Chris, he’s going to come back, on his own time. And Tommy? He is not Abby, he’s ten times more a better person than she ever was and I know he’s counting down the minutes until he can jump back on that plane and come home to you.”

“I love him, Eddie.” He pulled his hand away just enough for Eddie to see watery blues, face crumbled in distress. “I’ve never loved anyone like this before and I’m terrified he’s going to see what everyone else saw and leave me behind.”

Eddie frowned, using the hand on the back of his neck to draw him closer, not letting go until tears were staining his t-shirt and Eddie was back on his feet, taking in the weight of his best friend’s body.

“I can’t predict the future, Buck. But, I can tell you that Tommy is head over heels in love with you, and the way he talks about you doesn’t give me a single thought that believes he would leave you behind.”

“Really?” He sobbed into his shoulder.

“Really, matter of fact, he’s going to kill me for this, but he told me something last week that you’re really going to want to know.” Buck didn’t respond, but Eddie knew he was listening as he held him a little tighter, “He’s going to ask you to move in with him when he comes home.”

The sobs grew, Eddie smiling sadly as Buck's hands came to wrap around him, holding him just as tight. He didn’t say anything more for a few minutes, giving him a moment to fall apart before Eddie could help him come back together.

[sgtbradfords]

Hi, lovely! Could you write something with Tim being worried about Lucy because of Seth, and saying something to her along the lines of "He's going to get you killed, Lucy."?

Lucy's hand trembles as she pulls her dirty undershirt out of her locker, quickly shoving it into her bag. "You don't think I don't know that?"

“Obviously you don't, otherwise he wouldn't still be pulling stupid stunts like the death wish he had today!”

She thinks about slamming the door of her locker closed and even fleetingly considers storming off. But instead of giving in to what she wants, Lucy takes a deep breath in through her nose and counts to five. She knows that what Seth did today was stupid and since he’s her rookie, she was partially responsible for his actions. But that knowledge doesn’t make things any easier. 

Lucy twists her body to look at Tim for the first time since he stormed into the women's locker room. 

Though his shoulders are taut, and his facial expressions are hardened, it's the tone of the truth that slips past his lips that gives him away. He's scared, but his unadulterated fear was different from her own, which still chilled her to her bones. 

"Could you please not?" There's a burning sensation behind her eyes as her throat constricts with a harsh swallow. She's not going to cry, not here, not now, but she doesn't have it in her to cover the tremble of her voice. "I don't need a lecture from you right now."

She just wants this day to be over. More than that, she just wants to go home. 

Tim's next words were uttered into existence with a voice that was much quieter, softer, than before. 

"Lucy."

“What." The word comes out harsher than she intended it to, but right now, she doesn't give a shit. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" 

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” 

Tim takes a step forward. “Are you okay?”

"Not really." Lucy rasps. She wasn't okay, not in the least. 

The sigh Tim releases is immense as he drops the bag on his shoulder to the ground. "Come here." 

Lucy only thinks about it for a moment before she takes one step forward to find comfort in his open arms. She wraps her arms over his shoulders and around his back, closing her eyes. She can’t help but think that it’s a little pathetic how quickly she melts into his warmth as she takes a deep breath in, inhaling the same scent that the shirt she wears to bed every night once held. 

"I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry." His breath is warm against the nape of her neck as he whispers. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“You’re already doing it.” For the first time in what felt like hours, Lucy finds herself relaxing. "Grey said we would finish handling it in the morning, I just wish Seth's career didn't have to end this way."

"There was no other choice to make. You did everything you could, but the kid was a walking liability. It was only a matter of time before he got you, himself, or a civilian, killed." 

Lucy pulls away at the thought. She doesn't have to tell him just how close her former boot had come to achieving two out of the three today. 

"Look, I know things have been a bit chaotic recently,” She says as Tim takes a step back to retrieve his bag that had been abandoned. “But we still haven't had that conversation you promised me a few weeks ago."

Tim raises his brow with a curious grin. "No, no, we haven't. What did you have in mind?" 

"There’s a new pet-friendly restaurant with outdoor seating a couple of blocks from here. I was thinking that maybe you could go grab Kojo, and we could finally have that talk." 

The door of the locker room swings open, but neither of them pays the person any mind. 

"Are you sure?" 

Without hesitation, Lucy nods. Was she still shaken up over the events that had transpired today? Yes. But she knows she can be traumatized with a glass of wine in her hand, a plate of food on the table in front of her, and her favorite canine sleeping at her feet. 

“Ask me that again, and you’ll be the one buying me a glass of wine.” She teases with a grin. The threat is empty and they both know it. In all actuality, Lucy appreciates the concern. 

Tim rolls his eyes, though his smile ultimately betrays him. "Text me the address."

Lucy hums in acknowledgement as he walks away. The better portion of her day may have been shit, but at least her evening was looking up.

AO3 Link Here!

[soxcietyy]

Trouble

Yuta x reader 18+

forbidden romance, enemy’s to lovers

You are now an instructor at Jujutsu tech because of your protective older brother Megumi. He’s seen your bad luck with romance so he sets one rule in place. "No dating sorcerers, especially the ones who are heads of clans." Sounded easy enough until one comes into your class. Yuta Okkotsu.

Part 2

Hours pass, and Yuta slowly regains consciousness, his eyelids fluttering open. He glances around the room, confused, before his gaze settles on you sitting next to him. His eyes suddenly falling on you.

When they did his eyes grew wide but suddenly relaxed. He must of remember what had happened.

"You're really taking this caretaker role seriously, huh?" He tries to wiggle his fingers but still feels no response. "How long until I'm moving again?"

"Couple hours."

He stares at you for a real response.

"Maybe 8 hours…"

His eyebrows furrow slightly, his frustration clear.

"Eight hours?! You expect me to lie here like a invalid for eight more hours?!" He tries to sit up but his body remains unresponsive. "This is torture..."

"Shouldn’t have underestimated me Yuta." You point at his chest.

He glares at you as your finger touches his chest. Who knows what he would have done if he wernt paralyzed. You guys had a mutual dislike for each other so you wernt going to be surprised if he gets you back later on.

"Right, maybe next time no weapons and then we’ll see who is the better one." Yuta smiles.

You shrug and begin your walk to the bathroom. You pull out a few things from a closet and bring it back to the room where Yuta was resting.

"I need to get you out of here before my brother shows up." You say as you open a bottle. You put the liquid onto a Cotten ball and wipe it of a cut he has on his cheek.

You watch as he scrunches his face from the sudden stinging. Surprisingly he didn’t complain about the pain. You would have done this earlier but you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep.

"You have a brother?" He asks.

You looked at him shocked. Megumi had asked him to help with funding your class. He didn’t tell him you guys were related. Which was weird…

"Yes I do. He’s very overprotective and isn’t fond of men the men in introduce him to or the ones I bring to my home."

You doubted he would show up today though. He was very busy with his duties that he usually only called one a month to check up on you. What was the chances of him showing up today?

"Hungry?" You ask him.

"Well, if you insist on winning my affection through food, better make it delicious." He smirks.

You roll your eyes at his response but decide to be nice to him since you manage to get him into this predicament.

"Can you make curry? And a side of tonkatsu. Crispy breaded pork cutlet. Don't forget the miso soup too. And maybe some gyoza on the side." He says with a straight face.

You let out a laugh. "Do I look like your personal chef? Not like you could afford one anyways. You’re lucky if you even get noodles from the convenient store."

His brow raises at what you just said. He didn’t bother to say anything else but decided to close his eyes.

You sigh before getting up to the kitchen. You’re only making it because this is your fault. After today no more being nice, no more being pushed around. This was only a one time thing and then you ain’t have to see him around anymore. You just needed to deal with him until the poison ware’s off.

After a few hours you come into the room with a tray full of food. When you walked in he was resting peacefully with the sun shinning on him. He almost looked like a nice guy.

"Wake up, lunch is here." You say placing it on his lap.

He glances up at you, a hint of frustration mingled with appreciation in his eyes. "Yep, still paralyzed. So... unless you want me starving amidst this feast, you might have to help." Despite the inconvenience, a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You take a seat next to him on your bed. Reaching over him you grab the spoon and scoop up a full spoon of curry. You lift it up towards him but quickly redirects it into your mouth.

He watches in disbelief as you eat the bite meant for him, his eyes wide and slightly hurt. "Hey! You’re here to feed me not yourself."

You laugh and got another spoonful of food for him this time. He chews slowly, savoring the rich flavor before swallowing. "It's really good..." He admits reluctantly, his gaze flicking between your face and the spoon in your hand.

You kept on feeding him until the bowls of food were cleaned off. He mentioned being full a while ago but you didn’t cook all of this for it to just be discarded at the end.

You gently wipe his face with the napkin, Yuta blushes slightly, unused to such intimate gestures. He watches you with a curious gaze. You ignored him and pulled your hand away once you finished cleaning his mouth.

You quickly pick everything up and put it on the tray. Removing it from his lap and taking it to the dinning table. You wernt sure what you were supposed to do now. It’s not like he would fall asleep anytime soon.

As you thought about something to do you hear a loud knock startling you. You quickly stand and face the door to see a shadow standing there.

You didn’t invite anyone over, nor would anyone find voluntarily unless…

"Who is it?" You yell.

You wait for a few second until you heard a loud sigh from the other side of the door.

"It’s me, now open the door."

You recognized the voice anywhere. It was your one and only brother Megumi.

You run to your room and reach for the handle. Yuta looked at you confused but you had no time to explain, you slam the door shut and run to the front door to see him standing inside already.

"What took you so long?" He asks.

"I uh, was ironing my slacks! Didn’t want to leave flat iron out like that. Anyways what brings you here?! Arnt you busy?! Since you know, you’re the head of the Zenin clan?!" You say.

He gives you a small smile, "I was just nervous for you. It’s your first day and all."

"No need to worry Megumi it went by smoothly." You grab his arm and direct him towards the exit.

You had to get him to leave immediately. If Yuta somehow managed to leave the room these two boys would meet each other and you would never hear the end of it.

"That’s not what I heard." He gives you a hard look.

Uh oh what did he hear? Did one of the workers see you dragging a boy home? You knew you should have been more careful. These women have nothing better to do than gossip around.

"What are you talking about?" You ask nervously.

Megumi walked away from you towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out some dumplings you were saving for later. Normally you would of snatched them out of his hand but maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do right now.

"You got into a fight."

You stared at him stunned. You didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or still be scared. He knew about Yuta but not that he was currently 20ft away.

You didn’t say anything scared that something might slip out. Images you watched him warm the dumpling up and how he walk to the pantry to pull out a sauce.

"With Yuta Okkotsu, do you know who he is? he-"

"He’s the one who funded my class I know already and it was a mistake. Not really." You mumbled the last part under your breath.

"He’s more than just that actually." Megumi sighs and takes a dumpling. He blows on it to cool it down before taking a bite out of it.

"I actually don’t care who that asshole is." You sit next to your brother.

Your stomach rumbled as you watched him eat. Right you haven’t gotten to eat all day because your busy playing caretaker. You were planning on eating before your brother had shown up though.

You look down and see that your brother pushed the plate towards you. You couldn’t help but look at him with a guilty expression. He wanted you to not involved with sorcerers but here you are betraying him.

Were you though? There was nothing romantic going on. You were just paying for what happened.

You take the chopsticks from his hand and took a dumpling. It was the best thing you’ve eaten all day.

"Before I go, I wanted to ask one more thing." He says standing up.

You were too busy eating to ask him what it was but there was no need. He asked the question immediately not giving you time to swallow the food in your mouth.

"Who else is here?"

You froze. Eyes slowly averting to meet your brother’s gaze.

How the hell dod he know?!

"How could it be possible for you to be hungry when I see a tray full of empty dishes on the counter? Not only that but two pairs of shoes in the entrance, one clearly belonging to a male."

You curse yourself for being so stupid.

"Megumi, please don’t embarrass in front of him. I know that you dragged me here to get away from men and romance for a bit but I couldn’t help it. I met him when I stopped by a breakfast bar. It was just meant to be." You had no idea what you were saying.

He glared at you before turning around and walking to the door. He didn’t bother looking back at you as you called out his name.

He quickly slipped his shoes on and kicked Yutas shoes to the side.

It wasn’t long before he was out of your sight.

"Fuck" you run your hands over your face.

What now? He was clearly mad about the situation. He would have been furious if he found out he wasn’t a normal person.

He couldn’t be mad forever. You just had to give him time.

"I can’t believe it. Your Megumis little sister."

You turn around so quickly that you almost fell. That voice… there’s no way it’s-

"Yuta, how? What?!" You looked at him confused.

"I see it though, you guys have the same facial features and expressions." He steps closer and cups your face in his big hands.

How was he here right now?! He should be incapable of doing any movements.

"My body is pretty good at flushing out toxins. Not saying that they don’t work but it takes half the time for me to get over the symptoms. Now what here you saying? Something about us meeting being meant to be?"

You slap his hands away from you and walked passed him. He didn’t seem hurt by it seeing he had a smirk on his face.

"I was just saying things so he would leave. Me and you? Pft don’t make me laugh." You slide back into your seat to finish the dumplings on the table.

Yuta followed right behind you. Watching your every move. If he was feeling fine he should leave soon before your bother decides to come back.

"What’s wrong with us being a thing?" He steps closer and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

You don’t bother to look at him, instead you put your full attention to the food in front of you. "I’m not allowed to date sorcerers." You state.

"Is that right?" You hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"I also don’t date assholes." You smile at him.

Yuta puts his other hand on the table. Trapping you into your seat. He was so close you could practically smell his cologne. Tobacco with a hint of wood.

A smirk forms on his lips, finding your rejection amusing rather than offensive "Strong words from someone who hasn't even given me a chance. You know what your problem is? You're too used to being treated like a precious doll. Let me guess - your brother wrapped you in cotton wool, right?"

His hand finds a place to rest on your thigh making you shudder. You guys were bickering not too long ago so what changed?

"I thought we had a mutual disdain for each other." You look at him trying to figure out if this was some sort of sick joke

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair "I don't know, maybe it's because you're siting there, looking at me like you hate my guts, when all I can think about is proving to you that I'm not as bad as you think I am."

"so how are you going to prove that your not a bad person?"

Without warning, he reaches out and takes your hand, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle "By starting over. I wasn’t so nice when we met today but after all of this… I see your not such a bad person after all. your a really kind person and it’s hard to find someone like that in the Jujutsu world."

He sighs fusterated," what I’m trying to say is that I want you to get to know the better me. the kind person I was before I became…" He stops talking and looks at you with a small smile.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad person. Maybe he just needed someone by his side? You wernt sure if you were going to regret this. Dating someone you hardly knew. You just met him today too! But he’s somehow different.

"Fine, let’s start over."

Smiles genuinely, his eyes lighting up with relief and a hint of excitement "Good." He drops your hand but stays close, his tone softer now, "So, since we're starting over, let me ask you this - do you always cook and let strangers into your house?"

@lysaray

[seellove]

Counterfeit Shrines // sukuna x female reader

Masterlist

Chapter 2 - Nineteen with Neck Tatz // (4.2k words) // Explicit - 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 2

You're a late bloomer when it comes to cursed energy, entering Tokyo Jujutsu High partway through the 4th year on the support student track. Because of this, you get paired with the only combat track sorcerer without a partner for obvious reasons, Ryomen Sukuna. He's had a tragic upbringing as a human that is part curse with dark expectations for how to live his life. However, after meeting you, he slowly starts to see the possibility of a different path with someone he might love.

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are Jujutsu Sorcerers in a JJK AU, explicit smut, violence/blood/injury, dubious consent, dubious morality, drug and alcohol use, falling in love, angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending

You know you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but it's hard not to when you see him striding towards you and your table confidently. He just exudes an aura of assertiveness mixed with something sinister. You aren’t an expert on cursed energy in the slightest, however, you can pick up on the darkness wafting through the air making it harder to breathe. 

You notice he’s eying Gojo, so you decide it's safe to watch him approach. It’s impossible to not be captivated by his presence, his hands are shoved in his pockets and sleeves rolled up just enough to expose tattoos on his wrists and muscular forearms. Oh and what you saw on his neck was black ink cutting across the contours of muscle like jagged bolts of lightning. His sharp jawline is accentuated by more ink running parallel from between his cheekbone and ear down to his chin. 

Face tattoos, that's definitely a choice. There’s something about it that fits with his demeanor though.  

“What’s up man,” his deep voice breaks you from your daze as he slaps Gojo on the back. 

“Sup Sukuna,” Gojo greets him. 

Sukuna. Interesting name.

Gojo stares straight ahead as Sukuna leans down to murmur something in his ear, Gojo nodding slightly as he takes a sip of his drink. Sukuna’s eyes flick briefly towards you, the eye contact only lasting for a second as you quickly divert your gaze to anything but him. The intensity of just that one moment was enough to send chills down your spine.

“Sukuna, have you met our new classmate yet?” Gojo speaks up, gesturing to you as he says your name.

“Nope,” he says in a disinterested voice, “seems weak judging by that cursed energy signature though.”

“Dude, I swear sometimes you decide to see how fast you can sound like an asshole in as few words as possible,” Shoko barks at him which results in a cocky smirk in return.

He presses his hands into the edge of the table, flexing his arms as he gets a better look at you. This time you meet his sharp gaze until he glances away, which feels like a tiny victory.

OK actually he is really fucking hot. Seems like an absolute fuck boy, but you couldn’t deny his attractiveness. When he glanced in your direction, you thought you saw a hint of red in his eyes. You feel your face flush as he walks away. Shoko notices this almost immediately.

“Ah another poor girl captivated by Ryomen Sukuna’s aura,” she giggled.

“Wh-what?? No I-“

“I’m just joking. He is an attractive guy, you aren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last to think that,” she smirked. 

“What's his deal?

“I mean he is really strong, there is no doubt about that. His dad is a special operations sorcerer so he definitely has it in him,” Shoko explains.

“Ever since we’ve known him, he's been moody and hard to get along with. Also he has big beef with Gojo over who is stronger,” Geto adds with a chuckle.

“Which by the way is absolutely me!” Gojo says animatedly.

You laugh in response as you take a sip of your drink. Honestly most of the guys you’ve seen so far have been pretty attractive, was there something about cursed energy that just made guys hotter? No matter what, you noticed your ex boyfriend was quickly slipping from the depths of your mind. 

All three of you finish eating and make your way back to the dorms. You go to change into your pajamas and reconvene with your friends in the lounge area. 

“So, what was life like for you before coming here?” Gojo asks as he falls into the couch next to you. His blue eyes are mesmerizing, how can someone be blessed with this good of looks? 

You start to describe your childhood and how your dad is a sorcerer. How you went to traditional private school, playing sports, your favorite subjects, the typical high school activities. 

“Do you have a boyfrieeeeend?” He asks in a low joking tone. 

“No, well, I did, but I broke up with him before coming here,” you say with just a hint of sadness.

“Wow such a heartbreaker,” Geto smirks, shaking his head. 

“Are there any couples here?” You ask curiously. You figured as a boarding school there would be no shortage of messy relationships. 

“Eh there are a few. The guy with black hair who was with Sukuna has a longtime girlfriend. Also you haven’t met them, but Choso and Yuki are dating. Other than that, mainly flings and friends with benefits situations,” Shoko chimes in. 

“So typical high school shit it sounds like, except everyone lives together.” You laugh. Your mind wanders, it's kind of exciting being able to do whatever you want. Living at home, it was hard to get alone time with your ex, but here it's fair game. 

“Well if you ever need a wing woman you know where to find me,” Shoko’s words interrupt your thoughts. 

“Thanks Shoko,” you smile back. She really has been a good friend over the years and you know she has your back. 

Three girls walk in the lounge as you all are hanging out and you can’t help but overhear their conversation which sounds stressed.

“He left abruptly and hasn’t talked to me since,” a girl with long black hair says, sounding upset.

“Kiko it’s probably nothing you did, I wouldn’t worry much about it, you know how he is,” a blond haired girl responds obviously trying to cheer her friend up. 

You wonder who they are talking about. You certainly remember similar conversations happening at your old school with girls getting caught up with guys who are only interested in one thing. You are amused to see that this school isn’t much different from traditional high schools when it comes to this stuff. 

The girls suddenly get quiet. You turn around and see the guys come in that you saw earlier. Sukuna and Toji, you remember their names. 

“Kiko, doll I was looking for you,” you hear a low drawl come from Sukuna. Damn even his voice sounds sexy, you think to yourself. He saunters over to the group of girls, his hands in his pockets again.

Kiko looks a little perturbed and you assume she is trying to play a little hard to get, but it doesn’t seem to last long. “Kuna I was wondering where you got off to,” she giggles while the other girls direct their attention to Sukuna. He obviously has them wrapped around his finger. Poor girls.

“Well I wanna get off with you, so you best quit standing around here,” he says so nonchalantly that you almost choke on your water bottle. How can someone be so brazen out in the open like this!? The girls all laugh and Kiko steps towards him, pressing her body against his as he leans back against the kitchen counter. You notice him wrap a large hand around her and grab her ass, pulling her close towards him. 

“I’ll talk to you all later,” you hear Kiko giggling to her friends as she follows him away, Sukuna not even bothering to wait for her. 

“Is Kiko his girlfriend?” You whisper to Shoko.

“Hell no,” she bursts out laughing. “He basically has a harem following him around. Treats them like shit, but it seems to make them want him more. She’s his flavor of choice for the night I guess.” She rolls her eyes.

“I see,” you say awkwardly. You have always felt bad for girls in this situation. You had a friend in school that confessed to you that if she kept hooking up with a guy she liked, she thought he would eventually like her back. It hurt to watch her go through that, seeing her realize she would never be enough, always getting her hopes up to end up being let down again.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you stand up and stretch, suddenly exhausted from the day and eager for some alone time. 

“I’ll come by to grab you in the morning,” Shoko says as she jumps up to hug you. The boys also bid you good night as you leave the lounge area, entering the dim hallway. You make it back to your room, take a quick shower, and climb into bed. You pull a book out from your bookshelf and start to read, quickly falling asleep after reading just a few pages. 

***

Your first class is Math. Thank god because that’s your best subject anyways. Even though your technique didn’t develop until later, you still inherited a brain that could run insane numbers of calculations in your head. You’ve never had to worry about a math class before and you sure as hell weren’t going to now.

“Morning kiddo,” Gojo jokes with you as he takes a seat to your right. “First night in the new room everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Not going to lie it’s pretty nice to not have my parents banging down the door to wake up,” you laugh. Honestly you are enjoying this newfound freedom, you can really do what you want when you want.

The room slowly fills up as it gets closer to 8AM. The girls from last night, Kiko and her friends, roll in together, sitting across the room. Next a brunette girl with a scar on her nose walks in.

“Utahime!!” Gojo exclaims, “I saved you a seat!” She looks at him confused as there were no empty seats around him. 

“What are you talking about,” she rolls her eyes until she notices him patting his lap. “What the fuck is wrong with you???” She seethes with a blush on her face. 

“Wow how ungrateful,” Gojo feigns being offended and crosses his arms, looking away. She stomps off and sits two seats behind him. “She plays so hard to get, but I know she loves me,” Gojo whispers to you as Geto shakes his head, smirking. “Utahime you didn’t even introduce yourself to our new classmate!” Gojo turns around and yells, clearly enjoying tormenting her as her blush deepens.

You wave, smiling slightly with an apologetic grin. She cracks a smile back, compassion in her eyes. “Poor girl having to sit next to you on her first day,” she retorts at him, causing the class to laugh. 

“You are so mean,” Gojo places a hand on his chest with a look of pain on his face. This guy was so theatrical, you can’t help but join in the laughter. 

The door bangs open again and this time Sukuna storms in.You can’t possibly imagine what turned him into a tornado at 8 in the morning but you decide to ignore it. A few girls try to get his attention, obviously wanting him to sit with them, but he turns up your aisle and sulks to the back row. You lock eyes for a second as he bounds past you to sit next to Toji. 

“Sukuna, why don’t you sit with me?” Kiko gets up and walks over to his desk.

“Shut up, I'm sitting over here. You go back over there, you’ll know if I want you around,” he scoffs without even looking at her. You are taken aback at his audacity, cringing at his harsh words. 

Her eyes look hurt as she makes her way back over to her friends. The guy is such an asshole holy shit. As little as you can interact with him the better.

Your teacher comes in and settles everyone down. He passes out a quiz you didn’t know about since you started at school late, but he tells you to just do your best and you won’t be penalized. 

You look over the quiz, realizing that the problems aren’t that challenging. Thank god for your nerd brain, you chuckle internally. You finish with about 20 minutes to spare, waiting until your teacher calls for time. 

“Pass your quiz to the person 2 rows up to you, and we will go through and grade each other's work,” your teacher says. You notice Sukuna at your side, thrusting his papers into your face wordlessly. You take them without speaking, waiting for him to move so you can walk up to hand off your work. He’s looking down at you almost expectantly.

“What?” You give him a challenging look. 

“Nothing, was just looking at what answers your dumbass had on there.”

You snort in response, eliciting a sneer from him. “I’m not worried about it, I know I did well,” you retort, causing his glare to penetrate you even more. 

“Hmph,” he growls as he snatches your work and walks it up two rows for you. 

What the fuck is his problem? Unless he’s ultra competitive you have no idea what you did to elicit this response. Whatever, you get your red pen out as your teacher starts reading off the answers. 

Sukuna ends with a 95, missing just one. So he must be pretty smart behind that dickhead facade. You get up and walk back to where he’s sitting, handing him the quiz. “Good job,” you say with a straight face and proceed to walk back to your seat, not bothering to wait for a response. You sit back down and see your quiz face up on your desk with a 100 on it. Yes! You knew you would crush it, and scoring higher than him was weirdly satisfying. 

Your teacher collects everything, looking over the quizzes quickly. “Well looks like we have one perfect score, congrats!” he beams at you, the unwanted attention making you shrink away. Can we not on the first day?

You hear Sukuna scoff behind you. Serves him right.

“Ayye Sukuna, how does it feel to be second best,” Gojo teases from a few rows up. You look back at him and notice his jaw is tensing up, eyes shooting daggers back in the direction of Gojo. Aww poor thing must be used to being the best at everything you figure, not anymore.

“Shut the fuck up loser,” he barks back, “bet you couldn’t even muster more than a 70.” You giggle which causes Sukuna’s anger to now be directed at you. “Don’t know what you think you’re laughing at.”

You make a face at him as you meet his gaze, “imagine getting enraged over a math quiz, a glorified piece of paper,” you dig at him, noticing his fists clench on his desk. Then you turn around, not intent on letting this angsty man child get under your skin and not allowing him a chance to counter. Your friends laugh at your comment.

Everyone around you congratulates you on your perfect score. You notice Utahime leading the charge on roasting Gojo for his subpar performance. He responds that she could help him study anytime, to which she angrily throws a pencil at his head. Those two are hilarious. 

You come to find out the school schedule here is much more chill than your traditional school. You do two one hour classes in the morning, then a break from 10-1. Then you have combat class from 1-3. 

Shoko and Utahime lead you to the cafeteria for lunch, both chatting about combat class. “So what happens in combat class?” You ask.

“For us support students, you get paired up with a combat student for 2 hours every other day so that they can teach us simple combat. While we are just support, it’s good to know some skills just in case,” Shoko explains as she shovels rice into her mouth. “The pairings are already set, so I’m not sure what they will do with you. Maybe you can come with me and Toji. A few times a month, you go on missions with your partner. They are usually super simple though, so we can practice. Like grade 4 and lower curses.” 

You are pretty excited for this part. Even though you had no interest in extreme combat, learning a few moves would make you feel more confident. You three finish your food and make your way towards the training grounds for your afternoon session. 

The training grounds were a ways from the classroom buildings, you assume to prevent damage from rogue attacks. The grounds remind you of a sports field with a track around a grassy flat area. Everyone is gathered on the bleachers chatting, getting their tools and gear in place.

Principal Yaga looks to be supervising this. You approach him to see if he has any feedback for who you will be partnered with. “Come with me,” he says bluntly as he walks towards the bleachers. “Sukuna, get over here,” he barks up at him.

No. Please god no. Anyone but him. 

“I’ll be pairing you with Sukuna as he’s the only one without a partner. I trust that you will figure out a way to work together. Sukuna is a very strong sorcerer, I have no doubt about his knowledge and skill. However, beware of his attitude and let me know if he becomes too much.” 

Sukuna slowly saunters up to you both, a bored look in his eyes and his hands shoved into his pockets. “Sukuna, you will be partnered up with her,” Yaga states.

“Are you fucking serious!! I don’t want to have to deal with this underling of a support student. It’s not worth my time to train these losers,” he yells, having a full blown tantrum at this point.

Your stomach lurches as you hear this. You are mortified as people start to stare at the commotion. Sukunas eyes are brimming with rage as he glares at Yaga, his fists balled up as if he might attempt to pummel the man. 

“You watch your tone with me,” Yaga steps forward, his face inches from Sukuna’s. You feel the heaviness of the air emanating from them as they stare into each other's eyes. Sukuna backs down first, storming away. What an insufferable human. 

“Alright partner up,” Yaga yells to quiet the group’s murmurs. You see people start to pair off, most everyone being friendly with each other. You slowly walk toward Sukuna, almost terrified of what’s to come. He looks so angry.

“Um hey Sukuna,” you say as you cautiously approach him on the bleachers. He’s sitting down on the metal seat, his back and shoulders resting on the row above, legs spread with his feet on the ground. His eyes are closed but you aren’t sure what that actually means.

“What brat?” he snaps at you, crossing his arms, eyes now slits as he glares up at you.

“Um, so are we going to do some training orrrr…” you trail off, noticing he isn’t paying attention at all. 

Grade A asshole behavior right here. 

“Do you honestly think I want anything to do with training you? Your pathetic support role is not worth my time. Why would I train someone who won’t even contribute to jujutsu society in a meaningful way? You’ll probably just die.” His fingers are digging into the metal of the bleachers and his jaw is clenching as he grits his teeth in a scowl.

This guy. Unreal. You decide to try a different approach. “Why don’t we just fight then, no training, we just see what happens.” Probably not the best idea, but you are sick of his bad attitude and just want to get this over with.

Sukuna seems to perk up at that. No doubt it sounds appealing to beat up on you. You don’t know anything about fighting, but you would hope he wouldn’t just obliterate you on the spot, it’s just practice after all.

“I’m going to make you regret suggesting that,” he says in a gravelly voice as he jumps up, rolling his shoulders back a few times and cracking his neck. He tilts his head to the side towards an open area on the edge of the training grounds, letting you walk in front of him as he follows from behind. Being so close to him, you realize he is massive, both tall and muscular. You start to get nervous, he could really fuck you up. Around you, pairs of students are casually sparring, giving each other tips and moves to practice. 

You turn around and face him. He’s leaning back a bit with his hands in his pockets, a menacing smirk appearing on his face as he rolls up his sleeves, revealing tattoos on his wrists and up his arms. You swear his nails turn into claws and his hair gets extra spiked, eyes reddening a bit. He looks a little scary now.

“I’m waiting brat,” he breaks the silence. You swallow nervously, sizing him up. This is a mistake, but no backing down now you guess. You gather up the courage to launch yourself at him, closing the gap, not really sure what you are going to do. You wind up, planning to land a punch on him. He dodges easily, hands back in his pockets. You pivot on your right foot, swinging a left hook at him that he easily dodges again. 

“What a joke” he mutters. Suddenly he grabs your wrist with his claws, making you squeak in pain as he draws blood, pulling you close to him. He grabs your shirt collar by the other hand, hoisting you up so your gaze is even with his. 

“Truly pathetic,” he growls, his hot breath on your face. Blood is running down your arm, the pain stinging now. You aim your knee at his stomach and push with all your might. His stomach feels like concrete as your knee collides with him, probably hurting you more than him. 

Fuck. This is pitiful. Sukuna seems surprised that you would attempt such a move. An annoyed look creeps across his face, his eyes turning a deeper shade of red. He releases your wrist and delivers a crushing blow to your stomach as you swear you hear something crack. You practically vomit with how much spit leaves your mouth as he knocks the wind out of you, feeling yourself go airborne across the open area. Crashing to the ground, your arms are cut up by the stones and dirt. Fuck, you can barely move, it feels like your entire stomach has been turned inside out, the pain almost blinding.

He’s quickly back in front of you again. How did he even move that fast? He picks you up by the back of your shirt, a sadistic grin plastered on his face. “Tired already? You are truly weaker than I could have imagined.” You spit in his face in response, your eyes and face contorted in anger. Terrible idea, the look on his face looks more unhinged than you’ve ever seen someone. He grabs your neck with his claws, feeling them stab through your skin as he slams you on your back into the earth. Your entire body recoils with the impact, hardly able to breathe as your lungs are practically rendered unusable. 

Sukuna leans down so his face is inches from yours, “what a worthless girl, you’d be better off if I just kill you right now.” He shoves you further into the earth one more time, stands up, and starts walking away, hands back in his pockets. 

Even though your whole body could collapse, you are infuriated. How dare he? God you want to fuck him up so bad. You slowly pull yourself up, feeling cursed energy rampaging through your body. Almost on instinct and in the blink of an eye, you can sense the earth beneath you, energy finding the pores of the soil, then sensing his footsteps and the microscopic voids of his shoes. Your brain performs a calculation, the weight of him times acceleration due to gravity compared to the force pushing up from the earth. Suddenly you feel your energy harden and bond his feet to the earth. Your technique floods into the pores of his skin, locking his feet, then legs, and rest of his body from moving. Everything happens in seconds. You feel your energy pool in your legs as you launch yourself at him, punching him as hard as you can in the mouth. 

You hear and feel your knuckles crack as they collide with his mouth, his lip exploding in blood as you connect with his mouth. 

“Ouch!!” You cry out as you are sure you shattered the bones in your hand. Meanwhile he is shocked, but unable to move. His eyes widen in surprise, processing what happened in the mere seconds that have passed. You feel smug seeing the look on his face. Suddenly your stomach lurches and you throw up, falling to your knees at his feet. Why am I so light headed? You try to get your bearings as your vision goes blurry. You try to stand back up, but darkness overtakes you as Sukuna’s feet are the last thing you see.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

[scripts4dreamers]

Leave a light on pt. 6

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Whatever she had been imagining, the prison of regret was ten times worse. It had taken conspicuously little power for Solas to open a door into the pocket dimension that was the prison and so their journey from the lighthouse was quick and painless. After all, the prison was designed to keep people like them in, not out.

People like them.

Amala shivered. It was cold in the prison, and unsettling, and dreary. The atmosphere made her feel as though she were being watched, as though the eyes of history itself were bearing down on her, eager to pick her to pieces and cast its judgment.

She looked up at Solas, his hand clasped in hers, warm and firm and real. She saw his anguish. His eyes were darting around, his breath was shallow and her resolve hardened.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, even though there was no one around, “we’ll get through this.”

He tore his gaze away from the hated place, his whole body relaxing when he was reminded that she was with him.

“I know we will, Vhenan,” he promised, looking back up, “The question is where to start.”

The prison was a twisting, ephemeral maze of crumbling platforms, corridors to nowhere and staircases that bent over on themselves in ways that shouldn’t have been physically possible. It looked designed to tear you down, to whittle away your stamina and hope, keeping you frustrated at all times. There was no clear start and no clear end, just endless grey. Her chest pinched. Still, trying to be brave, Amala pointed to a spot northwest of where they were standing.

“What about th-”

Before she could finish the sentence the world exploded in a flash of stark light. She felt herself be ripped forward with brutal force. It felt like space twisted and contracted around her, crushing the air from her lungs. Just when she thought she might pass out she was flung down onto the stones, where she lay in a crumpled heap, dizzy and heaving. Her head was ringing. There were spots of light flashing in her eyes and everything felt…fuzzy. She clenched her hand and felt nothing.

“Solas?” she mumbled, forcing herself slowly to her feet as her head throbbed, “Solas?”

She looked around. She was alone on a crumbling grey island.

“Solas!” She shouted, feeling her already very thin veil of composure fraying, “Solas, where are you?”

There was no reply. No sound at all, not even the echo of the wind served as a response. The panic was almost choking her now. She searched the landscape with her eyes for any hint of the familiar tall figure, but was met with endless fields of grey. Slowly, as she searched, the reality of her situation sunk in. She was in a prison built from regret, and she was alone.

“Fenhedis,” she shouted, her fists clenched with rage.

She kicked at a nearby chunk of gravel, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction when it shot into a pillar and shattered. Her head ached. She could feel bruises forming on her elbows and shoulder blades. She was sore and fed up and afraid and she was alone. She was never supposed to be alone, that wasn’t the plan.

“Since when do our plans ever actually go to plan, hey Mol?”

She spun around, a combination of shock and elation shooting through her like an arrow.

“Varric?” She called.

“Woah, no need to yell, I’m right here.”

Amala turned again, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh when she saw her old friend Varric Tethras standing before her. He looked just how she remembered him, his long hair loose around his shoulders, Bianca strapped to his back and a look of casual roguish charm on his face. The sight of him soothed something in her and suddenly, rather than being on the verge of a panic attack, Amala was almost calm. Varric was here. Everything was going to be alright.

“Varric,” she said with relief, “I thought-”

The words died in her throat and the momentary rush of calm was swallowed by pain. Something must have shown in her face because Varric raised his arms apologetically.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Inquisitor. I didn’t ask for this either.”

“You’re dead,” she said, just to hear the words, “you’re not really here to help me because you’re dead. Solas killed you.”

“Accidentally,” Not Varric corrected, “but yeah. Sorry about that. I am here to help though. It’s why you brought me here.”

She shook her head, hating herself for the awful empty feeling that was opening in her chest. Hating the hot prick of tears in her eyes and the way her throat started to close like she was going to cry. Regret prisons. Never underestimate the cruelty of them.

“I didn’t bring you here. How can you help me?” she asked, surprising herself with how cold her voice sounded, ��you’re gone. You’re not here.”

“But I was here for Rook,” he answered, “and most of the things you know about this place, you know from them. This may be a hell prison built by a tricky bastard, but it’s still the fade. It’s still going to warp itself in line with your expectations.”

Her shoulders loosened, the veneer of toughness cracking as a sliver of understanding wormed its way in.

“So, because on some level I expected you to be here…”

He spread his arms, pride sparkling in his warm eyes, “I’m here. See, I knew you’d get there.” He waved her over and started walking, “Now come on, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and I’m worried that if we leave that boyfriend of yours alone for too long he’ll go back to wanting to blow up the world.”

“Solas wouldn’t-”

“Mol, I’m a figment of your imagination and memories. If I’m saying it, at least some part of you is thinking it.”

“Or thinking you would be thinking it.” she pointed out.

“Now that’s the kind of thinking we need in a place like this.” He replied, shooting her a wink.

“We should say thinking more,” she teased.

Varric sighed, “Remind me why I’ve missed your dumb ass again?”

She shrugged, feeling comforted despite herself, “Beats me.”

He let out a low, familiar chuckle and the sound made her heart hurt so badly that Amala physically stopped walking and pressed her hand to her chest. Memories of long days trekking through the Western Approach flashed before her eyes, endless games of Wicked Grace, firm pats on the back whenever things became too much, and stories traded around makeshift campfires. Varric Tethras, the consummate storyteller and showman, weeping in a backroom where he thought no one could hear him when she came back from the fade and Hawke didn’t. She remembered how he’d never blamed her, how he’d quietly thanked Andraste for her safety even as his heart was breaking, how he’d kept up a brave face, only letting his true feelings show in the darkest, coldest hours of the night.

She would never get the chance to apologise, to thank him for his kindness, to tell him she liked his new novel, to just talk to him again. An eternity without Varric Tethras stretched out before her, a yawning, gaping maw she couldn’t hope to escape. Amala knew, better than most, that grief comes in waves and right then she felt like she was staring up at a tsunami waiting to bear down on her and crush her into dust.

“Not the time, kid,” Not Varric said gently, reaching up to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze, “you and I will have our chance to hash it out later.”

“Promise?” she asked with a rueful smile.

He didn’t respond. Luckily, or unluckily, she was extremely practiced at shoving her feelings aside to focus on the larger cause. As the pair navigated the endless, barren landscape together, Amala distracted herself by sifting through the memories of her life, wondering what she might be forced to face, which of her many scars would be sliced open again. It was pointless to wonder but, as the oppressive atmosphere started to weigh on her, and it started to feel like she was wading through a thick bog, she couldn’t stop herself. If Not Varric noticed her discomfort he made no indication of it and they continued on in companionable silence.

They walked together for an indeterminate amount of time before something changed. It started with a breeze. An icy breeze that cut to the bone. Amala noticed her breath coming out as steam and, as she stopped walking and looked around, she noticed that they were no longer alone. Instead, they stood at the base of a snowy hill. It looked like a giant anthill. Hints of wooden spikes poked through the snow here and there, there was the idea of a gate, a path with towering walls of snow on either side and everywhere else, statues. Hundreds of statues. Thousands of statues all facing them with blank, unseeing eyes. Most of the forms were humanoid but some were warped and twisted with large stone shards jutting out of misshapen bodies, gruesome and familiar in a way that made her hands fly immediately to the knives on her belt.

“Are those-” Not Varric asked.

“Red templars.” she agreed.

“And that makes this place-”

“Haven.”

As soon as the words had left her lips, she knew they were true. She could make out the shape of familiar buildings beneath the snow and the path, the one they were clearly supposed to walk through, was one she had walked a thousand times, going from the gate to the Chantry. Only there was no Chantry. Not anymore. They would have to walk the path with the statues bearing down on them like gargoyles to get wherever the prison was sending them. Being so exposed made her teeth itch. Slowly, as they walked, Amala gave in to her fear, unsheathing her daggers and settling into something like a combat crouch. She would do as the prison wanted, but she would also be prepared for anything.

“You buried us,” the templar statues spoke in grating, bellowing unison, “lost in the dark, in the cold. Our bodies burned from the lyrium, devouring us from the inside.” As Amala and Not Varric forged ahead the statues turned to face them with accusing eyes, “We knew not what we were doing. Following orders. One foot in front of the other. You buried us under the mountain. We were crushed. We were suffocated. We froze to death even as we clawed our way to the light.”

Amala closed her eyes, breathing deep to steady herself against the pang of guilt in her chest, “You were doomed the moment you started ingesting the red lyrium. It is Corypheus and your Commanders that are to blame for your deaths. They sent you here to destroy this town and kill the people under my protection.”

“You started the avalanche,” they replied, thousands of voices overlapping to form a cacophony echoing against the walls of compacted snow, “we died alone, in agony and afraid because of you.”

“We died for you,” new voices echoed, “We fought for you. We believed in you. You buried us just the same.”

They were nearly halfway up the path now and her chest was tightening with the horror of it all. The wind bit into her exposed skin. The metal of her knives grew colder and colder. They were Inquisition soldiers. Those that had been too injured to make it back to the Chantry, those who had been too low when the second avalanche was triggered. Cullen had never explicitly told her, but she knew they existed. She knew what she had done to them.

Another pang of sorrow, “I never wanted anyone to die for me,” she said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you all, but I had to make a choice. I had to do what I could to save Haven and then, when that failed, to save our people.”

“And you failed at that as well,” another familiar voice said.

She stopped dead in her tracks. There was a statue on the path before her, painfully lifelike, standing at attention, her stone eyes fixed on Amala.

“Flissa,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The beautiful, clever, friendly barkeeper. The one who had been so kind to Amala, who had always greeted her, always stood up for her, who had never let anyone call her a knife-ear. She had spent so many nights in Flissa’s tavern, traded stories with her, shared jokes over ice cold pints. There were others gathered behind her as well. Men, women and children who she had known in Haven, those who had been killed by the Templars or were too weak to survive the trip to Skyhold. Innocent people who had died all because Amala Lavellan brought war to their doorstep.

“I believed in you,” Flissa’s voice echoed, “even as the building was burning down around me, even as I heard the templars closing in. Do you know what my last words were?”

Amala instinctively took a step back, fighting the urge to cover her ears as the guilt rolled over her in waves.

“The Herald will save us,” she continued, “that’s what I said. I swore you would come for us and yet…”

“Flissa-”

“You just ran right past me. You left me to die, Herald.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You’re a failure,” the voices called in ghostly, tormenting unison, “You failed us.”

Amala shook her head, her mind twisting and stumbling over itself as she tried to formulate any sort of coherent response.

“It was chaos,” she started, “there were too many-Haven had no defenses-” she looked up at the statues that surrounded her, taking note of their faces and burning them into her mind, “It was an impossible situation. I made the best choice-the only choice-I could in the moment.”

“Who gave you the right?”

“Somebody had to make the call or every single one of us would have died,” she insisted, feeling the slightest bit of strength flow back into her, remembering the faces of all the people she did save, all the lives that weren’t lost, “I am so sorry that I couldn’t save all of you. Flissa, I-” her voice cracked, “you needed a divine herald, and all you got was me. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more, but I won’t be held responsible for Corypheus’ mistakes. He brought war to Haven. He brought death. It is him who should pay the price.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“And he did,” Flissa said, “you put an end to his scheming, to his murderous plans. You avenged Haven.”

“We are free from our suffering,” A red templar agreed, “we can be used no longer.”

“Pass,” Flissa said, “and do not allow our sacrifice to be forgotten.”

The statues didn’t move, per say. One moment they were there and the next…Amala and Not Varric were alone atop a snow covered hill with not even a footprint to mark the statues’ departure. For her part, Amala felt like someone had reached into her chest and scooped her insides out. She was left with nothing but a hollow ache and the promise that more pain was to come.

Not Varric whistled, “Damn, that was some heavy stuff. You need a minute?”

She shook her head, hastily wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen and frozen on her cheeks, “Let’s just keep moving.”

He sighed, “Whatever you say, boss.”

[sidecharactersdomatter]

@hikaaa-bi

Ezran also wasn’t my favorite character of The Dragon Prince, since he felt like the least developed character out of the main cast. I do have some nitpicks with how his character was handled. Note, I haven’t seen books 6-7 in their entirety, so this critical analysis covers books 1 to the beginning of 6.

They should’ve changed his voice actor for arc 2.

This first one isn’t’ a huge criticism. As much as I think Sasha Rojen is a good actor. The TDP crew should’ve got a new young adult actor to voice an older Ezran to show how time has passed and how voices change in male adolescence.

2. His ability to communicate with Zym and the local fauna is still confusing.

I know the creators said it was an empathic or empathetic ability. Though every time he explains how he communicates with any animal and his telepathic connection with Zym to the audience it’s basically answering one question but ten more keep getting raised. Since Terry communicated with a nearby bird while searching for Viren in the first episode of Book 6 the creators could’ve confirmed that Ez had a dormant Earth Primal.

3. Doesn’t Ezran also want to help the 4 human kingdoms other than Xadia?

Since we know his goal is to create peace between both sides he should also consider helping the other 4 human kingdoms not just his own. To recap after Book 3, Neolandia’s king is in a coma and his eldest Son was killed at the Storm Spire. Also Del Bar and Evenere’s rulers have been killed. Both events that Viren and mainly Aaravos were responsible for. Shouldn’t Ezran also be sending aide to Neolandia, Del Bar, and Evenere aside from improving relations with Xadia? They could’ve had a B plot where Ez, Soren and Corvus travel to those three kingdoms to help improve their relations with Katolis to fix the discord Aaravos through Viren caused as dealing with the consequences from Books 2-3. Yet that never happened due to the 9 episode limit holding the series on a really tight leash as well as on Ezran’s character development.

4. His arc seemed poorly handled.

It seems like the writers knew what to do with him, but the execution did seem a bit mid. By that I mean Ezran has to constantly learn that words aren’t going to be enough to fully persuade a different side as seen with how he handled Kasef, Finnegrin, and Karim. All three persuasions were never successful. Since all 3 firmly stuck to their beliefs, and Ezran failed to fully convince them. What would’ve helped him is that after failing to convince the opposing side, he could have a moment with him and his allies to help calm him down and try to figure out another way to try convincing again. That would’ve helped the audience to sympathize with him. It wouldn’t have been hard to actually have screen time first Ez where we learn about his character, conflict and development, but it rarely ever happened in the series where they focused more on Callum, Rayla, and Viren. The latter being a character that had a lot more screen time and came off as a more interesting and well written morally ambiguous antagonist. Isn’t it ironic that Viren had plenty of scenes where the writers built him up as a tragic morally gray man and that made the audience sympathize with him? Maybe Ezran should also show why there shouldn’t be violence instead of straight up telling all the time. Since the show operated on Tell don’t Show logic. Words aren’t going to be enough to fully convince the opposite side.

I was really disappointed with how Ezran was handled over the series. He felt like an NPC ruler you’d find in fantasy novels that only helps to advance the story, instead of a leader protagonist who learns their lessons the hard way, constantly makes mistakes in their own arc, and understands what it takes to be a good leader for their kingdom and people.

probably a hot take but i don't really like ezran. i don't dislike him, he just feels like such a 2d character. maybe it's his voice acting (i'm sorry but it's so.. soulless?) or maybe it's the fact that his personality has no depth. like i get it, he's a child but i've seen a lot more interesting characters who were around the same age as him.

[anassemblageofpassions]

The thing that’s so beautiful about dean Winchester is that. He’s been conditioned to be the ultimate caretaker. And he’s absolutely awful at it.

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the absolute best things about the bros is that they just. Play. They play around like the teens they are, playing ball, or video games, or anything else. They just play and have fun together, genuinely enjoying each other’s company. I dunno, I just appreciate how easy it is for them to mess around and be kids.

[dykedvonte]

MacCready being one of the few companions to not lose affinity if you eat people makes sense when you remember the fungus in Little Lamp Light grew from decomposing bodies. Like the kids weren’t eating people directly but they were eating people adjacent things.

Not to mention how the Lone Wanderer can trick the kids at LLL into buying “strange meat” to eat which is just human so it’s more likely than not they have just straight up ate people so he’s either very desensitized, knows what food desperation can do to people or feels he really has not ground to stand on since he was in the same boat whether he wanted to be or not.