#(<- I don’t mean this as a flex but more of a ‘I’m insane’ way)

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Just finished reading the new chapter and OH MY GOD??? Ik I already wrote a comment on AO3 but I felt like I had to come yell at you over here too 😜

First of all: that was a phenomenal chapter. I could feel the tension and apprehension right alongside the family - and then Leo's uncontained joy at the end. Gotta say, you write emotions very well

Second: holy shell, where do I even start? That went in a COMPLETELY different direction than I was expecting (which is a GOOD THING). Ngl I was half expecting the destruction of the Key to kill Leo, or maybe just eradicate the Kraang parasite or smth. I was waiting for him to jump into the black hole with the Key, but then the little trinkets he had collected chapters (felt like ages lmao) ago held him down! I honestly cannot wait to see where he goes and what happens next, I'm HOOKED.

But to be fair I've been hooked since I first started, back when chapter 7 or 8 first came out, and I am so thrilled that we're nearing the end!!!

Now all we need is everybody to pass out from exhaustion 🤣

The way you've brought in stuff from other chapters and made them plot relevant is really impressive, it reads as though you had every detail planned out and I LOVE that! I hope I can write like that some day, you're really amazing

I have no doubt that, however you chose to end this story, it will be great. Neon Void is certainly going out with a bang! 🤣

Have a lovely day, lots of love and best wishes from me! 🩷

- 🍁

THANK YOU SO MUCH this was such a delight— i was super worried about the first half, as that was more of a spur of the moment decision rather than the second half which has always been planned lol. Im so so glad you liked it!!

And as for the Krang parasite…. I have a special plan for that ;3

[tonycries]

BODY-ODY!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers aren’t used just in fights…sometimes they’re there to make you absolutely lose your mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu techniques, INSANE Gojo, breéding, heats (Choso), spítting, cúmplay, marathon séx, slight jealousy (Toji), creampíe, canon Sukuna lactatíon, FÉRAL boys, ratio technique, limitless, extremely neédy Choso, exhíbitionísm (Geto’s), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Hope y’all have a wonderful new week, I’m eepy so I will eep <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The p*ssy killer!

With Toji’s strength, it was inevitable that he’d break seven bed frames, three couches, and four desks. Unapologetically. 

And with the way he had you like this - splayed out like such a slut on your drenched silken sheets, swollen cock pistoning in and out of your sloppy cunt so easily in that mean mating press he had you folded in - you knew he was well and fully intent on adding to that list. 

“Toji-” you’re gasping over the protesting creaks of the mattress. “S’gonna…”

“S’gonna what, woman?” he rasps out, bringing his ears millimeters away from your pouty mouth. Not even stuttering, smooth taunts falling from his lips each time he bullies his fat length into you. “Can’t hear you over this- damn- bed-”

Another wrecked snap! of wood nearby makes you squeal urgently, clawing for mercy at Toji’s toned hips, “-break! S’gonna break!”

Dark brows furrow in sultry concentration, that tiny scar on Toji’s lips quirking up in a devilish taunt when he gifts another harsh glide of his fat tip against your honeyed g-spot. “Damn right m’gonna break you.”

You don’t get the chance to correct him - you didn’t even need to, because he knew what you meant. He knew. But it was just so fun to shut up those cute lil’ whines of yours. Wrapping two big arms around your thighs to hike them higher up his muscled shoulders, Toji chuckles when you get even more soaked at the feeling of his abs flexing against your skin.

“Heh…s’bad manners to lie, y’know.” Shivers run down your spine at his sweet little scold, only making his grin grow wider. “Ya like bein’ thrown around me like this? Pretending to care about some- fuckin’ bed when all you really want is f’me to ruin this cunt?”

He’s speaking with such confidence - bleeding out from his grunts and churning into each hurried, jagged rut of his cock against your gummy cunt. Using that inhuman strength from his heavenly restriction to maneuver your hips and figure out which angle has you making the sweetest noises. 

You narrow your eyes to meet his glassy one, “M’serious, th-the manager at the ngh- furniture store was concerned last time.”

This earns you a soft smack! right on your sopping slit, Tojis rough palm feeling over the bulge of his massive cock, the hole you were milking him with. Forming a glossy, possessive sheen down his wrist. “You dare talk about another man while m’fucking you like this, doll?”

And, honestly, that desperate wobble of your lips almost makes him feel bad for the way he’s teasing you. Almost makes him wanna cave in and fuck you slow and sensual to save both you and this bed you both had picked out only weeks prior. 

Almost. 

That is until you open your pretty mouth to snap, the words babbling out delirious and bratty. “Well maybe he wouldn’t make me hngh- b-buy a new bed every month.”

Oh. 

That does it. 

You keen when his movements come to a torturous standstill, painfully hard cock stretching out your plush walls to every ridge and curve down his cock. And you can’t help the way your pussy pulses at the low, visceral growl tearing from your boyfriend’s mouth. 

Teeth bared, back muscles flexing as he raises his head up, up, up-

SLAM!

In a split-second, one of Toji’s arms had come down to bang against the already-rickety headboard. Letting a few sluggish seconds of his absolutely animalistic gaze devour you from your dazed, widened eyes to the snug cunt that was sucking the soul out of him - before the bed frame sags on one end with a defeated groan. 

“Whoops.” his words come out in a feverish grunt, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “Don’t worry, m’paying tomorrow when we buy a new bed, n’ I can ah- help this manager find you a new one.” A promise - an apology for later.

Still stuffed so deep inside you, he’s securing one arm around you, easily holding you snug against his toned body when Toji gets off the bed - with you hanging onto him in tow. Choking out a gruff, “But for now…”

“F-fuck you’re so deep-” your jaw slacks open to moan sluttily into Toji’s toned pecs, gravity making his greedy thick head slide in so deep to nudge at your cervix. Filling up every nook and crevice of your sweet spots. Molding your cunt to the shape of him. 

And the only response you get is a few sultry, lingering thrusts. His eyes only darting his hazy gaze around the room- shit, where was that desk again? Right, he’d broken it last week. And the loveseat- Ah, that was just last movie night. 

Well, with a low rumble vibrating from his chest, that’s all it takes for you to be spread so shamefully on the bedroom floor. 

Toji’s pushing your face to the cool hardwood, a toned thigh stopping your needy bucking hips, the other keeping your legs open for him to bully back into your hypnotic cunt. Sloppy. Going right for that rhythm from before. 

“Better cum before I break the floor too, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BULLSEYE

“Ken~”

“No.”

“...p-please?”

“Nope.”

It’s been like this for far too long now - with you bent over your husband’s home office desk, being absolutely pounded into the various work documents he really should’ve been focusing on instead. 

Of course, there was the speckled yellow tie currently digging into your wrists, pinning them both behind you uselessly as if you were some elaborate sex doll for Nanami to plunge his achy cock into. Though, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

And he was holding back.

“B-but Ken–” you’re letting out a thick, sultry whine of his name. Teary lashes batting back at the towering man, “I promise I won’t run away this time.”

His response comes out as a rough grunt, “That was what you hah- said last time before it got too good.” A large hand coming up to thread between your tangled wrists, using the leverage to pull you back onto Nanami’s unforgiving ruts of his length. “And the time before that.” Spearing you about halfway along his swollen cock, he’s splitting your poor pussy open. “And the time before that. And right now.”

As if to test your little resolve, his free hand comes down to kiss your ass with a deliciously resounding smack! 

And he’s only humming in satisfaction with your absolute mess of a less-than-composed response. A low gurgle of Nanami’s name in your throat, legs trembling when they fuck down onto his thick cock. Down and up as much as you could, stuttering as if to run away from the burn.

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, my love. You got it.” he’s hushing your moaning cries, soft palm coming to soothe the sting - and the inevitable handprint. “Jus’ like I said- how are ya gonna handle the ratio technique if you can’t handle that?”

“I will.” Is your stubborn response - as expected. 

But to your surprise, your husband only grins, “Thought so.” Using the tie to pull your cunt back to grind deeper against him, “How about this, darling-” Nanami propositions, hips halting down to slow, shallow circles around your gummy walls. Swiping at the sweet spots he hits effortlessly, he whispers. Low and just aching for the type of trouble you always get him into, “-try not to run away before you cum this time  n’ I might consider taking off these for the next round.”

And then, there’s a sudden shift in the air. It suddenly becomes thicker, almost suffocating. You wince at the sudden feeling of atoms around you standing at rapt attention - before that expression is quickly morphing into one of such bliss when Nanami’s fat head slams straight into your g-spot.

Lingering, nudging against your sensitive spot just before it becomes too much before he’s reeling his hips back to do it again. And again. And again and again and-

“Ken ohhh fuck- oh my god-” you’re going cross-eyed, drool dripping down your mouth with how fucking good it felt. That divot at the gummy tip of his cock branding onto your bundle of nerves. “F-forgot how much I love your technique.”

“Oh, I know.” you can hear the grin in his voice over the crackle of jujutsu. Tugging harder on the restraints at your wrists, “Anything for my wife, after all.”

“Then would you hah- ngh- untie me so that I can touch my lovely husband?”

This earns you another gifted smack! to your ass, and an even harder jam of his thorough cock pistoned right at your magical spot. “Not a chance.” He’s absolutely ruining you from the inside out, and you feel like you’re melting with each expert graze of his veins against your honeypot of sweet spots - not missing even a single one.

Your ass is recoiling against Nanami’s sharp hip bones now, leaving a faint heart-shaped print on his hardened abs. Tufts of blond tickling your searing skin, twitching balls slapping against your forgotten clit.

“F-fuck.” your voice wobbles when his scarily accurate aim is making your ravaged cunt cry out in lewd squelches. Drowning out the strain in your voice when you whimper, “That all you got, Ken?” 

“Perhaps.” he huffs slyly against your ear, still pulling back on your restraints. “It’s real a wonder you’re not hah- runnin’ away, yet. Aren’t ya close?”

It wasn’t a question he needed to ask - Nanami could feel the way your slick walls were channeling around him, massaging and convulsing depravedly with each plunge. So fucking wet it was forming a lewd little puddle down to his heavy balls.

So ready.

So near. 

“I-I am.” you admit, gingerly shoving back onto his mean cock as much as you could. Somehow, every minute movement hitting at your weak spots, leaving stars behind your lids.

Oh how you wanted to buck away - the feeling too good that you wanted to run. Nails digging sharp grooves into the expensive wooden desk, knees weakening pathetically. Honestly, it was a wonder you weren’t falling on sorry legs on the floor right now - it wasn’t, because if you were in any better state of mind you’d have registered Nanami’s strong arm under your stomach, holding your entire weight up easily.

“Then cum.” he grits out, absolute need lacing his tone. “Cum f’me - and don’t run away, my love.”

So you do - and you couldn’t run away even if you wanted to. Because he’s securing a vice-like grip on his tie, holding your back flush against the sweaty panes of his muscled torso. Legs unable to move anywhere but back into him as Nanami fucked you through your high. 

Nanami groans at the feeling of you cumming all over his achingly hard cock. Squeezing and trying to milk out the fucking life of him. “Hah…how gorgeous f’me.” He kisses away those tears of overstimulation rolling down your face, though, he’s still nudging against your bruised sweet spots inside. “Now, s’time for you to hold up that bargain, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “T-the cult leader?”

That cute, wide-eyed little question of yours makes the gorgeous man in front of you chuckle. A deep, slow baritone that sends shivers right down to where he had you sat on the outline of his thick, straining erection.

“Of course I am.” he purrs against the shell of your ear, shuffling you around so the drenched excuse of your panties was making a mess on the damp spot at his leaky tip. “What about it?”

“Well then why-” you look over your shoulder at the rows upon rows of Geto’s cult members. Faces still, expressionless. Bowed at the waist to look at the floor - but still ever-present. Murmuring in confusion, “-why can’t you tell them to go?”

Another sultry smile. “Oh, gorgeous.” He swipes the tip of his fingers at your syrupy juices, promptly stuffing his mouth full of your heady taste. Moaning so hedonistically, “They’re here for you.”

And then Geto’s shuffling around the expensive robes of his yukata, having you bouncing precariously on his lap when he frees his achingly hot erection. So so red and angry. 

It’s all you can do to bite back your embarrassment when he’s dragging your sloppy cunt all over that veined length of his. Jolting when a hand of his smushes your cheeks together in a pathetic pout,  “Look at me.” he muses, dark dangerous eyes boring into yours. “They’re your welcoming party, after all. Don’t worry, you’re only mine to see n’-” Pecking at your lips in an innocently languid kiss, “-I’ll kill them if they look.”

Right as he says this, Geto’s slipping his fat head past your sopping slit, such a sinful expression of ecstasy taking over his delicate features at the first taste of your heavenly cunt.

“O-ohhh fuck.” he groans, hips coming up in bullying little thrusts to lodge himself inside. “Mmpf- my girl’s cunt feels s’fuckin’ good. How the fuck do you feel this good?”

You’re panting at the sheer stretch - the feeling of your puckering hole being split apart so blatantly - and for hundreds of others to see. Candied lips coming up to graze his in a messy clash, “My girl?”

Ah, just hearing those words echoed back to him has Geto thrusting up mindlessly into your plushy walls. A hand coming back to circle around your clit pooling your juices back on his addicted fingers. 

“Yes-” his long tongue darts out to catch those drops of your slick. Before diving back in again- and again and- “My girl. My pussy. And every one of these little worthless pigs are going to know that now.”

You could practically feel the wave of shudders that run through your audience. But a quick glimpse back showed that they all stayed firmly rooted to their spot, eyes trained on the luxurious carpet of Geto’s hideout. Whereas you were shivering for a whole other reason - because Geto’s lengthy fingers are back to toying with your poor cunt. 

Two of them spreading out your puffy pussy lips to show off how greedy you were being - the way your dripping cunt couldn’t do anything but milk Geto Suguru for each and every one of his delicious inches. Taking him so well as he pounded up lazily into you, making the fat of your ass jiggle with each calculated pump. 

It’s so filthy - so agonizing. 

He noses up your racing pulse, “Heh, I can tell ya liked that, pretty. You just go so much wetter, almost drippin’ onto the floor.” You weren’t - yet, simply forming a glossy mess of slick all over the cult leader’s distinctive robes. “So sloppy I bet they’ll see soon.”

“But you said-” you’re choking when a particularly hard thrust has you clinging onto his broad shoulders for stability. Fingernails blemishing his worshiped skin with red, raw marks gifted from you. “-said m’only yours to see.”

Oh, how he knew you’d be fucking fun.

There’s an almost reverent pitch in Geto’s throaty rasp, “You’re right.” As if seeing you for the first time - and he’s just ramming into you with a greedy grin. “So fuckin’ right.”

Geto’s dick is so girthy that it fills out every crevice inside your pussy that you didn’t even know existed. Balls a rightfully sinful side of heavy that made a loud smack! ripple throughout the otherwise deathly quiet room. 

“You’re mine.” he whispers, strained like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each press up against your spongy cervix. “N’ I should fuck you like you are.” Which had Geto teething down your jaw, your earlobe - sharp canines digging hard when he bites down at the crook of your neck. Enough to draw blood, to break skin, to have you screaming out for- mercy? More? But he’s already plowing on, “N’ everyone here will accept it.”

He lets out such a lovely moan in tandem with yours, head thrown back when his thrusts get untimed. Sloppy. Glistening with need and slick as you mewl, “S-Sugu m’close m’gonna cum-”

Bang!

You whirl your head up to see Geto with his free hand held out, eyes wide, crazed - glaring intensely at something over your shoulder. Something you don’t get to see, because he’d tilting your head back to his in a romantic gesture.

“Told you I’d kill them if they looked.” He breathes, over the distinct growling of his rainbow dragon. Kissing gently at your lips, the tip of his fat cock colliding into your g-spot. “Now, where were we?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Like an animal

There was something that no one in the jujutsu world spoke about the most advanced curses - something hidden. Something dirty. Something that had you crying out where you straddled Choso’s fat cock, big bulbous tears rolling down your cheeks, throat shot when he was stuffing your poor pussy full of his fifth orgasm this rut. 

“Please oh- please.” Choso whines, hips stuttering up into your gummy depths. Strong arms circling your waist to hold you still while his fat head paints your walls white with thick streams of his seed, “Take it- fuck fuck fuck jus’ take it for me.”

Each sloppy half-thrust is all he can manage to drag you through your own climax, lips falling into a soft oh! at the dredges of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his shaft. 

“Baby…” Choso starts, greedy eyes just devouring that sinfully creamy ring now forming around his soaked hilt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, voice cracking at the end, “I think-”

And you know that tone. You know what it bodes for your sensitive cunt. Reminded that it’s currently that time of year for your poor curse boyfriend. When something dark, and primal pokes its head out. Aching to touch you, to breed you - killing him to make you his. 

So you’re gasping out in disbelief, “Cho- what! Again?” Scrambling to perch your hands on his pecs and sit up, “The heat’s still not done?”

You don’t get very far - because he pulls you back onto his body with a possessive tug. Looking up at you with big, teary eyes, “No.”

His syrupy words are coated in desperation, a few octaves higher than normal as he murmurs against your open lips. “N’ it’s a rut, baby. All m’gonna wan’ ngh- do is fuck this cute pussy.” he coos, a slick-glossed fist dipping down to squeeze out the last few beads of cum out of his base and into your overspilling cunt. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done- not until she’s properly bred. Not until- fuck m’not gonna- get out of this alive.”

As if he hadn’t just wrangled out another overstimulated high, Choso’s bucking his hips up sloppily into yours. Toned back arching off of the cotton sheets - soaked and absolutely ruined with pools of your sin. 

Over and over and-

“But Cho–” you babble out when his girth is thrashing back at those sensitive areas inside that he’s mapped out so many times before this. “I think I’m not gettin’ out of ngh- this alive.”

In his barely-lucid state, Choso’s taking this as a compliment, flashing a crooked, pussydrunk grin up at you. Face flushed a pretty pink, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead when he bats his heavy lashes, “Mhm.” 

Then he takes the opportunity when your lips fall slack in shock at his response to plant a steady stream of his spit. Missing purposefully to thumb away the splattered sheen of him along the corner of your swollen lips. “N’ you hah- not going out until g-get this cute pussy pregnant, m’kay?”

The notion is so dizzying that for a moment you don’t believe him. He doesn’t wait for your response - doesn’t have to. 

Back to his mind-numbing addiction of spearing your heavenly pussy on his angry cock. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

Again. And again. And again and again.

And he thinks you look so pretty like this - steady gushes of his cum dribbling down your shamefully spread puffy folds, thighs pathetically shaky trying to keep up with his frenzied tempo. 

A whiny ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth with each kiss against your ravaged g-spot.

“Cho- I don’t think- ngh I can cum again-” your heavy lips part open to moan. Feeling so raw everywhere. “Are you really gonna-”

“Say it.” he begs. Two hands of his coming up to knead your sensitive tits, running his thumbs in awe over your puffy nipples. “Say it- say it please-” He’s attaching his pretty pink lips around one, cheeks hollowing while he sucks as if trying to draw out something delicious. “Please, ma.”

Fuck - you don’t know what you’re getting wetter at - the lil’ nickname or the way Choso’s dancing a hand down to draw sultry, purposeful circles. Syrupy slick saturating all over his toned pelvis with each ram of his hips.

You’re keening, “Are you fuuuuck jus’ like that- are you really gonna fuck a baby into me? Or die trying?”

“Let’s see…” he lets out a low drawl, quieting down to let your obscene squelches take over. Music to his ears, drunk off of every sound with every harsh piston of his hips. Loud. He gives your clit a hard pinch, grinning, “Yeah. My girl’s pretty cunt says I can.”

It only takes a few more hard crashes of his thick head against your sweet spots before you’re clawing at the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to hold onto an ounce of your sanity while you’re cumming and cumming and cumming so hard you can’t stop. Wave after wave of your high being dragged out of you.

And if you couldn’t stop - then Choso wouldn’t. Whispering praises slurring together and sticking against your mouth as he spills his potent seed into you once more. 

Wispy strings filling all the way at the back of your pussy while he fucks you through your high. Milking himself on you like some cocksleeve - addicted. Needing to breed you.

Which is why, when his spotty vision catches a trickle of his own seed out of your bloated pussy, Choso’s clicking his tongue. Thumbing your swollen folds further apart, he gives your clit a slow rub to wake up your droopy eyes. “Rut’s not over yet, ma.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Got milk?

“Tch. Stubborn lil’ thing.” the king of curses lets out a proud noise of disagreement - but you catch that tint of red on his high cheekbones, the way his swollen tip twitches wildly against your gummy walls. “S’not gonna work.”

The only response he gets is a cooing hum, your fingers dancing over Sukuna’s pecs to squeeze and grope at the curve of muscle.

So hypnotized with what you’re doing, it’s almost embarrassing for him. And all he can do is tighten the greedy grip he has on the fat of your ass, sliding your sopping cunt down, down, down until your throbbing clit scratches against those tufts of pink. Sitting so prettily on his throne.  

At the site of your lewd entrancement, Sukuna scoffs in frustration, “I told you, brat. I don’t know if you’re already fucked dumb on my cock but- ngh–” 

And oh the great Ryomen Sukuna whines - he whines, such a pretty noise that makes your elastic walls tighten around his rock-hard shaft. Rutting up deeper into your pussy so mindlessly mean when you wrap your pretty lips around one of his puffy nipples. 

“I know what you said, Kuna.” your voice sends vibrations all the way down to his needy cock. Leaky and angry where he was dragging inside your cunt. “But I also know what I heard.” Sucking. Harsh. “And a little birdie told me that someone can make milk-”

“Fuckin’ Uraume.” Sukuna spits, hips picking up the pace now that he has the answer he’s looking for. Long fingernails leaving neat little marks on your skin, “N’ you seriously believed that shit?”

And then he’s making your back arch more, kicking out your thighs even further to spread over the stretch of his girth. Fucking deeper and deeper until he was sure he was massaging at every inch of your walls. 

Managing through pure hissy rage to punctuate each ram of his shaft with threats, “Don’t believe that fuckin’ rumor I swear I’ll kill-” The words die in Sukuna’s chest when he’s snapping his pussydrunk head down at you - the same chest you were still pawing greedily at. “Oi, what did I tell ya?”

When you don’t make a move to remove yourself, he’s dancing a hand down to toy with your neglected clit. Forcing your dazed mouth to pull away. 

“I-I don’t know, Kuna.” you purr, still gasping for air. “Because-” You roll his raw nipples between your fingers again - desperate. Making him hiss. Glassy eyes snapping down to the way he was fucking you so filthy now. “-you seem to love this.”

And he can’t deny it - can’t make up any excuse for the way he was bouncing you along his fat veiny length like some cocksleeve. Pussy lips kissing him tenderly, thick head gliding across your cervix. Sinking into your drenched cunt so desperate. 

Yet, he grits out, “Won’t work.”

“Will.” you smirk, still teasing his pecs the exact same way he’d do with your tits. 

“Won’t.”

“Wi- hah-” your words are being gulped down by Sukuna’s sharp canines nipping on your lips. Drinking in your heady moans with every bullying thrust into your walls. Soft pads of his fingers thumbing at your clit, your puffy folds, pushing himself deeper and deeper. “You’re so unfair-”

That drags out a ragged grin from him, the wet smack of skin-on-skin music to his ears at this point. He’s wiping away the excess drool on your lips from your antics, “Maybe you’re just too gullible. So why don’t you hah- put that pretty mouth instead to-”

And then it happens. 

Your cockdrunk eyes manage to focus on that tiny, beading pearl of white at the very tip of Sukuna’s mouthwatering nipples. Without a second thought, you surge forwards, reattaching your lips with his ravaged skin. 

“O-oh fuck-” he shudders, fingers stuttering where they were drawing obscene circles on your clit. “Wait fuck oh- fuck fuck fuck, brat.”

That’s all it takes for him to cum. Balls squeezing so fucking painfully as Sukuna cums harder than he has in the thousands of years on this Earth. Mashing his cock into you, drawing out every lengthy spurt of his seed to paint your cunt white. 

“Take it-” You don’t know if he’s talking about his cum or his milk. “Fuckin’ take if you want it so bad.”

Each shrill profanity has him reaching deep into your gummy core, bowing his body further to your greedy mouth. The sobbing wet smacks of your lips having him humping you fast. Messy. 

And shit anyone would faint if they saw the infamous king of curses like this - if he didn’t kill them first, that is. 

You, however, his favorite lil’ human, was having the time of your life. Thick globs of cum smearing down your thigh, forming a slippery coating where you were sucking him through his high. Sukuna’s sweet sweet milk treacles down your lips, rich and syrupy. So much that it was spilling down onto lewd little puddles on the curve of your tits. 

“Oi, fuck you greedy little slut.” Sukuna coos at your ravenous pursuit, the way you were pinching at his pecs for more. “Don’t waste- ngh- any of it.”

And upon seeing that grin of yours - that devilishly smug, white-glossed smirk - Sukuna all but forces your lips to crash against his. Hips fucking up menacing - still so pointedly hard, while he tastes himself. “Don’t think m’not gonna make you pay back tenfold for this embarrassment, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sanity? Optional.

You wondered just how high the kill count would be.

In the hundreds? No, you fear, when your boyfriend slams your apartment door open, eyes hooded, glowing. Barely getting a word out before he’s pouncing on you like a wolf starved, ripping off that useless excuse of shorts with only two fingers.

In the thousands? Probably not, you think, when he doesn’t waste a moment before shoving the entirety of his angry, leaking shaft into your sloppy hole. The only apology you’re getting for the moment being a few praises and whispers of “buying a new pair of shorts for you.”

In the hundreds of thousands? Maybe, you muse, when immediately Gojo is smearing his fat tip against your cervix. Sinking his way into your heavenly pussy to wreak havoc on you where he could be going out of control and destroying a few cities. 

“Nah, millions.” His slow, sensual purr is ringing in your ears, and you have half the mind to wonder whether Gojo had a mind-reading technique, too. Greedy lips dragging up to mouth over your thumping pulse. Dangerous. “Might just take out hah- this whole fuckin’ city if it wasn’t for this ngh- sweet pussy hypnotizing me.”

Each and every babble falling from Gojo’s candied pink lips are followed by some of the meanest thrusts. Having his tight balls smack against your ass, running his mouth as mindlessly as he’s fucking you into the living room couch he happened to find you in. 

You’re gasping when his long fingers come down to give your poor clit a buzzing tap! Sending sparks with the very dredges of his jujutsu. 

“T-Toru what happened?” you’re managing to gasp out, your ears popping at the pressure of the air around your two. “Why are you so-”

“Feral? Out of control? Maniacal?” he fires off, a devilish grin spreading with each suggestion. Eyes wide, tinged with an electric glow, voice breaking desperately as he plows on, “Absolutely fucking losing it?”

If either of you were in a better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the way that lamp on the edge of the coffee table exploded. Shards of glass flinging across the room and stopping short where Gojo had limitless poring over the two of you.

“Well, you see…” he’s humming so sing-song, large hands coming up to wrangle your thighs onto his broad shoulders. Gnawing down on his worried bottom lip when he’s trying to squeeze himself impossibly deeper inside you, “-I had a bad day.”

“That’s it!?”

Those startled words are bursting from your lips without any thought. And they have Gojo narrowing his eyes at you like a predator cornering his prey, teasing grin curling down into something almost garish.

He hikes a muscled thigh up, fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs. “Yes, that’s it.”

It’s quiet - barely audible, even - followed by a low thrust that reaches you all the way in the bottom of your pussy. Somehow bruising - Gojo’s fat tip clashing against your g-spot, your cervix, so hard it makes a broken whimper drag from your shot throat.

And this seems to jolt him back to his senses somewhat, that furiously depraved glint flickering in his summer blue eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit. “Couldn’t stop hngh- thinkin’ about you all day. Couldn’t stop wanting- needing-”

He’s cutting himself off with a pained groan, back to having the soft pads of his fingers roll over your clit in humming, sultry circles. Little buzzes of his electricity going right through your veins. “Fuck, s’all I thought of even when- hah- fighting. Just you, my girl, waiting at home f’me to stuff you full of my cock.”

Sloppier. Incessant - just milking himself on the dripping channel of your cunt. Deep, lingering thrusts that have you missing him every time he’s reeling back. A few stuttering pops of bones have you spitting out slobbering little pleas into Gojo’s panting mouth, gummy walls sucking him in so good. Clamping down until it was almost difficult for him to ram into your greedy pussy. 

Honestly, whatever shreds of your rationality wondered how the fuck you two were still unharmed, still having no bones broken - it was because of his reverse curse technique, you later learn.

But for now all that was going through your honeyed, oversaturated mind was how full you were of him and only him - until you could barely even breathe-

“Hey hey now.” His words a smooth coo, not betrayed just how ragged his hips were. Another few smacks of his ruthless fingers right down your sopping slit have you wrenching your eyes back up at him. Your poor clit getting caught in the crossfire, leaving lewd smears glistening all over Gojo’s palm. The overhead lights flicker, illuminating little blue specks of lightning as he kisses gently on your forehead, “F-fuck- keep up, pretty.”

Somehow, you manage to gasp, “Keep up?”

“Mhm, because m’not fuckin’ done until I pass out.”

The words are pushing you over the edge, and before you know it, your velvety walls are squeezing around Gojo’s engorged cock so tight. So heavenly as he fucks you through your high - not even bothering to ease you into it, he couldn’t.

And it only takes a few silky whines of his name out of your mouth before he’s beading out pearly white spurts of cum. Overspilling into the snug channel of your pussy, thick seed gushing out as Gojo shoves it deeper and deeper to decorate your walls. His snowy brows knit together when he cums and cums so fucking hard it’s like something bursts.

And something did - every single lightbulb within a fifteen mile radius of your apartment. 

But you don’t notice, too caught up in Gojo’s syrupy sweet hum, “Well, m’not passed out yet n’ since the electricity’s gone I guess there’s only one thing to do, huh~”

A/N. LMFAOOO Toji acting like he can afford to buy another bed smh. Also the way Sukuna being able to lactate is canon?? Gege you hoe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kavehater]

Wow that was a very good session of haterism this is why I love this account 😻🤞✨

^^ also me cause I’d go right back to her wahoo

[kenacoki]

Tease Me Please Me

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

//Summary// If there’s one thing you love more than firefighting it’s getting under Eddie Diaz’s skin. That, of course, can only end one way for you.

//Word Count// 5.40k

//Request//

//Warnings// munch!Eddie Diaz, recording during intercourse, borderline exhibitionism, dirty talk, kitchen sex

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

Entering the station, you take a moment to yourself to bask in the quietness of the house. The fire station was fairly empty at the moment, with it being morning and all. The only person seemingly out is Eddie, who’s cleaning the firetruck.

You smirk to yourself as you approach him, "What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You call out, before leaning up against the side of the firetruck.

Eddie, who’s focused on his work, seems to pause for a second at your voice, before realizing it’s you. He looks over, shaking his head with a small scoff, his annoyance not being genuine.

"That’ll never get old to you, will it?"

You smile up at him, crossing your arms as you lean your head on the truck.

“Of course not; Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, Eds." You chuckle to yourself as you begin to admire his appearance, watching the way his muscles flex as he works on polishing the firetruck.

As you call him by the nickname you’ve picked up from Buck, he once again pauses, this time fully turning to look at you.

"Harmless for you maybe, I’m the one who has to actually deal with it."

You tilt your head to the side as you shrug, your grin growing larger as you continue to tease him, "Come on Eddie…I’m not that bad, am I?"

Eddie’s eyes meet your gaze as he sets down his rag, "(Y/n). You flirt with me every chance you get. I’m pretty sure that Buck, Chim, and Hen have a bet on when you’re gonna jump me."

You hum, acting oblivious as you shrug again, “And here I’d hoped I was subtle.”

“Yeah,” Eddie lets out a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving your face as he leans against the firetruck as well. "About as subtle as sirens in the dead of night."

You fake a pout, “I mean, it’s not my fault you’re insanely attractive, Eds.” You take a step closer to him, sticking your hand out as you lightly brush your fingers against his mustache.

“So, do you plan on keeping the ‘stache?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as you touch his face, the light, delicate caress sending a shiver down his spine. He sighs, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I-I don’t know.” He stutters out, the sudden proximity and the way you’re looking at him makes his breath catch in his throat for a brief moment. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second, before he clears his throat and pulls away. “Why? Don’t like it?”

Your face softens as he leans into your touch, your heart practically pounding as your eyes lock onto each other’s.

“Oh no,” You pause for a moment, letting your hand fall away as you admire his face, “I like it. A lot, actually.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes, but only for a moment. Still, you notice it. Before he can say anything else, the sound of footsteps echos from behind you guys

You turn to look behind you and see Bobby emerging from his office, a small grin on his face.

“Good morning you two. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, Cap,” Eddie instantly straightens, clearing his throat and glancing away, trying to act casual. “Just finishing up here.”

Bobby hums, seeing right through Eddie’s act, his smile growing as he turns to you. “And what about you?”

You chuckle, sending another smile in Eddie’s direction, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Just keeping him company.”

Eddie glances back at you, eyes narrowing slightly at the look on your face. He opens up his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Bobby continuing.

“Listen, I’m gonna have you guys hang back if we get any fire calls today. Eddie, I want you to be able to show (y/n) how the ambulance works on medical calls.”

You give Bobby an affirmative nod, “Sounds good to me. Hear that Eds? Sounds like you’re gonna be stuck with me all day.”

“Great.”

Bobby chuckles again, shaking his head at the two of you as he grabs a clipboard for his office and walks back inside.

The smirk immediately reappears on your face as you take a step closer to Eddie, looking up at him with wide (e/c) eyes.

“Aw come on, don’t look so grumpy.” You give his shoulder a playful shove; trying not to let your thoughts linger on how hard his muscles feel under your touch. “You get me all to yourself, shouldn’t you be happy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head in mock annoyance, though he can’t help the smile that curls at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I’m ecstatic.”

You grin wider, knowing you managed to get him to smile. You give his shoulder another pat, letting your hand linger for a moment, before stepping back again. “That’ll work for me.”

You give him a wink before turning and heading in the direction of the locker room to change.

Eddie watches as you walk away, a mix of amusement and irritation playing across his features. Suddenly the sound of Buck and Chim’s voices breaks his gaze, and he quickly averts his eyes, getting back to work on cleaning the truck.

A few moments later, you reappear, now in your uniform. Leaving the top unbuttoned just enough to barely expose the skin of your chest, but still technically fall within the dress code.

You open your mouth to call out to Eddie when the station alarm suddenly starts ringing.

Eddie’s head snaps in your direction at the sound of the alarm, immediately noticing your outfit. His eyes roam over the exposed skin of your chest for just a second before averting his gaze. Buck, Chim, and Hen appear from the loft and rush past you guys to the fire truck.

Chim, Hen, and Buck are about to hop in the truck when Bobby stops them, averting his attention over at you and Eddie.

“(y/n) Eddie, dispatch said that this call was just a small structure fire, and no injuries were reported.”

You nod as you glance toward Eddie, “So you want us to stay back?”

Bobby nods, “That’s right. If we need anything though, we’ll let you know through the radio.”

Eddie lets out a small sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got it.”

You glance over at him, your eyes lingering on his for a moment before looking back at Bobby, “We’ll be on standby then.”

Bobby nods again, patting the side of the ambulance before turning to get into the firetruck. Buck sends both you and Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows as he follows Hen and Chim into the back of the truck.

Eddie ignores them, moving to lean against the back of the ambulance, crossing his arms.

The sunlight makes his brown hair almost shine. His dark brown eyes have an almost golden look. Despite having been up since the early morning, he is still somehow effortlessly attractive. His uniform shirt hugs his upper body in the most delicious way, his muscular build being noticeable through the thin fabric.

You're snapped from your daze as Bobby flips on the lights and sirens and swiftly pulls out of the station.

You let out an internal sigh as you drink in the sight of him, your head filling with thoughts of how the fabric would feel against your fingers. You had only been on the job for a few months, but you somehow already wanted to do unspeakable things to this man. You take a step closer to him, leaning on the back of the ambulance.

“What do we do now? Just…wait?”

As you step closer to him, Eddie’s head turns to you, his eyes roaming over you for a moment before he speaks. There’s a slight hint of tension in his voice, though he tries to play it off.

“Yeah.” He lets out a huff of air, his eyes darting out to the street before settling back onto you.

You hum, looking over at him and tilting your head slightly so that you’re looking at him dead on. You continue to admire him, your eyes slowly raking over his face.

“So…how long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

Eddie sighs as your gaze lands on him, your smirk already telling him that you most likely have something in mind.

“If it’s just a small fire then I’d say probably an hour and a half.”

A mischievous look fills your eyes when he says an hour and a half. You bite your lip to suppress a smile as you push yourself up off the ambulance, moving to stand directly in front of him, your bodies nearly touching.

“An hour and a half, huh? That’s an awful lot amount of time for us to be…alone.” As you speak to him, your voice has a low, almost sultry tone to it; it takes everything in him to not shiver.

He lets out a shaky breath, glancing around for a brief moment before focusing back on you and clearing his throat.

“And what do you suggest we do?”

Your smirk softens into a more suggestive smile. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers ever-so-slightly grazing his skin.

“Well, I could think of a few things.”

He lets out a quiet gasp at your touch. His muscles are coiled, and you can see the way his jaw clenches in a halfhearted attempt to stop himself from reacting.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, "You really need to stop doing that, (y/n).”

You move even closer to him, closing the tiny amount of space that was left between your bodies. Your hand moves, instead coming up to rest on his chest, just above his heart.

"Doing what, Eddie?" You look up at him, feigning innocence as you tilt your head to the side.

He can feel your body against his, the warmth from your skin sending jolts of electricity up his spine.

He looks down at you, a look of frustration and desire in his eyes, “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

You bite your lip, holding back a chuckle as you see the look in his eyes. You can tell he’s fighting a losing battle, slowly giving in to his desires. You brush your thumb across the logo printed on the fabric of his uniform, feeling the hammering of his heart.

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” You hum.

"(Y/n)." he mutters, his voice a low, strained warning.

His resistance just adds fuel to the fire inside you. You want to see him lose control, want him to finally give in to the obvious tension between you two. You let your hand slowly trail down his side, lingering on his hip before coming to a rest on his thigh.

“Yeah?”

Eddie's breath hitches as your hand trails down his body, his hips twitching involuntarily when you rest your hand on his thigh. He swallows hard, the feeling of your body so close to his and your hand on his skin sending a shiver through his entire body. Your breath on his face does absolutely nothing to help him.

It takes every last ounce of restraint he has to not spin you around right here and—

“Well,” you abruptly distance yourself from Eddie, a sly smile curling on your lips. “I'm starving, so I'm gonna go fix myself something to eat."

He looks at you, blinking rapidly, his mind fighting to come up with a response while you smirk at him. However, all he can manage to say is a quiet “uh”

"Have fun being all alone, Eds." you wink, before waltzing away towards the kitchen.

He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Half torn between wanting to give in to your games and wanting to just grab you and slam you against the nearest wall.

Reaching the loft, you open the fridge and pull out a small pack of bacon. Cutting it open, you plop a pan onto the stove and lay a few slices onto the hot metal.

As you wait for your food to cook, you pull out your phone. You scroll through your Twitter to pass the time; completely oblivious to Eddie’s figure sneaking behind you, until it’s too late.

“You think you’re so damn funny, huh?” His breath feels hot against your neck as he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

Your eyes widen slightly, but before you can muster anything his body is pressed up against your back, his arms caging you against the counter in front of you.

A chill goes down your spine as you hear his voice, low and gravelly in your ear. The feeling of his body pressed against your back makes you shiver, the combination of his words and his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck makes you go weak in the knees.

“Depends on what you think is funny.” You manage to gasp out.

"You're a tease, (y/n). A goddamn tease." He growls in your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, sending a wave of heat through your body.

A shiver runs through your body when you feel his lips press against your neck, the feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin making you let out a sharp gasp. Your head tilts to the side almost involuntarily, giving him more access to your neck.

You grip the edge of the counter in front of you, trying your best to keep yourself upright.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" Eddie mutters against your neck

You let out a shaky breath as you turn your head towards him, the look in his eyes dark and full of desire. His thumb moves from your chin to your bottom lip, gently tracing the soft skin there.

You know you should reply to him, say something clever to keep up your usual attitude, but your mind is suddenly empty of anything but him.

His teeth lightly nip at your skin. You arch your back as best you can with the way he has you pinned against the counter.

"F-fuck, Eds—"

“I'm about two seconds away from bending you over this counter, don't push your luck." Eddie grins against your neck, his lips moving to bite at the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his voice low and full of desire. "Bent over the counter for anyone to see."

"Eddie, I-You can’t—" You gasp out, your back arching farther into him. You can feel his body pressed up against yours, his hips grinding into your backside.

Eddie hums against your neck, his hands running down your sides until they find the edge of your shirt, slipping underneath and trailing up your stomach. His touch sends jolts of electricity through you.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? You wanted to drive me crazy, to have me lose control?" His breath fans against your skin.

Eddie's words make your head spin as your body responds almost instantly.

"It worked though, didn’t it?”

Before you can even realize what’s happening, Eddie’s spinning you around and bending you over the kitchen island so that you're facing the entrance of the station.

The feeling of his hips pressing against your backside makes a full-on moan escape your lips, his body heat almost overwhelming.

“Voy a hacerte comer esas palabras, princesa.” He growls into your ear.

Jesus Christ.

His Spanish makes your head spin, the low, sultry tone of his voice as he murmurs the words into your ear nearly sending you over the edge. You feel him press up against you, his hips rolling into you, the feeling of his growing arousal against your backside making a shudder go through your body.

You let out another moan, his name on your lips between gasps for air, “Oh my god.”

"You never know when to quit, do you?" He mutters against the back of your neck, his lips delicately trailing kisses down your spine.

You whimper at his touch, your body responding to him as if he's a drug and you're hopelessly addicted.

"It’s like you enjoy being a little minx, huh? Teasing me all day, getting me all bothered.”

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts consumed by the feeling of his lips on your skin, the sound of his voice in your ear, the touch of his hands on your hips.

"F-fuck,” you stutter out before biting down on your lip, trying to hold back another moan.

He rolls his hips into yours again, his body grinding against yours.

The friction from his hips against your clothed core has you gasping again, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. You feel like you're on fire, your entire body thrumming with heat and desire, and all you can think about is him.

“Eddie, please...” you gasp out, your head spinning from the combination of his touch and the sound of his voice in your ear.

Then suddenly, you feel him shuffle behind you. Confused, you crane your neck over your shoulder only to see him grabbing your phone. He leans back over your shoulder, bringing your phone up and holding it to your face. You can barely focus on the screen, your eyes unfocused and dazed.

"Unlock it."

You blink, the request taking a moment to register in your foggy mind. Still, you unlock your phone with shaky hands, managing to type in your passcode through your daze. You don’t know what he’s planning, but at this point, you’re so far gone you don’t even care.

He opens the camera app on your phone before propping it up a few inches in front of you; it perfectly captures the two of you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low in your ear. “Now let’s see just how much you regret your little game.”

Your eyes grow wide when you comprehend what he’s doing. The thought of it has you suddenly even more turned on. He hits the record button and roughly tugs down your tight uniform bottoms and sinks to his knees.

Your breath hitches at his actions. You can see yourself on the phone screen, your face flushed, your (e/c) eyes darkened with lust, your hair already slightly messy from the way he had you pinned down against the counter.

You try to turn around to look at him, but his hand finds the back of your head, "Keep your eyes on the camera, carñio."

Your breath catches in your throat at the pet name. You'd never seen this dominant side of Eddie, not to this extent at least.

"Y'know, you didn't even ask me if I wanted anything to eat."

Your mind is a hazy mess, your eyes half-lidded as you keep them focused on the camera. You’re at his mercy, and you find that you don’t mind it one bit.

You let out a gasp as you feel his hands move up your thighs, nearing where you need him the most, your breathing stuttering and your body shaking with anticipation.

“But that’s okay,” he continues, “I think I’ve found something much better to eat.”

You hear his words, but you’re too caught up in the feeling of his touch to process them, your mind still trying to regain some lucidity as his hands move even farther up your thighs, just barely grazing the lacy hem of your (f/c) underwear.

“God, you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He murmurs, voice low and full of need. His hands grip the skin of your thighs, his touch slightly rough.

“And look at that, you’re soaking through your panties, carñio.” Carefully, he drags your underwear to the side, exposing your soaking folds to the cool air.

The feeling of his hands as they slide your underwear to the side has you trembling, your legs shaking as you try to keep yourself upright. You feel him sink to his knees behind you, his breath fanning against your skin, the proximity of his face to the core of your being has you clenching your teeth.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his presence, and the anticipation is nearly enough to make you cry out.

Eddie runs his hands up your thighs, his touch firm and sure. Then, you feel his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. You shiver, your body growing hot in anticipation.

You can’t help but gasp as he lets his tongue run up your thigh, so close to where you need him most.

"I swear to g-god, Eddie. If you don't do-" Your words fail you as his tongue slowly breaches your wetness. He holds your hips steady as his tongue dips deeper, just barely breaching your slit.

"M-Motherfuck—" You moan out, your voice growing louder from the sudden pleasure.

Eddie pulls away from your folds with an obnoxiously dramatic pop, "You gotta stay quiet, princesa. Don't want the team to come back and hear these pretty noises, do we?"

You bite down on your lip again, trying to restrain your moans. But it's practically impossible with the way he's slowly teasing you.

"Y-you're being mean." You say, your words coming out shaky from your attempts to stay quiet. You can feel your clit throbbing with desperation.

"Mean?" He mutters, his breath fanning against your skin. "Me? Not at all. I'm being...very generous."

At an agonizing pace, he slides his fingers through your wetness, just missing your sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his lips, his tongue licking around the digits.

"You taste so sweet...como el cielo.”

You let out a strangled whimper, your body begging for more as his hands continue to wander. He presses a kiss against your clit, the friction of his mustache making your eyes roll back.

“Please,” you gasp out, your voice just above a whisper. “Please, please, please…”

Eddie hums at your words, letting his tongue just barely brush against your sensitive bud. You swiftly cup your hand over your mouth to muffle your noises.

You look absolutely debauched as you catch sight of yourself in the camera. Your hair is falling in messy wisps across your forehead, uniform bunched around your hips, face flushed, and eyes darkened with lust; The sight of yourself only serves to heighten your arousal. Before you can say anything, you feel two of Eddie's thick fingers press into you, drawing a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat.

"F-fuck—" You bite down on your hand to keep yourself quiet. "More, Eddie—Now."

“Bossy little thing,” He growls as you speak, his fingers curling inside you. “You're not the one in charge here.” he gives a harsh suck against your soaking folds.

You glance at the camera, still recording the two of you. Eddie’s right; and that made something in your stomach turn violently.

You grip the counter, your fingers clenching and unclenching at the edge. You let out another moan, your eyes squeezing shut from the immense amount of sensation.

“So beautiful like this, sweetheart,” he mutters, his words partially muffled against your skin. “Aching and dripping for me. All mine.”

He curls his fingers again, pushing into the spot that makes you cry out, and you barely manage to muffle your cries against your hand.

“God, you’re so loud.”

"Eddie! P-please, please! M’sorry for earlier." You slur deliriously with pleasure, eyes brimmed with hot tears.

He can practically taste the desperation in your voice, feel the tension rippling through your body as he pumps his fingers inside you. He pulls away, standing and smirking, watching as your walls flutter around nothing.

“Are you?”

You nod eagerly, your head hazy with lust, but your mind is just lucid enough to know that your answer will have an effect.

“Yes—” you gasp out, your breathing heavy. “I’m so sorry! Please, Eddie, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t tease you anymore, just please!”

Eddie hums, low and satisfied. He runs his hands up your thighs, watching as they shake in his grip.

“We both know that's a lie, cariño.” He says, his tone slightly mocking. He leans in closer to you until his mouth is right by your ear.

“You know what they say, cariño. Payback’s a bitch.” He gives your shoulder one last teasing bite before dropping back to his knees.

Your mind is still reeling from his words, trying to catch up with the events that just took place. But that all quickly changes the moment you feel his tongue thrust into your soaked slit; replacing where his fingers had previously been.

You wail in delight. Your eyes clench tight once more as Eddie lets out a deep moan from behind you, your sweet taste flooding his tastebuds once again.

He grips your hips to keep you from moving too much, his mouth working you with a newfound fervor as you struggle to keep yourself upright.

"Jesus…just a little more, m'so close—"

This only serves to ignite Eddie. Hearing you admit how close you are, all because of him. The way you’re now falling apart at his touch makes him growl against your skin; the vibrations almost send you over the edge.

He reaches around, harshly rubbing at your sensitive bud as he pulls his mouth away, "Fuck, best meal I've ever had..."

“Oh god—“ You try to choke out, but the words quickly devolve into another whine. “Please, E-Eddie, I’m gonna—”

And right at that moment, a loud, familiar sound fills your and Eddie’s ears; the sound of the firetruck pulling up outside.

"Oh shit." You mutter, your (e/c) eyes growing wide. You glance back at Eddie, your breath catches at the sight of his face.

Eddie’s pupils are blown wide, his face red and sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. He gives another shaky breath before his eyes lock onto the camera still pointing at your form. For a moment, he considers stopping the recording, but...

Maybe it’s the way you look, all breathless and needy. Or how your uniform is pulled down, completely exposing your bottom half. All Eddie knows, at this moment, is that you two can’t stop.

“Eddie, W-We can’t—“

“We can.” Eddie says, his voice firm.

He reaches out, grabs the camera from the island, and holds it inches from your face, his voice still firm.

“You see this? You see what you look like all flushed and whiny, princess?” You can hear him give a low noise, his voice slightly shaky. "tan hermosa, tan perfecta, toda mía."

You spare one last look over your shoulder to Eddie. His chin is practically dripping with your juices, his lips red and swollen.

His dark brown eyes meet yours. As you open your mouth to speak, he suddenly dives right back in. Going to work with a newfound vigor.

You feel your hips arch slightly against his mouth, your legs shaking and your breathing coming out in quick gasps. You clench your teeth, trying to keep yourself from crying out.

Your hands, which had been gripping the counter, quickly move to cover your mouth, trying to muffle your series of pathetic whines.

You bite down on your hand, as hard as you can to keep from moaning, but the more you hear your teammates' voices, the harder it is to keep yourself in check.

You listen to Buck's laughter, you hear the deep rumble of Bobby's voice talking about dinner plans, you hear Hen's voice as she enters a conversation with Chimney—

All you can think about at that moment is that at any second, any one of them could walk into the kitchen and see the two of you.

Shamefully, that thought is enough to send you over the edge.

Your body feels tense as your climax washes over you, "F-fuck—E-Eddie!"

Your legs are shaking more than ever, so much so that you're sure if Eddie wasn't holding you up, you would have fallen to the ground. Wave after wave that rolls through you, Eddie’s tongue is there to accompany it.

It’s too much. Everything’s overwhelming. You’re overstimulated, your brain is fuzzy, and your body is hot. You’re sure if this continues any longer, you’ll break. The sounds of the team outside seem to fade into the background for a moment.

"Goddamn Eddie, p-please.” You can barely hear your voice over your ragged breathing.

The rest of the team's voices echo through the station, you swear you can hear footsteps coming closer to the kitchen. You feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he finally lets up.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, his face flushed and sweaty. You breathe heavily, leaning forward on the counter, your body still shuddering from the aftereffects of your orgasm.

You're about to try and fix your uniform, to make yourself look at least a little presentable when suddenly, you hear footsteps clambering up the loft stairs. You panic and start to scramble to pull your pants back up and as you manage to, Eddie swiftly slinks beside you so they don't suspect anything.

You see Buck’s head of curls as he clambers up the loft stairs, "You guys cooking?" he chirps.

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Eddie pipes up.

“Yep, figured that we’d go on and get a head start on dinner.” He says, leaning casually against the counter. Y’know, his tone is surprisingly calm for a man who had just had his head buried between your legs.

Buck smiles right back, seemingly clueless to what had been going on mere seconds before.

"Alright! Lemme know when it's ready, I'm starving."

He quickly turns back around and disappears, and you let yourself breathe again. You feel Eddie's hand fall to the small of your back.

"You did so well." He whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravely. "I'm proud of you."

You give him a weak smile, trying to keep your breathing under control, but it doesn't help that every nerve ending in your body is still on fire. Everything is still so sensitive, and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

He turns you so you're facing him, and you practically collapse into his chest. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his sweat and cologne.

"Y-you're a dick, sometimes.” You mutter, still trying to calm your breathing as he steadies himself, you look down at the front of his pants and then back up to him. "Do you want me to...?"

Catching your drift, Eddie's cheeks suddenly flush with a light pink dusting.

"I uh—I a-already..." He stutters for a moment, trying to find his words.

You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, and your lips pull into a sly smile.

"Really? I didn’t even touch you.” You tease him, your finger slowly moving down his chest.

He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat as your hand slowly makes its way down his chest. He looks away, his cheeks still a dusted pink as a shiver goes through him.

"Yeah well,” He stutters, "Can you blame me?”

You can't help but giggle at his response, your face splitting into a grin as you look up at him. You reach up and pat him on the cheek.

"You're cute when you get all flustered."

His blush deepens at your touch, and he lets out a huff, trying to hold on to any shred of composure he has left.

“I am not flustered, I-I don’t get flustered.” He says defensively, finally meeting your gaze.

“Really? Cause you look pretty flustered to me.” You say smugly.

"Oh, shut up, cariño." he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You give a soft hum, "Never, Eds. I'm gonna enjoy this for as long as I can."

"I'm gonna make you eat those words later, princesa."

You raise an eyebrow at him, fighting the shiver that runs down your spine at the nickname.

"Is that a promise?" You say, leaning your body a little closer to his.

He grins down at you, a cheeky look on his face, "It's a guarantee."

[yameoto]

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!” 

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student. 

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell. 

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away. 

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor. 

-

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care. 

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm. 

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time. 

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon. 

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always. 

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl. 

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes. 

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it. 

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing. 

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber— 

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it. 

you think jordan knows it, too.

-

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you? 

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets. 

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room. 

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

-

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body. 

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong. 

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that. 

-

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a  party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times. 

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see. 

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach. 

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!” 

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.” 

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can. 

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night. 

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised. 

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy. 

 before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing. 

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though. 

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso. 

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine. 

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm. 

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan. 

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan. 

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!” 

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit. 

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 13: Dirty Wrestling

Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Delinquent!Childhood Bully Friend!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, dirty wrestling, mean!tomboy!reader, tease!reader, sub!eddie/dom!reader, s-dere reader (think like a playful Wednesday Addams), pervy!eddie, featuring f-boy!steve, modern au, childhood bullying, misogynistic views of women by the hellfire members and steve, kissing, mentions of amazon position, mentions of protected sex, mentions of overstimulation and multiple orgasms, reader gets the last laugh

Summary: Eddie so desperately wants to get laid and seeks you out as an option. He gets more than what he bargained for when he finds out the hard truth why you don’t stick your dick in crazy.

A/N: This was super fun and experimental and I don’t care that it flops I love it 🥰

Eddie groggily trudges into the lunchroom, appearing more disheveled than usual. He plops down into his seat, the bickering amongst his peers ceases as they look at him with concern.

“Eds, you look like shit.” Jeff says.

“Yeah, what gives?” Gareth chimes in.

Eddie darts his eyes on each side before speaking. “Cover your ears, little sheep.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas exchange confused looks. Impatient; Eddie waves a dismissive hand and they eventually obey grumbling about how stupid it is.

“Gentlemen, I want—no, no…I need to get laid. It is actually concerning,” Eddie begins, flexing his fingers in an open and shut fist. “This hand…satisfies me no longer. I need to get my dick wet or I think I might go insane. It’s gotten so bad to the point where this morning, I opted to ride a crowded bus instead of driving simply because I wanted to feel the warmth of a woman. As the kids say, ‘I am down horrendous’.”

“Me too,” Gareth sighs in frustration. “I don’t even care for penetration. I just want to be held.”

“Boy, I’m sure lucky I’ve got a girlfriend to get laid whenever I want. I mean, well…whenever she wants,” Jeff’s smile slowly fades as he stares into space. “It’s been 3 weeks and counting but it’ll be anytime before she comes asking. Aaaanytime.”

“I bet I’d get some before Jeffy gets any again.” Gareth chuckles.

“Not before me.” Eddie challenges.

“Are you both making a bet on the basis of my suffering?” Jeff asks, nostrils fuming.

“Yep, yeah, pretty much.” Eddie and Gareth say in unison.

“And how the hell are you two planning on doing that? We’re lucky we even lost our virginities to begin with. Where the hell are you two going to find girls willing to sleep with you when you can’t even look ‘em in the eyes?” Jeff inquires.

“Maybe I could direct you plebeians to a solution?” Dustin interjects, causing the three older boys to turn their attention his way. He’s tapping the tips of his fingers together, a mischievous smirk on his face,

“No offense, Henderson,” Eddie scoffs. “But what the shit could you possibly help us with? Just last week, you thought the condoms in Steve’s bedroom were balloons.”

“Obviously, I’m referring you to him. He helped me build my confidence with the ladies,” Dustin trills in a dorky growl that causes everyone to cringe. “Wouldn’t have the guts to speak to my Suzie-poo if it weren’t for him. If you’re looking to make some happy screams, he’s your guy.”

“No way,” Eddie laughs. “I’m not some sorry loser taking a class on picking up chicks.”

“That’s exactly what you are.” Lucas argues.

“Au contraire, Sinclair,” Eddie begs to differ. “Would a sorry loser shred ‘Master of Puppets’ on guitar after just a week of listening to the song?”

“Yes, that’s huge loser energy.” Mike answers.

“We have a campaign to run in a week,” Dustin says. “I’d rather you two have the heads on your shoulders to be in the game and nothing otherwise.”

And pathetic as it is, Eddie and Gareth would soon find themselves in front of Steve’s dorm room. Dustin lays a few knocks on the door as the older pair internally ping-ponged between pessimistic embarrassment and optimistic desire.

Steve opens the door with a knowing smile. “Well, well, well boys. I’d say I’m surprised to see you but my loyal client here has informed me of your arrival,” He touches two fingers to his temple as if to concentrate his ‘powers’. “Lemme guess, you both wish to consecrate with women.”

“I…think you mean ‘consummate’.” Dustin corrects.

“That’s what I said,” Steve snorts, throwing open his door and gesturing inside with a repeated swat of his hand. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road, I’ve got a date with twins. One at 8 and the other at 10.”

“Twins?” Gareth whisper-yell, shooting Eddie a look of excitement.

“You’re bluffing.” Eddie dismisses.

“If I’m lying, I’m crying,” Steve says before showing off his phone screen with a photo of the girls. “And you don’t see any tears, do you?”

“Teach us your ways, oh, great Master.” Gareth says in awe.

“That’s King to you. Have a seat and listen well, boys.” Steve instructs before sitting on the edge of his computer desk while three boys sit on a small sofa across from him. “First off, you gotta weigh out your options. If you’re in it for the long haul, then you can go for the girl that takes a lot of effort to get. These are usually the girls you might’ve been pining for, for a while. But since you’re looking for a quick nut, then you’ll need to weigh out your feasible options. Gare Bear, whatcha got?”

“Helen from the drama club. Oh, and there’s this cute barista at my local coffee shop that’s been giving me the eye whenever I come by. She even puts a heart over the ‘i’ in my name.” Gareth says.

“You don’t have an ‘i’ in your name.” Eddie says, blinking in bewilderment.

“I know her!” Dustin exclaims. “My mom does some light chatting with her here and there whenever she picks up her coffee. The ‘eye’ you’re referring to is just an involuntary twitching of the eye from prolonged exposure to bright lights in the shop,” Dustin explains to Gareth who begins to slump in defeat. “B-but on the bright side, they’ve fixed those pesky lights recently so if she’s giving you the eye, it’d be for real this time.”

“I’m pretty sure she puts an ‘i’ with a heart on everyone’s coffee cups,” Steve adds. “Cute girl but not the best speller.”

“You’re not helping, buddy.” Dustin sing-songs, through gritted teeth.

“What about you, Munster? What’re your options?” Steve asks with an inquisitive rubbing of his chin.

Eddie searches his thoughts. “No one.”

“You’ve gotta give me something to work with, fellas,” Steve sighs. “Someone’s gotta come to mind.”

“Dude, what about that juvie chick? The one who lives in the same park as you,” Gareth suggests. “Wasn’t she like your childhood friend or something? You’d be so in there!”

“(Name)?! Fuck no!” Eddie shouts. “She wasn’t my friend. She was my first bully.”

————

Age 13

The first time he’d met you, you were both in cuffs at a police station. The two of you sat across from one another as you awaited to place a phone call to your guardians.

Suddenly you retrieved a hair pin from your mouth, clutching it firmly between your teeth as you brought your shackled hands up to your face and picked the lock. Not a moment later, you were free. Eddie could only watch on in awe as you stood up, the cops too busy to notice you.

“A little help here. I can’t have my uncle see me in this place again.” Eddie whispered to you.

“Of course.” You said with a sweet smile before tossing the bobby pin at his feet. “Good luck.”

With a quick blow of a kiss, you strode away and Eddie’s expression morphed into bafflement and dismay.

“Hey! I can’t reach it!” Eddie shouted but you’d been long gone and he’s now alerted the police to your departure.

Age 14

Since then, he was sure he’d never see you again until he briefly attended an alternative school and ran into you again. The moment you saw him, you purposefully tripped him to the ground for ‘ratting you out’.

The torment only seemed to worsen once you began to actively seek his friendship because very few were brave enough to befriend you. Sometimes, you’d invite him over to your trailer home and he’d get a glimpse of exactly why you are the way you are. As you are the youngest and the only girl in the family of a workaholic father and 3 older brothers who were just as chaotic and malicious as you. Then came the day you’d make your ‘friendship’ official, when you all but cornered him in the boys’ locker room.

“Munson, I’m looking for a best friend.” You nonchalantly asked, unfazed by the half-naked boys running amuck at your presence.

“Are you stupid? You can’t be here! You’ll get in trouble.” Eddie chastised.

“What else is new?” You shrugged before taking his hand. “Come on, applications are open and I can’t imagine being besties with anyone other than you.”

“W-what happened to the last guy?” He asks while recalling the last boy toy that you’ve once dragged around the school.

“Let’s just say the ‘bestie’ slot opened up after my last one yelled at me in class. Heard he got visited by the men in white that very same day. Something about an anonymous person calling into a mental institution to report him for his aggression. Wonder who it could’ve been.” You ended with a feigned innocent look.

Eddie really wished he could’ve said ‘no’. But he couldn’t dare end up like the last guy. Even as his peers from behind your view, mimed and charaded away gestures advising against it—, Eddie reluctantly agreed. Thus began a whirlwind of a friendship filled with lots of delinquency and drama.

Age 15

Then by the grace of whatever, Eddie had been able to leave the alternative school and attend Hawkins High after teachers cited an improvement in his performance in his classes. He was finally going to be free.

“It really sucks to see you go. You’re probably going to be so lost without me. If you’d like I could create a distraction that’ll allow us to stay together.”

“No!” Eddie yells then immediately adjusts his tone. “I mean…no. It’s probably for the best that I go to a boring old public school. We had good times but, alas, we must part. I could only hope that we’ll meet again someday.”

“Well, you may be going to a different school but we can still hang out afterschool. We live in the same place after all.” You beamed.

“I’m moving,” Eddie quickly lied. “Possibly very far away. To a remote area that’s so far, there isn’t even an address you can call in to or send me letters or anything.”

“Damn, sounds like my last juvie center. I’ll be wishing for the day we meet again, bestie.” And with that you gave him a crushing hug.

It was a shitty thing to do. Lying to a supposed ‘friend’. He knew. But what else could he have done? You were a lot and sometimes quite the nightmare. He’d have died an early death messing around with you. Ever since then, he avoided you at all costs, making sure to never cross paths with you again. He’d done so successfully for about 3-4 years. Hell, you’ve probably forgotten about him.

If he’s that lucky…

———

“She made me take the fall for a lot of things she did, treated me like a lapdog, made me get into situations where I could’ve died— you know, she once tied me to a tree and left me there for an hour. I had to break out of it on my own only to find out that she’d been only a couple feet away, timing my escape. Last I heard, she hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, but have you seen her as of late? She’s fucking hot. I’d thank her if she were to spit on me.” Gareth says dreamily while Dustin furrows his brows in disgust.

“Then why don’t you try your luck with her instead?” Eddie asks.

“Because she’s clearly into you.” Gareth retorts.

“I’d advise neither of you two to mess with her,” Steve warns. “The hotter a crazy woman is—buckle the fuck up because you’ll be in for a wild rollercoaster ride. Your inexperienced nerdy hearts couldn’t possibly take that much excitement. They don’t call her ‘The Siren’ for shits and giggles.”

“Siren?” Eddie questions.

“Sirens are evil mythical creatures that lure men to their dooms.” Dustin clarifies.

“Sounds about right.” Eddie mutters.

“You guys ever heard of Norm Prescott?” Steve questions ominously.

“Who?” The boys ask at once.

“Exactly,” Steve says while pointing a finger. “Norm was a kid in my year. Good kid. Captain of the robotics club. Member of the swim team. The poor bastard came across her page on a dating app last year, messaged her, fucked her and he was never seen again. Rumor has it, he went completely insane after one night with her and needed to attend college in a different city in order to be free of her spell. Pussy from a crazy chick will ruin your fucking life. Heed my words: Do not stick your dick in crazy.”

“I don’t know…That sounds kind of metal.” Eddie admits.

“Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?” Gareth asks.

“Pretty much everything from the way that eerily sounded.” Dustin shudders.

“Dudes, she’s not actually some evil mythical…” Eddie’s voice trails off before he correctly starts up again. “She’s not a mythical creature. Just an adrenaline junkie with a sadistic streak.”

“Somehow that sounds worse.” Dustin comments.

“So you’re going to do it?!” Gareth asks.

“‘Course not,” Eddie scoffingly laughs. “I’m desperate…but I’m not that desperate.”

“Good boy,” Steve praises before taking a swig of his beer. “The tale of Norm Prescott is a cautionary one. I don’t want to see any of the people I care for lured to their doom. Oh…and I guess I wouldn’t want that for you guys either.”

“I think I’ll go ahead and consider myself lucky that I’ll never have to experience some shit like that.” Dustin sighs in relief.

“Wait for it.” The older three reply in unison.

———

Eddie’s stomach churned with envy when he learned that two days later Jeff had gotten some from his girlfriend, noticing the bounce in his step. It felt almost like a bad omen to him which confirmed his paranoia when Gareth had bragged to him about receiving the local barista’s number, citing King Steve as his guru.

Though no serious stakes were in place, Eddie truly felt as though he’d max out all his options. He couldn’t possibly be the only one caught in a dry spell when he’s already regarded as a freak enough!

Maybe a night with you didn’t seem so bad after all.

“I see that look in your eyes,” Steve says, tossing a card into the pile before suavely leaning back in his chair. “You’re thinking about fucking her, aren’t you?”

“Gah, this again!” Dustin groans, angrily tossing a card on top. “It’s already bad enough I nearly walked in on Nancy and Jonathan doing the ‘hokey pokey’ while needing the bathroom at Mike’s place. Something must be in the air. Hormones, pheromones, angst—I don’t flippin’ know.”

“H-how is she by the way?” Steve says breaking his f-boy persona. “She ever asked about me.”

“Yes, Stevie, I’m sure she thought of you while getting railed against a bathroom sink by Johnny boy.” Eddie says sarcastically.

“You’re a little snappy.” Steve grumbles.

“Because I’m frustrated,” Eddie cries. “Gareth’s probably going to get off before me. In fact, everyone will—maybe even you’ll get some before me, Dustin, because apparently I’m so much of a loser that I can’t get a single girl to want me.”

“Maybe you should just go for the crazy chick. It’s been years. I’m sure she’s changed. Befriend her again so that you’ll finally get some action and we don’t have to hear you yapping about being a sad little virgin all the time. I mean, how bad could she really be?” Dustin poses the question.

“Norm Prescott…” Steve singsongs.

“But did he die?” Dustin counters.

Steve stands corrected, quirking his head. “You’ve got a point there.”

“Sh-should I really? What if she hates me?” Eddie ask timidly.

“Hate sex with a crazy lady? Sounds like a deadly mix. Not a bad way to go if you ask me.” Steve says.

———

“Hot date tonight, tiger?” Wayne asks with an amused smile and arms crossed as he leans against his nephew’s door frame.

“Actually, I’m going to see an old friend.” Eddie says vaguely, causing Wayne to tilt his head in suspicion.

“You mean that sailor-mouthed girl you used to get up to no good with? Didn’t you used to beg me to lie about your whereabouts to her?”

“We were only immature children then, Way-dog,”Eddie excuses. “We’ve grown apart from our former selves.”

“Just last week, you asked me to schedule a dentist appointment for you because you were afraid to speak to a live person.” Wayne deadpans.

“I was…saving my vocals for a gig.” Eddie justifies.

Wayne sighs, knowing exactly what his nephew is going to get up to. So like the supportive parent that he is, he slips a row of condoms into the pocket of Eddie’s leather jacket.

“Just be careful, son,” Wayne says while patting his chest. “Wearing protection can save you in a lot of ways—“

“O-kay, I’m getting a little uncomfortable. Goodbye.” Eddie flushes red, knowing by now that his own uncle knew the rule of crazy women and that his poor nephew was too far gone to help himself.

Once Eddie’s out the door, his body shakes at the thought of seeing you again after all these years. Would you remember him fondly or as a liar?

Then, he spots you sunbathing in a lawn chair, puffing a vape pen and flipping through a magazine. You’re in a tight yellow bikini with only a small sheer coverall around your waist. Your skin looks so well moisturized, he can tell you’d feel so soft. That thought alone was enough encouragement to keep him going.

He clears his throat and you choose to ignore it at first until he’d done it again. You lower your heart-shaped sunglasses, glaring up at him for a moment before your expression softens—in fact, it brightens once he’s sure you recognized him.

“Bestie…that you?” You ask, rising to your feet.

“In the flesh.” Eddie says nervously shifting his weight on either foot.

“It’s been so long,” You hugged him with that same crushing power that was all too familiar. He should be traumatized but instead he shudders happily, breathing in your vanilla scent. “How are you?”

You pulled away and he had to catch himself from pathetically chasing your embrace.

“I’m great. Really great. Y-you look like you’re doing well, too.” Eddie says with an anxious giggle.

“I am. Thanks for noticing,” You say almost suggestively. “You wanna come inside so you and I can properly catch up? My brothers aren’t home.”

“Yes!” He says a little too eagerly and it makes you laugh.

“Well, come on in then, partner. Don’t be shy,” You beckon, taking his hand and leading him into your lair. “I only bite when necessary.”

His heart beats a mile a minute when instead of being led to sit at the sofa, he’s dragged to your bedroom. He fiddles with his fingers nervously as you begin to lock the door. You turn to face him again with that famous mischievous smirk.

“You remember as kids when we used to play doctor? Those were fun times, right?

Dustin was sooo wrong. You didn’t change whatsoever and Eddie’s slowly regretting his decision.

“Y-yeah. So fun,” He lies, swallowing the hard lump in his throat before taking steps back at your inching approach. “Though, you had me shitting bricks at times when you suggested we use real medical tools instead.”

“I was only messing with you.”

“Hard to believe that when you used to chase me with a pair of scissors.” The backs of Eddie’s knees hit the edge of your bed and his arms flail to keep himself upright.

“But friends can tell little white lies here and there? I never intended on hurting you. Not too badly at least. You know a thing or two about lying to your friends…don’t you, Edward?” The moment you’re a little too close for his liking, Eddie dashes from in front of you and towards your bedroom door but the complicated locks scramble his brain. He quickly faces you again, not wanting to keep his eyes from you too long in case you do something.

You plant your hands on either side of his head, closing the gaps between your bodies. Your full breasts are pressed up against him and yet he’s too scared to care.

“Why’d you lie, bestie?” You ask. “Didn’t we have fun times together? We roughhoused, got into some wild antics, and we even cried together.”

Except, it was Eddie that was doing most of the crying!

“I-I didn’t mean to…t-o...” Eddie says, voice pitched high.

“To lie? Oh, Eddie, mother tells me that when a man lies, he certainly means to do so,” You give a low, dark chuckle. “So after all these years, Eddie, why did you decide to see your dear old pal again?”

“T-to apologize.” He swallows.

“With your cock?” You ask with an innocent tone, batting your lashes. You glide a hand up his inner thigh until it lands on the hard bulge in his jeans, palming him in your surprisingly strong yet dainty-looking hands.

He gasps, fearing that you’d be psychotic enough to break his dick. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Just please let me go and I will never bother you again.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go,” You flick your tongue along the bottom length of his straight nose. “But I’d like to play a game…for old times sake.”

“Is it ‘smackdown’?” He whimpers.

“I was actually going to suggest a game of ‘Go Fish’ since you’re always so good at that,” You blink blankly before a sinister expression takes over. “But I like your idea.”

He curses himself in his head, helpless as you grab fistfuls of his jacket and drag him away from the door.

‘Smackdown’ was a wrestling game the two of you created sprinkled with your own sadistic twist in which you two used to wrestle one another. Eddie quite liked to play wrestling with you but as a scrawny kid back then, you’d always win the match. The rules were that you’d have to pin your opponent to the ground for at least 7 seconds. Winner gets the choice to do whatever they want.

If Eddie’s going to get himself out of this mess, he needs to use all the strength he’s got. No holding back. Luckily for him, he’d grown a lot bigger than you.

On either side of the room, you two stare intensely at one another. Eddie charges you with a loud battle cry and pins you down to your fluffy white rug. He’s never had this much of the upper hand. Never gotten past 3 seconds. It’s almost too good to be true.

But when he’s gotten past 4 seconds his heart soars as he can practically taste the freedom. Seeing you struggle for free yourself beneath him was quite satisfying within itself. But then at the 6 second mark, you made the cruelest move yet…you reminded him of his desperation.

You lunged forward and kissed him.

Distracted by this, Eddie releases your wrist in shock. You’re quick to gain the advantage as you roll on top of him and pin his wrists down for the 7 seconds.

“I win.” You gloat.

“You cheated!” He hisses.

“You’re allowed to play dirty or did you forget the rules.”

“What are you going to do to me? Scour the internet for the worse medieval forms of torture to use against me?”

“Tempting,” You say and Eddie wishes he’d shut his big fucking mouth. “But I like my idea better.”

Digging your nails into his scalp and gathering a large amount of his hair in your hand, you crash your lips onto his again. Your other free hand fiddles with the zipper of his jeans and he moans into the kiss when your hands are enclosed around his girthy member.

“I’ve got this new wrestling move I’ve been dying to try,” You whisper against his lips before nipping the bottom lip. “I like to call it the amazon warrior power press. Wanna see?”

By the time you’re through with him; you’ve tossed him in every position you could think of and used him like a proper toy—you’ve officially ruined all women for him. He’s never been fucked as if he were a slut. Cum-filled condoms like inflated balloons piling up beside his head after every round; he’d lost count after 4.

He was a drooling, pussy-drunken fool by the end of it but you gave him no time to bask in it as you’d pushed him out of your home practically naked.

In his underwear, his clothes and shoes in a balled-up mess in his hands—deep hickies and love bites littered all over his skin, he looks up at you on your porch with a desperate yet hopeful smile. His friends will mourn Eddie Munson for he, too, has been cursed with the same spell that once begot Norm Prescott. And even worse, he didn’t have the capacity to care.

“Will I get to see you again?” Eddie says while fumbling to catch his things from falling. “I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. M-maybe I could get your number?

“Sorry, bestie,” You say, faking a sad pout. “But I’m moving.”

And with that, you shut the door square in his face.

[biolumien]

Might I say that the Hoshina x Painter! reader was a brush stroke of genius. It's superb so if its possible, I'd like to request a part two?

Maybe Hoshina gets to go out on a date. And of course, the recruits quickly finding out about this and they sort of try to spy on them while they go about their day. Up to you really. I just live for the concept, and I defo want to see how things play out. Especially since their worlds are so far apart from each other.

He probably doesn't know the first thing about art. And Reader probably knows nothing of Kaijus. Let alone swordsmanship or martial arts. And the sudden match made between them is sure to make rapid news around Tachikawa base because, 'Ayo that's our Vice Captain with the famous painter who just so happened to paint his portrait a few days ago?' AKAKHSKNS such an endearing concept.

notes: insanely good pun. i hope this is okay! part 2 of this fic.

the second stroke

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, i think! let me know, though. word count: 1306

talking to hoshina was–awkward. or so you thought, at least. you couldn’t exchange many words following the panel, apart from saying hi–hoshina had immediately gotten swarmed with questions–what was the relationship between the two of you? what was the meaning behind what you’d said? so you’d managed to find him in the aftermath, pulled him aside and made tentative plans to meet up in the coming days.

you stopped having dreams of your mysterious muse altogether at this point. once in awhile, you thought you might have felt the faint whisper of warmth, the ghosting touch of lips brushed against the side of your face. that had to have been real, right? but the fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams now–if you even had them at all, worried you more th an you’d like to admit.

you’d agreed on a date in a discrete location–but despite that, you held a pretty large parasol in the park, with loose-fitting clothes to disguise the bulk of your figure.

“so it’s true, then?” hoshina asks as the two of you wander the park, past some shady trees. “that’s… i mean, it’s… pretty… ha, i mean, that kind of stuff comes out of a romance novel, no?” 

you like the way the sunlight dapples across his hair, dances across the bridge of his nose. your fingers itch to paint, to scrape a palette knife across a stretch of canvas. 

“it sounds far fetched to me, too,” you mumble, spinning the straw of your drink. “that i would dream of a man from a past life–who… happens to be you. happened. to be you. also in a past life. and i think… well, i–i think we were lovers? or-or something like that.”

“lovers,” hoshina echoes. 

he pauses.

your face feels hot.

“it’s stupid,” you mumble. “i know. i know it is.”

“it’s not,” hoshina says. “i mean–i’m not… a believer. in most of that kind of stuff, but. you painted me.” he laughs. “that’s gotta be proof of something bigger than the both of us. i don’t know if i should be happy or sad that it’s real. like–”

he flexes his hands.

“do you get what i mean? like–like… i’ve been telling myself that-that… i was doing everything within my power–to be the way i was, and then… if there really is some kind of divine providence, pulling us together–some red string of fate, the kind that bonds lovers together–how am i so sure that a god didn’t just decide the limits of my capabilities? i’m not sure… how to feel about it.”

you ponder his words.

“fighting kaiju is… a completely new world, compared to me,” you say. “but i’m sure even if it–even if it was divine providence, you’re doing something only you can do. and–and i think that’s wonderful.”

hoshina’s eyes soften.

“wonderful?” he murmurs. 

“yeah,” you say. “someone–not just someone, but… we’re all… relying on you. that’s something i could never imagine.”

“i mean–” hoshina laughs, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “i couldn’t imagine painting the way you do. that seems so overwhelming–to conjure things from your imagination and deliver them to the page.”

you shake your head.

“it’s a bit of that, but it’s not completely from my imagination. i do a lot of portraits–with real models, things like that,” you mumble, your face flushing a little bit at his words. “it’s… mm. a complicated progress, but it’s not nearly as physically intensive as you fighting kaiju. i-i read a bit. from some of your press interviews.”

“oh?” hoshina’s eyes widen, and he laughs. “that’s–well, i didn’t… most of those were just–scripted.”

“my press interviews are, too,” you say.

hoshina’s lips quirk up.

“i guess we’re kind of the same, yeah?” hoshina says, nudging you slightly, his hand reaching out to cross the gap between the two of you–of you. he doesn’t intrude further though, even as he crosses the gap—seemingly shy and nervous, worried and careful not to do more until you were okay with it. 

you relax your stance a little, and his hand brushes against yours. 

“i guess so,” you say, blinking up at him. your face feels hot.

you don’t know whether the fluttering in your heart is from you or if it’s from that whisper of a past life, the repeated lines of affection–that it should feel this easy to fall for hoshina, because some version of you did, a stranger-yet-familiar-yet-familiar. hoshina’s expression is somehow fond, and he leans closer before–

he suddenly perks up, his head whirling around, checking the surroundings.

“what’s–” you start, but hoshina raises a hand, glancing at you before raising a finger to his lips. you fall silent, your heart pounding against your throat.

“come out,” hoshina says sharply. “you guys aren’t subtle at all. you’re lucky that kaiju are so stupid.” 

from behind one of the trees, several people come skulking out with lowered heads, as if they were scolded toddlers.

“i told you this was a bad idea,” says a boy with mint green hair, elbowing a taller, older man. the man hangs his head, recoiling dramatically at the boy’s touch. “you can’t get past hoshina at all.”

“in my defense,” the man says apologetically, remorsefully, “i was just curious where he was going… it’s not often he takes days off. you know this.”

“i warned you,” says a woman with her hair drawn up in a tall ponytail. her voice is quiet, but she’s striking–and you wonder what kind of charcoal you might use to sketch out the sharp lines of her face–and then you realize you’ve seen her face scattered across billboards. mina ashiro?

“i love this bit you guys do,” hoshina laughs, archly, “where you talk like i’m not even here. come on. if you want to–hey, put that–put that down. don’t–”

mina lowers her phone as hoshina blurts it out, her face bemused. 

“sorry,” mina says. “force of habit. i keep an album of every moment where you let your goody facade drop. do you want to see?” she looks at you, holding out her phone. “i have some where he’s asle–” “not on the first date,” hoshina says, his voice pitching higher. 

“first date?” the man’s eyes widen. “captain hoshina, you’re on a date? with that artist? the one who drew you?”

your eyes scan between him and hoshina.

“yes,” hoshina says tersely. “is it that weird?”

“no,” the man says. “just–you don’t seem like the romantic… type?”

“i’m not,” hoshina says.

you feel something like cold ice seize your throat.

“but i… i want to try,” hoshina amends, and his hand reaches out for yours, a grasping thread of intent. you entangle your fingers in his, and the weight of his hands feels right. like a preordained fate–you were always meant to find each other, and the weight and feel of his fingers entangling yours, his knuckles tightening as if he was afraid to see you disappear–

that was right.

“if we’re really bonded by fate, anyway,” hoshina says, glancing at you–and your heart seizes in your throat, caught by how earnest he seems– “i want to see it to the end.”

your face heats up.

“it was–it was just a painting,” you mumble. 

“a really good painting,” hoshina adds, and he laughs.

“you guys are cute,” mina says. “but you’re grossing me out. just a little.”

her face is impassive, but the corners of her lips quirk up a little as she says the words.

“oh, how it hurts,” hoshina says dramatically, pulling you closer to him, “to have stirred the ice-cold heart of mina ashiro so.”

and your face flushes again, brighter, but you cling tightly to hoshina like a lifeline, and wonder what shade of red you might use to carve out the feeling of love in your chest.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

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[jjunieworld]

── 6:41 a.m. ࣪ ˖`

pairing: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff, kinda suggestive?, boyfriend!taehyun, established relationship

synopsis: you’re awoken early in the morning from taehyun’s alarm to go to the gym and decide to go with him. you end up distracting him from his routine with your staring and decide to encourage him with kisses to help him.

word count: 0.9k┊masterlist

a/n: consider this my apology for my february 14th oneshot… i tried so hard to get this out before midnight so it was still on his birthday but time hates me. requested by anon, enjoy! ♡

you were awakened by taehyun’s alarm loudly blaring. sleepily, he quickly turned it off and sat up in the bed. you sat up with him, rubbing your bleary eyes, and glanced at his lit up phone screen. 6:41 a.m., is he insane?

“sorry, baby, i didn’t mean to wake you,” taehyun pressed a kiss to your cheek and swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand. “go back to sleep,” he added. you sulked at him, “where are you going?”

he looked over to you briefly from the dresser, a small grin on his face when he saw your expression, “to the gym. you wanna come?” you thought about it for a moment. it couldn’t hurt.

you nodded enthusiastically and got up. taehyun laughed at you as he pulled out his gym clothes. he then made his way to the bathroom. you dug into your shared dresser for your athleisure that you didn’t wear for working out and pulled out a cute set. wiggling out of your pajamas, you quickly put the set on.

the two of you got ready for the day, brushing your teeth and washing your face side by side in the bathroom. you slid your hair up so it was out of your face. you looked over to taehyun, who was wiping the toothpaste off the side of his mouth. he ran a hand through his blue hair, “ready?” you nodded in response.

you both had gotten to the gym not too long after, the gym being basically empty besides the spare person here or there. taehyun guided you to a corner and you set your stuff down and began stretching with him.

he had you start with crunches, which weren’t that bad at first, but you definitely started to feel them the more you went on. next were lunges. you were done after the fifth one. “i can’t… i’m done. you’re crazy!” you said through heavy breathing. taehyun laughed, not even a single bead of sweat on his forehead, “it’s not that bad!” you just shook your head, opting to sit on one of the benches. “no… i’ll just watch. this was a bad idea.”

taehyun smirked as he finished his warm ups. he moved towards the various equipment the gym had, working through his routine. you sat back and watched him curiously. taehyun moved so fluidly through the room it was fascinating to see.

and you weren’t gonna lie, seeing his muscles stretch and flex, the sweat gleaming off of them, was what was really fascinating. that was the real show.

“i can’t focus with you staring at me so hard,” taehyun said as he pulled down on the weighted machine. his back was to you and you licked your lips at how his muscles flexed. you smirked to yourself, “don’t worry about me.”

taehyun let the equipment fall back as he turned towards you. his hair fell in his eyes in the process. “you’re distracting me!” he said, a smile forming on his lips. you stood to your feet, “here, let me give you some encouragement!”

motioning him over, he raised from the machine with confusion in his eyes. he came to you, an eyebrow raised. “get down on the floor, you’re doing push-ups!” you spoke. taehyun grinned and got down, holding his weight on his hands as he looked up to you. you got down to the floor and laid your head under his so you were staring at him upside down.

taehyun smirked down at you, “what are you doing?” you gave him a cheeky smile back. “one push-up equals one kiss! now drop and give me twenty!” you playfully puckered your lips up at him, causing him to laugh. “okay, chief!” taehyun did one push-up, pressing one kiss to your lips.

giggling, you counted in a singsong tone, “one!” he did another push-up, pecking your cheek. you shook your head. “nope, sorry that won’t do! start over from the beginning!”

“a cheek kiss doesn’t count?” taehyun smiled and you shook your head. he blew out a breath of air as he hovered above you. “and i gotta start from the beginning because of it?” you laughed and nodded your head. he didn’t even have to go back that far, he only did one push-up! taehyun smirked down at you again.

taehyun would do ten push-ups, pressing a kiss to your lips for each one, before making a ‘mistake’ on the eleventh one and missing your lips. he did this six times before you had to stop him due to your giggling and heated face. “you’re abusing the rules!” you exclaimed playfully up to him. he gave you a mock shocked look, “i would do no such thing!”

he brought his lips down to yours again, humming after. “we could do something else if you want?” he whispered next to your ear. you shook your head again, “nice try!”

wiggling out from under him, you sat up and turned to him. taehyun in turn sat onto his knees, pushing his hair off his forehead. “you finish working out and i’ll continue watching,” you told him, trailing your eyes over his figure as you stood to your feet. you smirked at his slightly open mouth and sat back onto the bench.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

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[billybob598]

Were You Gay-Panicking? (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader)

IM BACKKKKK!!! Here's my bi-monthly fic :) I'm actually kinda proud of this one, felt like some good writing. Anyhoo enjoy bitches! As always, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! PEACE

Summary: (first time doing one of these) A few months ago, Kyra had no idea who you were. Now? Now, she was gay panicking everytime she was in the same room as you.

Word Count: 4.6K (WTF?!?!?!?!?!)

Kyra didn’t exactly know how to feel about you. Sure, you were Aussie. Sure, you were an amazing fullback who could run forever and never seem winded. Sure, you were quite possibly the sweetest person ever. Sure, you were stunningly beautiful. Kyra paused, her eyes locked onto you as you laughed that adorable laugh at something Katie had said. Okay, the thing about you being beautiful kind of slipped out. It’s not like it’s not true though. You did have this just natural beauty to you, you barely wore makeup, but you still shone in Kyra’s eyes.

 It was crazy that the two of you had never met before. You were roughly the same age, both Australian and now both Gunners. Unlike Kyra, you’re career up until this point had been riddled with injuries and unfortunate coincidences. Despite being an integral part of the Arsenal squad and having a breakout year last season, you were still not chosen for the World Cup, or any national team camps for that matter. Kyra had heard plenty about you from Steph and Caitlin, she had also seen you a bit on a few of the other Arsenal players' socials. You did have an Instagram account, but you rarely posted. Any true Arsenal fan knew who you were, but casual fans and Matildas’ fans probably hadn’t heard of you. You preferred to work in the background, you weren’t a big extrovert and your personality was more closed off so, consequently you weren’t insanely popular with the fans. So, when Kyra officially met you she had no idea how you weren’t the most liked player.

4 months ago

After finishing some of the required videos and finally signing her contract for The Arsenal, Kyra found herself wandering around the grounds. She had a few minutes until she was supposed to be at a press conference introducing all of the new signings, so she figured she could start exploring London Colney a bit more. As she passes through the locker room she hears some noise coming from the pitch. The distinctive sound of a boot colliding with a ball lures the Australian outside. The scent of fresh-cut grass and marking paint rushes into Kyra’s nose, bringing a soft smile to her face. Another ball gets kicked on the other side of the field. Turning her head, the midfielder is met with the sight of the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on. She watched in awe at how your muscles flexed each time you struck the ball, her breath catching in her throat when you turn around. Your beautifully Y/E/C eyes glimmering, the sun hitting them just right. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought the field was open.” You mutter quietly, your face heating up slightly. 

“Uhm, it’s alright. I’m not here to play or anything. I mean-uh, well actually I am here to play, but not right now. At least I don’t think rig-” Kyra stumbles through her sentences until your giggle cuts her off. She blushes at the sound.

“No, I get what you mean,” you both stand there awkwardly, shifting your weight from foot to foot nervously, “Well, I should probably get going.”

“Wait! Uhh, I mean you sound Australian, you are right?” Kyra asks, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, yeah I am. I’m from Geraldton, you?” Your voice is quiet, but Kyra is already in love with it. 

“Herston, have you ever been?” 

“Yeah, I mean I’ve been to Brisbane, it’s nice.” The conversation comes to a awkward lull, Kyra can see how nervous you are. 

“I’m Kyra by the way.”  She extends her hand out to you. Glancing at it, you smile softly and take it.

“I know, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you. I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“You’re the Y/N Y/L/N? Holy shit, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you.” A small blush forms on your cheeks. Kyra swoons at how flustered you look. She takes another second to admire everything about you. Just as she went to speak again a voice from behind her called out, telling her the press conference was about to start. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With one last smile, Kyra begins to back up and then turns and jogs to the man waiting for her. Tentatively, you touch your cheeks where the blush was still, very prominently, there. 

2 months ago

You watch from afar as Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph swing around from the bars singing along to Strawberry Kisses. A smile appears on your face when Kyra lets out a loud, silly laugh. 

A voice startles you out of your love-possesed trance, “You know, you’re really not subtle, like, at all.” 

“Shut up, Beth.” The England national smirks and for the next fifteen minutes proceeds to tease you about your developing crush on the new signing. 

“Okay, Beth, I think she gets it.” Your saviour, Viv, intervenes after her girlfriend makes a kissy face aimed towards you and Kyra. Beth groans and mumbles something about Viv not being any fun. Viv lets you go back to watching Kyra workout/goof around for a few moments before throwing her two cents in,

“You like her? Like, like like her?”

You sigh, “I don’t know yet. Would it be terrible if I did?” 

Viv shakes her head with a small chuckle, “Would it be terrible if you found someone you really liked and someone who is genuinely a good person? No, it’s not that bad.” You roll your eyes. 

“It feels pretty terrible. But, I guess it’s not too bad, especially since she’s never gonna like me back.” The older woman gives you a look, one that screams “you’ve got to be joking right now”. You and Viv had a certain connection to each other. Both of you were introverts on a team full of extroverts, so it was nice to have someone who didn’t mind just sitting in peace and quiet without any of the pressure of having to be “on”. 

“If Kyra liking you back is so crazy, then why is she staring at you right now with literal heart eyes?” Your head whips forward to find Kyra already looking at you. A blush was already creeping up your neck and you hadn’t even held eye contact for more than two seconds. 

Kyra is watching you carefully when your head turns to look at her. Her heart flutters when your cheeks tint red. A sense of pride swells in her chest at being able to make you blush.

“You two make me sick,” Caitlin says from behind Kyra. Steph is quick to shush the younger Aussie,

“They’re just in love, Cait. You can’t stop young love,” she says an annoying smirk tugging at her lips. Kyra rolls her eyes at her national teammates antics. 

“We are not in love. She definitely doesn’t like me, mate.”

“Sure,” Caitlin drawls out, seemingly unconvinced. 

“She doesn’t. I’m like 1000% sure.”

“Then why does she blush everytime you look at her, smile at her, or laugh?” Steph says, amused.

“Wh-What? No, she doesn’t. I think I’d notice.” The two older Aussies share a look, then they grab Kyra’s head and force it to look at you. Your eyes widen when you and Kyra make eye contact, heat already rushing up to your cheeks. She gives you a warm smile which does nothing to help your burning cheeks. Deciding that you’ve had enough biking for today, you step off the bike extremely ungracefully, bumping into everything and everyone. Kyra giggles from across the gym, her Australian friends rolling their eyes. 

“See? You two are so in love,” Steph tries to convince the younger girl. A frown replaces the small smile on Kyra’s face when you leave the gym,

“Whatever. You guys suck.”

2 weeks ago

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Tony Gustavsson’s calm voice brings you back to reality. 

“Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” Your voice is shaky and weak. Someone’s warm hand covers yours, lifting your head up, your met with Kyra grinning from ear-to-ear. Returning her smile, you say your goodbyes to Tony and place the phone down carefully on the kitchen counter.

 You were, once again, at Kyra’s apartment. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, unknowingly both of you had swallowed down your feelings for each other, convinced the other didn’t feel the same. It was driving the rest of the team crazy, and it was about to get worse. Finally, you had gotten your first call-up to the national team.

You and Kyra had been cozied up on her couch, watching a Christmas movie (because it’s never too early to start is it?) when your phone had began to ring. Of course, Kyra had already received her call a few days ago. It was hardly surprising, after the World Cup and with her recent performances for Arsenal she was an obvious choice for the last two friendlies of 2023. You, on the other hand, had long given up your dream of playing for the national team. Being a little bit older than Kyra and a lot more injury prone, your caps for the Matildas stood at a resounding, zero. You had never even been to a camp. So, last year when Tony never so much as gave you a call, you put your Matildas dreams behind you and focused on your club football.

“Who is it?” Kyra mumbles sleepily, she had been on the verge of falling asleep, it was impossible not to. You were perfectly situated between her legs, your head resting comfortably on her chest. The movie did little to distract her from the scent of your perfume infiltrating the hoodie she was wearing. 

“I don’t know, Ky. It looks like an Australian number.” 

“Wait, I know whose number that is.” She says, now fully awake.

“Who?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to hide her smile, “It’s Tony’s. Like Tony Gustavsson. The head coach of-”

“Yes, I know who Tony Gustavsson is! You don’t think he’s calling to invite me to camp is he?” You exclaim, your nerve levels rising as the phone continues to ring.

“Only one way to find out.” 

Standing up, phone in hand, you take a breath before accepting the call. Kyra sits up on the couch, her hands loosening her grip on your waist. 

“Hello?” Slowly making your way to the kitchen, Kyra only catches your side of the conversation. She takes a seat at the counter watching nervously as you pace back and forth in front of her. You pause. It looks like you’re trying to process everything. “Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” A full-on grin breaks out onto Kyra’s face, she reaches across the counter and takes a hold of your hand. After hanging up, there is silence in the small apartment for a few seconds. 

“So?” Kyra prompts softly.

“I’m going to play for fucking Australia!” You shout excitedly. You both squeal happily, Kyra rushes over and brings you into a tight hug. 

“Now we’re national teammates as well!” Kyra says into your neck, her heart pounding as you laugh your beautiful laugh.

Over the next few days Kyra helps you pack for camp, telling you all of the basic information you’d need to survive while also filling you in on all of the important bits about the team itself. Who’s friends with who, what not to say to this person, why this person acts like this. She was surprisingly helpful. So, when you, Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph boarded the flight to Australia you actually felt pretty prepared. Kyra sat beside you on the flight, chatting your ear off, you didn’t really mind though. It was how your friendship went. Kyra would talk about anything and everything, while you listened carefully, never ignoring her. She found it endearing how you remembered everything she said, sometimes she didn’t even remember herself. 

An few hours into the flight, Steph leans across the aisle asking Kyra if she knew who is supposed to bring them to the hotel when they land. Kyra remembers saying something to you about it so she turns and taps your shoulder. Taking out one of your earbuds, you look at them, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh, do you know who’s supposed to be picking us up? I think I said something about it to you,” Kyra asks quietly, so as not to interrupt the other passengers.

“William.” You answer plainly. Kyra nods while Steph watches in shock.

“How in the hell did you know that? You don’t even know who that is.”

“Kyra told me last night, she also told me that she couldn’t wait to ride the ferry to Vancouver Island when we get to Canada.” Kyra blushes. 

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she says, slightly embarrassed. 

“It’s kind of hard not to when it’s all you would take about for ten minutes.” 

Steph has to cover her laugh at Kyra’s mortified face.

“Is that seriously all I talked about last night?” 

“You tend to do that. It’s actually kinda cute.” That last bit slips out before you can stop it. Now, you’re the one blushing. You decide it’s better to look out the window than to keep looking at them. Steph wanted to strangle the both of you. God, you were so oblivious. How could neither of you see that you were head over heels for each other? Whatever, you’d figure it out. Hopefully sooner than later because she had five pounds on you guys getting together before the new year. 

After landing and grabbing your luggage, just as you said, William was there with a car to bring you all to the hotel the team was staying at. Walking into the lobby, cameras point at you four. Kyra and Caitlin grin and wave goofily at them, probably saying something stupid as well. 

Steph smiles and waves happily, “Good to be home, huh?” 

You walk behind them, looking up and waving at the cameras shyly, “Alright?” 

“Hey, Y/N! Wanna do a quick interview with the other first timers?” One of the social media guys asks from behind the phone camera. Kyra stops. You look at her, uncertainty looming in your eyes. 

She nods encouragingly, “Go on. I’ll take your stuff and get your room.” 

“Thanks, Ky. I’ll see you later.” You smile and follow the man heading in the other direction. 

“So that’s the girl you like!” Charli shouts from across the lobby. 

Kyra flinches at the volume of her best friends voice, “Jesus Christ, Charli. Could you be any louder?” 

“Wanna bet?” Kyra shakes her head, not wanting to see how far Charli can take things today. “She’s really pretty, I can see why you like her.” The blonde says in a much more indoor appropriate voice. Kyra just rolls her eyes in response.

After a few good days of training and getting to know everyone, the team was in Canada. Walking onto the ferry with your hoodie drawn tight to you and your toque covering the top of your head, Kyra was bouncing off the walls with excitement and energy. 

“Kyra, for the love of God, please calm down.” Mini says, trying her best to calm the young midfielder down. Her words have no effect, Kyra continues doing laps around everyone. You were walking Sarah Hunter, another player about to earn their first cap, when Kyra gets in front of you and turns backward to talk to you. 

“Hi Y/N! Aren’t you excited about the ferry?” She asks. Her hyperness, you notice, was starting to annoy some of your teammates, specifically Caitlin, who looked on the verge of pushing her Arsenal teammate into the Pacific Ocean. 

“I am, Ky,” you lower your voice so only those close to you can hear, “But how about we tone it down, okay? We have lots of time to be excited, but maybe just chill for a few minutes so they can tell us where to go and what not, how’s that sound?” 

Kyra listens to you, she falls into step with you and speaks a lot softer and calmer. 

Mini stares on in disbelief, “Oh, Kyra is down bad. I mean, she didn’t even listen to me, but as soon as Y/N says something she’s on her best behaviour.” 

Steph shakes her head, “You should see them at Arsenal, it’s unbearable.” 

You and Sarah were in deep conversation about something Kyra couldn’t care less about. She wanted to go explore the ship, but she promised you she’d be on her best behaviour. Kyra is getting antsy and you can tell, she keeps turning her head every time there’s a new sound. You just needed to get wherever the guide wanted you guys to be and then she can do whatever she wants. Just as the team passes the gift shop, Kyra almost bolts. You catch her though, your hand intertwining with hers and securing her at your side. Kyra is taken aback by your actions and blushes profusely. 

In a break in your conversation with Sarah, you lean over and mumble into Kyra’s ear, “I know, Ky. Just hold still for a little longer, okay?” Kyra nods and presses a small kiss to the top of your head. You almost die of a heart attack right there and then. Blushing, you squeeze her hand and get back into your conversation with Sarah. 

“Holy shit, Kyra needs to man the fuck up and ask her out already,” Charli groans a few meters from behind you. Mini scolds her for her language, but silently agrees with her. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter under your breath as Canada scores, again. Surprisingly, Tony had given you and a bunch of other players their first caps. Unsurprisingly, Canada had been dominating the entire match. You were exhausted from having to run up and down the pitch for all ninety minutes. It seemed like you were the only player who wanted to attack, or defend, or do anything at all. You definitely weren’t blaming the other Matildas on the field with you, for most of them it was their first time in their nations jersey as well. You guys were also facing a team determined to get revenge and send off their hero in the right way, so that was not helping at all. What also wasn’t helping was that there was maybe five minutes left in the match, so both teams kind of switched off. No one really cared about this blowout anymore. 

Kyra was chewing on her nails as she watched another through ball to you get overhit and land straight at a Canadian defenders’ feet. She watched as you began your recovery run, eyes tracking the ball carefully. When Quinn tried to thread a ball to Prince you timed your slide tackle perfectly and intercepted the ball. The bench stood up clapping and shouting encouragement to you. Keeping the ball close to your feet, you stood back up and began dribbling into space. The defense were dropping off, determined to keep a clean sheet. Your eyes scanned the field hoping to find anyone making a run. Unfortunately, your teammates seemed gassed. So, you started to pick up your speed with the ball. Skillfully, you dribbled around Fleming and Grosso, picking your head up once again to find Tameka making a run on the weak side of the pitch. You hit the ball, aiming to lead her into the miles of green grass in front of her. She controls the ball in stride and continues driving down the wide right channel. Continuing your run, you jog up to the top of the box hoping to put any rebounds back into the box. Tameka sends a cross into the box, it heads towards the penalty spot, multiple players jump up for it. Ultimately, Gilles gets most of it and clears it out to the top of the box. Right where you are. Kyra stands up. You watch as the ball arcs in the air and starts to drop towards you. It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. You plant your left foot into the grass, the ball drops and drops and drops. Pulling your right foot back, you wait for it to just drop a little bit more. Now. Straightening your leg, you watch your foot connect with the ball. The ball surges forward while your boot recoils from the impact. Your eyes track the ball as it soars through the air, it slips past the outstretched foot of Buchanan, Amy Sayer jumps out of the way. The goalkeeper tries her best, but it’s useless, the net ripples as the ball buries itself into the top left corner. Screaming is all you hear, you’re frozen in your spot. Suddenly, Mary is in your arms and the rest of the team is hugging you and screaming at you. 

“What a fucking legend!”

“Banger! Absoloute banger!”

“Mate, you’re actually insane.”

“First goal for the Matildas, bitches!”

Tears are welling up in your eyes as you set Mary down. Holy shit. You’ve always dreamed of scoring for the Matildas, all of a sudden that dream was a reality. Mary tugs on your hand and pulls you over to where the subs are screaming and jumping up and down. You laugh. Caitlin and Steph are the first ones to you, yelling at you that you’re a baller or something like that. After they let you go, Kyra is waiting for you. She’s got that blinding smile that you’ve always loved. She pulls you into a hug.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N/N.” Her hands run gently through your hair, you sink into the hug, letting out a sigh.

“Thanks Kyra, for everything. Um, I should go though the ref looks mad.” She nods and relinquishes her hold on you. Jogging back into place, you breath deeply. Finally. You had finally done it. You were a fucking Matilda.

Present Day

The team had gathered for their annual Secret Santa party. This year, it was held at Viv and Beth’s house. All the players were crammed inside the living room, a lot of food had been consumed along with a lot of laughs being laughed. There had been a Christmas movie marathon (2 movies) where you and Kyra had found a nice spot on the couch for the two of you. There had also been a small potluck, everyone brining a small dish to share with the team. Now, it was time for the gift exchange. A few weeks ago, there had been a very formal name-drawing process. There were blindfolds and everything, you were actually kind of impressed at how serious the team took it. You had drawn Frida’s name which you didn’t really mind. You got along with her well, and you were both pretty chill so it was easy to hang out with her. Her girlfriend had helped you track down some Norwegian sweets that you know she loved, you also threw in an adorable polar bear stuffy you found at a cute gift shop in downtown, London. 

Everyone was going in a circle, unwrapping their presents and guessing who their Secret Santa was. So far, there had been some really sweet gifts and some really funny ones. Such as Katie giving Leah a toy keyboard, one that was really meant for two year olds. Katie defended herself saying, “It was appropriate for Leah’s skill level.”

Soon enough, it was your turn. You searched the small tree sitting in the living room for a gift with your name on it. Finding it, you carefully picked it up and sat back in your spot between Kyra’s legs. All eyes were on you as you gently unwrapped the gift, not wanting to be rude and just tear apart the wrapping paper. A gasp escapes your lips, hand flying to your mouth in shock. Everyone asks you what it is. You take it out of its case and hold it up for the team to see. Gasps similar to yours fill the room. A diamond necklace with your first name initial as a pendant hung from your fingers. It must have cost at least £100. You look around the room desperately, looking to thank the giftgiver endlessly. Multiple people shake their heads. Finally, you look behind you, Kyra didn’t meet even try to meet your eyes. Her cheeks were burning red, her hand rubbing her neck nervously. 

“Uh, do you like it?” You could hear the nerves in her voice. You were still a little shocked from the gift, so you stand up abruptly and grab her hand leading her towards the bathroom. 

Slamming the door shut, you whip around to look at your fellow Aussie, “What the hell? Are you insane?” Kyra flinches slightly at your tone.

“Do you not like it? Because I can return it and get you something else,” her voice was unsure. 

“Wha-? Of course I like it! I love it, I love you! But, Kyra this had to have cost a shiton, I can’t accept this as a gift.” You say forcefully, still not realizing what you had said. Kyra had heard it though.

“Wait, did you just say you love me?”

You freeze. Well, you had said that. Not on purpose, though. But, it’s not like it’s not true. Kyra tentatively reaches out and takes your hand in hers, 

“Y/N?”

WIthout even thinking you crash your lips into hers. She gasps, but eventually melts into the kiss, your lips working against each others perfectly. Her hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. Your hands wrapped behind her neck at first before moving into her hair. As you tug on her hair she lets out a soft moan, giving you access to her mouth. Slipping your tongue inside of her mouth, she gently pushes you against the bathroom wall. A soft gasp at the cold tile lets Kyra detach her lips from yours and begin working her way down your neck. She presses wet kiss after wet kiss onto your exposed skin. Finally finding your weak spot, you moan her name quietly. Her perfume, her mouth on your neck, everything about her was overwhelming your senses. 

“Ky…Ky we have to stop, someone could hear us,” you moan out softly as she places more kisses on your collarbone.

“Mmm, maybe. Or we could just keep going?” She smirks playfully at you. Fuck, her smirk did things to you that you weren’t exactly proud of. Rolling your eyes, you pushed her off of you.

“They’re probably waiting for us to continue the Secret Santa. We shouldn’t keep them.”

Kyra groans and drops her head onto your chest. You laugh, and run your fingers through her hair soothingly. 

“Umm, I really like you, you know?” Her voice is muffled against you, but you heard her loud and clear.

“Oh really? I had no idea,” you say sarcastically. She slaps your chest in response. 

“Shut up, asshole.” Another laugh rumbles through your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry. I really like you too, Kyra.” She smiles lazily and leans in for another kiss. 

“Y’know, everytime I saw you I was, like, gay-panicking,” she confesses with a embarrassed smile.

“Awww, were you gay-panicking? That’s adorable.”

“Asshole.”

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Dog Walking

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 3.2k TYPE: Humor, Bad flirting (it's so bad I don't know if i can call it flirting in good faith), Bad matchmaking (there was an attempt), Rivalry WARNING(S): Canon-typical football derangement, canon-typical behavior EDIT: This got a continuation, yay. And an add-on

Kaiser got it in his head that he has taken a liking to you. This is great and all, not like Ness is gritting his teeth and clenching his fists and getting angry or anything, but- okay, he is.

An obvious reason for his displeasure would be jealousy, but that’s not quite it. Ness thinks it would be entitled and insolent of him to feel any type of way about Kaiser’s personal affairs, so he hasn’t even entertained the notion. The problem is entirely different.

Just like everyone else in Blue Lock, you’re… Kaiser-opposed? Is that the right way to word it? Anyway, the point is, your shitty personality is making his job really hard. Which leads the three of you to this current situation.

“Ow! Ness, what the hell is your problem?!” you shriek, after having tripped and fell. The only reason your face isn’t attached to the floor fight now is because you softened the blow with your elbow.

“I didn’t mean it- I’m so sorry!”

“You didn’t mean it? You literally did it on purpose.”

This isn’t how it should’ve played out, though.

You were supposed to fall right into Kaiser’s arms, but you landed about a step away from him. They even practiced this routine with the others! Granted, no one agreed to it and was rather subjected to it whenever in Ness and Kaiser’s general vicinity, and, no, it didn’t work all the time, but they were just getting the hang of it. (Thankfully, no one sustained any serious injuries, apart from bearing some mental scars after hearing Kaiser say ‘Don’t go falling for me now’ in a wannabe suave tone.)

“Yeah, Ness, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Kaiser adds, before moving to crouch down and help you with a smidge of concern in his expression.

Ness’s eyes widen at the betrayal. Kaiser is such a fake bitch sometimes. Not like he’s going to do anything about it, or even that he minds, but seriously? No shame or decorum is on display here.

You don’t buy it, slapping his hands away. “I bet you put him up to it,” you say, before standing up all by yourself. Then you twist your leg around back and forth for a bit, as if to check how well it’s working, before you eventually lift it high up in the air. “Listen, you tie-dyed toerags.”

Ness flinches because what kind of way to address someone is this? Kaiser crosses his arms, shiteating grin receding into a little frown.

“I’m at my most divine when scoring a goal. You see this?” Your foot is now hovering near their faces while you stretch. This… What is it? A flex? A display? Whatever it is that you’re doing right now, Ness finds it unnerving. “It’s what I use to score. If you did something to take that ability away from me, you’d get pretty bad karma, you know? Angels would cry. Believe me.”

Ness tugs on Kaiser’s sleeve — to remind him he’s supposed to respond instead of just stare at you with a blank, creepy look on his face — and, as filler, says, “You’re very, um, flexible.”

“Yeah,” you say, moving into an even more convoluted position. “I have many attractive qualities. Deserving of being a superstar ace, you know? Dump Kaiser. Pass to me. You’re way too good to play second fiddle, Ness. With me, you won’t be stuck in a Tweedlecum and Tweedlepee dynamic.”

“What?! You- you- you, you, you, yooooou-?! What are you talking about?! I’d never betray him! I’m not joining your circus, clown! Unbelievable! Learn your place already. You never learn,” Ness says in a jumble. For some reason, he’s more offended than Kaiser is.

Here’s the thing about you — you’re insane. A has-an-interesting-psychological-file type of crazy. A hollow-inner-world type of crazy.

A Ness-loves-it type of crazy, as objectionable as he is acting to your offer.

“Calm down. No need to get your panties in a twist over some shitty trash talk,” says Kaiser, placing his hand on Ness’s head, forcing him to lower himself in a slight bow in front of you. Finally, you quit your bizarre movements and assume a more proper stance, while Kaiser leans in closer to you, shifting his gaze in your direction. This leaves Ness to watch you two engage in a round of charged glaring… again. Which is always compromising, but then Kaiser has to run his fingers through his hair, too. “You’re just like a chihuahua that hasn’t warmed up to its owner yet. Your barking doesn’t faze me.”

Your eye twitches at the analogy, face scrunching in an ugly way. “The hell did you just say to me? If I catch you somewhere Ego can’t see me, I’ll give you the beating of a lifetime.”

Instead of responding in a normal way, Kaiser points his finger in your face, almost poking you, twirls it around in a circle, which makes you furrow your brows even harder if possible as you scrutinize him like he’s a lower life form.

“See? Doesn’t bite. Totally harmless,” Kaiser says with a lilt of amusement. Then he swings an arm around Ness’s shoulders and turns him around before pulling him along so they can get away from you.

His tone is convincing enough to give off the impression of winning this verbal spat. However, Ness can’t help but notice that they’re speed walking.

___

When Ness turns around, you’re leaning on the bench with your foot, elbow resting on your knee. He lets out an undignified scream, taking a step back, startled, and even drops his water bottle. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! How come you didn’t make a noise? What are you?”

Kaiser regards the commotion with not even a sliver of curiosity and instead grins after nodding at you in greeting. “Look who came crawling back searching for my company, Ness.”

“I was thinking about that stuff you told me yesterday,” you say.

“Really? And what thrilling conclusion did you come to?” he asks, with sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘thrilling.’

“I’m going to spend my points from goals on taking a day off. Come along with me and we’re gonna fight, preferably in front of a big audience that can watch me humiliate you. By the way, it's a duel, so you can’t decline.”

“Wow, you’re asking me out on a date? Since when are you so adorable? I guess I just can’t reject you when you’re being vulnerable.”

“No one likes delusional men, Kaiser. I’d rather embalm myself and then desecrate my own corpse.”

Kaiser appears to find this amusing or in some way adjacent to flirting because his smile becomes a touch more irritating, but also a bit incredulous. “Crazy fucking bastard. You’ve got unique ways of pretending you’re not into me, though. It’s entertaining.”

“Your mouth is like a dirty urinal. You swear like a preteen who just found out what sixty-nine means, worry about that.”

Kaiser stares at you in shock, jaw hanging slightly open. In your head, you consider this a huge win, since it’s the first time you’ve visibly put him off.

“Keep gaping at me, I might just take a piss.”

“H-How dare you?!” Ness lunges at you, and the only thing to stop him from strangling you on live television — sensational, you like it — is the fact that Kaiser is holding him back by the collar. You find the sight of him swiping his fists in the air vaguely adorable. “How can you say these things? Just in general, let alone to Kaiser?”

You observe him in mild surprise for a second and the sincerity in your expression makes it all the more infuriating when you ask, “Oh, you’re still here?”

___

For once in his life, Ness is being very assertive. At least that’s what you think while he drags you over to their side of the cafeteria, fingers curling tight enough around your wrist to probably disturb your blood circulation.

Kaiser pulls out a chair for you when you come into view, then Ness shoves you so you’re sitting, and Kaiser pushes it back in, causing you to almost double over the table. Ness slides over some kind of fancy meal you can’t even identify in front of you. Kaiser leans down, his hair brushing against you, and then he reaches around your shoulder to aggressively stab one of the slices with a fork. With a perhaps demented smile, he declares, “We’re going to talk about strategy today,” before taking the seat next to yours.

“We’re not going to talk about strategy because I’m not one of your groupies,” you say, picking up on the conversation with ease.

Ness plops down on your other side, apparently having decided he has enough authority to lecture you. “No, no, no! This isn’t working. Isagi does whatever he wants, Kunigami does whatever he wants, you do whatever you want. It’s pure chaos on the field! No synergy! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Join us. If you’re not following,” Kaiser adds, his arm finally receding away from you, “this is a compliment. You’re the one best suited for me, which is a big honor.”

“I have a way better idea. How about I continue doing whatever I want, and by the end of this Neo Egotist League ordeal, you two and everyone else you mentioned sing my name in a choir?”

“Ungrateful,” Ness mutters, petulant.

Kaiser grins, mocking, but also intrigued. “Are you still hanging onto the high of that goal against Barcha? Your ego is unhinged and, honestly, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your type is always the most fun to break.”

Like he’s any different?

The score you landed, though — the one Kaiser is referencing — was what sparked his interest. You jumped in and stole the pass Isagi meant for Kunigami, securing the point right under their noses. Then, you faced Kaiser and took him by the chin like he’d done to Isagi on arrival, and even imitated his introduction, “On your knees, Bastard München,” with inconceivable amounts of smugness.

It was… interesting. Outlandish. A first. Ness berated you and Isagi together, but you kind of walked away in the middle of it without a care.

Here’s the other detail which is keeping Ness’s sanity intact (not like he’s renowned for his mental stability, but): Kaiser taking a liking to you isn’t necessarily a good thing, even if he’s treating you differently than the other competitors. It doesn’t say anything positive about your character, isn’t in any way sentimental — it’s more as if someone held up a mirror in front of him and he began obsessing over his reflection.

“I’m big and you’re small. That’s why you can’t tame me,” you say.

“He’s taller than you!” Ness defends.

“Did the voices in your head tell you that?” Kaiser asks you, and he does not acknowledge Ness’s meager attempt to upkeep his honor.

“I mean it. You think you can brute force everything and bend it to your version of reality. That’s fragile. I don’t mind falling from a high place. It kind of appeals to me, actually, you know, crawling back up, but more beautiful.”

The corners of his lips turn up in a manner you interpret as more baleful than usual. “I don’t know if you’re big or if I’m small or whatever you wanna call it, but what I know for sure is that you’re a melodramatic jerk off.”

“Anyway,” you stand up, taking the plate as you do so, “you don’t think often, so I won’t blame you for calling my internal monologue a hallucination. You can’t help it. Bye.”

___

The locker room is an environment you find ripe for picking fights in. Especially when everyone is tired after a practice match. At least the place is free of anyone besides your usual targets.

“Ness,” you say upon approaching them — they’re always together, it almost seems codependent — and then take a hold of his hand, all beguiling. Kaiser scoffs, apparently not interested in getting into it with you this once, while Ness stares at you doe-eyed. “I think it’s about time you get some dignity.”

“What kind of opening line is that?!” he asks, expression shifting from bashful to irritated.

“He’s just been even more awful to you lately and you’re still attached to his asshole like you’re a part of the human centipede.”

“You made fun of me for swearing, but look at the shit you’re saying right now.”

“I do it sparingly and with style. Please stop trying to compete where you don’t compare.” After a dismissive glance towards Kaiser, you turn your attention back to Ness, letting go of his hand to wrap an arm around his waist. “Anyway, the point is, he’s not acting very appreciative of your talent. I could treat you so much better if you passed to me. We don’t even need to entirely exclude him or anything, I’m a tolerant person.”

“I can see and appreciate Ness’s talent just fine. He’ll stay by my side no matter what.” Ness blushes because that’s kind of an intense statement to make out of nowhere? Kaiser’s fingers curl around his jawline before he pushes Ness’s head into his shoulder. “And I’m going to add you to the roster while I’m at it.”

What the fuck is even going on? Maybe the delusions of grandeur you and Kaiser seem to suffer from are becoming contagious, but it sounds like you two are fighting… over HIM? A more well-adjusted person would probably find this objectifying or otherwise demeaning, but Ness, mostly because of who he is — terminally unwanted — wonders if he’s in heaven right now.

Then again, Ness isn’t an idiot. His ignorance is willful. There’s a cap to the nonsense even he is willing to tolerate. So he lets this feeling of I’ve-never-been-happier linger for a little, your bickering fading into background noise, before he squirms away from both of you.

“I’m tired of how you guys are acting,” he calls over his shoulder.

Kaiser is gawking again. You let out an amused whistle, as if you find this development pleasing, before forcing Kaiser’s jaw closed.

“Don’t talk to me… for the rest of the day,” Ness continues, before leaving. His resolve ends on a weak note, but oh well.

“What the hell? Did Ness just reject me?” Kaiser asks, slapping off your pesky hand. “First you don’t want me, now even Ness doesn’t want me. I’m sick of this wretched place. Everything is all out of whack here.”

You burst out laughing. “Are your sensitive little feelings unable to handle a few hours without him?”

“Shut up,” says Kaiser. There isn’t enough bite in it.

“I can tell whatever tantrum you’re about to have is gonna give me secondhand embarrassment, so I’m gonna go as well.”

You’re not prepared for Kaiser to slam you into the locker and cage you in with his arms. Some vein you don’t know the name of looks very pronounced on his forehead, and you don’t think it’s supposed to be doing that?

You roll your eyes. “Take the hint, your machismo shtick isn’t doing it for me.”

“I’m not trying to make a move on you, shithead. I’m sick of your outrageous attitude as well. What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re always leaving in the middle of conversations, even ones you initiated. Do you know how rude that is? No one ever taught you some fucking manners? What’s your home life like?”

Ignoring whatever he’s even talking about — it’s going in one ear and out of the other as usual — you trail your hands over his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I’m listing out all of your personality defects.” He’s not really putting up a fight, though, doesn’t even shrug you off when you move onto caressing his neck. “We’re arguing,” Kaiser says, before leaning in to complete the kiss you were trying to pull him into, and finally his hands drop to rest on your waist.

The contact doesn’t last long, since you take the chance to side step him and swap your positions, before you push him into the locker like he’d done to you.

“Little bitch,” you say with a sneer, and then you dash towards the exit, offering a flippant wave. “I leave whenever I want to.”

What the hell!

___

“You’re unforgivable!” says Ness. What did you even do to deserve this attitude right before breakfast? “Stop messing with Kaiser’s head!”

Oh yeah, you did do that. You almost forgot.

“Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

Ness crosses his arms and taps his foot. He’s not very good at being intimidating, at least in a visual sense, you think. He has a total babyface. “You’re going to apologize. You’re gonna grovel for Kaiser’s forgiveness.”

“Sure, I take hurt feelings very seriously. Answer these questions for me, so I can apologize better later. Which ear were the words of hurtfulness spoken into? Is the damage he suffered permanent? Did he require a tissue for his tears?”

“I- I- I- I?!?! You piss me off so much. I don’t have the patience for this.” Ness pinches the bridge of his nose as if he needs to soothe himself after exchanging a couple of sentences with you.

“If he doesn’t have a mommy to hug him,” you continue without much of an inflection, “we can look for a surrogate.”

With uncharacteristic vice, he squeezes your shoulders, and he’s gritting his teeth, and you think he really might kill you. Maybe not right now, but at some point, this man is going to take your life. “What’s your problem? You’re a nobody, so why are you so high maintenance? Kaiser is rich, handsome, successful, and a football genius. What more could you possibly want in a boyfriend?”

“Wow,” you say, astonishment at something indeterminate apparent on your face.

Ness waits for you to elaborate, but you don’t, instead opting to scrutinize him in silence. “What? Don’t just say wow and then leave it at that. How can someone be so difficult?”

Your expression shifts into something meaner, then, a mocking raise of your eyebrows, a lop-sided but meaningless smile. “It’s just kind of amazing. You can’t help but ride Kaiser’s dick even while trying to guide it inside of me.”

“Wh-huh… What?!” Ness screeches, scandalized. “How… How crude? You're a vulgar moron! Totally indecent! That’s what you are!”

“I mean, can you blame me for being jealous of that kind of attention? You can do crazy tricks on it.”

“Why are you saying those kinds of things to me?! S-Something’s not right with you.”

You reach out and squish Ness’s cheeks together, leaving his lips to pucker, and you can feel his skin burning. “You’re an amusing guy, Ness. I haven’t decided if I find you pathetic or endearing yet, but I like it.” Then you let go of him as casually as you grabbed him, intending to continue on your merry way.

There are footsteps hurrying after you. “Admit your love to Kaiser already.”

Love? A frightening laugh rattles you. Your body jerks upright and you feel like an evil spirit was just exorcised out of you with how unexpected your reaction was, even to you.

“I know you can’t resist his charms. No one can.”

Kaiser’s… charms? You knew it, he’s trying to kill you.

“And- and- and!!! You’re going to play on our side against Ubers, and you’re going to like it.”

You’re borderline in hysterics now, stomach hurting.

“Stop walking away from me! Are you even listening? You should really listen when people talk to you!”

___

Im still loopy so presented without comment. Feel free to tell me wat you thikn the worst line from this abomination is

[rebouks]

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Robin: I had an idea at dinner-.. stand there. Clementine: I’ve never been good in front of a camera… Robin: It’s just an experiment. Clementine: Oh? Robin: You’d think there’d be more proof of ghosts existing if people could take pictures of ‘em, right? Clementine: Then perhaps we already know the outcome of this experiment? [Robin hummed, staring at the screen of his camera with a mixture of resignation and disappointment] Clementine: Well? Robin: You’re not there. Clementine: You don’t sound too surprised. Robin: I s’pose I’m not-.. do you even exist, Clem? Clementine: Ohh, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it? [Robin threw himself onto the couch, letting out a sigh far too wearisome for someone his age] Robin: No one else can see or hear you, and you’re technically not tangibly here either… What if you’re just in my head? What if there’s something like, majorly wrong with me? Clementine: I think you’re just special, darlin’. Robin: Weird, you mean. [Robin flexed his fingers against his chest, wondering what on earth had made him so different from everyone else] Robin: Did I tell you I made a friend on holiday? Clementine: How lovely! Robin: I guess-.. ‘cept I couldn’t even talk to her. Clementine: Oh. Robin: I always thought it was a choice n’ stuff-.. I’m starting to think I might just be broken though, like someone didn’t put me together right, or forgot to turn off creative mode before saving my character. [Robin’s comparison to a video game went straight over Clementine’s head, but it seemed more like he was thinking aloud than expecting a reply, so she didn’t interrupt him] Robin: I bet Alex would believe me-.. I got the feeling she was different too, maybe… Clementine: What makes you think that? Robin: I don’t know, vibes-.. wishful thinking? [Robin could have gone on, but someone had finally discovered that he wasn’t in bed…] Oscar: It’s way past midnight, what’re you doing up here? [Robin shrugged despondently; talking to himself, imaginary friends, ghosts? Each excuse more insane than the last] Oscar: C’mon, we’re not on holiday anymore… … Oscar: It’s only been a few days bud-.. she’ll write soon enough. Robin: How’d you know what I was thinking? Oscar: I’m a super good guesser. [Robin would’ve liked to believe that his father possessed the same abilities as him, but he’d be much more perturbed by his son’s presence if that were the case. He closed his eyes with a morose sigh, deciding that sleep was about the best escape he could hope for]

[impishtubist]

Happy birthday, @arliedraws ! I'm so happy that our paths crossed online and then in real life 💙 I tried writing you a little ficlet based on your Sirius tramp stamp art, but uh, this happened instead.

---

The new math teacher is cool. 

He walks into class on the first day wearing a leather jacket and carrying a motorcycle helmet under one arm. His dark hair is long enough to pull back into a short ponytail, though some strands escape, and he’s got a neatly-trimmed beard and tattoos. The entire class breaks into whispers, and Harry is fascinated. 

Mr. Black is fun. He dresses and acts like a former rock star, and he makes math interesting for once. Harry can’t remember the last time he paid close attention in this class, and he diligently fills the pages of his notebook as Mr. Black takes them through each lesson.

“Excellent work, Harry,” he says one day as he passes back a test, and Harry blushes furiously. This close to Mr. Black, he can smell leather and cigarettes, and see the way the man’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

Mr. Black holds office hours before school most days, and Harry asks Mum if she can start dropping him off early. Mum is delighted he’s taking such an interest in his studies, and agrees. 

“Your father never studied,” she says one day as they’re driving to school. “He still got top marks on everything. Drove me insane. Some of us have to actually work for our grades, and I’m happy you’re putting in the effort, sweetheart.” 

“Morning, Harry!” Mr. Black greets one day when Harry walks into the classroom. Office hours started a few minutes ago, and he’s the only one here. That won’t last long--Hermione won’t be far behind him, and several more of his classmates will come before the hour is up. Mr. Black’s office hours are always busy, which is why Harry tries to be the first one there every day. “I’ll be down in a second. Go ahead and get settled.”

Mr. Black has shed his button-up and is wearing only a thin t-shirt. He’s standing on a stepstool so he can get something down from the top shelf of one of the cabinets in the room. The t-shirt is tight, and Harry watches the muscles of his back and arm flex.

“O-okay,” he squeaks, but he stands there staring at Mr. Black until Hermione comes flying into the room a few minutes later, a dozen questions tumbling out of her at once that Mr. Black is only too happy to answer. 

***

“Harry, are you packed?” Mum calls up the stairs to him.

“Yeah, been packed for ages! Can we go now?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Mum says as Harry comes down the stairs, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Why are you in such a hurry to get to Dad’s, anyway? What mischief does he have planned for you two?”

“Nothing!” Harry says, which is a complete lie. He’s been texting Dad for the past couple of weeks about pranks they can pull on Dad’s awful neighbor, Severus Snape, and he can’t wait to try some of them out. 

His parents have been divorced since he was a baby; Harry doesn’t remember a time when they all lived in the same house.They don’t live far from each other, though, barely a ten-minute drive, which means that Harry can attend his school no matter which parent he stays with. He lives with Mum for a month, and then Dad, and they’ve switched off like that his whole life. Neither of his parents have remarried yet. When Harry was little, he’d wanted his mum to marry his kindergarten teacher, but then Mr. Lupin had married Mayor Shacklebolt and Harry had cried for a week about it. He’s fine with it now, though. They’ve got like five kids now, and Harry does not want any siblings. He likes having his parents to himself, thanks.

Mum pulls into Dad’s driveway, and Harry leaps out of the car and runs to the front door. He lets himself in with his key, shouting, “Dad, I’m home! Wanna go--” 

He stops short. Dad leaps up from the couch, startled, quickly disentangling himself from the man he had been sitting with and--and kissing--

It’s Mr. Black. 

“Harry!” Dad says, running his hand through his hair. “You’re, ah, you’re early--”

“Oh!” Mum had come into the house behind Harry, and she stands there with her hand over her mouth. “James, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would be an issue to be a little early. I didn’t realize you had, um, company. I should have called ahead.”

“It’s okay, Lils.” Dad gives them both a sheepish smile and holds out a hand to Mr. Black, pulling him up from the couch. “It’s about time we told you both, anyway. Harry, this is Sirius--”

“He’s my teacher,” Harry blurts. “Dad, you’re kissing my teacher.” 

“Er, yes, well.” Dad clears his throat. “We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure…but I’ve been seeing Sirius for a few months now, and--”

“Months?”

“I am sorry, Harry,” Mr. Black says. He’s still holding Dad’s hand. “I met your dad at the shops right before school started. I didn’t realize his son was in my class until I saw you that first day. We talked about it, and we decided it was best not to say anything to you until we knew…well, until we knew that this was something serious. No pun intended.”

He winks at Harry, fucking winks, and Harry is going to die. 

“I’m Lily,” Mum says, breaking the awkward silence, and Mr. Black lets go of Dad to shake her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I take it you’re Harry’s math teacher, then? He loves your class. I’ve never seen him so excited about a subject before!”

“Mum!” 

“Harry’s a great student,” Mr. Black says. “I love having him in class.” 

Harry can feel his face burning. “I’m not that special.”

“You are,” Mr. Black says, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. A strong, solid hand. Harry’s knees are going to buckle. 

“I think you’re embarrassing him, Sirius,” Dad says, and Mr. Black steps away. Harry misses his touch immediately. “But we were thinking, Harry…if it’d be alright, Sirius could spend the weekend with us. We could all get to know each other? Maybe go to the cinema, out to dinner, that kind of thing?”

Dad looks and sounds so hopeful. Harry sighs.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, and both Dad and Mr. Black beam at him. “But no funny business, okay? Your room is right next to mine, Dad.”

Dad goes bright red. “Right, no funny business. You’ve got it.” 

Mum kisses Harry on the cheek and gives him a quick hug, and then leaves. Harry’s left standing awkwardly in his dad’s living room with his dad and his teacher, who are dating. Harry grimaces inwardly. The whole time he was noticing Mr. Black’s beard and eyes and muscles, his dad was--was--

Harry stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. He does not want to go there. 

“So we’re still pranking Snape, right?” he asks loudly, more to drown out his own traitorous thoughts than anything else.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Dad says quickly. “Sirius even has some ideas about that.”

Mr. Black pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. It’s covered in his chicken scratch handwriting. “Where do you want to begin?”

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, claustrophobia, lotsssssss of angst - i am the real monster, gun use,

steve is adorable as usual and y/n is... she needs help, my girl is going through it

[A/N: It's 3am and I thought it was a great time to rewrite the ending so if it's bad, that's why. In all seriousness, I am so thankful to everyone who has an insane amount of patience. I am currently on my last few months of uni so it's been hectic but I do still love writing this fic, I just haven't had time :( I hope the weeks of waiting were worth it?

To sum up this chapter... I have officially decided I am incapable of happiness... anyways, enjoy!]

Don't Forget Me

The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me.

Ever since those words slipped from your mouth, the realisation was striking the remaining tethers to your sanity.

The radio had cut out a while ago, leaving a long strand of frustrating static in the air. You couldn’t find yourself to care about that right now. Something wants you here. Why?

As it turns out, you weren’t the only one wondering.

“This monster is running around making gates, and following you? Why you?” Steve had attempted to reclaim the radio signal once it had blared incomprehensible static, but he had no such luck. Instead, he turned back to you, feeling sick at the haunted look on your face.

“I don’t know.” You say quietly, staring down at the damp map lying on the rocky floor in front of you.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Steve states, squinting at the small building your finger currently rested on.

“I’m aware of that.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“But you still think you’re the pattern we can’t quite figure out?”

“I don’t know, Steve!” You suddenly snap before the colour drains from your face. You didn't mean to do that. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s too specific to only be a coincidence. I just don’t know why.”

Steve slowly nods, cautious of the way you were tucking your hands into your sleeves, obviously trying to hide their uncontrollable shaking.

“Is it to do with the virus?” He asks, the question tasting like poison on his tongue.

The virus is almost covering you now, creeping up your jaw. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, and Steve had already seen it. Already the venom was influencing you more than you had expected.

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, mindlessly flexing your fingers.

“Then what’s different?” He looks at you with a soft frown, a look you’ve seen more in the past few days. “If not the virus, what else could it possibly want with you?”

You start to shrug, conditioned to feel like you were in the dark. Since finding the others in the lab, it had become increasingly clear that you were an outsider to their heroic group. You weren’t there when El was first discovered, completely unaware that the small girl adopted into your family was a superhero in her own right. You didn’t fight a demogorgon, or protect the kids from danger, and you especially didn’t save the world.

But this wasn’t about them anymore. This was about you. Your connection. And with all you’ve been through in the last month, you’re the only one who could solve this mystery.

Your breath catches in your throat and Steve finds your eyes, questioning.

“The dust…”

The giant shadow of a monster you had seen before was looming over what used to be the police station. It didn’t have eyes, nor even a face, but you knew it was looking directly at you.

And you felt paralysed.

You watched as it held out an arm… or was it a leg? Whichever, it pointed at you, something fluttered around its shape. Some kind of dust. Black dust.

Everything in you told you to run, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The dust approached closer, slithering along the ground like vines. And you stared, heart jumping into your throat…

Wisps of wind trailed past your ears, unheard from the heartbeat thrumming against your eardrums until it became louder. It wasn’t just wind… it was voices. Incomprehensible murmurs swirling around you.

Until it wasn’t so incomprehensible any more.

“Tell her”

“Dust?” Steve frowns, tensing his shoulders. “You mean the Mind Flayer?”

“That night the shapeshifter separated us.” You start nodding, absent-mindedly moving closer to him. “I remember escaping the arcade and then…”

“Then?” He prompts, a hushed tone to both of your voices despite the privacy of the rocky ledge.

“I saw the Mind Flayer.” You say and he feels a chill run down his spine. “It- I couldn’t move. And these, like, scary images were in my head before I had this really intense nightmare. The next thing I knew, you were there and I wasn’t stuck anymore.”

“You were in some kind of trance. It took me a while to get you out of it.” He recalls, nodding slowly. Even the memory made his stomach clench. “What did you see? The images?”

“Hawkins.” You lower your eyes, slumping back against the hard rock, “It was… it was like it was on fire. Nothing looked the same. There was this giant gap and-and so many monsters. People… bodies.”

“An apocalypse.” Steve finishes for you and you nod your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“If we don't stop whatever it is opening these gates, Hawkins is going to burn.”

Your words struck a chill down his spine, the fear in your eyes evident even as you try and avoid looking towards him. There was a scared determination in the way you started down at the map. It was almost as if Steve could feel the waves in your brain radiating with an idea.

That's cute, Steve thought as you bit your lip in concentration. Adoring you felt better than the dread of an apocalypse.

“I'm going to the motel.”

Steve’s head almost snapped off his neck in the miniscule amount of time it took him to react, staring at you like you were crazy. You are crazy.

“Are you crazy?!”

He expected some sort of retort, or an ounce of an amused grin on your lips. But you only nodded.

“We know this thing is there. If I can catch it, kill it, whatever, I can save whoever is left. This is my chance to stop it.”

You were being reasonable, offering a calm take on the situation with a decision you were ready to face. Steve, on the other hand, took your proclamation as an act of war.

“If you think for one second I’m gonna let you get yourself killed, you’re outta your mind.” He says with a stern face, prompting your brows to scrunch together.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” You shot back and he shakes head in disbelief.

“Y/n, this isn’t just some fun little holiday where you can do whatever you want. You’re gonna walk into a literal death trap!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was already settling in and taking control.

“There is something there that’s been following me, following us! Don’t you want to figure it out? End all of this?!”

“Whatever it is has been managing to rip a gap between worlds with its mind! It’s mind, Y/n!” He stressed, expressing himself with his hands, “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that and neither do you!”

“What does it matter? I’m dead either way!”

You can see him pale in front of you, sucking in a breath.

“Don’t say that.” He whispers out, a quiver in his bottom lip and you hate yourself. Why did you have to hurt the people you loved?

“It’s true, Steve. I’m already out of time.” You tilt your head, a clash of lightning above illuminating the veins that slithered along your jaw. “I want to find whatever it is poisoning our town and I want to destroy it before…”

“Before what? It spreads to other towns?” He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It’s made it pretty clear it only wants Hawkins-”

“Before it gets you.” You finish, staring up at him. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would see your reflection, a reminder of what he was scared to lose, but that you were willing to sacrifice.

“We know there’s a pattern. And now we know it’s me. And… and I don’t know why, but it wants me. This virus is barely hours away from reaching my brain and honestly now is the perfect time to finally figure all this shit out and face it.”

“And if you get killed?” His voice cracks and you bite your lip, pretending like you didn’t know the answer when all you could think about for the past three weeks was the inevitable.

“Like I said,” You gulp, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I’m already out of time.”

“What about your dad? Robin? All of those little shitheads who clearly adore you-”

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Steve-”

“No, I wouldn’t have survived this thing without you here. Neither of us would have survived...”

When his voice trails off, you watch him scrunch his face and take a deep breath. He walks away from you, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking, struggling to make a decision. But he always did, and it was always the right one.

“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder. You silently shake your head, seeing no reason to prolong this fight. “Fine.”

“Fine?” You repeat, unsure you heard him right.

“I can’t stop you.” He shrugs, sniffing back the emotions lingering at the back of his throat. If he couldn’t convince you, he would just have to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “But I can help.”

“Wait, no-”

“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”

A flash of surprise hits your face as Steve breathes heavy, not giving you another second to try and convince him to let you go. You had to understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go. No matter how many times he lived through that scenario in his head, replaying the scene as if you disappearing would leave his heart intact, he just couldn’t do it. Steve knew it was foolish to expect a different ending, but surely he was allowed to have hope.

Was it hope?

Or was it something he refused to see for what it truly was?

A delusion.

“If this thing is really opening the gates, why don’t we, like, make it open another one?”

Steve’s question hangs in the air when he shakes the thought away, realising the obvious answer before the last word even left his lips.

The ground coughed out a soft crunch beneath your footsteps, trailing beside Steve through the twisted crops of Merril’s farm. Even in the Upside Down, the field didn’t differ visually from the real thing. You remember when the crops started to degrade, Merrill grumbling about his neighbour poisoning them. The dispute had been entertaining to you. But now you knew the truth, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you trip over a vine, managing to regain your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Steve is by your side at an instant, brown eyes laced with worry scanning you.

“Nothing, just tripped.” You dismiss, frowning at the vine behind you. A shudder rolls down your back when you think you can see it moving, but the clash of lightning above was probably playing tricks with the light.

As you go to take another step, your vision blurs. You try and blink it away, rubbing at your eyes. There’s an unsettling rush of heat beneath your skin, scorching your nerves. It should be cause for panic. But you’ve been through this before. Your only fear was knowing you weren’t hiding it anymore.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve quickly grabs onto your shoulders and you blink as he catches you before gravity took you victim. You didn’t even realise you were falling. “Hey, you okay?”

No. Steve already knew that. How could you possibly be okay when the virus was slowly closing in on you?

“Just… give me a minute.” You catch your breath, trying every technique to stabilise your heart rate as you fall into a squatted position. You hated that this thing was slowing you down, and you hated being out in the open like this, knowing that because of you, the both of you were going to be in more danger than necessary.

Steve stands by your side, slowly sliding the bag from his shoulder to fish out his bat, hand wavering over the metal weapon resting below. No. That was for emergencies. This was just his paranoia setting in.

“Nice day, huh?” Steve offers when the silence became unbearable, making you laugh. He smiles. He loved making you laugh.

“I’ve seen worse.” You reply, standing back up and taking another breath, slow and easy. “Okay, I think I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“M-hm.” You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you adjusted your bag and found rhythm between your footsteps once again.

It was getting scarier, the time between your virus lapses decreasing more and more. You weren’t ready to turn into one of those things. No one could be.

How would I stop myself from killing?

Your eyes drift over to the boy next to you, his admirable determination guiding you both through the farm like it was his life’s mission.

What if you took his life?

You snap your head away, focusing on your breaths. One breath in. Hold. One breath out.

Will I have to watch myself murder innocent people?

One breath in. One breath out. One breath in-

“Y/n?”

Sometimes the dim light of the Upside Down was a blessing. The low exposure shielded you from seeing the way he looked at you; with concern, sadness, pity. You found it hard to be so vulnerable like this. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You barely allowed yourself to be perceived unless it was for all the wrong reasons.

It was a stupid stupid habit to bear such hatred towards yourself for feeling. But this is how you been for years now. You weren’t sure how to be any other way.

“You’re suspiciously quiet.” Steve comments, attempting to lighten the dreary mood. “Not that I’m complaining. Finally, some peace.”

“Rude.” You reply almost instantly, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.

Steve hated how dark it was in the Upside Down. Without much light, he was unable to study your features in times like this, to watch the joy return to your eyes after weeks of torment.

But even in the dark, he knew exactly how much hurt you were hiding beneath that worn-out mask of yours.

“Seriously. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks you as he scrunches his face in disgust as the tip of his shoe brushes against the pile of inedible black mush that once was a pumpkin.

“Other than monsters, the apocalypse, and my general state of being?” You smirk at him, but he already sensed your hesitancy.

“Yeah, the important stuff.” He shrugs with a chuckle.

I’m scared if you don’t run away, I might hurt you.

You shake your head free of intruding thoughts, focusing on the ones that sparked unusual butterflies in your stomach.

“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”

“Um, you said something earlier. Back at the quarry.” You force yourself to keep walking, trying to hide the smile in your voice.

“Like what?” He blinks innocently. A jolt of anxiety rushes through your brain.

Oh god, what if he didn’t mean it? He could have just gotten confused, or caught up in the intensity of it all and you were about to embarrass yourself for ever thinking differently.

As painful as it is, that option was probably the best one. Maybe then it’ll make it easier when the virus destroys you.

“You, um… you called me your… girlfriend.” You almost cringe trying to finish what you started.

Steve almost trips, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Oh. That.” Steve lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… you know, it was just, uh…”

“Heat of the moment?” You offer quietly and he clears his throat.

“Yeah, right. Heat of the moment.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s- that’s what I thought it was.” You shake your head, wanting to move on from this subject as quickly as you could. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“Would it… would it be so bad if it wasn’t just the, uh, heat of the moment?” Steve suddenly asks.

You go quiet. Too quiet. And Steve clicks his tongue.

“Oh.”

“No, I didn’t mean-” You scrunch your eyes shut, footsteps slowing to a complete stop. “It just doesn’t feel right to say it.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Of course it does. Nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life, you want to scream, seal it in stained ink. But you had to look at the reality. You were going to die. You just wanted to make it as emotionally painless as you could.

“We’re not… we aren’t meant to be together, Steve.” You lie straight through your teeth, avoiding his eyes.

Steve scoffs, a hand on his hips as he looks at you in disbelief. “Yes, we are.”

“No. We’re not.” You say with a little more conviction, shaking your head. “This. Us. It’s not… how do we even know it’s real?”

When you avoided his eyes for a little too long, his hands find your face, cupping your cheeks to gently tilt your head to look at him. You just softly take them away, but he never lets go of your hands.

“If the gates hadn’t opened that day in detention… we never would have even looked at each other again.” You say, sadness coating your voice.

“But it did happen. And I’m looking at you right now. We got through it. Together.”

“We survived together. We- we relied on each other because we literally had no one else to.” You frown, shrugging it away as if your own words weren’t hurting you. “We went through literal hell and that’s what we bonded over. We don’t- How can you say this is real when we’ve been faking it all since day one? Let’s just be honest, it’s not gonna go any further so let’s save us both some time-”

“You’re doing it again.” He interrupts, his gaze on you unwavering.

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re pretending like you don’t care.”

You don’t respond.

“I care. A lot. Probably too much for it to just be a- a survival bond or whatever you said. And it’s definitely not fake.” He lets out a soft laugh, heart racing faster. “Actually… I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt something so real with someone before. It’s like- like breathing. You know? I can’t breathe without your stupid cute little face in my head or your annoying voice making me feel calm, or-or even this right here, your delusional belief that someone can’t possibly be in love with you which makes me want to just shake it out of you because it’s true, Y/n. It’s real. I’m in love with you, okay?”

Your mouth parts in silence, just looking at him, stunned. You were only trying to convince some excuses, to try and make it easier when it all inevitably ends. But you hadn’t really taken into account how much you both felt. And now everything was going to be so much harder.

“So, uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, releasing you from his hold and shrugging. “Just accept it.”

You both stand there for a moment, reliving his words. I’m in love with you. Steve doesn’t regret it, but he starts to feel nervous the longer you don’t say something.

“Can you… can you promise me something?”

Steve holds his breath. He knows what you’re going to ask. And he knows that no matter how many times he runs through that scenario in his head, he never pulls the trigger. He won’t take your-

“Don’t forget me.”

It wasn’t the promise he was expecting, brows furrowing with the intention of your words. He just wants to hold you, yell at you until you understood he couldn’t leave you behind, he wouldn’t let the virus take you. He’d find a cure, make one if he had to.

But he didn’t have time to figure out where to start because he was suddenly very aware you were both out in the open. And something was rustling the leaves, watching.

He quickly raises his bat, eyes focused. He can just make out a shadow, making him squint. Probably just another demodog, nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Except it’s taller. Almost… human?

And then he sees the glowing eyes, the gaping mouth. It was the screaming monster from the Radio Shack.

“Steve?” You frown once you catch it too, looking at him, waiting for his call.

“Once it screams, we run. Every monster and their mother is gonna hear it, and we need to get out of the open, fast.” He hisses between his teeth as he watches the creature weave its way through the trees, drawing closer.

“And lead them all straight to the motel?” You whisper back at him, and his face pales. There goes that plan.

“Shit.”

“What about that house?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head to your left. “The huge one on that hill? It’s the opposite direction from the motel and the closest thing-”

“Oh, god, no.” Steve breathes out, shaking his head with determination. “Remember what Robin called it? You do not enter a house called the murder house. Especially when you’re being chased by murderous flesh-eating monsters!”

“It’s pretty much our only choice right now.” You stress, the small hairs on your arm prickling the closer the creature gets. “We run through, slip out the back, and tail it to the motel before it’s-”

If Steve had any objections, you never heard them. All you heard was the terrifying scream rippling from the unhinged jaw of a ghostly woman.

“Run, run!” You yell, already feeling the effects of an ear-splitting pitch.

Steve immediately grabs your hand and you run, blindly trusting the boy you had assumed your enemy for 4 years of your life.

He wasn’t sure if you’d both be able to get inside in time, fully away of the hoard of monsters emerging from the shadows and chasing you down. It was a risky bet, this house. But you were right. It was the only option.

If Steve wasn’t so adamant on moving fast, he might have felt the soft tug of your arm as your body struggles to keep up, the stretch of the hill proving the laws of physics were never your friend. As long as your hand was in his, you were going to be fine.

The harsh creak of rotten floorboards as Steve barrelled into the room echoed menacingly in his ear. He quickly dropped your hand, pulling you behind him and making haste of tugging a tall and heavy cabinet down so it blocked the entrance. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would give you both enough time to slip out unnoticed.

“That should keep them back, we gotta-”

Steve expected to find your hand as he reached back for you, but the space was bare. He spins around, stomach lurching when he finds you’re already sat against the wall, looking worse every second.

“No.” He drops to his knees and cups your head in his hands when you struggle to keep it up, swallowing his anxiety, “No, hey, sweetheart, hey. Look at me.”

Your weary eyes meet his and his breath hitches. The black veins were now creeping up your cheeks, spreading quicker in the past few hours than they ever had before.

A sudden chorus of thumping snapped his attention, the barricade against the front door almost shattering under the weight of its attackers. It wouldn’t hold much longer. He knew you weren’t in any state to run to the motel, and he had to think fast.

Steve loops his arm around you and pulls you to your feet, muttering a string of apologies as you wince. His eyes catch the bleeding moonlight from above, enticing an idea.

It felt like your whole body was on fire, any movement contracting your muscles to pain until you could nearly faint. But you had to try, you had to move. For him.

He could sense your determination as he moved you both up the staircase, your legs wobbling but making it to the top in a timely fashion. His admiration would have to come later. Right now, he needed you both safe.

The hallway was long and dusty, Steve’s eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He’s unsure where to go next, a lengthy display of doors scattered either side of him as he helps you walk further into the house. Maybe there was another-

A giant crash echoed out in splintered waves, dread flooding his body.

They were here.

Picking the closest door, he drags you both inside and takes care to shut it as quietly as possible, knowing one loud sound could be the end. His nerves were on high alert, struggling to make the life-saving decisions his friends usually expected from him. But the stakes were different this time. There was no one to bail him out if he makes the wrong move, no Nancy or Jonathan to come save the day. It was just him, protecting you.

The door had apparently led to a bedroom, his eyes scanning for a chair or a dresser to block- No. No. That would just make more noise- But what if they got in?

Hide. You need to hide.

Pulling you close to him, he spots a large closet on the other side of the bedroom. That would have to do.

It omitted a soft creak, making him grimace. He carefully lowers you down, noting how you were forcing yourself to breathe in even intervals. You were fighting it as best as you could, and that was all he could ask for.

As he joins you, he manoeuvres you so you were situated between his legs, knowing this would be the only way to ensure you both fit in the small space. His bat is digging into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, his back pressed against the side of the closet as he watches the bedroom door through the crack of light, holding his breath.

He couldn’t hear anything, but that was the scary part. He had hoped to hear the creatures crash through the ground floor and somehow be tricked back outside, relieving his mind with the knowledge he made the right decision.

The space was becoming all too small, even with the door cracked open. And that’s when the fear came creeping in.

What if a demogorgon found you?

What if it tracks your scent, follows the trail up the staircase, opens the third door on the left?

What if it stalks into the room and starts listening closely, hearing his quickened breaths of panic?

What if the last thing Steve saw was the thing ripping open the closet doors, a set of giant claws caging you in, knowing there was no escape?

What if you both died in here?

He exhales a long breath, fading back into reality when he feels something gently squeeze his hand. Your hand. You had intertwined your fingers with his, head laying back against hisshoulder, sensing his anxiety.

Steve had known he was claustrophobic for a while now. As a little kid, he remembers when he and his friends would play in the woods, a hollowed tree trunk on the ground marking the final destination of their adventure. That was the first time he felt fear, he thinks, curled up halfway through the tight space as his shirt was caught on protruding bark. He remembers his friends laughing and leaving to go find his parents when it became all too serious, assuming they had abandoned him there.

The tunnels were far worse than his 7 year old self’s nightmares. When the demodogs came barrelling towards them, his sudden realisation that he would be dragged back into those tunnels and left for dead, he had never felt so hopeless. He couldn’t even fight, not really. He could only attempt to shield Dustin with his body, and pray they made his death quick.

He never really knew how to get himself out of these situations. His parents had enticed him out with harsh words and false promises, eventually dragging him out by his arms when his mind couldn’t stop imagining the tree collapsing in on him. The demodogs hadn’t attacked in the end, sparing them with pure luck and giving him no time to reflect on his darker thoughts, the kids needing him more than he needed closure from himself.

But one single touch of your hand changed everything. No words, no rush. Just a reminder he was still here. And you were here with him.

He felt your body tense the moment the floorboards out on the hallway creak, just quiet enough to let him know the creature was trying to be silent. Something was looking for you.

The virus had taken its toll on you, the past few minutes of your life flashing by in a blur. You don’t even remember climbing into the closet, waiting in suspenseful agony for a sign that the coast was clear. But all of a sudden, you had finally returned to reality, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat on your back.

You almost flinched when you heard something bang against the bedroom door. It was sudden, ricocheting an echo of vibration through the floor. And then it was complete and utter silence.

You must have been shaking because Steve holds you closer, forcing you to take a few quiet breaths. You’d be okay. It will be okay.

Another sharp crash blares out, but it’s further this time. Whatever it was outside of that door was leaving, finally. But that didn’t stop you both from sitting there for a little while longer, afraid to move from the safety of the wooden walls.

It was you who made the first move to leave, shifting in his arms and pointing to the door. You had caught your breath now, shaking away the virus’ side effects with strength Steve could only respect.

Steve pushes the closet door open and you are finally back on your feet, offering a hand to pull him up with you.

“That was close.” He breathes out with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He retrieves his bat from the wardrobe and turns around to see you’re stood still with a guilty expression on your face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper out, shaking your head. “We could’ve- it’s my fault.”

“What? No.” He crosses the room and pulls you into a hug, one you definitely needed. “No, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”

After a moment, he pulls away, sucking in a breath. “Now let’s get the hell out of here because this place is giving me the creeps.”

You nodded to his words, shivering as you observed the room you stood in. It looked like a master bedroom, possibly decorated for a couple to reside in. Everything was either covered in dust or cobwebs, a pang of sadness hitting your chest.

You knew the rumours of this place; a man going crazy and killing his entire family, their ghosts now haunting the place ready to collect more victims. But right now, you didn’t feel haunted.

A family had died here, the home clearly decorated with care and love from the people who never got a chance to live in it. And it has just been left like this, to wither and rot away.

Steve poked his head out of the door and listened out, making sure you weren’t just walking into a trap. He did the same as he leaned over the banister, clocking the wide open front door, now adorned in malicious claw marks.

“Fastest route?” He asks as you join him at the back of the house, squinting into the horizon.

There were only two options; along the road and out in the open, or through the woods with little to no light. You tried to think back to when you originally thought of the plan, retracing your steps.

“I’m thinking, uh…” Your voice suddenly cuts off and you turn to stare at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. Steve frowns. “Do I remember you calling me sweetheart earlier?”

Heat rushes to Steve’s cheeks. “What? No. That would be weird. I don’t have a pet name for you. Or any name, actually. Other than your actual name. Maybe ‘asshole’. Not- not sweetheart- right, we’re cutting through the woods this way.”

He marches off before he becomes any more of a mess than he already is, hearing your laughter as it trails behind him.

“So… where the hell is this mysterious gate maker gonna be?”

You were both stood in the parking lot of Motel 6, eyes scanning each room as if a source of light would illuminate the monster you were hunting. If your theory was right, and it was all originating from here… how long has it been right under your noses?

“Maybe it’s like the gates.” You offer, shrugging. “What did Dustin say? In the heart, or something. The middle.”

“I hope not.” Steve states and you turn to where he was suggesting.

The heart of the hotel wouldn’t be one of the rooms, nor the office. And you had a suspicion Steve had thought correctly.

The basement.

Staring down at those two daunting metal doors, you feel your skin prickle. You take a glance over your shoulder, frowning.

In all three weeks you’ve been down here, you’ve never encountered a single monster at the motel. It had been a last minute resort for safety, ensuring you weren’t followed, picking room 303 as if it mattered. You were pretty good at sneaking around the place, but you never realised how truly odd it was that no monster ever followed you.

Maybe that answer was waiting for you behind those basement doors.

“Wait,” Steve gently places a hand on your waist as you move towards it, staring down with brown eyes of deep concern. “Are we sure we really wanna do this?”

“There isn’t another choice.” You say, yet you were still hesitant as you walked up to the doors, forcing each step you took.

No locks, no obstacles. Just a pair of metallic blocks on hinges. That felt worse somehow.

“If I had a nickel for every time I had to go down into a cellar to look for a monster…” Steve sighs to himself, catching your curious look. “Uh, I’d only have, like, two. But still. That’s two more than I should have.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breath caught in your throat.

Are we sure we really wanna do this?

The unsatisfying creak of metal echoes across the parking lot, Steve letting out a low whistle as he stares down into darkness.

“I’m sure this won’t be creepy at all.” He comments, taking the first step down before you had the chance. You’ve noticed that about him, always the first to enter an unknown room. A protector.

Light bleeds through a small window on the other side of the cellar. There was more space than you were expecting, but the strangest part was the fact there was nothing in here. Like it had never been used to store anything.

“It’s empty.” You announce, stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room.

“Maybe the landlord kicked it out.” Steve shrugs, silently relieved. He catches your fallen expression and places a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll find another way.”

And then the basement doors swing shut, the sound rattling through the dark cellar at an alarming pitch.

“Shit!”

Steve drops his bat and rushes back up the steps to push against the metal doors. Nothing. He drives his shoulder into it. It doesn’t budge.

“How is it locked?!” He grunts, giving it one last try before backing away, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any lock on it!”

Your stomach drops.

You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.

The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.

Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.

It didn’t budge.

You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.

“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”

“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

It was all happening again.

You had just walked into another trap.

“It’s here.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Steve is on high alert, frantically looking around the basement. But it’s still empty.

“Nothing is here, Y/n.” He frowns.

“Not on this side.” You gasp when something suddenly echoes in your ear. You look at Steve, startled, but he doesn’t share the same expression.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”

You start moving around, trying to find a spot to make the incomprehensible whispers clearer. Steve’s heart is pounding louder.

“It’s that voice again.” You mutter to yourself.

“Voice? Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Steve manages to catch you for a split second, and you meet his eyes. His face drops.

The veins were creeping up your face, laying just beneath your eyes. He places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up.

“Y/n, you don’t look so good.”

“It has to be here.” You shake your head out of his hold, stepping back. “The map- it has to be here!”

And then you hear it again, the voice. Except, this time, it’s so much clearer.

“Tell her”

You suddenly stop, letting out a gasp and Steve’s anxiety is sky-rocketing. You were both trapped inside this basement with something he couldn’t see.

He tries the doors again, thumping his fist against it like it would dislodge something. Nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he clocks the window. Maybe…

Steve sprints over, dropping the bag off his shoulder and onto the floor beside him as he fumbles around for some kind of latch. Something rattles and he smiles. Bingo.

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body.

That same familiar feeling starts twisting in his gut, the same he always had when something is really really wrong. He never ignored it, never wanted to, because it was always right. But he didn’t want to believe it this time.

He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

Lips he had once kissed.

Lips he would never kiss again.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore.

His eyes slowly drift to his bat, making him clench his jaw. It was closer to you than it was to him. He wouldn’t be able to reach it in time.

But he knew he wasn’t completely defenceless. He just wasn’t sure if he had the strength to use it.

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement.

With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

It was your idea to take a pistol from the cabin, knowing you couldn’t use it unless it was in moments of emergency, afraid the rippling sound of the bullet would alert every monster in the town. You both swore you’d never have to use it.

And here he was, pointing it directly at your head.

“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”

“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.

“You need to listen-”

“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”

“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”

“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”

He knew this was coming. You knew this was coming. You’ve been trying to warn him for weeks now, pleading to him. And he never listened. He never wanted to.

Three weeks ago, Steve would have shot you in that school hallway if you had turned after the bite, the memory bitter but his heart still intact.

Three weeks later, Steve would rather shoot himself then live with the memory of putting a bullet between the eyes of the girl he was in love with.

It can’t end like this. It can’t.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend.

A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals.

Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut…

… and he pulls the trigger.

“STEVE!”

Your throat was sore from relentless screaming, sobbing with your entire chest.

Steve had rushed over to the window just after you heard that voice. You had turned your back on him, distracted by what you thought was a shadow hiding in the walls.

You heard him call your name. But when you turned around…

His eyes were rolled back, stood deathly still.

“Steve! Wake up!” You keep trying to shake him out of his trance, watching as a trail of red bleeds from his nose. “No! No, wake up! Steve!”

More and more whispers echo around you, building up until all you heard were the same repeated words.

“What do you want?!” You scream into the dark, cheeks stained with relentless tears. Steve was dying, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

In a desperate attempt for help, you crouch down by the window and start rifling through his bag, batting the gun to the side to grab the radio.

“Hello?! Is anyone there?! Please!!”

You cry out in frustration when all that responds is the piercing static.

“That won’t help you.”

The radio slips from your hand in shock, clattering against the concrete as your wide eyes fixate on the image in the corner.

Something was forming from the shadows, pulling together pieces of the dark like it was dust. Your body floods with ice. The basement had never been dark. You were just surrounded by the same black dust that haunted every single nightmare.

Your shaking hands swipe the bat from the ground and grip it tight, shielding Steve’s body with your own. You hear his breaths become shallower.

“You were never meant to find me.” It spoke in a dark voice, fading in and out like a weak connection.

A gasp slips from your mouth when the particles build its final form. A silhouette of a man, featureless yet distinctive. Of all the creations you had envisioned, you didn’t expect the monster to be so… human.

A man.

“What do you want?!” You yell at it, raising the bat like it would scare it away.

“I tried time and time again to get you to understand.” He spoke, drifting closer to you. “I gave you the future. Visions. A simple task.”

Something like a sob escapes Steve’s lips and you whip your head to him, feeling completely and utterly helpless. You weren’t going to defeat the monster like you said you would. And now you were going to watch him die, knowing you were the only reason he was down here with you.

“It was the only way to make sure you listened.”

You turn back to the monster, a scowl twisting onto your face.

“Let him go.” You warn, but you knew your threat was meaningless.

“You have no power here.” He states, and you could almost feel the shadow smiling at you with malicious intent. “I make the rules.”

Goosebumps return to their path along your skin, trailing up your arms and prickling at your neck, making you shiver.

“I will let him go… Once you carry out one important task.” He nods, closer once again. You shift your body protectively in front of Steve, holding your breath.

“What…” You blink away tears, feeling suffocated by his presence.

You understood why the other monsters were so afraid of the dark.

Your arms didn’t feel attached to your body when they suddenly start to lower themselves, a shadowed hand reaching for your face.

“Bring me the girl.”

You frown, shaking your head. Girl?

As if he heard your thoughts, he leans close to you, speaking one word.

“Eleven.”

“El?” You gasp, and he steps away from you, observing. “Why- what do you want with her?”

“Bring her to me, and I will let him go.” The figure doesn’t answer your question, tilting its head. “Once you leave this place, you’ll find her, and you’ll bring her to me. That is all I want.”

“And if I don’t?” You raise your chin, regaining the feeling in your arms.

He slowly raises his hand, pointing it to the boy behind you. At first, nothing happened. And then you watch in despair as Steve’s body starts to slowly lift from the ground, a strained yell of pain.

“Stop!” You beg, and the shadow obeys, Steve’s feet touching the ground.

One little action and it was so simple it was terrifying. If you don’t bring El to him, he’ll kill Steve.

This monster knew you. It had been following you around since the dust you encountered, observing the things that made you tick, the things you loved, hated, needed. He knew exactly what would make you listen to him.

He was the Voice that had been haunting you for weeks.

You look back at Steve, almost crying out when you notice he’s lost more blood in the time you’ve taken to decide. You couldn’t do that to El.

But you also couldn’t watch Steve die.

“Fine.” You sob, nodding. “Just let him go.”

“You’ll know where to find me”

And then the shadow is thrown back into the darkness, hitting a wall and sinking back into it, dispersing the dust in scattered patterns on the surface.

Steve gasps behind you, and you spin around to catch him as he stumbles forward.

“Steve!” You cry in relief, wrapping your arms around him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Y/n?” He sounds surprised, almost sad, observing every little detail of you as if he couldn’t decide if you were real. “Wait, you’re… what happened?”

“I-”

You try to reply when a loud hum starts building behind you, your attention needed elsewhere.

The middle of the wall starts to burn away, splitting apart and blackening at the edges. The humming only became louder, a dark red hue casting your shadows.

The Voice was creating a gate. For you. To pawn your sister’s life for Steve’s. Once you stepped through it, you’d be signing a death warrant.

If you stepped through it.

“What the fuck is happening…” Steve blinks at the gate, aware of the tightened grip your hand had on his.

In his vision, he had shot you. He had committed the most unspeakable act he had time and time again refused. The worst part of it, was he thought it was real. He made that decision.

But it was all a lie, and you were here, holding his hand with a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.

“You have to go.” You say to him, your words hazy to his ears. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was back in reality, struggling to make sense of the walls around him. “Steve, listen to me. You have to go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “What about… what about you?”

A booming chorus of thumps against metal suddenly arose from the basement doors. Your stomach dropped.

The creatures weren’t afraid of the dark anymore.

When the gate had spread into a human-sized portal, you start pushing Steve towards it. His sneakers were just touching the edge before he realised what was happening.

“Hey, hey! No!” He stops, and you’re not strong enough to overpower him.

“Steve, you have to go! They’re gonna break through any minute!” You cry, watching the ever-growing dents in the metal above the staircase. “Please, you have to go!”

“I’m not leaving you, Y/n!”

“It’s already too late.” You sob, wiping away your tears. Tears that felt hot, burning against your skin.

The skin littered with black veins.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it 5 steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to rest on yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you pull back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Steve scrambles to his feet, tugging at the dangling pieces of membrane to try and stop the process.

“Y/n!” He yells at you, the unwelcome fear striking his nerves when he hears a loud crash from the other side.

Judging by the look on your face, it was exactly what he thought it was.

“No! No! Y/n!”

The gate is getting smaller, but his screams are only getting louder, fingers desperately trying to pry it open like a set of doors. But it was useless.

He can just make out a rush of silhouettes, your retreating form.

And then he was clawing at a concrete wall, body shaking with the intensity of his tears.

“No, no, no, no!” He yells in rage, his fingers scraped and bloodied.

For the last three weeks, all he wanted was to be on the other side. And now he was here, without you, it felt worse than hell.

He barely heard the creak of metal doors open behind him, or even saw his shadow suddenly cast onto the space he lost you forever.

Steve didn’t notice anything until a voice calls out behind him, causing him to turn and squint against the beaming light.

“Steve?” Hopper frowns, squinting. “Steve.”

He rushes down those steps and drops the flashlight, both hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Hey, kid, you alright?” He asks, but Steve can barely speak. “Kid, look at me.”

Steve looked at him, a torn and broken version of the boy Hopper had seen last. He can feel Hopper’s hands tighten, a look of horror clouding his eyes.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Don’t forget me, you had said to him. A bittersweet promise of a memory.

Steve wasn’t ready to make you a memory.

“She’s still back there.” He finally said, swallowing the bitter lie that was about to coat his tongue. “We got separated.”

He lowered his eyes, unable to look at him, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at his chest. It was cruel, to lie to a father so desperate to get his daughter back. But he was afraid the truth would show you were like your father in more ways than one.

Steve needed to do this. No matter the consequences.

“She wants us to find her.” He finally says, nodding. “She wants us to bring her back.”

To be continued...

[A/N: GOH will return for yet another installment! I'm separating the story into parts so I can trick my stupid brain that only gives me writers block into thinking it's only a short story. I honestly plan for this to last forever. Or at least until I run out of ideas lmao.]

taglist:

@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: This time, it's different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. At this point he’s stopped lying to himself – Joel’s here to see you.  pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: some angst, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts and actions (but no smut -- as always, dm if you want specifics), divorce mention. a/n: The next few weeks of my life will be insane (and NOT just because succession is coming back). I want to keep updating this, but something's gotta give, because the way I've been writing is not sustainable unfortunately. So updates may end up being shorter and the fic having more parts, or updates might be less frequent with longer parts. Also, a question for my loyal readers: Do you make your shirley temples with ginger ale or with Sprite/7up? Because I came from a sprite/7UP family but once i discovered ginger ale instead i was HOOKED. So i am a Ginger Ale Shirley Temple Truther.

-May 5, 2003-

Please pick up, please pick up, you cross your arms in front of you, looking over your shoulder. The pointed toe of your heels clacks against the asphalt as you tap it repeatedly, a steady beat. You have no reason to be so nervous, right now. It must have something to do with who you are calling, not just why. 

“Hello?” the droning ring is interrupted by a voice that sounds skeptical, they don’t recognize your number.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Hey, you,” his tone evens out when he hears you say his name. He had given you his cell phone number a few weeks back, the night he’d caught you smoking on your back porch. In case I’m not home and something’s goin’ on with Sarah, he’d said. It made sense, though all it did was tempt you to call him many times before this, and not about Sarah. You were worried because…maybe this was out of line.

There’s noises in the background that threaten to drown Joel out – saws and various power tools whirring, a jackhammer, men calling out to each other. It’s loud. At your job, you close the door to your office if someone is typing too loud on their keyboard. “I uh- I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hear a door shut in response, and the noise fades to a low purr. “Not at all. Everything okay? Sarah alright?”

“Yeah, this isn’t about her, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“It depends,” In your mind, right now he’s leaning against a messy metal desk, one of his hands planted on its surface to keep himself stable, the muscles in his forearm flexing under tension. He’s got a toolbelt slung low over the waistband of his Carhartt’s. He’s a little sweaty – it’s hot out, today – his cheeks flushed, pieces of dark hair clinging to his forehead. The image is doing something for you, and you have to take a deep, measured breath to reset before you can answer him.

“Do you…know anything about cars?” you ask. 

“A little….why?”

“I took my car to get serviced, and…I’m pretty sure I’m about to be swindled.” You hesitate, then qualify. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and…you seem like you might be good with this sort of thing.”

There are a lot of things you know a lot about, and cars are just not one of them. From your perspective, a car is simply a means to get from Point A to Point B, and the less you know about the how, the better. Although your complete lack of understanding definitely doesn’t help you in your current situation. You’d considered calling your brother, and even your father – but you knew they’d be no help, having lived in Manhattan their whole lives. 

Bradley had a nice car, but you suspected it was more for his image, and less because he knew anything about them. Plus, you didn’t really ask for much of each other outside of sex – and if you started too, it might initiate another talk about where you ‘see him in your future’, and the thought alone is grating, because you don’t. 

Since you moved away from home, you’ve spent a lot of time asserting to yourself that you’re completely independent. But moments like this remind you that it’s not entirely true…it’s not possible to be on your own in the way you want, and you always end up needing someone. 

“I might be able to help.” Joel sounds unconcerned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They just told me my car needs a new battery, and I need new tires.”

“How old are they?”

“I don’t know like-” your phone vibrates furiously in your hand, an incoming call from your coworker. “Oh my god, leave me alone,” you groan out loud. “-Not you, Joel, sorry. I stepped away for lunch and…you know how it goes. Anyways, I don’t think I’ve gotten either of them changed since I got my car.”

“How old is your car?”

“Seven years.”

“Good lord,” Joel mutters, and he sounds somewhat disappointed. “Yeah, you should get both those things.”

“They weren’t lying? It’s gonna cost a couple hundred bucks.”

“No, I doubt they were,” he gives a warm chuckle, and it melts away some of your stress, even if your wallet is about to take a considerable hit. “Where’d you take your car?”

“I don’t know, just…some place around the corner from where I work.”

“In the future, you should go to Robert’s place in town. He’s done some work on my truck. Probably will cost a lot less.”

“Noted,” you nod. “Thanks so much, sorry for catching you at work.”

“Not at all, I don’t mind…” Joe answers. “Shipments keep getting delayed, so…it’s been kind of a slow day.”

“I’m jealous,” you say. “Because I swear, lately, whenever I leave the office for more than two minutes everything explodes….or at least it feels that way.”

“Sounds like you’re important,” Joel says, you can hear his smile over the phone, see it, practically. 

Scoffing, you answer. “Hardly. But uh, thanks again. I definitely owe you one.”

You expect him to say goodbye, so you’re surprised by what he asks next. “What are you doing Friday?” 

“I don’t know. What are you doing Friday?”

“I’m assumin’ Sarah’s probably left something at your place….if you’re gonna be around, I might stop by to get it….”

“You want me to smoke you up?” 

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant,” You’re direct.

“Look, I’m just sayin’ if it happens, I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I already told you, you’re welcome anytime,” you say. “But won’t Sarah-oh wait, no, she has that school dance, doesn’t she?”

Sarah had taken to writing important events in her life on the calendar that hung on your fridge. It was usually blank, you were good enough at remembering your own plans without utilizing it. But she had told you the empty calendar made her sad, so now it was filled with her doodles and notes, scribbled with blue glitter gel pen. And Friday night’s event she’d underlined three times.

“She does,” Joel answers, seemingly amused. 

Another call comes through on your phone. “Okay, yeah, I gotta go. But I’ll be around Friday.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop by,” Joel says, and you ignore the flash of heat through your abdomen – excitement – at the idea of him coming over.  “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 9, 2003-

Joel arrives at your place before the sun sets, once again. But this time, it is different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. Of course, he’s got his excuse, but really, at this point he’s stopped lying to himself – he’s here to see you. 

“Well, well, well…” you open the screen door, lean against the doorframe, and cross your arms over your chest. “If it isn’t the neighborhood space cowboy.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

You squint at him, but the way the corner of your mouth quirks gives you away. “Touche.” 

God, he’s already regretting this. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. But it’s become increasingly difficult to resist you, and that’s assuming that you’re even interested. He’s all-but kissed you and he’s still not quite sure where he stands. You’re not easy to read, but he has always enjoyed a challenge. At the end of the day it’s never a bad idea for him to brush up on his flirting, Tommy’s words from a few weeks ago have been getting to him. For much as he believes it’s bound to happen, Joel doesn’t want to end up alone.

“Come on in,” you push yourself off the doorframe and lead him through your house.

The last time he’d been here you’d been wearing some long-sleeved, satin pajama set. He remembered because he spent all night trying not to touch the fabric, though maybe he was just looking for an excuse to touch you. Tonight, with your back turned towards him, his eyes wander down to the curve of your ass in your low-rise, bootcut jeans. He feels the slightest bit of shame about doing it, before deciding that what you can’t see won’t hurt you.

“How was the mechanic?” he asks once you’ve entered the back porch.

“Oh fine,” you say, sitting down on the couch, gesturing to the spot across from you. “I’m just pissed I had to spend a bunch of money on a car battery and not something more…fun.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Joel sits. “Honestly, I’m surprised you called me from the mechanic and not from a ditch on the side of the road.”

“This is my first car, Joel. I grew up in a walkable community,” you pick up an already-rolled joint, the faintest acknowledgement that you’d planned for this ahead of time – and lift it to your lips. 

“It’s okay, I’m teasing.” Joel assures, and lets his gaze linger while you smoke, just admiring, as he often does. When you pass the joint over to him, he speaks again. “I have to be good tonight, cause Sarah’s gonna be home in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, first school dance, big deal,” you raise your eyebrows. “Help me out, because I went to an all-girls school. It’s middle school. Do kids go with dates?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Sarah just went with a group of friends.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. “Speaking of, I have to be good, too. I’m going to her soccer game tomorrow.”

Joel feels his brows knit together in confusion, and it causes you to continue on. “She keeps asking me to come to one, and I haven’t been able to, so I feel bad. I guess her season’s almost over.” 

“Tomorrow’s her last game…” Joel mutters, looking up towards the ceiling, where the smoke is collecting, and exhales. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“Obviously, but…” you shrug. “...I want to.”

He chuckles to himself, runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower he took before this. “You’re really prepared to put yourself through a middle school soccer game…” 

“Look, Joel,” Your eyes are half-lidded, focused on him, and your arm is slung over the back of the couch, fist supporting your temple. “In case you couldn’t tell…I’m doing this thing where I try to engage in the community I live in. But so far, your family members are the only ones who’ve included me in anything, so until I find someone else….” you trail off. “You’re stuck with me.”

Joel doesn’t want you to find someone else. Being stuck with you is hardly a problem. He wants to tell you, but instead, all he manages is: “We’ll be good tonight.” Still, he’s not entirely convinced that he can trust himself to make a promise like that. 

It’s a tad too early for the sun to be setting, but it’s early in May, so the weather is perfect, and he’s sort of itching to be outside. Maybe there’s something to be done before the light wanes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks you.

You seem taken aback by his request, wrinkling your nose.”….I don’t know.”

“It’s a nice night, you might enjoy yourself. And we’re in good company.” 

The grimace on your face disappears, and is replaced by something more amiable. “We are,” you tilt your, make a decision. “Yeah, okay…let’s do it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once you’ve locked your front door, closed your windows, Joel walks side-by-side with you down your driveway. You only make it about halfway down when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name, then his. 

Your next-door neighbor, Denise Watson, leans over the railing of her front porch, while her husband John sits in a chair behind her, giving a lazy wave and returning back to his puzzlebook. Joel nods at him, and notices the color has drained out of your face. The Watsons have lived on this street since before even Joel and Sarah moved in. They’re in their late 60s, retired, all their children grown – which gives them plenty of time to get into everyone’s business. 

“Hey,” you offer the most unenthusiastic greeting he thinks he’s ever heard. You’re paranoid, and he’d laugh if it were just the two of you, alone. But it’s not, and he knows these just so happen to be neighbors you’ve been lying to.

“How are you doing, hun?” 

“I’m good,” you say softly, and Joel watches Denise’s eyes flick over his direction. 

“Same here,” he manages. 

“What are you ya’ll up to?”

“We’re just goin’ for a walk,” Joel answers, looking your way. You nod at him, wordlessly, then at Denise. 

“How lovely.” She smiles, and it’s sincere, so he knows she doesn’t suspect anything. “It’s nice to see you two getting along so well.” Even from where he’s standing, Joel sees her eyebrows lift suggestively.

You and Joel both answer the insinuation at the same time.

“Yeah, well-” 

“She looks after Sarah for me, so-”

You bob your head enthusiastically. “Mhm, yeah. Sarah. Great kid.”

Denise opens her mouth again, and you speak so quickly, Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you’re afraid of what she’s going to say next. “We gotta go,” you shuffle backwards a few steps, quickly, and collide with Joel’s chest. “Before it gets dark out,” when you turn, you’re looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Oh, alright,” Denise says, sounding a little disappointed. “Ya’ll stay safe, alright?”

“Of course,” Joel calls over his shoulder, managing a halfhearted wave before he’s trailing you around the bend in the cul-de-sac that takes you out of view from The Watsons porch.

The second you’ve made it you whirl to face him, your jaw drops, and you both erupt into laughter. You grip his bicep and lean into him, pressing your face into the cotton of his t-shirt to stifle the noise. He’s tempted to pull you under his arm all the way, but he resists the urge. Would that be okay? He’s not sure. And he’s not necessarily in the best headspace to make the decision.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, swiping under your eyes as you pull back, and start walking a few steps ahead of him. 

“It’s like I’m back in high school,” Joel says. Neither of you decide to mention what your neighbor had insinuated, but it is objectively funny. 

“Oh, I’m sure you were trouble.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel says. “Although I did sneak out quite a bit. But it was only to see girls – well, one girl.” 

“Sarah’s mom?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” Joel isn’t sure why he’s mentioned it. It’s not really something he’s interested in speaking on now – or ever – for that matter, even if every person he’s mentioned it to has questions. What happened? What did you do? You poor thing. Above all else, he hated being pitied. 

But you don’t press him, and change the subject. “So…a few weeks ago you had said you and Tommy had a work project you were gonna book. Did that pan out?”

Joel cocks his head, surprised you remembered. “Actually, it did. Funny you ask. Things moved slow but…we signed the contract today. I’m sort of celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” you look over your shoulder slightly to give him a genuine grin. “But uh…you should’ve told me. Had I known we were celebrating, I would’ve tried to make things more exciting.” 

“Can’t think of anything better.”

You pause, because you’ve reached the end of your cul-de-sac. “Suit yourself.” you say. “Are you gonna lead though? I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Joel expects some kind of quip in response, but you just shake your head and narrow your eyes. Tucking your hair behind your ears, he senses a bit of uneasiness. “You alright?”

“I’m fine I just…” you shake your head. “I don’t love being stoned in public.”

“You’re alright.” Joel puts his hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to fall into step beside him. “Come on, darlin’, just walk with me.” It’s terrible how easily the term of endearment slips out – and he waits for your reaction. But all he feels is the way your body loosens under his touch. 

That brings him some satisfaction, but as usual, it’s not enough. Because if you’re not going to stop him, he longs to push the hair off your neck, kiss along your pulse point, feel you melt even further as his thumbs work at the muscles in your shoulders. Joel fantasizes about what his name might sound like, coming from you, in a breathless sigh. The image works him up a little too much, and he lets his hand fall back to his side.

For a while, you both walk in silence, your fingers brushing against his every so often, but neither of you acknowledge it, apologize, or decide to step further away from each other to keep it from happening again and again.

It’s a beautiful night, the warmth of the day dwindling under the blanket of thinning clouds tinted pink in the sunset. Joel is amazed at how content he feels, can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way – not worried about someone, or something, or letting anyone down. 

It’s May, so almost all the native flowers are in full bloom. Tulips planted in gardens, pansies overflowing from pots on porches, dandelions dotting pristine green lawns. Stepping away from Joel, you pause in front of an empty, overgrown lot that’s basically turned into a wildflower patch. 

“This is nice,” you say, decidedly. “It’s pretty.” 

“I told you.”

Once more, he expects some clever retort, but your eyebrows are pinched together, and you crouch to look closely at some bluebonnets that are the same color as the tight-fitting henley you’ve got on. “I know you mentioned it back there but… Sarah’s told me…about her mom.”

Joel feels himself stiffen. “Yeah….well, she never really got to know her.” 

When he’s feeling particularly remorseful, his brain replays a memory of Sarah, only four years old, toddling around the tiny apartment they lived in and calling out for her mother. His ex had left when she was so young, so he had known there was no way Sarah actually remembered her. But all her classmates had two parents, all the movies she watched at home depicted loving, complete families. That night, after tucking her in, he’d retreated to his room, and cried for the first time since his divorce. Ever since then, it was impossible to shake the feeling he wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, he felt better about it then others. Sarah grew out of that phase, and Joel thought that’d be the last of it. When he finally bought the house, he felt like he’d proven he could do it alone. They would be fine. That was until Joel found an old photo of him and his ex underneath Sarah’s pillow while he was changing her sheets. The discovery left him with the same feeling all over again. 

Now, in the wake of the excitement that he’s signed onto his first real contracting gig, a promotion, a raise – this information from you deflates him all over again. 

“You don’t like to talk about it?” you guess correctly. 

“Not particularly.” Normally, Joel would shut something like this down. But he can’t bring himself to be cruel to you. “We were young. What happened was for the best. I wish Sarah understood that.”

“You don’t give her enough credit. She’s a bright kid,” you answer, standing up and putting your hands on your hips. “Anyways, I get it. When you cut yourself off from a bad situation, it's hard. The alternative is worse, though. People forget that part.”

Joel feels a little reassured by what you’re saying. Why he immediately went on the defense when you brought it up, he’ll explore later. “I wish more people understood,” he murmurs. 

“Me too,” you nod, and you nudge him gently to keep walking. “And people process things differently. It makes sense she's curious. It’s a very human thing.” 

“I know.” What was it that you had said a few weeks back? They’re always with you, no matter what. That’s not a sentiment Joel can completely wrap his head around yet. “It does make me think sometimes…maybe she needs some else….someone who isn't…me.””

“Oh, come on, Joel,” you halt in your tracks, almost like he’s offended you in some way. You look up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re a good man.”

Validation. He doesn’t get it often – ever, really. And he doesn’t need it, but….coming from you, he feels like he just wants more. And more. He can think of a few ways he might get it, too. Some less innocent than others. 

“Should we turn around?” he asks. You nod. 

There’s a bit of light still remaining in the sky by the time you round the corner to Joel’s street, but the sun has set long ago. He’s probably supposed to say goodbye, standing at the end of your respective driveways, but he finds that end to the evening rather disappointing. 

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about right now?” you ask, Joel. He’s a little hesitant to answer, based on the ornery glint in your eyes. All he has to do is raise his eyebrows, and you continue. “A shirley temple.”

Joel can’t help but laugh, and he sees how you light up at the sound. “You serious?” he asks. 

“I know they’re….for kids, but…I don’t know. They’re really fucking good.”

“They are,” he answers, and you’re at the end of your driveway. He hesitates for a second, thinks you might say goodbye, but you just check over your shoulder to make sure he’s following you. He does. 

“This is probably the weed talking, but I’m going to make some.” You unlock your front door, and he holds it open to let you step inside, before following. 

“You have the stuff to make them?” he questions. 

Yes, you bob your head, then walk to the corner of your front room and flick on a light. Warm light floods the room, and you walk through the archway into your kitchen. When he follows you there, your back is towards him, opening a glass-doored cabinet containing various liquor bottles, wines, cordials, and accoutrements. 

“You want one? I have to say, I’ve been making them a lot lately, and I think I’ve perfected the recipe.”

“Well in that case, I’ve gotta try,” Joel wanders to your small kitchen table, about a quarter of it covered in neat piles of paperwork. There’s a messenger bag slung over the back of a chair, and in front of it is there’s a thick contract. The page it’s opened to is riddled with blue ink, crossing through sentences, scribbled in the paper’s margins. He can’t make out any of the jargon in the fine print. Next to it sits a pair of thin black reading glasses, and a sleek fountain pen engraved with your name. 

His eyes fall next to a stack of old photographs sitting atop an opened envelope. With two fingers, he pushes the top photo off the stack, once, twice, three times, until he gets to the bottom of the pile, and they’re spread out in front of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be snooping like this, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. 

Joel doesn’t recognize the people in most of the photos. One of them is a school photo of a young boy, with Spring ‘03 printed in the lower right hand corner. But the remaining two…he realizes are of you, but you’re young, your cheeks rounder, features not quite as defined. Younger than Sarah, if he had to guess. In both, you’re wearing the same thing – a black turtleneck, a plaid skirt that hangs past your knees, and black Mary Janes. 

In one, you’re cheek to cheek with a teenage boy who you’re giving bunny ears. Your brother. Has to be. You look too similar. His arm is across your shoulders, and you’re smiling so wide your eyes are closed. 

In the other photo, though, your face is blank. A wide, empty stare, straight into the camera. Behind you, his hands on your shoulders, is an older man whose gaze has the same determined set Joel has seen on you before. Something about the photo, the haunted look on your face, makes him feel like he’s seen something he’s not supposed to, and he slides the print underneath a stack of papers.

“If you’re gonna look at those papers, I’m gonna need you to sign an NDA,” you say over his shoulder, and Joel is startled by the sound of your voice, and the feeling of a glass, cold and damp with condensation, being placed in his hand. “Here.”

You peer around his shoulder, face brushing against the side of his arm as you see the photos. “Oh,” your voice drops slightly when you realize what he’s looking at. “My brother sent those. That’s my nephew, Ethan.” You point to the school photo of the little kid, but don’t offer an explanation for any of the others. 

Joel clinks his glass with yours and notices that you’ve balanced a toothpick with two maraschino cherries on its rim. It’s refreshing, delicious, and the fizz tickles his nose as he takes the first sip. 

“Restaurant quality,” he tells you. You lean back against your counter, studying him. When you stare at him like this, as he’s caught you doing a handful of times before, it always makes him feel feral. Like some kind of animal, the way he has to hold himself back from pouncing. You look at him like there’s no one else around, and yeah, there’s no one else around right now, but even when you’re in public, you’ve done it, too. And he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop – he doesn’t really want to. “How’d you perfect the recipe?” he asks. 

“Practice,” you glance at the bubbles dancing through the ice in your glass before focusing back on him, sheepish. “Sarah likes them.”

So you’ve made them for her. Joel sits his drink down. “She does.” 

“Are you hungry?” you ask. “I think I need a snack or something.”

“You don’t have any ice cream, do you?”

“Uhhh…check the freezer?” you say over your shoulder, rummaging through your cabinets for a bowl, and Joel rises to do so. “I think I only have coffee-flavored, though.”

“Good choice,” he answers. His favorite.When he opens the freezer, he’s met with a blast of cool air, a cloud of steam. 

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” you tease, coming to stand next to him, but Joel is too focused on the box of orange popsicles he sees in front of him, and pulls them out to look at the box. “You like these?”

“Not really. I’m partial to cherry.”

“Sarah loves these,” he remarks. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t buy them for her anymore, because one time she ate twelve in one day.”

You sniff, grin. “She told me that.”

He studies the drink that you’ve set on your countertop, the box in his hand. “So you bought these for her?”

“Yeah, why?” you cross your arms, almost defensively.

“Are any of the other snacks here just for her?”

“...No,” he can tell you’re lying, and your eyes flick over his shoulder for a second. “Don’t look in that cabinet, though.” 

Joel can’t help the incredulous smile that breaks out over his face. “God, no wonder she’s always over here so much. You’re givin’ her all the junk I don’t let her eat, aren’t you?”

You hold your hands up. “I think she deserves to be comfortable here. Do you want her to starve?”

Joel’s sure he’s staring at you slack-jawed. Not because he’s upset with you, no. It’s quite the opposite. He shakes his head, grins, and starts laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” but you’re giggling, too. “It’s not funny.” You reach to swat at him playfully, and something inside him snaps. 

Joel is sick of coming up with excuses to see you. He’s sick of holding you at arms length. He’s sick of not taking what he wants to. He’s sick of pretending he hasn’t thought about you every single day since he first saw you, standing in this very kitchen, leaning over the island and chatting with Sarah. He wants to walk in your front door and know that he can have you however he likes, that he’s allowed to. He realizes if he doesn’t act, he’ll never find out. It’ll eat him alive.

So before you can make contact, he wraps his hand around your wrist, draws you in closer. It catches you off guard, sure, but your eyes are locked, and he sees that you’re not shaken in the slightest.

“You know,” he says. “You’re nicer than you think.” 

The energy in the room has shifted. But it doesn’t seem to phase you, and when he’s this close, he can study every freckle on your face, the color of your eyes – can remind himself, again, though he hardly has to – just how beautiful you are. You lower your arm, and at first – he panics, thinks that you might be pulling away. He’s read it wrong, all wrong. But all your doing is giving yourself a better angle to grip his wrist in kind, hand clasping over his broken watch.

“Keep it to yourself, Joel.” you whisper. And it's supposed to be a joke, but you can't seem to tear your gaze off his lips. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I will.” 

Joel kisses you. Hard. It’s like a dam breaking, every time he’s held himself back from you comes barreling forward, and it’s all right there. Everywhere. Overwhelming. But he can't stop. He moves with purpose, cupping your chin. He winds his other arm around your waist, crushing you against him. You taste sweeter than he’d imagined, cherry-flavored syrup lingering on your lips. You groan against him, your head tilting back as he moves in closer, jaw relaxing, lips parting.

It’s just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth, to continue to explore, to claim. The things he’s going to do to you…It could be the weed, but every nerve in his body is on high alert – his skin scorches in the wake of your hands raking up his biceps, tangling in his unruly waves. It could be the weed, or it could just be that good.

More, he wants more, and he’s crowding you back towards the counter next to the fridge. Somewhere, distantly, he hears the freezer door fall closed – and probably not all the way – the ice cream long since forgotten. The moment your back hits the granite, you pull away with a ragged inhale, only enough to look him in the eyes.

“Took you long enough,” One of your hands rises to his face.

Joel presses his cheek into the warmth of your palm. “I thought it might be better to keep you waiting.”

You only shake your head, pulling him back into the kiss. He shifts his weight to hook his hands behind your knees and lift you onto the counter. It’s a bit overzealous, and your head bumps the cabinet behind you, but you don’t seem to notice. Both your legs hook around his hips, drawing him in further. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on just from kissing someone – not even for that long – but it’s just so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot. 

But, he’s capable of one rational thought. This can’t be how it happens. You’re worth more than an animalistic fuck on a kitchen countertop. There’s so much more he wants to do that can’t be done here, like this. And…it’s you. You deserve better, although the frustrated noise you let out when he draws back indicates you think the opposite. Another time.

“I’m sor-I-we can’t,” Joel manages. 

Your face drops, you look….almost angry at him. The second he sees it, he realizes what he said was all wrong. “No, I mean we can, we can, just not….not now.”

The anger dissipates, you shift back, but reach out, pushing a piece of stray hair off his forehead and running your thumb along his sharp jawline. “Why not?”

“I just…I didn’t-” he shakes his head and looks down. “I’ve wanted this for awhile now, but….this isn’t…I wasn’t expecting-” Fucking spit it out, you dipshit. “Can I take you out or something first?” 

You don’t answer, just shift forward, your forehead bumping into his chest. Joel he brings his arms around your shoulders despite himself. And then your lips are on his neck, teeth scraping, teasing, working up to his ear, where you whisper. “You don’t have to.”

He fucking has you. He could. So easily. “I want to.”

You pull back, and there’s a split second where he swears you look a little ashamed, and then it vanishes. “You are a romantic.”

“Not entirely…” Joel says. “I just…would rather do things right. For someone I like.”

“Someone you like?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Okay, yeah,” you murmur softly. “I would like that.” 

“Next weekend?” 

“That long?” 

He chuckles. “It’ll be worth the wait.” But you don’t seem convinced. “I promise.”

For a split second his eyes flick over your shoulder to the microwave, and he sees what time it is. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. It’s late. Sarah’s gonna be home any minute and if I’m not home-” he pauses, gestures between you. “We shouldn’t uh…we shouldn’t mention this to her. Not for now, at least.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” you shake your head in agreement. 

Joel leans in to kiss you again. This time, he keeps it slow, tender, lingering. Even though he knows he’ll get to see you again, he still finds it hard to tear himself away.

----

part v

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester

[cjsoleil]

My Performance For You Has No End (San x Wooyoung)

Summary:

San found himself enthralled by the pretty boy who comes into the Starbucks he works at. Even after they start dating, San is still driven insane every time Wooyoung comes in to tease him. One day, he decides to visit Wooyoung at his dance studio to give him the same treatment. He didn’t expect things to escalate so much.

WARNINGS: Smut (MDNI), frottage, blow job

“You know, I had someone order a frap with eleven pumps of caramel syrup today? Eleven, I didn’t even know you could order that.” San complains to Yeosang as he shakes up a strawberry coconut refresher that was mobile ordered. The scent of coffee fills his senses, something he’s more than used to. The elder laughs as he wipes the counter,

“Sky’s the limit.” San pours the drink in a cup and puts on the lid.

“I swear, that much sugar must lessen your lifespan by ten…” he suddenly trails off, staring at the boy who just walked in.

“It’s about that time again.” Jongho mumbles from behind him when San goes to up to the register.

“Hey.” He says with his signature, charming smile that makes everyone waver at least a bit. With the exception of the boy in front of him, unfortunately, “How are you?”

“Good.” The boy smiles at San, a polite smile, “You?”

“Good.” Great, now that you’re here, he thinks.

“How can I help you?” The black haired boy smacks his lips, pulling out his phone. Really, San doesn’t need to ask, he orders the same drink nearly every time he comes in. And he’s always consistant

Does that mean San could probably get away with quickly making his drink in advance? Sure. Will he ever do so? No. That would send him leaving even quicker, and this is the only time he ever gets to see the boy, so he takes avantage and maybe takes a few minutes longer than needed to get his drink.

After taking his order, he steps away and starts to make the drink, all while watching the boy subtly from the corner of his eye. His favourite customer is on the shorter side with short black hair. His face is soft and smooth and he wears small silver hoop earrings. His smile seems to shine and he always looks at San with such kind eyes. He can tell the boy has a mischievous persona of sorts as well.

San will admit it, he does find the boy attractive, but who wouldn’t?

San barely registers the process of making the drink, and much to soon he is handing it to the pretty boy. But he did remember to go out of his way to draw a little cat on the cup with a black sharpie, along with a few stars.

“Thank you.” He gives San a soft smile, and it hurts the red head how he is so oblivious to how that smile makes him feel.

“You’re welcome.”

The second the boy is out the door Yeosang starts laughing.

“Stop it hyung.” San whines and that only makes him laugh more.

“You’re getting worse hyung, now you’re flexing your muscles as you shake drinks.”

“I did not.” He protests against Jongho’s claim.

“Why don’t you ask him out and stop pinning over him?”

“Because.” San dramatically pretends to hit his head on the counter.

“He’s clearly uninterested in me, and if I ask him out then he won’t come by here anymore.” San stands straight with a little pout, “He probably also has a partner. How could he not?”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” The elder tells him, patting his shoulder, “And don’t dirty the counter i just cleaned.”

“He’s right.” The youngest agrees, “You’re not completely repulsing, and you’re still single.”

San knows he’s attractive. Fuck, San prides himself in being hot as hell. But something about the object of his attraction makes him forget all that. He makes him feel… he doesn’t know. Nervous maybe?

“Is that supposed to help me?” San sighs before clapping his hands together, “You know what? Yeah, next time he comes in here I’m asking him out.”

“You said that last week.”

“I’m sincere this time.”

“Said that last week too.”

The next day, San scrolls on his phone though it’s not his break. It’s not like anyone cares. He only looks up when he hears the familiar sound of the front door opening, footsteps patting in. He didn’t expect to be greeted with the welcome sight of his favourite customer. He’s never came in while San works his Sunday shift. It’s almost rude, doesn’t the boy know San needs time to prepare himself mentally before he comes in? Of course he doesn’t. He’s just the barista.

“Hey San.” Wooyoung says when he gets to the counter, the simple action of his name coming out of the boy’s pink lips is enough to cause San’s blood pressure to raise. Wooyoung’s eyes didn’t even flutter down to his name tag, keeping eye contact.

“Hey.” San replies, smiling a smile that is way too bright to be considered a classic customer service smile, “You’re an odd sight to see today.” Wooyoung’s nose scrunches up in confusion and he tilts his head. So cute.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh shit, no.” San curses as he realizes how rude he just sounded, “I mean, you don’t usually come in on Sunday’s, normally just tomorrow and Thursday. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t want to see you, I like seeing you-“ based off Wooyoung’s laugh, San has most definitely said to much. The embarrassment is worth it though, because he made him laugh.

“I like seeing you too.” Wooyoung smiles, “Don’t tell your coworkers but you’re my favourite.” He says with a little wink at the end, making San grin.

“So what can I get you?”

“Ah, can I have a Mocha Frap please?” San inputs the order, albeit slightly confused by how much Wooyoung strayed away from his usual order. After the younger pays, San makes his drink, drawing a simple rabbit along with a few flowers on the cup before filling it and ensuring to put of the whip cream on evenly with a light chocolate drizzle.

“Thank you.” Wooyoung says when he’s given his drink. San must say this selfishly, but he doesn’t was the pretty boy to leave just yet.

“What brought you here today?” He asks to stall the boy from his departure.

“I come here on my way back from the dance studio around here.” San nods, knowing what place he’s referring to. He has friends who go there,

“I just went in there earlier to get some extra practice for a performance I have coming up.”

“Oh that’s nice.” San says, a bit awkward, “How long have you been dancing… for?” San unintentionally pauses during his sentence, as Wooyoung runs his right index finger on the lid of his drink, getting the extra whip cream on his finger. He brings it to his mouth with a hum, sucking his finger a bit and running his tongue around it, collecting the cream before taking it out of his mouth. His tongue slightly drags against his finger as he brings it away from between his lips, just flashing San for a second.

Fuck fuck fuck

It’s all San can think. He doesn’t know if Wooyoung is even doing this intentionally, a simple action making San almost loose his mind, blood rushing not only to his face but further down. He wants to lick off the the small speck of cream that remains on Wooyoung’s upper lip. Wants to kiss them until he’s bruised.

‘Get a hold of yourself.’ San tells himself, trying to force himself to calm down and to stop acting like a pervert, because that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. Based on the smirk Wooyoung wears, he’s enjoying San’s dread.

‘What a brat.’

“A long time.” Wooyoung answers, snickering from the expression San is making.

Fuck it, San is not going to give him the chance to slip away.

“Go out with me.” He bluntly asks, instantly feeling blood rush to his face in embarrassment.

“Sorry I-“

“Took you long enough.” Wooyoung’s smiling, a lovely smile that San has been dreaming of seeing. Not a strictly out of politeness one, a genuine one.

“You knew I liked you?”

“Well, do you draw cute little doodles for all your customers?” To be honest, Wooyoung didn’t originally have much interest in the barista. Sure, he acknowledged the fact that he’s attractive, but other than that he didn’t really care. But as time progressed, he soon became infatuated with the red head. So much so, that now Wooyoung has a collection of plastic cups with drawings on them.

Well, San is happy that got his point across. Though he wishes Wooyoung would have made the first move instead of letting San embarrass himself.

“Only the ones I really like.” He answers, and he looks into Wooyoung’s eyes that are filled with mischief and care.

“I-“ San quickly grabs a black sharpie from his apron pocket and asks to take Wooyoung’s cup, which he allows. San writes his number on it then hands it back.

“Here.” Wooyoung laughs, probably at the fact he didn’t just ask to put it in his phone like anyone else would. San isn’t really thinking about that at the moment though, riding the high of this impulse action is working in his benefit.

“I’ll talk to you later then, hyung” Wooyoung tells him before leaving, waving slightly. San sighs with a smile.

“Yeah, later.”

One day at work, San was dealing with a little bit of a rush hour.

“Order for Chan.” He calls out as he brought two drinks to the counter. He read the next order and seeing the name momentarily lifts his stress away. Looking beyond the counter, San finds Wooyoung in just a few seconds, but he’s not alone like usual. With him is a really tall guy he doesn’t know and Seonghwa. Funny thing, San never knew that Seonghwa and Wooyoung were friends.

After catching Wooyoung’s eye, he looks away with a smile and towards the tall man with him. The onyx haired boy leans up on his toes and kisses the others cheek for a few seconds.

Now Wooyoung and San are dating, yes. They’ve been going out for quite some time now. Wooyoung still comes in on his usual days, but also squeezes in extra visits to see San while he’s working. It’s been great. So the undeniable feeling of jealousy and slight possession is completely justified in his opinion.

“Hyung.” Jongho’s voice brings his attention and he looks at the younger who is whisper shouting to him, “Do your job.” San nods, remembering where he is and starts doing something productive. Yeosang sneaks up beside him.

“What’s with that look?”

“I don’t have a look.” San responds, focused on making a drink.

“You’re mad.” Yeosang states, “Is it because of Wooyoung?” San doesn’t bother to answer, knowing that the elder already knows that’s exactly it. He’s not actually mad at him, but maybe more.. irked.

“He’s teasing you hyung, he does it every time he comes in here.” Jongho comments as he walks by.

“No he…” Memories flash through San’s head, Wooyoung licking the whip cream off his finger the day he asked him out, him unnecessarily bending over tables to talk to his friends, leaning over the counter to press fleeting kisses to the corner of San’s mouth and now today, intentionally being overly affectionate with his friends.

“Yeah he’s a brat.” San admits.

“You don’t find it annoying right?” Yeosang questions, with a twinge of concern in his voice.

“Of course I don’t.” San says truthfully, “What is annoying is that he keeps turning me on at work.” Jongho, who sadly happened to cross by at that exact moment, considers resigning.

“Hyung, can you please talk about your frustrations literally anywhere im not present.” The youngest sighs, “I’m going to report you two.” The two still actually do get back to work, knowing Jongho probably would out of spite.

“Just do the same to him.” Yeosang whispers to San as me makes his drink.

“Do what?”

“You know.” San thinks about for a second before a light in his head turns on, the gears turning as he plots a little something.

When he serves Wooyoung, he gives no reaction to make it look like the teasing had no impact on him, which is more difficult than it sounds. He hands him his drink and allows Wooyoung to press a kiss to his cheek, like he did with his friend before pulling away.

“I’ll call you later baby.” Is all San has to say to him before going to the cash, leaving Wooyoung with a little pout Yunho and Seonghwa pick fun at him for.

Wooyoung dances along to the music playing from his speaker. His body flows in perfectly choreographed movements, the time he invested into his work coming through. Yunho and other people from his dance class are with him.

He doesn’t hear the door of the studio open over the music playing. When he focuses on the mirror, he sees San standing by the door, making him stop his movements for a split second. San smiles seeing he’s been caught, and makes a little gesture with his hand to signal the younger to continue. After a second Wooyoung continues, and San stays watching while leaning against the wall.

After two minutes the song is done, and Wooyoung lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat of his face, intentionally flashing his abs to his red haired boyfriend. San doesn’t give him much of a reaction, he just grins with a shake of his head as Wooyoung walks over to him,

“Shouldn’t you be working?”Wooyoung asks with a soft smile, San lifts his hand to show the iced americano he brought. Today San drew two swans facing each other, forming a heart.

“Called in sick today.” Is San’s response, handing the drink to the younger.

“Hm, why’d you lie?” San hums and wraps his arms around his waist.

“Wanted to see you.” He murmured against Wooyoung’s neck, pressing a kiss there. He laughs a bit and pushes the elder away from him before taking a sip of his drink.

“Wooyoung.” He looks to the side to see Yunho coming towards them, “I’m heading out to meet up with Mingi. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung nods, feeling San throw an arm over his shoulder. Usually Wooyoung and Yunho get food or something together during their break. Yunho gives San a quick greeting, one that the younger returns before leaving with his bag. Everyone leaves during the hour long break they have, usually it’s shorter but because this is simply extra practice for a banquet coming up and not the actual dance class, they go for a long break.

Once everyone leaves, San hugs Wooyoung from behind, slightly swaying as he admires his boyfriend in the mirror. A light sheen of sweat covers his skin, but San doesn’t mind at all. He slides his hands under the younger’s shirt and runs his hands against Wooyoung’s bare skin. He drags his nails against his abs and smiles when he feels Wooyoung sigh happily against him. His eyes flutter shut as he relaxes in San’s comforting hold. They shoot open again when the red head starts to feel up his chest.

Wooyoung turns around in San’s arms, reaching up to wrap one arm around his shoulders. The other stays at his side, still holding his coffee.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispers against the red head’s lips. San grabs his drink from him, he moves his other hand to Wooyoung’s ass.

“Is it a crime to display my care for you?” San questions with a hum, lightly kissing Wooyoung’s lips. He tastes like the americano San brought him.

“You’re up to something.” Wooyoung says between kisses, cupping the elder’s face.

San only smiles, and starts to kiss Wooyoung with a bit more intensity. They stay like that, standing in nearly middle of the dance studio, exchanging kisses and small touches. After a few minutes San pulls away before bending down and putting the cup on the floor. When he stands back up, he grabs the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs and picks him up, making the younger let out a surprised little gasp and wrap his legs around San’s waist and arms around his neck.

San walks forward until Wooyoung’s back meets the glass of a mirror. He nearly shivers at the cold material touching his lower back where his shirt has ridden up, but the heat of San’s mouth on his neck contrasts that.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asks again, pulling San away from his neck by his hair.

“You always tease me when I’m working.” San tells him, leaning in to kiss the skin behind the younger’s ear,

“When I can’t do anything about it. Thought I’d come here, turn the tables. You know?” Wooyoung hums as he runs a hand through the other’s red hair.

“So what? This is your attempt on getting me back?” He turns San’s head so he can lean in and kiss him gently. He runs his tongue along the elder’s upper lip before biting his lower one. San squeezes Wooyoung’s thighs a little too hard, but he doesn’t mind. He finds the feeling pleasurable in a way. San inches forward so his hips slot with Wooyoung’s, the friction making him have to stifle a gasp. San doesn’t bother doing so, letting out a small moan.

Wooyoung laughs a bit, pulling the other’s hair.

“Be realistic Sannie. You can’t stop at just teasing. You need more than that, yeah?” San knows he’s right, he didn’t actually expect to come to the studio and not have anything happen. He can’t help it, everything about Wooyoung is just so mesmerizing. The way his laugh, his bratty personality, the feeling of his skin. How could San ever just tease when he can have more? San just wants all that Wooyoung is comfortable with giving.

“We have less than an hour hyung.” Wooyoung mumbles against San’s lips.

“So we have plenty of time.” San responds, before hiking Wooyoung up a bit and kissing him harshly. His head falls back against the mirror, and when San moves to direct his attention to the younger’s neck, Wooyoung tilts his head to rest his warm cheek on the cool glass. His breaths fog up a spot on the mirror, just for it to disappear and reappear.

Suddenly Wooyoung kicks San’s back.

“Let me down.” He’s quick to obey the command, not wanting to cross a boundary.

“Sit down.” San obey’s again, though slightly confused as he sits on the floor. Wooyoung follows him down and sits on his lap. The position makes it so San can feel how hard the other is.

“Woo-“ San cuts himself off with a moan as Wooyoung starts to grind against him.

“Just let me-“ he whines a little, wrapping his arms around San’s shoulders to stable himself. San rests his hands on Wooyoung’s waist but doesn’t move him at all. He lets Wooyoung set the pace.

“Sannie.” Wooyoung moans his name, rutting faster against San. He starts to kiss the younger’s neck, making sure to leave a number of marks. He cries out, now losing his rythme, moving frantically to chase his pleasure.

San gives bites at the earring Wooyoung wears, nipping his ear a few more times before he looks to the side at the mirror and moans at the sight. Fuck, he can imagine teasing Wooyoung open on his fingers as he forces him to watch himself. Having the younger ride him and see every expression he makes in the mirror.

“Shit. I want you so fucking bad.” He grabs Wooyoung’s waist and urges him to shoved him down against his lap.

“Wanna fuck you in front of this mirror, make you watch as I take you apart.”

“Big talk, can you- ah- follow through?” Wooyoung questions, sitting up and lifting his white tank top to reveal his whole torso to San.

“Brat.” He leans forward and kisses along his chest, leaving red marks as he moves along. Soon, San moves one hand to pinch one of Wooyoung’s nipple as he sucks the other one. The action makes the younger wrap his arms around San’s head, so the hem of his tank top rests on the top of the barista’s head. San runs his tongue over it multiple times before sucking his nipple hard, making Wooyoung’s hips stutter. He bites him before pulling away with a final swipe of his tongue, soothing the ache he cause before moving to give the other side the same treatment.

With no warning, San suddenly grabs Wooyoung’s hips and flips their position so Wooyoung is laying flat on the ground with Sam on top of him. He thrusts hard against Wooyoung, making the younger boy cry out.

“So good.” He jerks his hips up to meet San’s, making them both let out choked gasps.

Wooyoung is already so close to coming. His shirt has ridden down, rubbing against his sensitive chest as San rubs against his lower half. So close, he’s right there-

“No!” He cries out when San suddenly pulls away from him completely.

“Shh I’m sorry.” San whispers as he stands up and forces Wooyoung to get up as well. They both take deep breaths to stabilize themselves, Wooyoung being taken aback by the sudden end,

“Why did you-“ the door to the studio opens, making Wooyoung jump away from San.

A girl, one of the dancers, comes inside the room. She looks at the two and gives a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Wooyoung.” She greets awkwardly before rushing to a bench over by the side wall and picking up her phone. Clearly she forgot to grab it earlier. She avoids looking at the boys as she leaves, only waving her hand at them from behind as she scurried out the door.

“Do you think we traumatized her?” Despite catching them just standing, it’s obvious they were up to something by their flushed faces and messed up hair. Not to mention she may have heard their moans from outside the room.

“Hopefully not.” Wooyoung replies, still slightly breathless. Really, they’re all probably equally mortified. Wooyoung looks up to where the clock hangs on the wall,

“Thirty minutes.” He steps closer to San so their chest to chest and starts to nip at the older’s neck.

San is taken back by the gesture, he assumed that they would stop after almost getting caught. Or because they have only half an hour left before more people actually started to show up.

“Baby, we don’t have time.”

“What happened to having more than enough.” San groans slightly, rubbing Wooyoung’s waist.

“Do you even have a change of clothes? Because I don’t.“

Wooyoung hums against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. San raises a good point. After a few moments, he gives San a quick kiss on his neck before dropping to his knees infront of him. The barista’s eyes widen as Wooyoung starts to undo his pants.

“Woo you don’t have to.” San insists, petting the younger’s hair, “I’m here for you.” They have done this a few times in their relationship, but San likes it to be clear that Wooyoung is doing something because he wants to. Besides, he really did come here with the intention of pleasuring Wooyoung.

“I know.” Wooyoung says, the soft tone of his voice shows how much he really does appreciate the concern, despite it being unnecessary. Wooyoung will only ever do what he wants to do.

He pulls down San’s pants along with his boxers, relishing in the way San runs his hands through his black hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Wooyoung places his hands on San’s bare thighs and leans in.

“Fucking shit!” San swears when Wooyoung unexpectedly swallows him whole. He slams one hand to the side and hits the mirror. It’s honestly shocking the glass didn’t shatter. His other hand tightened its grip on Wooyoung’s hair, but he’s quick to sooth the ache he must have caused by petting his hair back. Wooyoung is such a demon, with the way he runs his tongue along San’s cock and leans back every now and then to place gentle kisses on the sensitive skin. The barista moans at the feeling, and only gets louder when he looks in the mirror.

“S’pretty jagiya.” He praised the younger, running his thumb against Wooyoung’s lips where he’s stretched around him.

“You’re- shit- you’re so beautiful.” San gently thrusts into Wooyoung’s mouth, making him gag slightly. But with the way Wooyoung moans around him, he clearly enjoys it.

“With your bratty mouth full- fuck- you’ve finally- shut up for once.” He cups Wooyoung’s face and holds him still as he moves faster. His breaths become heavier and Wooyoung moans around him again, the feeling runs through San’s entire body. He throws his head back as he gets his sweet relief, trying not to pull Wooyoung’s hair too hard.

After a few moments, Wooyoung pulls away and licks San clean as he settles his mind a bit. San gently nudged Wooyoung away before pulling up his clothes. He looks down at the younger. San smiles, seeing that his lovely boyfriend has made a complete mess of himself, saliva coats his lips, unshed tears are in his eyes and his whole face is red from the mixture of lack of air and arousal.

“You okay?” San asks, and Wooyoung nods, leaning into the comforting touch of San’s hand in his hair.

“C’mere.” He lifts Wooyoung up from under his arms and brings him into his chest for a hug, holding the smaller boy tightly against him. Rubbing his back, San kisses along his jaw before giving a long kiss on his lips. His hands start to travel down towards the waist of Wooyoung’s pants, but the younger quickly grabs his hand to stop him.

“Honey?”

“Don’t need to.” Wooyoung mumbles, nuzzling into San’s neck.

San takes a second to register what that means but when he holds Wooyoung even tighter when he does.

“Sweet jagi.” If San would have looked down and focused a little bit more, he would have saw Wooyoung rutting frantically against his own hand until he came.

San kisses the top of the shorter boy’s hair a few times,

“Do you wanna fake sick with me?” Wooyoung laughs a bit before pulling back, smiling up at his boyfriend.

“Well, I don’t want to be seen like this.” He gestures to himself.

“You mean anyone else.” San teases, as Wooyoung goes to get his phone. He walks with a grimace, he didn’t really think of the consequences to his actions earlier, even though San mentioned it. So now he’s going to have to tolerate the uncomfortable feeling of his come soaked boxers until San takes him home.

Wooyoung sends a quick text to his group chat saying that we won’t be there for the rest of practice since he started to feel unwell. While he does that, San grabs his bag for him and holds one of his hands.

“Do you want me to carry you to my car?”

“Kinda.” Wooyoung screeches when San suddenly picks him up bridal style and holds onto his shoulders for stability.

“Hyung! I was kidding.”

“Let me take care of you Wooyoung.” San insists.

“Wait.” Wooyoung says before San walks towards the door, “Grab my drink.”

“I’ll just buy you a new one.”

“No. Grab it.” San groans but still walks across the room and kneels down, still adamant on holding the boy. Wooyoung grabs the watered down drink and pats the barista’s shoulder with his other hand.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“I am never going to be able to be in that room without having horrible thoughts, are you happy?” Wooyoung complains to San as he starts to drive, one hand resting on the younger’s thigh.

“I’m happy you will be thinking of me.” San innocently smiles. Taking a quick sip of his drink, Wooyoung pouts.

“What?”

“The ice melted, so it’s not that good now.”

“I said I would buy you a new one.” Wooyoung shakes his head, looking down at the swan drawing on the cup.

“I needed the cup. Not the drink.”

“Why?” San questions, keeping his eyes on the road. Wooyoung shifts, still very uncomfortable with the state of his boxer’s.

“The drawings.” Is Wooyoung’s simple answer. San thinks about his words for a minute, and at the next red light he turns his head to look at his boyfriend properly.

“You keep the cups?” San looks so happy, he is so happy. His boyfriend keeps little mementos of him, despite being together all the time. The gesture is everything. Wooyoung nods, a little embarrassed by San knowing that he quite literally keeps trash because it reminds him of his boyfriend.

“Drive.” San looks back at the road and sees the light is green. San grabs Wooyoung’s hand and lifts it up to his lips, giving the back of his hand a loud kiss as he starts to drive them home. Though both can argue home is right where the other is.