#it crosses a line to where its okay to do that to everyone

[nicxxx5]

as an outsider looking in (i'm not jewish or palestinian) i think the situation around noah going to israel is complex. should he have gone there with all the issues/genocide going on? no, probably not. but is he wrong for learning about his heritage as a jewish man? i don't really think so either. i think it's difficult to say his actions are either completely in the wrong or not.

however, i'd be incredibly shocked if he claim to have no clue what was going on, so i do think him traveling there now was in very poor judgment and he probably should have waited to go. or at the very least for his own sake kept it private.

i've also seen people having issues with the people he's hanging out with while he's there. i do think noah needs to reevaluate who he hangs out with because i've seen him hang out with people in the past that had me thinking "um...isn't this person not a good person? didn't they do something sleazy?"

now my opinion probably doesn't mean a whole lot because again i'm neither jewish nor palestinian. however, i think most everyone can agree that the given situation is not a green light to say homophobia, antisemitism, anti-palestinianism, zionism, etc is okay.

[catboynutsack]

y'know the only time I've actually said "oh my God, your kind is why others hate us" is when I was looking at a fellow Hazbin Hotel fan's blog and judging them for their open and unashamed ableism 💀💀💀

[with-my-calamitous-love]

bodyguard! shoto, who decided to use his training and skills for a different career path, because fuck endeavour, and because he still wanted to serve people out of the good in his heart.

bodyguard! shoto, who is a 5’9, young, muscular man whose quiet stance speaks volumes. who despite his aloofness, remains a true gentlemen. who stands on the outside of the sidewalk when he’s with you, and who perceptively takes note of any men who seem to be eyeing you with anything more or less than adoration.

bodyguard! shoto, who works hard to keep his strength and health. who you can sometimes find doing pushups in his room during his free time, or taking out pent up rage on his punching bag. you’d think he’s putting up a show for you, grey tank-top hugging his muscles while sweat drips from his forehead.

bodyguard! shoto, who deals with most grievances calmly. he’ll step in front of you, hands in his pockets shielding you from whatever asshole decides to give you any issues. he’ll first, tell them to get lost, letting his eyes do talking. who isn’t afraid to get physical, despite his aloof nature. who will never cross that line unless he absolutely has to, and unless your safety is on the line. who would take a bullet for you, or shield you with his body. once he’s ensured you’re safe, he’ll disappear for some time and come back with bruised knuckles, much like his brother… 🤍

bodyguard! shoto, who, after a few drinks, will open up. he’ll tell you about his past, about his family, and about how he feels for you. he’s well aware that it’s unprofessional, and is more than willing to see whatever consequences you have for him now that his secret is out. who is both surprised and unsurprised when you tell him you want to stay, an undeniable warm feeling in his chest.

bodyguard! shoto, who makes everyone else disappear when you look at him. who is yours to keep and yours to lose. who isn’t a bad guy, but is more than capable of doing bad things to you, pressing himself against your back while you put lipgloss on in front of the mirror. who waits for you to say its okay before pressing a kiss to your neck. who gets you alone, and wears your feelings for him like a necklace.

bodyguard! shoto, who lets you hold his feelings hostage. who makes all your gray days clear, protecting you not only from others but from yourself. who reminds you not to overwork yourself, tugging you away from your desk and into his arms. who’s got your heart, skipping even when he isn’t around.

bodyguard! shoto, who makes falling for him inevitable. who walks you to your bedroom one day, only for you to tug him by his tie and press your lips to his. who suddenly doesn’t care about who’s keeping score. you did a number on him, but honestly, who’s counting?

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

f! reader, nsfw portion

bodyguard! shoto, who is a sweet, gentle lover. whose hot breath tickles your ear when he firmly orders you to lift your arms, pulling your shirt off so he can see more of you. who feels his pants getting tighter, cock straining against his pants when he massages your breasts, drawing out those shallow gasps of pleasure from your lips.

bodyguard! shoto, who makes sure the door is locked for everything he’s about to do to you. who his sweet and gentle, until he isn’t. who roughly tugs your bottoms off, leaving a trail of bites and hickeys on your inner thigh, leading up to where you need him most. and he’s mean, making sure you feel his breath graze your pussy, trailing his tongue on the innermost corners of your thighs before finally lowering his head to eat you out.

bodyguard! shoto, who’ll hook your legs over his shoulders, looking up at you while he works his magic, thinking he could do this for hours. who is well aware of the way your thighs tremble, the way you tug his hair begging him to make you cum. but he’ll give it to you, right after dragging out your pleasure for as long as he can.

bodyguard! shoto, who takes your thighs and folds you in half, pressing your knees to your ears. his cock slides right into you perfectly, groaning about how tight you are and how good he’s gonna fuck you. who watches you with hazy, duel-coloured eyes, waiting for you to adjust to his size before thrusting.

bodyguard! shoto, who makes you cum again, and again, and again, all while showing no signs of backing down. who tries a little harder every time he feels you flutter and clench around him, neither of you wanting to stop. who decides taking this job was the best thing he’s ever done.

bodyguard! shoto, who laughs to himself seeing the ship edits fans make of you and him, knowing they’ve got it right.

@crushmeeren i couldn’t resist! 😭🫧🫧

inspired by so it goes

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[masochistkatsuki]

Team Player : How to Fuck your Friend Group 101

Pt One → Masterlist

When you're tasked with having sex with every person in your friend group, the friend who put you up to it isn't excluded either. With Mina Ashido, you either go big or go home. It's a life or death (dealing with your friends stupid flirting) situation, and only you can stop it !

Luckily for you, she's your best friend, which means you can have some fun and figure out your next moves on everyone else.

See, now, there are some 'odd' aspects of your friend group. You often found yourself stuck on whether the dynamics in-between members were normal. You'd seen a lot of people who were completely comfortable, content with being physically intimate while having a full understanding of the platonic relationship.

On the other hand, so many people criticized or didn't understand it all. A lot of people could never imagine doing that with their friends. Its not exactly fitting under that definition, is it ? As soon as you crossed that line, you were in-between being friends and something romantic.

So, you never really knew what to think of those moments where you stood on the line of okay and not okay. Everyone in the group had kissed all the others at least once-- stuff like that was just.. regular. The insult gay or skank lost all meaning by your third year. You all were close in a way that was extreme for most highschool friend groups, but even so, the only actual romantic development was between Mina and Kirishima. Right ?

A part of you felt like there was something there, but it was unreachable in your mind. It was stuck to the tip of your tongue, like the perfect word for a situation, but one you just couldn't remember.

It was a mystery you were determined to solve in your Third Year. You weren't one of the top students for nothing.

You'd been scouted by the Public Safety Commission in your last year of junior high, something only Mina knew. Ironically, this led to your first "encounter" with her. If fucking your friends was a course, you learnt Minas lesson first.

It was your second year, and Class 1-A got their hands on alcohol for the first time. By the end of the night, just about everyone was wasted. Of course the class reps stayed sober, and a few people stayed responsible. But the culprits of planning the party, Bakugous friend group, were all fucked up. Especially the classes notorious party girls : Mina, you, and Jirou (who was more dragged into this by extension but still)

You and Mina set her to bed after wiping down her makeup and leaving water and a few ibuprofen pills on her bedside table. From there, you two figured youd ride down the intoxication with a movie in your room.

This turned to you two sharing secrets, past stories, and overall character traits. Highschool drunk bonding really is like no other bond. It was a big part of you two becoming the closest friend duo in the class. You two had calmed down enough to remember what was going on, but the ongoing buzz made the air around you two hotter than it probably would've been.

Still tipsy, you told her your biggest secrets. One, you were in special commission training in order to secure a spot in public safety after graduation.. totally not an insane accomplishment and huge breach of contract to say.. But more important..!

"I think I like girls too.."

The pink hair and skinned girl looked up at you, instead of surprised, or shocked, she only seemed confused. "Girl.. are you just now..?" How did you just drop that insane bomb then act timid about a glass closet ?

"Hey !! What's that supposed to mean ?" You pulled away from where you were resting on top of her before, growing embarrassed.

"Nonono, dont worry !" She pulled you back onto her, "im sorry, I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable." She rubbed softly at your waist. Gentle and soft, something you always loved about her. Its probably why she so easily could coax this information from you.

"Its okay" You brushed the messy pastel fluffs from her eyes, looking straight into them. You had an idea, you just needed to ease the tension in. You knew you were both already feeling it. "You wanted to know more about the Public Safety Commission processes and procedures.. why don't we combine the two ?"

Sharp teeth biting into your neck pulled you out of your thought process. "Minaaa" You sang, finally willing to commit to her challenge.

She looked down at you, "Ohh, you have something in mind, don't you ?" She smiled, she often had to be in charge of people, especially the idiots. You were one of the few people who let others relax as you took a calm control over things. It was something not just she, but everyone liked about you.

You and Mina were two sides of the same coin, similar in a concerning amount of ways, but contrasting like complimentary colors. You two understood the other's wants and desires more than anyone else. If anyone was going to pleasure either of the girls, they knew it'd be their best friend.

It's times like these, when you're practically practicing for your future job, but also stripping Minas leopard tank top from her chest, panting a hot breath over her skin, you wonder if your love for girls and everything about them began with her.

Goosebumps rise across the expansive area, her nipples beginning to harden just slightly. You sigh, "You're so pretty, Mina." You bite softly at her underboob, trailing your tongue towards her sternum.

"I know" She giggled, light and airy. Pulling your hand towards her bright pink dolphin shorts. Throughout the fabric, you felt her wetted lips cling to the cloth, creating a perfect mold of it against your fingers, when you havent even taken anything down there off. "I think I'm ready.."

You smiled, proud you could get such a pretty girl going so fast. Perfect. "Mina Ashido" You spoke softly, but sternly.

She looked up at you giggling, "This is my favorite part !" You held back a smile, as much as she loved these stupid roleplays, she never took them too seriously either. It helped, honestly. Youd probably get embarrassed acting all serious for too long.

You grinned wider, "You have one chance to provide the information needed." adding pressure to the inner area, rubbing softly through the fabric to start a slow, teasing pace. Her head fell back slightly, and while she had bitten her lip to avoid being too loud too quick, a content sigh gave away that you were on the right track. "Or the Public Safety Commission will have to deal with you personally."

She bucked her hips into your palm, grinding steadily against it. The moist fabric and further secreting liquid soaked into your skin. How cute. "Please, just get to it already !!" She whined, but still mischievously flashed her teeth at you.

"Ah, ah" You scolded, though in a joking tone. You pressed your hand against her, giving her the pleasure she began to beg for, but holding her in place. "What was this about flattering comments ?"

"Oooh, so you're actually going to do it ?" She looked pleased, but also kinda shocked. "Youre so amazing~" She teased, though you knew she genuinely meant it, "Im so happy we have someone who'd do anything to protect the public's safety !" Okay now she was trying to rile you up.

You slid your fingers through the shorts and under her panties, resting your middle and pointer fingertips against the hood of her clit. Not enough to do anything serious, but the light touches were going to break her down eventually.

"Lets start." You looked at her, asking if she wanted to continue, not just the physical intimacy but overall conversation. She smiled at you, aegyo sal growing plump under her eyes.

"Sounds good, (Hero Name)." You smirked. You couldnt lie, it was pleasing how into this Mina would get.

"So who from the list is the easiest to start with ?" Your fingers started to slowly circle around where she wanted it, occasionally brushing over it when you were pushing your fingers up left.

Me, obviously, she thought, but her words got caught in her throat. "Mm.. its.." Her legs trembled a bit, spreading out.

'Jesus Mina. You really need to fuck.' You slowed your movements, and placed your spare hand on her thigh, bringing her back to where she was. "Eijirou..", She moaned, voice a little too sensual while saying his name.

You were still quite shocked that she wanted you to actually fuck him as well. In you, her, and Jirous personal group chat, the topic of Mina keeping him in her basement was one of the most recurring conversations. "And how's that ? Be specific, Ashido."

Itd been such a long time since anyone used her last name, in the right context, it could feel like it was someone calling out her given name for the first time. "O..oh.." Her head tilted back. Between her tension with Kirishima, and intense work studies, you doubted shes had the time to herself. You could tell she was more sensitive than usual. "Hes.. real inexperienced.." She sighed, hips bucking slightly as you began to steadily quicken the pace again.

You thought back. There wasn't really a lot to be said about Kirishima. He was a sweet boy, got really hard easily.. unsurprisingly. You tried to come up with anything that could help. He was relentlessly respectful, and of course chivalrous. It's easy to forget hes just a man too.

"Sooo," you began, genuinely curious on how shed answer this next question. "If hes the easiest, why haven't you done anything ?" You began to make the circles smaller, enclosing directly to where she was the most sensitive.

"I..im.." Her legs were beginning to close and open sporadically, she was getting close. "Only you know how to do this stuff to me.. I need you to teach him..!" Without warning, her legs finally snapped shut, and you locked your fingers in a tight spiral against her clit, letting her ride out her first orgasm.

Wow, is she that scared hes gonna suck ?

"Thats hot." You gasped, itd been a while since you got to see Mina like this. She truly was breathtaking. "So.. I think I understand Kirishima.. but I still think you should teach him yourself.." You had an idea of what you were going to do, but hoped Mina would just grow a pair.

"Its even hotter when they magically know." She sighed, a dreamy look on her face. Is this what happens when you read too much Tumblr smut ?

"Thats not.." You still can't believe this is happening. "Its another girl who taught him-"

"Don't worry I can pretend." Oh my god okay shes seriously not gonna fuck him until you do.

You sighed, a little proud of Mina for how fucking insane she could be. Your eyes trailed down her sweaty neck, towards her collar bones and bare chest. Hmm.

"Well," You continued, readjusting your hand so your middle and ring were prodding against her entrance. Your body leaned over hers, and in a familiar move from tonight, the vibrations from your voice rumbled softly on her shoulder. "Keep going, whos next ?"

"Denki-" You slid your fingers in, down to the second knuckle. Of course it was him. You began softly massaging around, relaxing her to the movement.

"Im holding off on him for as long as possible.." You grimaced. Kaminari was one of your best friends, dont yet anyone wrong, but.. well.. its HIM.

"Makes sense.." She sighed. He was definitely going to need the least convincing, but a lot of self motivation and convincing was needed.

It was an unspoken rule that more graphic sexual conversations happened between the guys specifically, and the girls specifically. It wasnt often that theyd seriously talk about it to each other, given the awkward teen hormones going on. The most that was shared was small incriminating details the other group would tease the person for, or things willingly shared during a truth or dare type thing.

But Denki fucking Kaminari. Public group chat, "just learned I have a mommy kink" "hear me out on lactation tho" It wasn't too surprising given he was also friends with Mineta, but goddamnit did he make it everyones problem. Also everyone in that group chat has seen that one specific picture of his dick. Unrelated probably.

"There's some things you should probably know.." Mina continued, whimpering a little as you began you fuck her softly with your fingers. "Hes real fucking stupid, obviously.." She gasped, your fingers getting closer and closer to her gspot. "But he knows a lot .. he probably has files on everyone's sexual preferences and feelings."

you groaned, sinking your teeth into her lower neck, sucking a purple bruise out of her pink skin. "Hes a fuckin psycho.." you lifted yourself up, and brought one of her thighs up to her chest as you deepened your thrusts. "Well.. whos next on our list, Mina ?" You pressed a kiss against the edge of her mouth, her voice finally breaking as breathy moans slipped from her lips.

"Fuck..fuck.. um.." Her eyes struggled to stay open, her legs felt numb from the overstimulation but her lower stomach felt so fucking good. Heat rose through her body as she whined louder and louder. "S-Sero.. Jirou is close after th-though.." Her face was an even brighter pink, a telltale sign of blush for the acid girl.

You slowed your thrusts, opting to grind your fingers against the opening muscles. "Wait.. wait fuck.. no dont stop.." she pleaded. She was definitely close, and the roleplay was beginning to get thrown out her mind.

"Its okay.." you hummed, picking your pace back up. "Just tell me real quick and ill let you cum Mina, okay ?" You smiled, and held her chin in place to make eye contact with you. "Is that okay ?" Your place was back on par with how she liked it.

"Yes yes yes.. oh fuck.. okay .. Sero is.." Her head tilted back, her legs spreading. "Hes the second closest to you, casual sex is easier than you think with him."

Your fingers began beating softly against the edge of her gummy pad. right where she would fall apart. Honestly, you knew she was right. You and Sero constantly would build up sexual tension from conversation or body language alone, it probably would've happened at some point anyway. "Okayy.. and.." You began rubbing circular around the spot, fully preparing to feel her coming around you any second. "What about Jirou ?"

Mina was panting, and struggling to get her words together even more. "J..j.. its.. haaahhh.." She was totally beginning to lose it. You quickened your pace, more interested in seeing her let go again than what she was going to say. Being in the girls group, you already knew most of Jirous sexual preferences anyway.

"Its okay, Mina." You finally fucked your fingers into her gspot dirrectly, using your other arm to lift both of her legs up to her chest, gaining a deep and quick angle. "You did good."

"Fuckfuckfuck oh my.. oh my g..god.." Her hips stuttered against your hold, her warm walls tightening and releasing rapidly against your fingers. "Yes.. fuck.." She had a fucked out smile, eyes fluttering closed contently.

You let her rest, and took your hand away to take care of her. While gathering the warm cloth and a bottle of water (with a lemon slice, she likes citrus after intense.. situations), you briefly reviewed what you knew about Jirou.

She's a lesbian, so you had an easy chance. The issue is she gets flustered easily, you wanted to make sure you didn't scare her away. There was also the Momo situation..

While cleaning up Mina, towling town her sweat and using the warm damp cloth to soak up the mess between her legs, you thought about everything you knew now.

Kirishima is probably similar to Mina, in need of releasing all the tension they've been teasing each other with. You have a good idea of how to relieve him, but also set him up with Ashido once and for all.

Denki is a whore. You'll probably have to out slut him in order to get him to talk. Its going to be a long night for him, taking some time to study the bdsm test wont hurt.

Sero's pretty laid back, if you're upfront about what's going on and why you're doing what you're doing, you know he'll be cool with it. Besides, this is one you're looking forward too.

Jirou might be a bit tricky. You'll let her know your intentions, and set up a personal hang out to just relax and ease into anything at her pace. You can also try and see whats going on with Yaoyorozu !

Oh.. and Katsuki.. Well. There's not really a point in thinking about him. You know nothing. Despite being the first two at the table, he kept everyone locked out of his romantic or sexual life completely, as far as you knew. As it concerned you, he didn't have anything going on. You didnt need to ask Mina about him, you knew he would be the hardest.

As you finished up, you looked back over to the clock. "We're thirty minutes late by the way." You held back a giggle, stuff like this always ended up happening.

"Fuck !" Now this one sounded way less pleased than before.

A/N : Not a lot of Bakugou development, sorry, i like girls more. next chapter should have more though !! speaking of

i think its pretty obvious the order that the characters will go in, but who do you think will be the next chapter focus ?

tag list (ask to be added) : @adv3rs1ty @icarusthefoolish @hyunjinshairband7 @waterfal-ling

[snoopychris]

heart stopping

warnings: non-descriptive car crash, dry humping

in which... cheerleader!reader finds two times in the same night where her heart stops

the second that you pieced together what the sound of the crash that came behind you was, your heart stopped. in recent days, your heart had been stopping. once per day, each time for all the right reasons. there was the time where you were walking in the hallway and matt said hey to you. there was the time where it was raining and matt walked you into the school under his umbrella. there was the time when you noticed the pokemon card in matt’s phone case had changed to piplup. weirdly enough, there was the time when Mr. Harrison showed you matt’s project as an example. but this time was different. this time, your heart stopped for all the wrong reasons. 

your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as you gather your thoughts, turn off your car, and reach over to your glove box, grabbing your cars insurance and registration before exiting the vehicle. your hazards are on now, as are the hazards belonging to the other car, and you make your way over. after a brief interaction with the cars owner (grace, you learned) you assessed the damage of your car. it looked to be only a dent, and from what you could tell it was purely cosmetic. everyone was unharmed, both of you had insurance, everything was good to go. 

the second you began driving down the road, your car stopped. turns out, the bump was not purely cosmetic. pain rushes through your head when you hit yourself on the steering wheel a few times. you groan as you grab your phone from the cup holder besides you, looking through your contacts. your parents are probably the last people you want to call right now. youre scrolling for a moment or two before you make the call. 

you let out a sigh when the line rings, smiling when you hear the other end pick up. “hello?” the voice replies quietly with a crack in his voice. “hey…i-im sorry for calling so late. i got into an accident by the park on Dutch street. my car was fine but then it stopped and ive got no other friends with a license. is there any way you can come pick me up? ill owe you big time.” you whisper, crossing your fingers. 

matt hesitates but then speaks. “yeah, im on my way. stay right where you are dont worry.” if any of your friends had seen the way your face turned red, theyd never let you live it down. while youre waiting you do the responsible thing and call a tow truck. when you see a pair of headlights pull up, you instantly assume the worst. you would assume it was matt if he didnt live so far away. when the car pulls up next to you and you realize it is matt, youre okay. he rolls the window down and smiles, gesturing towards the passenger seat. you climb in with your belongs carefully, being as respectful as possible. he sends you a small smile and you take in your surroundings. theres a comfortable silence that sits between the two of you. somehow even with how much chaos you put up with when youre with your friends, you enjoy it. the silence looms for a while but then its broken.

“it smells salty in here…” you giggle, throwing your head against the headrest. matt nods slowly and shrugs, glancing over at you. “i was just at the beach, i sit there when i need more quiet than my room provides. you were at… practice i presume?” he eyes your uniform, the top half covered by your varsity jacket. you nod in response, adjusting the ponytail your hair was in. “i was. we have to come up with new routines.” you smile, licking your lips. matt adjusts the rearview mirror and then his glasses, running a finger through his hair. the small talk continues for the entirety of the car ride, but it didnt take more than 3 minutes to realize how comfortable matt was when talking to you when there werent any other people around. you swallow your spit and frown when matt turns onto your street.

 you take a leap that you never expected to and speak. “pull over here.” you whisper, matt complying while he raises his eyebrows. you take in all of his features before leaning over the center console, holding your face dangerously close to matt’s. “say the word and i stop and leave right now.” you whisper. a shaky exhale exits matts mouth as he shakes his head, cupping your face in his palms as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

 youve had a fair amount of kisses before, but there wasnt a single one that came to mind that was quite like this. not a single kiss in all of the previous ones you had shared that were so full of lust, passion, and love. no, not a single one of your previous kisses had any trace of love. you’re the first to pull away. matt couldnt find it in himself to. he was finally kissing the girl of his dreams and you expected him to pull away? no way in heaven or hell.

the two of you sit for a moment, avoiding the gaze of one another. you go to break the silence by speaking, but youre cut off when matt presses another kiss to your lips. you gasp at the sudden feeling, but not a single bone in your body cares. the hand that matt previously had sitting on his steering wheel moves to your thigh, and the hand that had been resting on the window moves to push his seat back as far as it can go. you catch on fairly quick and move to straddle matts lap, never once breaking the touching of your lips. the song that was playing on the radio is tuned out, but you make it out to be doja cat’s “Agora Hills”. this time when the kiss is broken, its due to matt. part of you thinks that he only breaks the kiss to discuss the hardness thats poking your thigh, but he surprises you when he semi-ignores it. 

he stutters as he looks away from you, face flushed with embarrassment. “im a virgin…” he whispers, the suddenness of the confession being the only thing that really shocks you- not that youd ever admit that. you nod as you kiss his neck gently, grabbing onto his hands and placing them on your hips. “thats okay. i am too.” you whisper, making matt’s ears turn red. you had always heard rumors floating around the school that you weren’t, but they didnt bother you, people would always believe whatever they wanted. you look at matt, silently asking for some sort of permission. 

you never verbally get the command, but you catch on pretty quickly when matt begins moving your hips for you. you let out a small noise at the feeling, letting your body take control. matt’s breath hitches in his throat and he lets out a moan, his grip on your hips tightening. “fuck…” he mumbles, his eyes shooting between the way your face looks as youre grinding yourself on his jeans and the way your skirt looks when your legs move. the actions continue for at most ten minutes, though for both of you it feels like an eternity. your hips only come to a stop when you let your orgasm take over your body, collapsing onto matt’s chest, his tshirt stuck to him due to all the sweat. matt only lets go of your hips when he lets his own orgasm take over, a dark, wet spot forming on his jeans and part of your skirt. the two of you gather your breaths for a few moments, a moment only ruined by matt’s phone ringing. 

he composes himself as you slide off of him, gathering your belongings from the backseat. you wait patiently for matt to hang up the phone, licking your lips. “its just chris… he wants me to bring him some ice cream when i go back home.” he whispers, to which you smile and nod. you shoot a glance of reassurance at him, looking over to your house. “guess i should go then huh…” you whisper, not wanting the moment to end so soon. matt lets out a hesitant “yeah”.

 you open the car door and begin stepping out when matt grips your wrist, sending you a smile. “this doesnt end when you walk into that door right?” he mumbles, worried about the outcome. his heart flutters when you shake your head, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “this doesnt end when i walk into that door.” and for the second time that day, your heart stops.

๋࣭⭑ a/n: :P and thats all i have to say. aside from dividers by @issysh3ll kiss kiss! -gen

๋࣭⭑ tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @isabellewhatt @st7rnioioss @yuppocarzy @mattsbrat

[viloxity]

Fluctuating Skies (Part 1 of 2) — Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: The scenario where the Monarchs rule Earth and the Shadow Monarch finds you in the New World.

A/N: this is one of two parts (he’ll get more unhinged, don’t worry). additionally, this is cross posted on quotev under the same name (viloxity). Any and all feedback or comments are greatly appreciated!!!

You loved the sky.

The sky was beautiful, and perfect. It was never-ending; even when you stared until your eyes burned, you could never find the ending—or the beginning. You would stare, and stare, until you noticed the clouds. The way the clouds explored the skies’ vastness, steadily drifting towards their next unknown journey, gave you hope in this fickle world—a world where you were not sure if a tomorrow was guaranteed.

Each distortion that filled the skies—the skies you have started to despise—spelled an inevitable demise as humanity endured even worse losses. As you took exams at college, there were lines outside of hospitals. The day of your graduation, as you walked the confetti covered balcony, there were bodies lining graves—the A-rank dungeon break nearly flushed out a small city an hour away from you. That day, your supposed ‘celebration’ encompassed hesitant smiles and reluctant whispers that congratulated you on your success.

“At least we are still here.” You recalled a woman saying, scolding the looks on her family’s faces.

You looked at the sky, your tassel gently flowing with the motion of your head. Eventually, the monsters will take over this land. They will overwhelm humanity’s strongest fighters and wipe out the population in clusters. You could feel the anger pooling, then, at your helplessness. Average civilians were so weak, so useless. It hurt that you couldn’t even protect anyone, let alone yourself. Why, why were you born so weak—

Your emotions stilled at a cloud that slowly passed over the sun. Your heart was calm, beating slower.

Even when the world ends, the sky will remain unchanged—unchanged, vast, and still beautiful.

Then, the world ended.

You still remembered the day as if it were just yesterday, when the gates appeared—the roaring sounds oscillating across the entire country and its diameter devouring the peaceful summer sky. The action of itself was unjust—not because it triggered the apocalypse, but because it tied in a pacifist to the unyielding destruction of the entire world. There was a brief intermission between the gate openings and the flow of monsters; realization of the situation propelled Darwin’s theory of natural selection into motion. You were lucky to have broken out of your stupor, yelling out that everyone should run—maybe you saved some lives that day.

The screams were just as loud as the tremors that shook the earth once the rampage began. You could not focus on anything else but the shrieks, and the vile sounds of slicing of innocent faces you would now never get to meet in this lifetime. Once again, you were helpless to the world around you. No awakening, no power, no ability to do anything. The best you could do was silence your whimpers and hope it all stops.

Was your family okay? You thought as another scream fell silent. Where were they?

You looked at the sky for a miracle, but all you could see was that damned gate.

“Thank you.” The stranger’s trembling hands folded over the small bread bun, his eyes full of shame and gratitude.

You nodded, then smiled. “You can pick up water from the well just North of here.”

The man nodded his head, repeatedly murmuring ‘thank you’s’ with his voice growing hoarse as tears dripped down his eyes. He had not moved to start eating yet; you could feel his hesitance even after you gave him the bun. You nodded once more before making a swift exit. From a few meters away, you could distantly make out the sounds of biting and chewing.

Your heart felt content. It was warm, sometimes, but it was hard for the heat to linger long. It was hard to fan the flames in the first place; humanity had dispersed into fragments, with remnants of a sound society lost long ago. You also had not heard of a single word regarding your family, no matter how many villages you crossed or people you asked—you assumed them dead on the day of the Parade.

Yes, the day of the Parade. The day of the nightmare you wished to forget, the crossing of endless monstrosities, and the mark of the end of humanity. By some miracle, despite the constant onslaught of dragons and beasts crossing the gates, you lived. Back then, people agreed how fortunate you and others were to be able to hide—after all, if you didn’t hide, you ran. Yet, all you could feel was turmoil brewing within you.

Was it really something fortunate?

The people you loved; your family, friends, they were all gone. Your accomplishments, career, vanished the moment the gates flooded open. Back then, you were playing a game of ‘pretend’—those serene smiles and unsaid thoughts renounced the oncoming catastrophe as a tale of make-believe. You wanted to shout at the survivors that nothing was ‘fortunate’ anymore, that you all were apart of scrapped pages ripped from a fable that deemed your lives forfeit after its story reached the end. You were dirt on the ground, now; organic matter that existed as sustenance for better life forms.

Then, there was the sky. The sky you had loved and cherished deeply, was an entity that you blamed. It was the sky’s fault; something that symbolized tranquility and freedom was replaced as a symbol of the beginning of the end. Beautiful, were the bright explosions that blinded and wrecked cities. Vast, the lines of gates that it held. Limitless, the rows and rows of monsters it brought from within. No longer a constant variable in your life, it was something that reminded you of the day you lost everything.

At least, that’s what you thought back then.

There was more to life than you realized when you found the first village. You had trekked far from the city, and far from your home. You did not know where you were walking, and it looked fruitless based on the lack of your supplies. By a stroke of luck, a group came across you while you were slumped on the floor. They pitied you, offering to take you to their sanctuary—the last of humanity’s efforts to survive.

Upon arrival, you noticed the structure itself looked flimsy, with a handful of people walking through rubble and around deep holes in the ground. It also looked poorly built; houses were built from logs and leaves, with some looking as if they could fall over any moment. But, that didn’t matter—what mattered were the people. A person stood in the middle of the village; you could only make out his shouts and pointing in different directions to assume he was the leader of the village. You watched as men moved to build another house, the same poorly structured house, as others ran away to seemingly get supplies. The women occupied their time by cooking and playing with the children, and you nearly cried at how carefree the children looked.

Despite everyone’s losses, they still moved on. You all were specks of dirt in the ground, but together—as soil—you could erode even the hardest of rocks.

You stopped momentarily, turning behind a piece of wooden wall that was left from a now-destroyed-shed. You peeked around the corner, seeing the man feast on the tiny bun. Good, he was eating. You originally volunteered to assist outsiders, thus had been handing out bread buns the entire day to lone scavengers roaming the outskirts. Although you could no longer take care of your family like you used to, at least you can try to ensure the nourishment of others.

You sighed, relief sifting down your body. You shifted through your bag, feeling the weight of a singular item. You had one more piece left, meaning your work wasn’t over, but you had exhausted nearly the entire outskirts. Perhaps you should take another lap around again—

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw what looked to be a dark, blackened figure. It reminded you of the black spots you would get when you were dizzy or fatigued, so you turned your head for a better view.

There was… nothing. Everything was dark, covered by a half-broken roof and the rapid growth of moss and vines. You felt as if… something was staring at you. It was like a sharp pinch, as if there was a pair of eyes piercing like a needle into your soul. At the same time, you felt tired; enough so that if you were to close your eyes right now, you were sure the abyss would greet you in response.

Your eyes swept the shed, noticing a faintly drawn outline that was swaying within the void of darkness. You made contact with a pair of dimmed gray hues, its stare so bold and cold that a shiver quaked through your body. It was tempting to conclude that it was just some illusion, some petty trick on your mind so that the pill was easier to swallow. The longer you stared into the gray depths, the more you couldn’t look away.

What was this feeling?

It was not only that you felt your heart pump strenuously, but the surreality of your condition. You felt and heard your heart pump simultaneously with the feeling of adrenaline hitting your bloodstream. Your arms and legs tensed out of instinct, causing you to wince as your muscle fibers moved and pulled across your bones. The several cracks under the soles of your feet trembled slightly, as if matching your fear.

You wanted to look away so badly. You are too entranced now; a rabbit trapped under sharp claws as the wolf stared down its prey.

Please, please, please, look away.

No, this feeling—

You are remembering that day again. God, why even remember now?

It must be a coincidence—but it couldn’t be. It feels so much like…

Like…

Like those beasts.

Those beasts that walked where the sun did not follow.

They appeared in shaky and inky black forms. They would appear, and whatever they would do, would always result in a calamity. You heard the most screams from them, always.

“I’m paralyzed.” You thought, realization sinking in.

Is this the end?

Then, a sigh.

A deep, long, aired out sigh.

In an instant, all the pressure building within your frame vanished. The tension on your sarcomeres lessened, like a weight slowly floating off your shoulders. As the rush dissipated, you are left with trembling hands and shaky legs. Your senses came back to you, one by one.

Your head shot up, fearful eyes meeting wary ones. You see a figure, now—which looked to be a man—but it was odd. His frame was fluctuating between reality and obscurity, like he was struggling to pick the right balance of tenebrosity or to succumb entirely to the veil of night. His stare engraved holes into you; it was lucky that you hadn’t deflated into a balloon, most likely due to the restraint on his aura.

Aura… his sheer presence is powerful enough to knock you unconscious, that much you could tell.

To be truthful, you were clueless as to his actual thoughts. Initially, his presence was concealed—only emitting essence that you now thought was a warning. Maybe you pushed a button or two, seeing as he actually appeared in front of you. If anything, you were slightly grateful to know that you weren’t entirely crazy and that there was an actual person in the shed. However, you couldn’t read his expression at all; firstly because he wasn’t conveying anything, and secondly because you were too scared to try.

Neither of you moved; the shock having knocked the breath out of you and the stranger seemingly studying you.

Then,

“Go home.”

His voice was deep, so low in octave you imagined the sound waves still bouncing around your ear drums. In any other situation, it would’ve soothed you, as you envisioned singing lullabies or the humming of baritone tunes.

But, you also weren’t stupid. The man’s wording was specific—a demand. In a sense, he was a king; a ruler who offers you mercy after finding you in contempt of the sovereign because you tried stepping on his land. Unconsciously, your legs moved, recognizing that the lord gave you permission to leave—words your being waited on with bated breath to live another day.

So, you ran, not realizing that you dropped your bag of items, nor the growing smile on the stranger’s face.

That man, he never left your mind.

Somber gray eyes, and a complexion that rivaled Greek gods. His hair was as dark as the shadows devoured under his silhouette. He was more than ordinary, representative of a being that practices and deals in absolute power. There were only a handful of people who were gifted with abilities like that, back when the very first gates opened.

Right, now you remembered—they were called hunters. Hunters were classified into different rankings, all the way to S-rank and even national level hunters. To be a hunter, you were granted a certain seed of power.

If he were to be like anything else back then, could he have been a hunter? An S-class, even?

It was rare to come across ‘hunters’ anymore, the label long disbanding alongside the association that coined the term. When they appeared, it was considered a bad omen. Either they were chased by the Monarchs of the New World (for the risk they held) or isolated by the unawakened out of fear. Perhaps, the man was the last of the hunters—of the humans who could fight back at all.

Either way, you wanted to see him again. The more reflecting you did, the more you registered his seclusion; he is far, far from the remnants of civilization.

Regardless of the fear you felt, or the possibility of death, he was still human. He was someone who lost everything, just like you and everyone else.

The destination was a long and grueling walk from the current village you stayed at. Passing by outlanders, you gave out food and supplies as normal, while steadily making your way towards the shed.

Would he still be there? It was hard to say. Most remaining hunters were known to be nomads; staying in one place for longer than a day was like shooting fish in a barrel for their next enemy. You were not sure if he was a hunter in the first place, too—it was your latest profound superstition to be proven by whatever little luck you had left. As you treaded further, the familiarity of your surroundings fill you with perpetual dread. You began to second-guess your courage to embark on this trip in the first place, thoughts clouded and eventually drowned out by faint whispers inside decaying wooden walls. The moment your final step reached the broken shelter a hush filled the air, the shed girdling the edge of the forest encompassed by a heavy silence.

“Hello?” You called out to no one in particular.

You nearly surprised yourself with the surge of bravery to make out your greeting. You peeked into the shed, hands waving through vines. There was no one around the entrance, despite you hearing multiple voices.

Odd.

You weaved through a few cracks in the floorboard before being greeted by gray eyes. You jumped, obviously, because you did not expect him to be in such close proximity to you. He was a till a few feet away, but you could have never spotted him if he chose to sit closer to the wall. He was indeed discernible now, sitting under a small stream of light gifted by the sun. His shadow dragged along the box he sat atop of, sinking behind its crevices before pushing itself onto the wall and absorbing its shade. In any other universe, you would’ve described it as strange. In this case, you thought it supported how outlandish—and isolated—he must be.

“You’re back, what a surprise,” The man said, expression clearly detached. “I thought I scared you off.”

This was going to be difficult.

“Right. I was, but I thought it would be better to introduce myself since we got off on the wrong foot—“

A half truth, but you were also cautious.

“—my name is Y/N.”

He was burning holes into you again—the stare wasn’t any less discomforting than the previous time. His silence, too, was deafening. A sudden urge to scream to at least get a reaction out of him rose within you, but you quickly simmered it out.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed slightly as he let out a faint hum.

You winced. “I wanted to give you something that I couldn’t last time.”

You quickly plucked out a wrapped item, hastily tearing through the covering to reveal a bread bun. You weren’t able to catch a glimpse of his face, opting to shift the bread onto an elevated surface so he wouldn’t be incentivized to lunge at you.

“I hope that this helps you, even if it isn’t a whole lot.” You said, nervously picking your cuticles.

The silence was very, VERY heavy, and—can he please say something?

You looked up and caught the man’s wide eyed, dazed state as his eyes lingered on the bread. It reminded you of a skeptical stray cat at a crossroads when offered an open-hand. The man’s eyes met yours, then, and all you could think was how much better he looked without baring his teeth at you.

“You’re funny.” He dryly chuckled, faint smile betraying his nonchalance.

You offered a small smile, blissfully unaware of his next few words.

“I’m Jinwoo.”

And,

“See you tomorrow?”

“Are you a hunter, Jinwoo?” You asked after placing down the wrapped bread.

You wanted to use his name in some way, lest you forget it or say it wrong. It was ironic you carried over some of your social habits after the end of the world, like a puppy you once fed.

“You could say that,” Jinwoo replied simply.

“Could?” You echoed.

He must’ve noticed your frown, adding, “Not like it matters now.”

He had a point; the name lost its meaning awhile ago. Still, you were ruffled by his restrained disposition. Surely, the label still had meaning to him.

…No, that was an unfair presumption. Jinwoo knows his own memories and emotions better than everyone, especially you. Besides, it wasn’t worth arguing the semantics on the basis of mere suspicion.

Thus, you decided to let it go.

Ah, that reminded you—he never told you his last name.

“You don’t have family?”

“I did.”

You perked up. “…You lost them, too?”

Jinwoo closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Because of the Tragedy, yes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Then, he squinted his eyes curiously. “I’m more interested in your story.”

You coughed suddenly, shocked by his gravitation towards you. Maybe it was because all you had to offer was bread and stories, or because you never took the chance to settle with your memories, but you felt compelled to talk.

And talk, you did.

Jinwoo was an excellent listener; he was levelheaded and passive, allowing you to just… talk, and talk, and talk (with a tendency to sigh or huff as remarks). You were spilling your family’s entire life story, grasping this fact in the middle of talking about your sister’s fiancé’s secret affair, but you found that you didn’t care. If you weren’t able to come to terms with your family’s passing before this, perhaps someone else can remember in your stead.

Did he care to remember every single detail, anyway? Probably not.

“Hold on—I lost track of the time. Crap, it’s getting dark.” You said, rushing to readjust your cloak. If you started the walk now, you might make it before it’s fully dark.

“It’s rather late, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave.” Jinwoo said, rough voice clipping louder than your hurried shuffling.

“Did you like my stories that much?” You joked.

You waited a few beats of silence. “Sorry, bad joke; I wouldn’t have any place to sleep if I stayed, anyway.”

The shed violently shook at the end of your sentence, causing your heart to lurch in your chest. You latched onto the metal pole next to you, clutching tightly as you waited for the shaking to cease. Within seconds, Jinwoo was next to you, gently but firmly holding your arm; in moments, the quaking stopped.

“Must’ve been an earthquake.” Jinwoo noted, tone and expression laced with unconventional serenity.

Your quivering hadn’t stopped after the vibrations ceased. In fact, it increased exponentially because you were still trying to comprehend the glimpse of Jinwoo’s vibrant, deep purple eyes etched with absolute unadulterated fury.

You were deluded, you thought quickly as your breathing hastened. You were tired, surely.

“I should go home.”

His breathing stilled.

“Don’t forget about me tomorrow,” Jinwoo said, sounding strangely hollow as his iron grip slowly released you.

Once again, you ran away from his grasp.

[hollowblxxd]

[ AU / Speculation for me ] [ I CAN FIX IT .... NOT FOR YOU ]

Okay so because I am a man who hates to see things end badly Im here writing a sort of... fanfiction for myself that cleanse up the mess of Mouthwashing. No disrespect to the whole game but this is my thoughts Some warning for mature subjects and obviously possible spoilers for Mouthwashing!

Basically I thought about the idea of Jimmy being dealt with before he could complete his plan against the crew and it all stems from the idea that there's actually a secret cryopod on the ship. We see only 4 in the main part but there's 5 people on board, which even if you want to argue Pony Express doesn't give a shit, I think its somewhat reasonable to assume that should there be an emergency there would in fact be enough cryopods for everyone to get into so that a potential crew can be saved. This secret cryopod is obviously ONLY used in the case of an emergency and is ONLY known to exist by the captain. Aka Curly. Curly realizes that Jimmy is getting too unhinged and crossing far more lines than hes ever seen him do before. Though Curly fears and cares for his unfortunately stupidly manipulative friend, he realizes he has to take action against Jimmy to ensure no harm comes to the remaining crew. So Curly basically tricks Jimmy into thinking that he's going to be revealing a secret to Jimmy, something only "a captain and his co-pilot can know" before taking Jimmy to this secret cryopod. Since technically having a "potential psychological unsound person" on board DOES class as an emergency and with no "brig" available for holding, Jimmy is put in there. His last moments is Curly's well deserved "betrayal." Thus now Jimmy is a festering sleeping mess inside the cryo-chamber, grinding thru a horrific nightmare where he gets his revenge on Curly, where he gets control of the ship while spiralling further and further into outright INSANITY in some jacob's ladder style purgatory as his mental state is forever stuck "coping" with his anger, his guilt, his fear, his hatred, his selfishness and so on and so forth. Basically everything that happens in the events of Mouthwashing is a already crazy's man nightmare-ish delusion as he awaits judgement day, aka the time when he leaves the pod and has to face the justice he deserves. Meanwhile with Jimmy put away in hold, the crew get a chance to breath. Jimmy overbearing nature eases everyone tension and though it was a hard decision it was a well made one. Its not all perfect however because Anya takes all of this quite hard feeling guilty that it got this far. She does attempt to end her life which she is luckily saved from by Curly and the rest of the crew. Since Anya is now sick, Daisuke has to take over acting as Nurse, following Curly and Anya instructions on how to make this all easier. Anya is safe around Daisuke and his bright optimistic personality is really fitting for a nurse, never once does she feel ashamed or scared and for once feels a sense of relief and freedom. Her commenting that Daisuke would make a good nurse which Daisuke takes to heart since he still obviously struggling to find "what hes good at" Curly temporarily takes up the role of being an engineer with Swansea since, Curly as the lovely captain SHOULD know his ship inside and out too and hey, even as a bonus, he may even show Swansea how to steer a ship. This ends up with Curly and Swansea having a good man to man bond. In the end, Anya recovered free from her abuse and regains her personality and happiness, Daisuke discovers his passion for medical work happily taking college recommendation from Anya, Swansea learns a bit about riding a ship and thinks "hey I could probably do good as a space trucker" and Curly also detached himself from the parasite that is Jimmy who constantly been trying to drag him down! So there, I fixed it. But not for him.

[jburrgf]

About You IV- The Love Trope Series.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

◦pairing: ¡lsu! burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader

° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦ description: It is the game day, and you and joe are back again. what the future holds for both of you? Forever or Down In Flames?

• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART FOUR: ABOUT YOU

The soft chime of a new email broke the quiet of my apartment as I sat cross-legged on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through my notes for the media project. I reached for my laptop, my curiosity piqued by the subject line:

"Peach Bowl Coverage Assignment"

I clicked the email open, scanning its contents. The words blurred together for a moment before clarity hit me like a freight train:

You have been selected to cover the Peach Bowl game this weekend, Saturday evening. This will be your primary focus. Full details and meeting schedule to follow.

My heart sank into my stomach. The Peach Bowl? This wasn’t just any game—it was the game. The stakes were high, the audience massive, and the pressure immense. And to make matters worse, the LSU Tigers were playing, which meant... Joe.

I let out a long, uneven breath and leaned back against the couch cushions. Of course, it had to be this game. I rubbed my temples, willing the knot of anxiety forming in my chest to loosen.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "This is just great."

The email included a note about a meeting scheduled for Friday morning, where the media team would go over assignments, angles, and access for the weekend. I closed my laptop with a sigh, unable to focus on anything else.

I shut down my computer, getting ready to finally leave the house. I packed everything I needed into my backpack, and minutes later, I left my apartment heading towards the LSU campus, not too far from where I lived.

The media room was buzzing when I stepped inside, the hum of conversations mingling with the faint sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor. A slideshow projected on the front wall displayed the Peach Bowl logo in bold letters, its importance impossible to ignore. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, clutching my coffee cup tightly, as if it could somehow ground me.

"Saved you a seat," Maddie said as I slid into the chair beside her. Her energy was palpable, a stark contrast to the knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

"Thanks," I murmured, setting down my notebook and coffee.

“You okay?” she whispered as I slid into the seat next to her.

“Peach Bowl,” I muttered, my tone flat.

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “What? No way. You mean you get to cover one of the biggest games of the season? Tragic.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. Leave it to Maddie to downplay my nerves.

Before I could respond, the room quieted. The director of media assignments, Professor Ellis, followed by coach Taylor, stepped to the front of the room, clipboard in hand. His voice boomed as he greeted everyone and launched into the agenda for the Peach Bowl.

I tried to focus, scribbling notes as he explained the logistics—press passes, sideline access, and post-game interviews. But my thoughts were fractured, my mind wandering to the one person I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

And then I saw him.

Joe sat near the back of the room, his tall frame hunched slightly over the table. He was wearing a dark LSU sweatshirt, the hood pulled halfway over his head, and his usual air of quiet confidence seemed to be replaced with something else. He looked... unsettled.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him since the night at Malone’s—that night was burned into my memory—but seeing him here, in the context of work, made it feel different. More formal. More unavoidable.

He didn’t look up, and for a moment, I thought maybe I could slip by unnoticed. But then, as if he could sense me watching him, he lifted his head.

Our eyes met.

It was like the air in the room shifted. Everything else faded into the background, and for a second, it was just us. His expression was guarded, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes… His eyes were all over me.

”Keep it together, Y/N," I told myself, tearing my gaze away and scribbling down notes I didn’t even need.

Joe, on the other hand, seemed unusually quiet. His usual relaxed confidence was replaced by a subtle tension, his fingers tapping against the table and his jaw clenched.

"You okay?" Maddie asked as I slid into the chair beside her, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"Fine," I said, though my voice betrayed me, sounding far less convincing than I intended.

Maddie gave me a knowing look but didn’t push. Instead, she nodded toward the front of the room where the media director was setting up.

"You’re not going to faint, are you?" she teased, her tone light, but her concern still evident.

"I’m fine," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Coach Taylor started to speak, outlining the importance of our assignments and the exposure this game would bring. It should have excited me—it was a dream opportunity, the kind of coverage people in my field worked years to get. But all I could think about was how I’d survive the weekend with Joe lurking in the periphery.

"Now," Professor Ellis said, drawing my attention back to the front of the room, "I want to remind everyone of the importance of professionalism during this event. You are representatives of the university’s media program, and your behavior reflects on all of us."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

As the meeting neared its end, Ellis and Taylor began handing out specific assignments for the coverage. I kept my head down, furiously jotting notes about the timeline for game day. But I could feel Joe’s eyes on me again, a quiet weight I couldn’t shake.

You’ll each have access to a key player from the team you're covering," he explained. "For LSU, Joe Burrow will be the primary focus, given his leadership role and performance this season."

I flinched at the mention of his name, my pen faltering against the paper.

"Your angles should focus on the game, the team’s journey, and what this win could mean for the program."

I stole a glance at Joe, who was now sitting straighter, his brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but the tension in his shoulders was visible even from across the room.

Maddie leaned over, whispering in my ear. "You’re gonna have to deal with him eventually, you know."

I shot her a look, but she just smirked, unfazed.

When Taylor finally dismissed us, the room erupted into the sounds of chairs scraping and low chatter. Maddie nudged me again as I shoved my notebook into my bag.

Maddie nudged me as she stood. "Come on. Let’s go before you combust."

I shot her a glare, but I got up anyway, clutching my notebook like a lifeline. As we moved toward the door, I couldn’t resist glancing back.

Joe was watching me. His eyes locked on mine for just a second before he quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was in front of him.

I didn’t know what to make of it—of him—but the knot in my stomach tightened as I walked out of the room.

"You okay?" she asked, her eyes flicking toward the back of the room where Joe was still sitting.

"I am.” said quickly, though the tightness in my chest suggested otherwise.

"You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt," she said, crossing her arms and giving me a pointed look.

"I’m fine, Maddie.” I repeated, grabbing my coffee and heading toward the door before she could press further.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually," she said softly, giving me a look that was equal parts concern and exasperation.

But just as I stepped into the hallway, I heard my name.

"Y/N."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I turned slowly, my grip tightening on the coffee cup. Joe was standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but steady.

"Hey," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us. I could feel Maddie’s curious gaze from behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from Joe.

"You—uh, ready for this weekend?" he asked, his words tentative.

"Yeah," I said, though it was a lie.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Cool. See you at the game."

"See you," I murmured, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding in my chest.

And just like that, the moment was over. I turned and walked away, my heart pounding as Maddie fell into step beside me.

"You’re going to be fine," she said, her voice firm but reassuring. "You’re tougher than this."

I wasn’t so sure.

[…]

The stadium buzzed with electricity, the kind of energy that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you were part of something bigger. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a sea of purple and gold on one side and orange and white on the other. This was it—the Peach Bowl, the biggest game I’d covered yet.

I adjusted the strap of my camera and took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous excitement thrumming through me. This wasn’t just another game—it was a defining moment for the LSU Tigers, and I was here to capture every second of it.

The LSU Tigers were set to face off against the Oklahoma Sooners, and everyone knew this wasn’t just another game. This was the Peach Bowl. A playoff game. A shot at the National Championship.

From my spot near the sidelines, I had a clear view of the field. The players were already lined up, Joe at the center of it all, his focus unshakeable. The sight of him in his purple-and-gold jersey, helmet tucked under one arm as he called out plays, made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

I raised my camera, framing the shot as he stepped onto the field.

The perfect glare, I looked at my camera and saw the picture that I had taken. I Could feel his energy through the screen. I never knew if it was just me or literally every single other girl in the world, but he was so magnetic. And he did nothing to be like that.

The game started with a bang, LSU coming out strong. Joe was in his element, commanding the offense like he was born for this moment. The ball snapped, and he moved with precision, throwing a perfect pass that resulted in the first touchdown of the game.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face as the crowd erupted around me. Even though I was here to work, to document the game, it was impossible not to get caught up in the emotion of it all.

Raising my camera, I snapped a series of shots—Joe in mid-throw, the receiver catching the ball, the celebration that followed. The images would be sharp, full of action, but they couldn’t capture the full intensity of the moment.

A 19-yard pass to Justin Jefferson.

Touchdown.

The crowd erupted, and I couldn’t help but grin behind my camera as I snapped a shot of Jefferson celebrating in the end zone. Maddie, who was a few yards away working on her own coverage, shot me a thumbs-up before turning back to her notes.

I stayed focused, switching lenses to get tighter shots of the players as they regrouped for the next drive. Joe was commanding the huddle again, his gestures sharp and precise.

By the second quarter, LSU was dominating. Joe was unstoppable, his passes clean and precise, his movements smooth and calculated. The energy on the field mirrored the stands—wild, unrelenting, alive.

I knelt near the sideline, framing a shot of Joe as he stepped back into the pocket. His focus was laser-sharp, his eyes scanning the field before launching the ball in a perfect arc. I clicked the shutter just as the receiver dove into the end zone.

Another touchdown.

The scoreboard flashed, and I couldn’t help but cheer under my breath, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd. My camera captured the celebration on the field—Joe’s rare but brilliant smile as he high-fived his teammates, the way the entire team rallied around him.

By halftime, LSU was leading 49–14, and the media box was abuzz with murmurs of disbelief. Seven touchdowns in one half. Joe alone had thrown for nearly 400 yards. It was a performance that felt less like a game and more like a statement.

After the first part of the game, I reviewed my shots, scrolling through the images on my camera. They were good—great, even—but there was something about being here, in the middle of it all, that no photograph could truly capture.

Maddie texted me from the stands: "He’s killing it. You okay?"

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to explain the mix of pride and nostalgia and something heavier that sat in my chest every time I looked at him.

The third quarter started with a bang—another touchdown pass from Joe that sent the stadium into chaos. I barely had time to steady my camera before the celebration started, capturing the players as they piled into the end zone.

Joe scrambling out of the pocket, delivering another perfect pass. The defense shutting down Oklahoma’s attempts to close the gap.

With every touchdown, the crowd grew louder, and I found myself smiling more, caught up in the euphoria of the game. This wasn’t just football—it was history in the making.

Joe jogged back toward the sideline, his expression calm but focused, like this was just another day at the office. But I could see the fire in his eyes, the determination that had carried him and the team this far.

By the fourth quarter, the game was all but decided. LSU’s lead was insurmountable, the offense and defense both performing at their peak. But Joe didn’t let up, still playing with the same intensity he had at kickoff.

I captured a shot of him in the huddle, his arm slung around one of his teammates as he called the next play. There was something about the way he led, the quiet confidence that radiated off him, that made it impossible to look away.

When the clock finally ran out, the scoreboard flashing LSU’s victory, the stadium erupted. Players stormed the field, coaches hugged each other, and the fans went wild. I snapped photo after photo, documenting the chaos and joy that filled the air. They were headed to the National Championship.

I lowered my camera for a moment, just to take it all in. The confetti, the cheers, the pure elation that came with a win like this—it was a moment I wouldn’t forget.

And then, as the team gathered for the trophy presentation, my eyes found him again. Joe stood at the center of it all, the MVP of the game, his smile brighter than the lights overhead.

I didn’t need a camera to remember this moment. It was etched into my memory, clear as day.

I brought my camera back up, capturing one last shot of him holding up the Peach Bowl trophy, a grin breaking across his face. The confetti rained down around him, a sea of purple and gold framing the moment perfectly.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I packed up my gear, my heart full with the weight of what I’d just witnessed. It wasn’t just a game—it was a reminder of why I loved this job, why I loved being here, even when it meant facing things I wasn’t ready to confront.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a reminder of why Joe Burrow still had a way of pulling at my heartstrings, whether I wanted him to or not.

I did my way directly to the media room, waiting for Maddie to catch up with me on the way. Our eyes, mouths, bodies — you could tell that we were living the dream.

“I can't believe in what just happened.” Maddie said to me, loud and clear, trying to talk louder than the voices surrounding us.

A quiet buzz hummed in the media room as Maddie and I reviewed our notes and photos while waiting for the post-game interviews. The energy from LSU’s victory still hung in the air, even though the stadium was slowly emptying.

Joe arrived in the room surrounded by cameras and reporters, his expression calm yet commanding. He still wore his uniform, though the helmet was gone, and his face gleamed with the remnants of sweat. The Peach Bowl trophy gleamed on the table beside him, a physical reminder of the night’s triumph.

I positioned myself near the back, pretending to focus on editing the photos on my laptop. Maddie whispered something about the quality of the lighting, but my attention was elsewhere. I couldn’t help but glance up every time Joe spoke, his words measured and precise as he answered the questions being thrown his way.

“I felt like we were in a rhythm all night,” Joe said, his voice steady. “The offensive line gave me time, and the receivers made the plays. It’s a team win.”

I snapped a quick picture, capturing the moment, even though I knew I wouldn’t use it. Something about seeing him under the spotlight like this, with the weight of his success on full display, felt surreal.

After the interview, the team headed back toward the locker room to change and prepare for the ride back. Maddie and I lingered in the corner of the locker room, packing up our equipment.

We headed to the bus, getting our places on the back, where we used to travel. I was still electrified, feeling on my skin all the energy of the night that we just had it.

“You crushed it today,” Maddie said, nudging me as I zipped up my bag. “Seriously, those shots of Jefferson’s touchdowns are going to blow up.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, distracted. I was double-checking my bag when it hit me.

My second camera.

It wasn’t in my bag. My stomach sank as I realized I’d left it in the players’ locker room earlier during halftime.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Maddie, already heading toward the hallway.

“Want me to come with you?” she called after me, but I shook my head.

The hallway leading to the locker room was silent, an abrupt change from the chaos and energy that had dominated the stadium hours earlier. I could hear the muffled sound of voices in the parking lot, where the team was already preparing to board the bus. Maddie had stayed behind, talking to another reporter in the media room, but I was there, hurried, because I had left one of my cameras in the players' locker room.

The door was closed when I arrived. I hesitated for a moment, my heart beating too fast, but I slowly pushed it open, calling softly so no one would be caught by surprise.

"Just here to get my camera," I murmured, my voice echoing in the empty space.

That's when I saw him.

Joe was sitting on the bench, still wearing the black shirt he wore under his uniform, with a towel draped over his shoulders. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower.He hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a moment, I considered turning around and leaving before he did. But then, his gaze lifted, and his eyes locked on mine.

My breath caught.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than it had been during the interviews but no less certain.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak. “I—I forgot my camera.”

He nodded, watching as I moved toward the bench on the far side of the room where my gear was. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable, as I fumbled with the camera strap, trying to avoid looking at him.

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?”

The question hit me like a punch to the chest, and I froze, my hand tightening around the strap of my camera.

“I…” I started, but my voice faltered. What was I supposed to say to that?

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. The weight of his gaze was too much, and the vulnerability in his voice shattered any defense I might have had.

He took a step closer, his duffel bag slipping from his shoulder to the ground. “Because I haven’t,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “I’ve tried, Y/N. God, I’ve tried. But it doesn’t work. You’re still in my head. Always.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn’t bring myself to move, to speak, to do anything but stand there and let his words sink in.

And for the first time in months, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from him—or to him.

I stared at him, my mind racing as I tried to process what he was saying. The locker room felt impossibly small, the world outside forgotten as his words hung in the air.

“I thought…” I started again, swallowing hard. “I thought we agreed to move on.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I thought I could. Turns out I was wrong.”

My chest tightened, the mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Anger, confusion, hope—they all swirled together as I looked at him, searching for something in his eyes that would make sense of this.

“What do you want me to say, Joe?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You walked away. You left.”

“And I regret it,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Every damn day.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I felt anymore. All I knew was that the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—was making it impossible to think straight.

“You don’t get to do this,” I whispered, my grip tightening on the camera strap. “Not now.”

Joe nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t forgotten. And I don’t think I ever will.”

He turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the silence of the locker room. I stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been, my heart pounding in my chest as his words echoed in my mind.

Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?

No, I didn’t think he had. And that was the problem.

The weight of Joe's words seemed to have transformed the air around me into something dense, palpable, difficult to breathe. The tension was so thick that it could almost be cut, but something inside me hesitated to run away. My eyes fixed on his, a mixture of surprise and something else that I didn't want to name taking care of me.

"Joe..." My voice came out in a whisper, his name almost trembling on my lips. "I don't even know what to say."

He took a step towards me, and then another, his eyes never leaving mine. "You don't have to say anything. Just... just listen," he began, his voice loaded with something I hadn't heard in him for a long time - vulnerability. "I tried to move on. I thought I could bury it, but I can't. You're there, Y/N. Always there."

My grip on the camera tightened. The part of me that had been building walls since the night he walked away screamed at me to leave, to not let him in again. But the other part—the one that still felt the warmth of his touch and remembered every word he had ever whispered—wanted to stay.

“You left,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I had kept bottled up. “You just… left.”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw with regret. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

His honesty cut through me, and I shook my head, trying to find the strength to look away. “You can’t just say that now, Joe. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I need you to understand—I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at me like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose, shattered the last of my defenses.

“Joe,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know if I can go through this again.”

I shook my head, confused, struggling to contain the wave of emotion that threatened to dominate me.

"Because I was scared," he interrupted me, his voice hoarse. "Of what you meant to me. Of how much you meant to me. And I know I don't deserve for you to forgive me, but—”

"Joe, stop," I said, my voice firm this time, but my hands were shaking. "You can't just come back like this and say these things. Do you have any idea how much it hurts? How much it—”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if my words had hit him directly. When he opened them again, there was something desperate there. "I know. And I'll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I regret it. But right now, I just need to know—do you still feel it? Because I do. Every time I see you, every time I think about you... it's still there. I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m asking for a chance to prove I won’t let you down again.”

My chest tightened with his words, each sentence hitting me like a wave. I wanted to yell at him, say that it wasn't fair for him to come out of nowhere with these confessions, after so long. But at the same time, all I wanted was to stop feeling this pain that seemed to have no end.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why do you get to say this now?"

Joe closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was gathering courage. When he looked at me again, the vulnerability in his eyes completely disarmed me.

"Because I can't keep pretending I'm okay without you," he replied. "I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N. You're everywhere for me. Damn, for every second of the day since I wake up, you’re there. Every win, every moment, every trophy—I want to share it with you."

I was about to answer, but before I could form any word, he took another step and got so close that I could feel the familiarity of his presence - that unmistakable smell of his, the way his breathing seemed to synchronize with mine.

"Joe," I murmured, my heart beating hard as his eyes plunged into mine. “I hate you,” I mumbled against his chest, my voice muffled but shaky.

“No, you don’t,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as if I were something fragile. The tension between us felt like a live wire, humming with electricity.

And then, he didn't say anything else. He just tilted his head, hesitantly, as if he gave me the chance to retreat. But I didn't back down.

When his lips finally met mine, the world seemed to disappear. All the anger, the hurt, the confusion that had haunted me for so long dissolved, replaced by something stronger, deeper.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if we were both testing the waters of something we had been too scared to confront. But the moment I let myself melt into him, all the hurt, the doubt, the fear—it all disappeared. All that remained was him, and the way he made me feel like I was whole again.

My hands met on his shoulders while his pulled me closer, holding me as if I were something he never wanted to lose again. The warmth of his arms around me brought a sense of security that I didn't even realize I was looking for.

When we finally separated, just enough for our eyes to meet, Joe had a smile on his face. A genuine smile, which seemed to illuminate the empty environment.

"Does this mean you'll let me make it up to you?" He asked, his voice low and hoarse.

"Maybe," I murmured, unable to contain a smile of my own.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice a whisper now. "For everything. For leaving. For not fighting for you. But I'm here now, and I'll fight as long as it takes."

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled then, a real, genuine smile that made my heart twist in the best way. "Be my girlfriend," he said, straight, without hesitation

My heart stopped.

I blinked, surprised, my mind trying to process the sudden simplicity of his words. "What?"

He laughed softly, his nose brushing mine while his hand went up to my face, holding it gently. "You heard me. No more games. No more running. I want you, Y/N. I want us."

“Joe…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Let me finish,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I want to be with you. Not just for a moment, not just for now. For everything. So, will you let me prove that to you? Will you let me be yours again?”

My heart seemed to be struggling to get out of my chest, and even with the confusion that still remained in my mind, one thing was clear: in his arms, I felt at home again.

"Okay," I finally said, the word coming out in a whisper. "Okay."

His smile grew, and before I knew it, he had pulled me into his arms again, spinning me around as if we weren’t standing in the middle of an empty locker room.

The smile that illuminated his face was genuine, full of joy and relief. He pulled me back into his arms, pressing me against him while whispering: "You don't know how long I've waited to hear that."

I laughed against his chest, feeling the happiness that seemed unattainable for a long time. There, in Joe's arms, everything finally seemed to be in place.

Joe smiled even more, his eyes shining with a happiness that made me smile back, despite myself. And when he pulled me for another kiss, I knew that, for the first time in a long time, I was exactly where I should be.

[revelboo]

You works are awesome, but i also wanna remind you not to overwork yourself! :) Have a nice day/night! ;3

Honestly, considering this blog is only 24 days old, it’s you guys I’m a bit worried about. Y’all good? Cause holy crow…

The Weakends Pt 5

TFP Ratchet x Reader- argument

• Putting a tool away, Ratchet glances over at the empty counter, the medbay quiet around him. Who’d have thought he’d miss your questions and companionable chatter? Need it to work. That silence drives home the fact that you’re avoiding him. Have been for days now and it’s worming under his plating, a disquiet that sparks through him, because you belong here. Your loss making him snap at everyone, because it’d be one thing if you were just skulking about the base, but no. Since you got upset with him, you’ve kept far away. Sulking like a sparkling.

• Setting the little trowel aside, you drag one of the mums you’d bought closer and wiggle it free of its little plastic pot. It’s warmer today, sweat slicking your skin as you work. Really, you’re just keeping busy. Trying to distract yourself, because you’re so frustrated you want to scream. Mostly at a certain white and red moron. And yourself. You know you’re both too proud to bend now. Neither one of you willing to back down no matter how silly the argument actually was. Even if staying away feels like you’re punishing yourself more than him.

• The sound of gravel popping under tires lifts your head and you squint in the sun. Bumblebee and the kids back again to pester you into coming in? Lips pressing into a thin line when you spot the ambulance, you yank off your gloves. Surely, he isn’t going to actually apologize? Blowing out a breath, you stand and stretch the kinks out of your back. Your little house is far enough from town and the main road that Ratchet can transform without worrying about being spotted and he does, walking the rest of the way over with a scowl like he tastes something foul. Cocking a hip, you cross your arms and wait for the apology. “Well, you’re not dead or dying,” he growls, optics narrowing at you.

• “Yeah, doing great,” you say, tone tight with anger as your fingers dig into your upper arms. “So, I don’t need a medic.” The ‘I don’t need you’ coming across loud and clear. That open hostility in your stare ramping up his own irritation that you’re so petty you’d made him drive all the way out to retrieve you. And you turn your back to him, bending to roughly seize a potted plant. Ignoring him. After he came to get you? His servos close around your middle, hearing your startled gasp as he lifts you. And then you whip around, chucking that plant at his head. It bounces off, scattering dirt all over him as you glare at each other. “Put me down. Right now.”

• Your heart’s racing, the adrenaline souring inside you as you realize you just hit him with a mum. And he’s not just going to let that slide. His optics shutter, jaw clenching as he vents angrily and you tense for the yelling. The fury. Instead, one of his servos slides over your torso as he adjusts his grip. That servo settling against your breast where your frantic heart is pounding away. Grabbing that servo, you mean to shove at it, but just hold on. Slowly his venting evens out.

• He can feel your heart thumping against his servo, frantic with fear. Of him. He can’t move, snared by that rhythm, knowing he’s causing it. As he remains still, that too quick beat slows. Calming. Your little hands shift on his servo. “There’s work to do. I need my assistant,” he says. Can’t make himself apologize, but isn’t leaving without you either, even if he has to just take you. You’re coming home. And you whisper okay so low he almost misses it, that tension winding through him just unraveling.

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[markleessodalite]

There's No Dignity in Love: z.cl

content: Chenle is in love with you, he can't deny it. And he's mortified. A little bit angsty, a teeny bit of fluff, mostly just Chenle being difficult. No warnings i can think of

a/n: i find it so much easier to write for Chenle than for Jeno or Haechan, my actual biases lol

Its not that Chenle didn’t like you. Actually, the reality is the furthest thing from. Chenle is stubborn as a mule and hates to lose, even if its to himself. And for some reason, Chenle accepting that he might, in fact, have a little crush on you, feels like losing. It feels like he might as well tell you every other embarrassing secret he has, because what’s the point in trying to maintain his dignity now? You two were friends, have been for such a long time, and you know all the right ways to pick at him, get under his skin, tease him relentlessly and encourage his other friends to join in on the fun. He has no problem teasing you right back though. Or he used to not have a problem with it, but for some reason it was getting harder and harder to come up with clever quips on the spot, and he’d spent more and more nights wondering if he went too far and if you actually were hurt by something he said. With each day Chenle was getting more shy and less cocky, and you picked up on it so easily, and teased him even more, and he hated it. So why shouldn’t he just tell you about every mistake he’s made, every time he’s embarrassed himself in front of someone important, every time he’s been confused about something everyone else in the room seems to have the upper-hand on so that you have all the ammunition you need to make him feel like a loser?

He already feels like a loser anyway, just all of a sudden having a crush on someone he’s been bickering with for years. He’s such a loser for being so obvious about it, the way that his talkative self immediately shuts up when your attention is on him. He’s such a loser for laying awake at night thinking about all this and trying to talk himself out of this rut. Maybe he’ll eventually convince himself that it’s not a crush– he is Zhong Chenle, after all. Stubborn as a mule.

At least he was gonna try to talk himself out of it until a certain someone (very likely Haechan no matter how much he denies it) got tired of a clearly lovesick Chenle and decided to take matters into his own hands. You were completely caught off guard by the sudden anonymous private message, but not too surprised at what it said. So you gave Chenle a call later that day.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“Because its not true.” He chuckles, but you can hear the wavering in his voice.  “Do you really think that highly of yourself?”

"Chenle..."

“Y/N” he torts, mocking your tone of voice. “Seriously, I don’t know where you got this idea that-”

"I see how you've changed, Chenle."

"...what?"

“I’ve just… I’ve noticed things. You got quieter. You don’t argue with me as much. You’ve just kind of… pulled away. I was worried that I did something to offend you, I didn’t know, I just…”

There’s a silence so loud you think your eardrums are gonna blow out, until you realize you’re just hearing your own heartbeat in your head. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Whoever sent you that message was probably just messing with you, but now you’ve crossed a line and made things awkward.

"I do like you."

"Really?!"

“Just shut up and let me get this out okay?" Chenle sighs, a mix of annoyance and anxiety evident in his breath. "I do like you, and I don’t really know why, because we’ve been friends for years at this point and I haven't started liking you until recently. Or maybe I just didn’t realize it until recently– whatever. And I guess that I've changed but that’s just because my thinking has changed I guess? Like sometimes I can’t sleep because i’m thinking about you and I’m flipping between convincing myself I don’t like you and wishing that you were lying awake with me, which would just frustrate me even more because you know how I am with this kind of stuff and admitting things that I don’t want to, and, just… yeah. I don’t know. I’ve got my own issues with my pride and stuff, I guess.”

You tried to think very carefully before responding, although Chenle’s shaky breath on the other end of the line was thoroughly distracting. “Sometimes a little humility can go a long way, Lele.”

"... I know."

“I wouldn’t have thought anything bad about you if you told me.”

"I know."

“What I do think is that I like you too, Chenle. Even if you’re a loser.”

Chenle doesn’t say anything, but you just know he’s rolling his eyes while biting back a smile. There’s no way you won’t tease him about this later.

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 4

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

"Who was that?" Max asks having seen the Mercedes ahead of him, no longer racing.

"I can confirm that is George Russell" you say calmly looking at the on-board seeing that the number 63 had stopped movement on the map.

"What happened?" Max asks.

"Focus on the race Max, Norris is closing that gap" you sigh, checking the tires and the breaks which looked like Max was wearing them out a little more than anticipated.

"If Norris pits, we will pit, if he stays out we stay out. Protect the tires and bring it home" you advise there wasn't many laps left and you were starting to sweat from the sun that had moved so it was now on your back in the box.

"Okay, copy" he says, he took the corners softer while keeping that gap with Norris.

"Okay, it looks like Norris isn't going to pit, Christian is debating to come in for tires" you explain to him, you look over at Christian who is analysisng the data.

"What do you think?" he asks you.

"I advised we stay out if Norris stays out, Norris is on fresher tires by 3 laps, but we are the faster car. The tires will hold until the end" you suggest and he nods.

"Okay, no pit. 12 laps to go, Norris is 2 seconds behind. Push Mode Push" you say, nodding at Horner as you both watch the on-board of Max, he's having an amazing drive today.

12 laps later and Max crosses the checkered flag. You and Christian cheer and hug each other.

"That's P1 Max, P1 in Brazil" you say into the radio, a grin on your face. You hear his cheer and thanks before your running with the rest of the team to go congratulate Max. You get crushed by the Pit Crew as the gather around you and Max squeezing all of you.

The podium was amazing and you were filming the whole thing while talking to Geri next to you. You couldn't be prouder of this moment. You see the cameras on you, making you wave and smile excitedly before frowning and pointing for them to look at Max and his podium rather than film you.

"Well done Max" you smile as he hops down off the stage and towards you both.

"George has been watching you this whole time, just so you know" Max offers leaning in and whispering to you so that no-one else could here. You look over his shoulder, seeing he was in fact right and that George was glaring at the back of his head, watching the interaction between the both of you.

"I'm not ready to talk to him yet, I know i said I'd talk to him here, but its too soon. Is that childish of me?" you ask, not sure if this was right.

"No, after how he acted, he deserves more than the cold shoulder. I have an interview and you have a piece with Netflix I believe. I'll tell him that after Abu Dhabi you'll review your situation, how is that?" Max asks looking at you, you nod pulling him back into a hug before nodding and looking away.

"Thank you Max, really!" You smile turning back round to catch his gaze before finding the Netflix crew and where you'd sit to start your piece.

You walk in, and they make sure you hair and makeup is looking good before they explain to you what they want you to do.

"So you want me to walk in, sit down and smile at you guys before saying something funny?" you ask unsure of how this would even work.

"Yeah, we want this to be as natural as possible. It's going to cut from Max's old engineer walking off... which we filmed last week to you walking in" the director smiles.

You walk into the line of the camera, before turning round and taking your seat, smiling at the camera.

"Get a load of that guy am I right?" you laugh, and everyone in the room joins in laughing.

"Hi, I'm Y/N Wolff and I am Max Verstappen's race engineer for Red Bull Racing" you smile into the camera again.

"So you came into the season quite late... but you haven't disappointed" the interviewer says.

"I guess you could say that"

"And, it's an interesting last name you have there. One that's already known in the F1 media very well..." they push.

"The team principle of Mercedes Amg Petronas is my dad, yes" you say.

"And now you are working for a rival... which came out of the blue may i say"

"Yes"

"And do you have any regrets"

"One"

"And what is that?"

"That I didn't go to Horner sooner" you say with a blank face and they all clap.

You go onto to be questioned about the whole ordeal with George and your dad, you knew the fans would eat all of this up.

They offer you to stay around while Will Buxton comes in to do his first bit about the new Mercedes V Red Bull drama that Netflix were of course eating up.

It was sad really, because you'd genuinely been hurt by George's and your fathers actions and there were people monopolizing off it.

"Y/N has always been a character in the Mercedes garage from when she was really young at age 11 up until she was a teen studying in the garage... and there's something really quite endearing about her when you talk to her" he starts and you smile, Will used to baby sit you around the paddock in his free time when Toto was busy during the races.

"I've known Y/N for 10 years now, as long as her dad's been in the sport and she a bright girl"

"There was no surprise when she came and told me she'd enrolled into university to do engineering. I would also remember Toto shaking his head, asking what she would even use it for"

"I think when she got that degree, she would have asked him for a job and he's declined, which is where Red Bull and Christian Horner come into things"

"Thanks Will, just pause there for a second! Okay so when we edit this, we need Christian Horner straight after nodding and saying Hello" the script writer says and his assistant nods writing it down on the paper she was holding.

You eventually left, seeing what goes into the creativity behind the episodes before getting bored and wanting to go back to the hotel.

Max agreed he'd fly you on his Jett wherever you wanted, and in all honestly you didn't know where to go. It wasn't like you wanted to go home to your dad. And you were fresh out of university so you didn't exactly have your own place.

Lewis, you knew would take you in a heart beat but he was going to LA for the week before the Las Vegas GP and you wanted to go to the UK, your home.

You pick up your phone scrolling through your contacts before finding the one you wanted to call. It rings a few times before a bubbly and energetic voice answers.

"Hello Darling, are you all okay?" Geri says to you, you could practically here her smile through the phone.

"Hi, Geri..." you say a little timidly.

"What's wrong, do you need me and Christian to come get you?" she asks.

"No, no. I just I dont really have anywhere to go until Vegas and I w-" you start but don't need to say anymore before Geri interrupts.

"Oh honey, our home is always open to you. Your a great help around the house too, especially with the kids. Call that garden view rooms yours from now on okay! In fact when we get back I'll have a key made for you, Christian can we do that?" she explains before her voice gets more distant as if she's pulled the phone away from herself.

"Do what?" you hear Christians voice ask muffled from the distance.

"Get Y/N a spare key, when we are back obviously" Geri asks.

"She doesn't have one already. I thought I gave her the spare..." Christian offer's and then mumbles about how he must have forget.

"Anyway darling that room is yours okay. Don't worry" Geri says making tears come into your eyes.

"Thank you Geri, really. I" you say and immediately the older woman can tell that your getting upset.

"Oh no sweetheart, don't get upset. It's okay" she tells you.

"I'm just really thankful"

"I know, hunny. But i've got to go Max is needing an escape route from an interview. But I'm sending him straight to you and he's gonna drive us to the hotel to get our stuff" Geri says and you hang up after thanking her a few more times.

You hung up, sighing happily before looking around you. You lock eyes with someone across the paddock.

George, of course it was George. You braced yourself for him to come up to you, trying to apologize and grovel.

But to your surprise he stayed where he was with Alex and Lando who was talking to the pair of them rather animatedly. He gave you a nod and a small smile, stopping walking making Alex and Lando also stop and continue that conversation stationary.

That told you everything. From the nod to the smile, he finally accepted that you'd come to him when you were ready.

Now you could concentrate on Vegas and Abu Dhabi and getting those points to finalize Max's year.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 002 ; clueless.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (2,097)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (once again; MEEYA KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT CARS, alcohol consumption, profanity, anxious! reader, atsumu + osamu + aran + kita appearance, cops breaking up the race, mention of hinata + kenma, the most words i have written on this account, education major! reader, flirty! suna, party)

You have lost your mind. You’re sure of it. What nice girl from Miyagi attends an illegal street race on their first day being in a new town?

The girls around you look straight out of a strip club. And you’re a feminist, so that’s something you would never say lightly. You feel… awkward, to put it simply. Your arms are wrapped around yourself, attempting to cover your bare body, as you follow Runa to wherever the hell she’s headed.

People stare at you as you walk by, you can feel their gazes burning into your skin. You are out of place. Everyone knows that. You keep your eyes to the ground, following Runa’s shoes.

Eventually, she stops. You look up and three things catch your eye. One; four cars, equally decked out with what you can only assume are illegal modifications. Two; There are four very shady looking guys, beers in each of their hands. And three; Runa is hugging each and every one of them.

You stand a few feet away from her, awkward. You avoid eye contact with them, but, just like when you were walking over here, you can feel their eyes on you.

“And this is Y/n.” You look up just as Runa gestures towards you with her hand. She’s smiling widely, so you return it in a smaller version. “She’s my new roommate, so don’t be mean or crude or whatever, okay? Thank you. Y/n, this is Atsumu, Osamu, Aran, and Kita. They’re friends of my cousins, but I guess I like them a little bit, too.”

They all greet you in the respective order. You nod meekly and smile. “It’s, um, nice to meet all of you. I, uh,” You clear your throat, “I like your cars.”

The blonde one— who you think is Atsumu— glances back at the car he’s leaning against and a cocky smirk makes its way on his face. “Mazda RX-7,” he provides. “Twin turbo, 13-B.”

Your mind blanks. Anything that you’ve ever learned about cars— not much— is wiped instantly. You press your lips together in a smile and nod.

“You don’t know shit about cars, huh?” He laughs out, taking a swig of his beer.

You can feel your face heat up and you look at Runa. She gives you a sympathetic look, then turns to Atsumu and narrows her eyes. “What did I just say? Don’t be a dickhead, blondie.” She huffs and crosses her arms. “Where’s Rin? I want to introduce him to Y/n.”

Aran, you think, nods towards you. “He’s racing that ginger kid for two.” You realize he’s gesturing behind you, so you turn and finally notice the two cars rolling up to a makeshift starting line. “Kozume put the money down.”

Runa hums and takes a few steps towards the crowd that’s beginning to form. She grabs your hand and starts dragging you forward. “Come on, Y/n. You have got to see this.”

You let her guide you through the crowd, apologies rolling off your tongue in mumbles as you bump into people. You break through and you’re inches away a black car. You think it’s an Eclipse, but, then again, what the hell do you know, right?

There’s a woman standing in front of the cars, directly in between them. In one of her hands, a beer, in the other, a red fabric. Whether it’s a bandana or her bra, you’re not sure.

She brings the hand holding the fabric up, pauses to take a drink of her beer, then glances at both the cars, and brings her hand back down. The black car takes off first, the other trailing a bit behind. The whoosh of air that they make forces you backwards a bit and Runa’s steadies you with a hand on your back. She giggles and, when you look at her, her pupils are blown wide.

After what feels forever of intense anxiety, there’s a voice through a megaphone. “As expected, Suna Rintarou has won the race and, in turn, four thousand dollars!” There’s a sound like they’re about to say something, but then they stop. “Cops! Cops!” Everybody freezes. “Y’all better get the fuck outta here before y’all end up in a jail cell!”

A freezing cold shiver runs down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your feet feel like cinder blocks. Runa tugs on your arm and you can’t move. Day one of being in Tokyo and your ass is going to end up in a jail cell.

“Let’s go! Come on!” Even as she shouts directly into your ear, you can barely hear her over the panicked voices and tires screeching against the pavement.

You stumble over your own feet as you finally move. The second you sit down in Runa’s car, she’s pulling out and falling in line with the other cars trying to escape. You finally hear the sirens and you start to sweat. Day one in Tokyo and you’re going to be arrested. Can they charge you for just attending a street race? Maybe they’ll cut you a deal since it’s your first offence.

You zone out as Runa drives. This time, there is no music playing. Runa no longer sings along to it. Only the hum of the engine and the sound of other cars around you. You don’t even notice that you’ve pulled into a driveway until Runa lightly touches your shoulder. When you flinch and turn to her, she’s frowning.

“I’m sorry that your first race was… traumatic.” She winces slightly. “But, to, um, help process that trauma, we can get really drunk.” She smiles, hopeful. “Courtesy of Rin, of course.”

You swallow hard, but nod and follow her out of the car. You’re still in the clothes Runa loaned you and you still feel out of place. You keep your head down as you pass people. You hear their murmurs. You don’t belong here, either. You’re not sure you belong anywhere.

You walk into the house and the warmth that envelops you is welcoming and terrifying. There’s a crowd here, too. Less than at the underpass, but too many people for a house of this size.

Runa shoves a red solo cup into your hands, giving you an encouraging smile. “You can stay by me the whole time, alright? I know you don’t know anyone here, but they’re good people. The guys you met at the underpass? They’re good people. Rin is good people.”

You nod and take a sip of your drink. It tastes bad, but you can already feel it soothing the shaking of your hands. You follow her into the living and spot the guys from before. This time, though, there’s a new addition.

Lidded eyes, eyebrow piercing, tattoos snaking down his neck and arm. He isn’t your usual type— nerdy and shy, like you— but you’d be stupid to say he isn’t one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen.

“Rin!” Runa exclaims, shuffling over to the man. She hugs him, then punches his arm. “You totally abandoned us! Also, good job winning, but that kid had no chance against you. I thought you were against easy wins.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, nice to see you too, Runie.” His eyes dart to you, then down your body and back up to your eyes. “Who’s your tag along?”

“Y/n,” you say quietly, holding his gaze. You don’t know what came over you, but you’re so surprised that your eyes widen a fraction. You clear your throat. “Uh, my name is Y/n. You’re fast. I mean, your car is fast.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, face heating up once again. “It’s impressive.”

He hums, taking a sip out of his cup. He keeps eye contact over the rim of the cup. “Thanks.”

To your right, you see someone tap Runa’s shoulder and start a conversation. You’re left alone again. You don’t belong here, even Runa knows that. You look around, silently judging the people in the house.

“Hey.” You look back at Rin. “Come sit.” He gestures to the now empty spot next to him and, hesitantly, you take a seat. You cross your legs and take a deep breath.

“You grow up around here?” He asks. His free arm is slung over the back of the couch and you’re painfully aware of it.

“Uh, no. I’m from Miyagi,” you explain, avoiding eye contact. “I go to U-Tokyo, though. Runa’s my new roommate. Did you? Um, grow up around here, I mean.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m from Hyogo. Y’know, the Ghetto of Japan.” He laughs, and, surprisingly, so do you. “What are you majoring in?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You’re surrounded by rugged street racers and you’re about to tell him you’re majoring in education. “Education,” you mumble. “I, um, want to be an elementary teacher.”

“No shit?” Once again, he laughs. Great, you think. He’s laughing at you. He knows you don’t belong here, you know, Runa knows— everyone knows. “My mom was an elementary teacher. She taught fifth grade, I think. What grade do you wanna teach?”

Oh. Oh. He’s interested. You sit up a little bit straighter and finally meet his eyes. “Third, maybe. Or fifth. I’m not really sure yet.” You smile a little bit now. He wants to talk to you. “I love working with kids, though, that’s for certain. I want them to still be in the phase of thinking school is fun, but I still want them to actually be able to learn, you know?”

“Ah, gotcha.” He nods. “What do you want to teach?”

“English, definitely,” you say immediately. You clear your throat and look away. “I mean, I was always good at English. I loved my high school English teacher, she really, um, made the class fun.”

“I was horrible at English,” he snickers out. He takes another drink and you peek over, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down. “My teacher hated me and the twins. We were complete assholes all year long.”

“The twins?” Your mind thinks back to Atsumu and Osamu, and you make an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. “Oh, the twins. Have you been friends with them for a long time? Aran and, um, Kita, too?”

He nods. “Yeah. We were on the volleyball team together in middle school.” He pauses then shakes his head. “We were all kind of nerds. And then Atsumu’s dad skipped town and left his car and…” He trails off, shrugging.

“So that’s how you got into racing?” You tilt your head curiously, taking another drink. You’ve barely even drank half of it. When he nods, so do you. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs again. You watch his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Your boyfriend okay with you being at a party like this?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “Boyfriend?” You repeat, eyes wide. “Um, I don’t have a boyfriend. What, uh, what makes you think that?”

“Oh.” There’s the tiniest but of a smirk as he says it. “I would have expected a pretty girl like you to have a boyfriend.”

You’re going to pass out. Your head is spinning. From the alcohol? You doubt it. You swallow hard. “Well, um, I, uh, don’t. I just moved here, like I said, so I haven’t met many people yet. Just Runa and, well, her friends.”

“Do you like Tokyo so far?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “I went to my first illegal street race. There was a possibility of me getting arrested. Way less boring than Miyagi.” Now, you’re smiling.

He smiles back, chuckling. “That’s one way to put it.”

You’re interrupted by Runa telling you that she’s leaving and, in turn, so are you. She is your ride for the night, after all. You watch her say goodbye to all of them, then do the same but more awkwardly.

“Bye,” you mutter to Rin. He smirks and waves a hand. When you get back in Runa’s car, you find yourself leaning your forehead against the window, watching your breath fog up the window. “I had fun tonight,” you say quietly.

She looks over at you and you can tell she’s smiling with the way she says, “really? Oh, I’m so glad. You can come to the next one, too, if you want. I think the boys really liked you.”

You smile again. You think you really liked them too.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr

[charmedbystars]

for the plot...? pt 2!!!

pairing: 42-miles x reader

summary: a little meet up after your risky text.

content: no warnings!

a/n: im surprised you guys got me to write a part 2, it's pretty short tho..

part one here!

it was the 2nd of january. just hours after celebrations for the new year and people wishing for the next 366 days (leap year!) to bring them good luck and health. of course on the 1st everything was closed, everyone celebrating new beginnings with their loved ones, but now everyone is back to work a day later. 

so on the 2nd of january, you walked out of your apartment with the motive that you will get your healthy relationship for 2024. you didn’t even have to eat grapes under the table and you’re already on a move. 

walking up to the diner that you both used to eat at 24/7, you could already see him sitting at the booth. you felt a little bit of shivers go down your spine, the feeling that this could potentially work out or not. so pulling the door open and walking right in, shuffling into the booth that you both always sit at, you sit across from him. 

there’s a pause in the air, it was like the whole world was moving in slow motion. you honestly didn’t even know how to look him in the eyes. it was as if there was a big mystery, like where did the person who got all the courage to send that risky text go? because they were gone right now. out of the corner of your eyes, you could see miles lean back into the booth, crossing his arms before sighing out, “i’m here cuz i wanted to talk. don’t think that i jus be responding to texts for nothing.”

“i know, i know… i’m jus kinda nervous,” you fidgeted with your hands.

“you got nothing to worry about ma. you know i’ve always been yours,” and with that little line said, you had to stop yourself from breaking into a full smile. 

“i think i’m just nervous of going into this and it ending it like last time,”

“whatever happened last time was my fault. i didn’t try hard enough to fight for you, for us. i wanna start working on us now. i’ll make the time, mi corazon,” he reached his hand across the table, grabbing your fidgeting fingers and taking a hold of them. 

“miles, i don’t want you to take all the blame. there would be times that i wouldn’t hear you out-”

you got cut off, “i don’ wanna hear that. it wasn’t your fault.”

you just nodded before intertwining your fingers together, “i just want this to work… its been months and i still love you,”

“i love you too, never stopped,” and him saying that felt like a weight was taken off your shoulders. it was as if someone hit pause on a movie and they finally hit play again. 

“okay… then we got a lot we need to catch up on and this time extra dates and hangouts, maybe even sleepovers!” you started rambling off. 

“i’ll make sure to do allat,” 

“you promise?”

“i promise, my love.”

“pinky promise?” you grinned. earning an eye roll from him before he stuck out his pinky finger towards you. interlocking pinkies together was all you needed for that bit of confirmation. 

you two were soon interrupted, looking up to the waiter approaching with a milkshake and two straws, “here you two go,” and dropping it off at the table. 

“you remembered?”

“how could i forget?”

looks like this new year is turning out pretty good for you.

[ferrstappen]

accidentally referencing them as "my" with max please!

what are we doing here? - MV1

The only clear thing between you and Max is that neither of you knew what you were.

Friends? Very close friends? Situationship? Love each other but afraid to make a move?

So many ways to describe it, but still moving between blurred lines, where you snuck out of his hotel room before someone came knocking on the door to wake him up or brief him as he got ready to leave, going out with your friends to a bar where you'd start acting as close friends, but as alcohol started burning your throats and clouding your judgement, his arm found home around your shoulders and your head nuzzled on his neck, loving how he shivered and smiled whenever your lips curled up at something you said or left a quick kiss on his neck.

Everybody knew there was something going on, and no, your friends knew it wasn't just kissing and sneaking around, it was deeper, something that neither you nor Max were willing to accept and act on it.

Months went by and it didn't change. You were exclusive, the thought of looking at someone else didn't cross your mind, but the mere idea of Max sharing time and space with beautiful women from all around the world, it was mind boggling for you.

Unbeknownst to you, Max felt the same rush of blood to his head whenever someone in the paddock started a conversation with you, standing a little too close for his liking, knowing his male equals enough to be sure they wanted to have you to themselves, and he couldn't do anything to stop that.

Well, he could do one thing, but for him it wasn't even a possibility, not wanting to leave the small paradise you had created, with no problems, no labels, no feelings... he'd be damned if he vocalized that it was a problem not having you to himself every day with no excuse, just calling you by your name like he was any other man in your life, and if he expressed his feelings were beyond a simple friendship, he wanted it all.

And so did you, you wanted to walk hand in hand with Max and it being familiar, not getting surprised looks. you wanted for him to claim you just like he had claimed your heart and body. you craved for him to look for you after a race, holding his helmet and symbolically kissing his lips in front of every camera, every screen who was watching.

All those thoughts were wandering as the both of you were talking before the race, with his fireproofs hanging low on his waist and you trying to fix a loose strand of hair, not caring that it was futile since he'd be putting on his helmet in no time.

Then, a woman you had barely crossed paths with came along, giving Max a tight hug and wishing him good luck, telling him to not go too crazy on the track for the sake of her husband.

Huh.

"Oh, i have seen you so many times before and we haven't been introduced! Max what are you waiting for?" Geri Halliwell, beautiful and elegant as ever, asked Max who was caught off guard.

The words left Max's lips without a second thought, a worry, and it felt so natural: "This is (Y/N), she's my girl,"

My girl.

He didn't even flinch, placing his hand on your waist as Geri kept commenting you were such a good looking couple, complemented each other so well, that you must be so proud, and you really were, everyone could see it.

"I'll leave you both, but I'll find you sweetheart on the garage when the race starts and the boys go do their thing, okay?" Geri said to you, leaving you a bit dumbfounded but agreeing to what she said, leaving you and Max.

His hand didn't leave you waist, it only changed its position as you turned to face him.

"I'm your girl?" Your head tilted a bit, trying to read his expression.

His cheeks flushed and he was insecure for the first time, his blue eyes avoiding yours, but lovingly accepting when your hand found its place on his cheek. "I like it, how it sounds,"

In the middle of loud noises, screens full of statistics and people calling for Max, you took his hand in yours and left a chaste kiss on his lips before sending him off to get ready and get in the car.

For the first time, Max wanted the race to be over as soon as possible, adrenaline rushing but not because of the vibrations of the car and crowds cheering, but because of what was waiting for him after the finish line.

his girl.

[upsidedownmvnson]

midnight ideas | eddie munson smut

warnings: sex, unprotected, oral (f receiving), friends to lovers, minimal plot

AN: im so down bad, but its my birthday so happy day to us all

It was midnight when you knocked on the trailer door, but you knew Wayne wasn't home, and you'd never felt bad about waking Eddie up before. He probably wasn't even sleeping. Lights flicked on and off in the windows before Eddie swung the door open, clad only in sweatpants and leaning on the door, looking a little too hot for a best friends' comfort.

But that didn't matter.

You were here to be a freak.

Here to ask something weird from your best friend, that probably crossed a line or two.

"I need a favour," you asked before any greetings were exchange. You'd biked from your house, which was far enough that you thought you looked a bit like a mess, but from Eddie's perspective you were hot as fuck. Your clothes were all unaligned, and your hair was a mess, like you knew he fantasized about threading his hair through it. "I need you to leave hickeys on my chest."

Eddie looked at you, as if waiting for you to say more. "Okay, well come in. But I'm gunna need a little more context."

"You know that guy I was seeing who just stopped calling and stopped coming by, well he's moved on already, it's been like a minute..."

"A month."

"A minute." You waved Eddie off, sitting on his couch casually like you weren't just asking your best friend to put his mouth all over you. "And I didn't even really like him but then he was like 'sure you do' when I said I have a date tonight." You scoffed and crossed your arms, rolling your eyes at the audacity of the man you had lied to.

"Did you have a date tonight?"

"Not the point."

Eddie laughed. "And you need, what? Proof?"

"Something like that."

Out of nowhere you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing yourself to him. You still had a bra on, purple and flattering, but Eddie was stunned into silence. He tried to speak, but all the words got caught in his throat, leaving him to just stare wide eyed at the presentation before him.

"Anyway, I don't want them on my neck because I don't need to broadcast this to everyone but..." you looked at Eddie who was staring at your boobs, not moving a muscle. Both of his hands placed neatly on his lap. "Oh c'mon, don't be a baby."

"I-I'm not, I just..." Eddie's eyes flashed up to your face, meeting you where you were looking at him. "You're beautiful."

You smiled. "Thanks Eds."

When he didn't move again, you swatted his hands off his lap, and you spun around to sit on his lap facing him. Your hands were on his shoulders, holding yourself steady on him. Eddie's voice was lost again, and his hands hovered in the air behind you, unsure of where to touch. Beneath you, Eddie was already rock hard, his wildest fantasies were literally falling right into his lap, but you didn't feel it yet.

"Obviously you don't have to," you said, back arching slightly into him, your bodies kept apart by only your bra. Everywhere skin connected to Eddie made your skin burn. He was warmth. He was comfort and warmth and home, and you were waiting for him to sink his teeth into you.

The threat of losing this closeness to you made him put his hands on your hips, the roughness of his skin was delicious against the softness of yours. Even touching you made his cock twitch in his sweatpants, but he was hidden behind the band.

"Just give me a second to process this baby," he said, he'd never called you that before and it made you clench, but it also made your heart flutter.

The tension of waiting for him made a knot in your abdomen build, and you felt yourself getting wet over the situation you'd put yourself in. You'd never thought about, but looking at Eddie like this, and thinking about him like this, was really making you horny. If he tried, you'd probably let him do more than kiss you.

Eddie's thumbs ran soothingly across your rib cages, looking up at you, his beautiful eyes looking at you like this made things feel different. You weren't thinking about some loser who didn't call you, you were thinking about Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was taking over your senses. And then he did it. He reached forward and kissed a small section of your collarbone, before gently bringing it into his mouth, sucking a sinful little kiss into this skin.

Eddie hands trailed up your back slowly, shivers replaced his heat on your body. His lips were still attached to you, sucking slowly and sweetly on your collarbone. His hands around you kept you close, preventing you from shying away, but you wanted to be close anyway. You want him to keep kissing you like this. You wanted him to kiss you everywhere.

You moved your hands to his hair, practically coddling him and keeping him close to you, tugging at fistfulls everytime he switched to a new location to kiss. You shimmied in his lap, making him bite you lightly, and grip you tighter in his hands. It may have been a warning, but you ignored it and moved again, this time moaning quietly.

"If you don't stop that you're gunna start something you can't finish," he mumbled, hands moved again, gripping your hips just tight enough to hold you still.

"You know what would really piss that guy off?" you mumbled, and Eddie flinched at the words. He didn't really want to be thinking of the other man on your mind right now. "Was if he thought you and I really did it."

"How so?" Eddie replied, but reattached himself to the soft felsh peaking out of your bra. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"I don't know," you mused, but you did. "Maybe I can wear that short little skirt to school, and maybe you can leave hickeys... I don't know, on my thigh?"

Eddie froze.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking up at you.

Your judgement was so clouded with lust for your best friend, it was pathetic.

"Please," you begged, pouting in a way you knew would make him fold.

But you didn't really need to, Eddie nodded softly and quickly, swallowing his nerves. you got off him, unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your legs. Eddie kept staring, he discovered your lack of panties without warning, and couldn't look away from the prettiest sight he'd ever scene. You unclipped your bra saying, "Guess we might as well take this off too."

"Come here," he said, holding out his hand and gesturing you back over by curling his two middle fingers towards himself. "On the couch."

You laid down, head on the armrest, suddenly a little shy at the prospect of having Eddie kissing you between the legs.

You mean... on the legs...

Eddie was on his knees, in-between your spread legs, leaning on the back of the couch so he could lean over you a little bit. One of your legs was draped over his, and he ran his hand up it, staring at the beautiful sight until it burned into a memory he won't forget.

"Are you really sure?" he asked, "this is intimate."

"You don't have to," you said, embarassed.

"Oh, I want to." His hand stopped trailing on your hip. "But I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me later."

His voice was laced with hints of vulnerability, you could hear it. You could see the way his head hung a little lower when he said that. You leaned up, placing your lips on his for a very soft, tender kiss.

"Eddie, I always feel the most comfortable when I'm with you."

And he couldn't even process the compliment. He kissed you again, casual, as if this wasn't his first and second kiss with his best friend that he's been crushing on forever.

He scooched his knees back so he could lay down a little, lowering his head to fall between your legs. He put a hand under your knee, lifting your leg ever so gently towards his mouth, looking at you like he expected you to pull away. But you said nothing.

He kissed the soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, above your knee. You watched him, the sight of him so close to your heat was unforgettable.

Eddie sucked a little spot, the purple mark left was small and shallow. He wasn't leaving them to be seen anybody else, and you could tell. But it felt so good and you didn't care, you kinda, didn't want to share. Eddie kissed a little higher, and did the same thing. And then moved... one kiss higher. And right when you were about to ask him to kiss you, really kiss you, he switched sides, repeating them same, slow, tantalizing kisses.

Meanwhile, Eddie was going fucking insane. Your leg was in his fucking mouth. Things would never be platonic again. He had to pretend he couldn't smell how aroused, and wet you were. Had to pretend he wasn't trying to rub his dick on the couch cushions just to get an iota of relief. It was his big performance.

"Eddie..." you said, and when he looked up at your big pleading eyes, the lust coming off you in waves, he knew.

This time, he didn't stop going higher, he trailed kissed all the way up your thigh, bit your hip unexpectedly to make you gasp, and then dove into your pussy, kissing where your pussy met your mound. Eddie was kissing you like this and looking up at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. You moaned, the anticipation alone making you writhe.

He licked up and down your folds, letting himself taste and explore every inch. You were so wet.

He snuck his hand under his chin, teasing your hole with one proding digit. It slipped in, your walls wet, and warm, and tight, and the sensation around his finger nearly made him blow his load.

His tongue slid perfectly over your clit and you jerked, moaning sharply and bucking your hips into his face, the pleasure of it sending sparks down your thighs. He repeated the same move, using one hand to spread your lips open and take note of where he was touching. He was memorizing you. Memorizing each and every move that made you moan. He wanted to make you cum so bad. Wanted you to cum for him.

"Feels so good, Eddie."

Groaning at the sound of his name, he slipped in another finger, making you moan again. The slight stretching of learning someone knew was always your least favourite part, but turns out, you just needed Eddie. He made you feel good because he wanted to, he was happy to have his head between your legs, eating you out like he was starving, and with no promise of sex.

But you were pretty sure you were going to fuck him. If he wanted you, he could take you.

He sucked your clit again, and your walls tightened. He curled one of the fingers inside you gently, experimenting, and when you gasped, he continued on that spot, hitting it again and again and again while you got impossibly tight around his fingers, moaning and writhing like a fucking pornstar. He was so in love.

"I want to cum," you moaned, "can I? Please?"

You were asking him to cum. Eddie was dizzy. All the sensations, being squeezed, smelling you, tasting you, the delicious pain of you gripping his hair like you were going to fall... it was all too much. Too sweet. Too hot. Eddie bucked his own hips into the couch, desperate to be touched.

He pulled away just enough to growl, "you better cum on my face," and then dive back into his clitoral assault, kissing and licking it like it was the answer to his prayers.

Which really, it was.

And you came, loudly, moaning loud enough for the whole damn park to know what Eddie just did to you. Through every wave of pleaser, you and Eddie had your eyes locked on each other. This was what you really wanted. You didn't care about some prick, you cared about Eddie. It's always been Eddie.

You kept moaning as Eddie continued to massage and suck you through your orgasm, stopping only when you tried tugging him up to you. He held himself above you, letting you pull his face down to kiss him. All tongue and teeth, more desperate than anything. Eddie could love you after he fucked you. The way you looked at him, blissed out and still squirming your hips, he knew it wasn't over.

He thanked god it wasn't over yet.

"Go to my room," he said, kissing you again, taste of your sweet still on his lips. And evidence of your orgasm remained unwiped, glistening on the skin all around his mouth. You did what he said obediently, almost running to the room with him on your tail.

You started crawling onto the bed, putting your knees on the edge, but before you could climb on, a large hand pushed you into between your shoulder blades, making you land doggy style and exposing your ass and pussy to Eddie. He had taken his pants off, but really couldn't wait one more second. The bed dipped behind you, and you felt him pushing the tip of his cock against your unsuspecting cunt. You gasped, waiting patiently for him to do. The suspense of his dick slowly trailing up your folds without penetrating you was going to drive you crazy.

"Can I do it, baby?" he asked, running the tip up and down your sopping wet folds. He felt how tight you were against two fingers, he was going to be fighting not to finish fast, he knew that. "Please, beautiful, let me do it."

His dick hit the divet of your hole, and he groaned, stopping himself to wait for your answer.

"Eddie," you moaned, the feeling of him pressed against your core wasn't enough. You looked over your shoulder, glassy eyes begging for more relief. He could've blown at the sight of your cock-drunk eyes. And he hadn't even fucked you yet. "Please, fuck me."

Not wasting another second he pushed himself in, fighting playfully against the tightness of your walls. You moaned, shocked at how thick he was, but loving every second. You welcomed him in, pussy so tight and wet and fucking warm that he had to take a few deep breaths before he could fully push himself in.

He pulled entirely out, to slowly push entirely in a few times, taking his time to stretch you before doing anything harder. He said another prayer right then, a prayer that this wasn't the only time. He needed you, and you needed him. And you were already a moaning mess in his arms.

Once you were comfortable, he started really thrusting, keeping the pace steady. He had to close his eyes and take deep breaths again. Just looking at you while he hit it from behind? Too much.

Eddie slapped your ass once. And then finally looked down to see what it looks like. He loved watching your ass jiggle as he fucked you, your cheeks slamming against his abdomen.

"M-Maybe he'll see how-"

"Enough!" Eddie couldn't hear you bring up that fucking idiot one more time. "I'm gunna fuck that guy right out of your mind," Eddie grabbed one of your arms making your chest fall into the bed. He grabbed the other and held them both captive in one of his hands, and used his other hands to slap you on the ass, hard. He did it three more times, your moaning egging him on. But when you started moaning his name, repeating it over and over, he knew he had to get you there. He wouldn't last much longer, not with you intentionally squeezing your walls around him. He spanked you twice more more rough than the rest, followed by a smaller gentler tap. A small, good girl, without words.

Eddie squeezed your reddened ass cheek, as he hammered into you, but released to use his hand to grip a fistful of your hair, pushing you down deeper into the mattress. Your ass was up in the air, while Eddie fucked your pussy relentlessly. He was so deep, hitting parts of you that no one had ever touched. You wanted to praise him. You wanted to thank him for fucking you so good, and tell him how good you felt. You wanted to shower him with praises for fucking you better than anyone ever had, but the only thing that came out was a string of moan and unintelligible syllables of unfinished words.

But you didn't need to say it anyway, Eddie knew.

He could tell by the way your cunt squeezed him greedily, or everytime you caught his eye over your shoulder, glossy and pleasured, how he'd like to see you more often.

It was starting to ache how deeply he pounded you, when he suddenly let go of your hair so he could wrap an arm under you, and get his fingers on your clit. His body was pushed against yours even more, his dick staying deeper and repeatedly hitting a spot that was making you stupid. Eddie saw drool puddling at the corner of your mouth at the mattress, and your pussy dripped down both of your legs. He licked his lips at the sight. You unable to speak, drooling, moaning, and letting him have his fucking way with you.

"You're gunna cum," he said, a fact not a question. "All over this cock, fuck baby, you're so hot," Eddie was trying to keep it together but failing. He'd wanted this forever, and now that he had it, he wasn't going to last. "Are you gunna cum, baby?"

You nodded in his grip, but he held your hair tighter. He wanted to hear you. A strangled, "please," was what you managed.

"Good fucking girl, oh my god," Eddie praised, his fingers on your clit were softer in contrast to the deep pounding. The circles the rubbed over it were sensual, and hot, and going to make you explode. "Cum on my cock babe, do it." Eddie let go of your arms, and immediately they fell beside you, hands grabbing at the sheets pathetically. He grabbed one, and brought your own hand to your own clit. "And when you do," Eddie picked his pace up, gripping your hips in both hands now. "you're fucking mine."

It shouldn't have made you orgasm harder than you ever have in your life, but it did. The concept of Eddie owning your pussy all the time made you come all over him like he wanted, squeezing him so tightly that he couldn't help but bury it as deep as possible and coat your walls, holding your hips unwaveringly tight and pushing himself into you impossibly far to coax himself through his climax.

"Oh my fucking god," he mumbled, eyes closed and cock still buried deep inside you, twitching with sensitivity.

When he pulled out, you both moaned. You flipped over slowly, sitting upright on the bed.

"Eddie," you whispered, suddenly overthinking everything you just did. You couldn't lose Eddie, he was too important.

But he knew you. So he sat beside you, cooing and patting your hair. He kissed you on the cheek.

"Hey, listen," he said, scooping up a hand to hold and looking you in the eyes. His eyes were glassy from cumming so hard in you, but also filled with adoration and love. His gooey eyes could calm you from any state. Eddie encouraged you to stand, walking with you to the bathroom, hands locked tightly together. "I say we take a shower, make a snack, throw a movie on, and fall asleep. Hmm? How's that sound, petal?"

"Petal?"

"Pretty right?" He said, turning the shower on. "I figured I want something pretty, but not overdone. Babe is classic, but overdone."

"To call me?"

"To call my girlfriend," he said, you blushed but said nothing. He smiled. "Look, if you really came over here just to make some douche jealous that's fine, but... if you want me to love you, well, you already have that."

"I love you too, Eddie."

"Sorry it wasn't like, nicer." Eddie smiled at you, content to just be here with you. "For our first time, I mean."

You laughed, "no, it was perfect."