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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

Text

Tears in the Rain

prompt: feelings are confessed and a decision is made; the only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 8.4k

note: Eddie's 19, reader's 18+, and Chrissy's 17-18 years old. and yes - The Book of Unholy Mischief was published in 2008, but i still use a quote from it, oh well - roll with it!

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU, cursing, unrequited love, y'all know the drill - angst! hospitals, and minor description of surgical procedure. again - angst! please proceed with maturity and caution. is this a happy ending? depends on your mental state idk anymore. ✅ no spoilers

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses Gone with the Sin

It started in the 8th grade, spitting out bits of petals and scraping them off your tongue when nobody was looking; subtly wiping your hands on your jeans and pretending you hadn't. Your child's mind was overwhelmed and confused by the sight but figured it had to be normal, never asking any questions, because who would ever believe your symptoms?

You kept this secret to yourself like you did many others, never sharing with anyone the pain that was slowly creeping through your veins. You didn't even tell him - the boy who made your heart race and palms get sweaty. The boy who made your mind go blank and simultaneously race with thought. He's been your friend since the 1st grade, best friend since 3rd, you thought you could share anything, but after the talent show in 7th grade and you saw the way he was held hostage in his seat while watching Chrissy Cunningham do her cheer routine, you knew things couldn't stay the same.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, and it was the first of many star-struck looks Eddie would give the strawberry blonde. A look you'll come to understand would never be directed at you.

Everything around you was changing but you refused to be left behind, so, you changed with the times; you changed with your friend. Your hair was cropped short as his grew out in unruly curls; you wore black almost everyday (like he did), you might've even learned how to play guitar so you two could have another bonding experience, and you even joined his stupid fucking Hellfire Club because you thought you could impress him with your Dungeons and Dragons knowledge that you didn't spend all summer studying over.

When you got to high school, your symptoms changed - just like you did. It wasn't fair, but you never tried to fix what was wrong; Nancy Wheeler spending hours with you in the library as you feigned a personal project you needed to research, searching for any solution. Your friend didn't know you found answers the summer before high school, the summer puberty hit you like a bullet train; the summer everything changed.

You knew something was terribly and fatally wrong yet never bothered to fix it, because why bother putting forth effort into an inevitable end? Your options were limited and neither sounded better than the last.

Option One: you succumb to your symptoms and suffocate. Two: you got a surgery to remove the blooms growing in your lungs - but it would in turn take away all known thought and memory of your beloved. And Option Three: confess your feelings and pray to any and every known God, Goddess, Deity that he would return them.

However, you worried that if he did return your affections - whether he verbalized them or not - you wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with. So, you sucked it up and kept quiet because having him as just a friend was better than forgetting him, or losing his friendship. You were never good being alone but found being alone with him was better than being by yourself. You chose to remain strong and silent, despite the way you withered away inside; you chose to stay close, even though his proximity made your heart crack. You chose to borderline torture yourself because you knew walking away would take more bravery than sticking around.

But in the words of Ellie Newmark, "Unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before."

You positively refused to turn "bitter and mean", so, you plastered a smile on your face and never gave anyone reason to think anything could be wrong. You never thought there'd be anyone after him, because you were enamored with everything he did and the very idea of being in love with anyone except him drove your heart into your throat. The idea was unimaginable.

The first semester of high school, your chest got heavier with meat but also pressure, causing a terrible tightness that left you feeling as if you were breathing through a sauna; your lungs constricted with tendrils of prickling pain, and soon, those bits of petals were fully intact, giving you first sight to what was being hacked out of your body - white chrysanthemums.

After a bit of research, you discovered these particular flowers were used in European funeral bouquets - but not many others. You discovered white chrysanthemums were a symbol of death, grief, and mourning in some Asian cultures, and it did little to quell the worry in your chest.

Yet, how oddly beautiful to suffer through this; where your own body betrayed you but produce something pure, innocent even, despite being slathered with a halo of tacky blood.

However, you feared life without him and even if it meant your heart would permanently weep, you would sign yourself up for a lifetime of pain if it meant he stayed close. If it meant he stayed in your life. If his hand would continue to hold yours. If his smile would grace your sight, if those pillowy lips would form precious nicknames that always made you feel on top of the world.

You'd mourn yourself, in order to preserve and celebrate all he was.

For years, you persevered through the unimaginable pain in body and mind, and for years, you and he grew closer than ever before. In the 10th grade, things changed again - but this was only because you caught yourself about to confess your feelings for Edward Munson. Panic-inducing fear halted the words before they could slip out, and instead, it caused a violent coughing attack.

One so intense that it made you turn away from Eddie and get back in your father's car, driving away from his trailer as your palm was slathered in a slick, sticky mixture of blood and limp white petals.

You felt immense guilt when you glanced in the rearview mirror, Eddie's shocked, confused, and concerned figure standing on his porch - watching you drive away, and wondering what had gone wrong. You two had been smoking, sure, but Eddie often thought that you could smoke him under any table, any day. Maybe he had indulged you too much, and maybe your lungs and throat were going raw from it all - spurring a bud of guilt to sprout in Eddie's gut.

He didn't let you smoke going forward.

You accepted the new limitation because you couldn't handle telling him the truth. You chose to suffer for him, you chose to remain close and depend on him more than you should've. It became increasingly painful to live through your days, and to your heart-stopping fear, the pain was tenfold when you were nearest Eddie.

Eddie, who was oblivious to your pain.

Eddie, who couldn't pick up a fucking hint.

Eddie, who you've been in love with since you were a kid.

Eddie, who you spent every birthday and holiday with.

Eddie, who only ever wanted the pretty, popular head cheerleader... And not you.

Still, his friendship was better than nothing at all and you dealt with the staggering pain that soon left your limbs weak. Surely, the pain of losing him wouldn't match the pain you had now, so, you stuck it out.

You and Eddie hung out every weekend. You went to his shows at The Hideout, you helped him do his homework and study. You defended him against bullies, you'd wipe his tears, hold his hand through tattoos, you brought him new customers to up-charge his drug sales. You loved him, and you did what you could to show that without needing to verbalize it.

You laughed with him, cried, watched movies; went to concerts, checked out books in the library on how to fix automobiles to help him tune up his van. You remembered his Uncle Wayne's birthday and got him a new mug each year, you taught Eddie how to bake, you both would raid the music store and spend his drug money - and he'd always buy you a new record, even if it "wasn't real music".

Because that's what best friends did - they loved each other unconditionally.

And for years, you'd watch him stare after the pretty captain of the cheer team; her oblivious to his staring and him oblivious to yours. It was like a never-ending circle, watching the three of you idiots tiptoe around feelings and truth. Yet Eddie was focused on what was in front of him in the form of Chrissy, never bothering to ever check to see what was behind him - in the form of you.

Because you were always there. A constant presence tethered to his soul, forever being a safety net during the times he pushes himself too far.

The stake in your heart drove deeper when he'd ask your opinion on his hair - wondering if Chrissy would notice the trimmed dead ends (like you did). He'd ask you what flower was your favorite, because he wanted to impress the pretty strawberry blonde with a pretty bouquet. He asked you for a mixtape of your favorite love songs - learning a few of them on his guitar in the hopes of serenading the girl who you'd never be.

Thing was, Eddie was the only constant in your life and you felt it was impossible to walk away from him; some kind of chain keeping you from ever wondering too far. He was there from Day One, never leaving your side, and always knowing when something was wrong - until now.

When your symptoms graduated to coughing out blood daily, he didn't notice. When your chest was ready to cave in, making your breaths ragged and wheezy, he didn't notice. When your eyes became dull and lifeless due to the consistent pain that didn't let you rest through the night, he didn't notice.

What he did notice, was how Chrissy Cunningham was paying him slightly more attention since she and Jason Carver broke up. He noticed when her hair was different, he'd rave about how good she looked in the color green, gush to you in excitement when Mr. Lang had assigned them as project partners, and how Chrissy told him how funny she thought he was.

And the first day they decided to hang out together outside of educational purposes was the day you coughed out a full bloom. Floating on the surface of the water plugged in your bathroom sink was a white chrysanthemum, speckled in bright red blood; a string of red-stained saliva dripping from your mouth as you stared in shock. The face scrub popped lightly on your cheeks and fingertips, but your skincare routine was forgotten as you registered the newest symptom change.

This was new, this was much more painful. The usually beautiful flowers slowly grew in your lungs, sprouting thorns the longer you fought against your feels - refusing to admit defeat, and confess your deepest, longest kept secret.

For the following days, you were excusing yourself every single class period to retch into a toilet bowl, the blooms now sopping wet from your blood due to the shredded rawness of your throat and lungs.

Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy's perfume was still in his nostrils. Her swaying ponytail still behind his eyes. Her beaming smile painted in his mind, and fingers tingling from the ghostly memory of her hand in his.

Thorns sliced your throat, stabbed your tongue, and shredded the inside of your cheeks when you tried to spit them out as quick as possible. It was like your blood was made of glue, keeping the blooms and thorns stuck to your mouth and lips - no matter how your river of tears tried to wash them away. Or how your sobbing breath tried to force them out into the toilet - they just wouldn't budge.

Petals and flowers and thorns stuck to you, like your love for Eddie.

And Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy was wearing that skirt today, and he was telling you all about how beautiful she was instead of focusing on spending quality time with you; instead of noticing how you visibly shrunk into yourself in an effort to quell the pain throbbing in your chest and head, in an effort to block out the pain of hearing the boy you love gush about the girl he loves.

Breathing became harder, as if something were blocking your lungs. Blocking the passageway air needed to travel; blocking you out of your life. It took a physical toll; color of your eyes dulling, hair drying of any moisture, bones protruding from the harsh symptoms that refused to ease in severity. You felt fear for the first time since the 8th grade and this had all first started; trying to weigh your options over what to do.

Three options...

Eddie didn't notice your turmoil to make a decision because Chrissy agreed to a date with him.

Before you know it - years have passed since your first indication of symptoms. You prayed for deliverance, but God couldn't hear you through your gargled cries; coughing petals and blooms out between blobs of thick clots. Your pillow cases were all soiled, yet you couldn't replace them - it was futile with the way blood shot from your mouth and nose. You ran through tissues more than tampons, and your bedroom became something akin to a hospice room.

Eddie didn't notice when you dulled of life.

Being as you were now seniors, you figured showing up at Eddie's trailer in the middle of the night wasn't totally weird. After all, you both had sought refuge with the other since before you really understood what friendship meant. With worry and fear dropping your heart to your feet from the weight of your panic, you hopped in your beat up Toyota and drove through town to reach Eddie's home; used tissues scattered across the passenger seat - all saturated with blooming drops of blood.

You had no idea how to explain what was happening, but you needed to tell him. You needed help, and if there was a chance all of this could be over if you just told him the truth, you were willing to let down your walls. Eddie had always told you he'd do anything to help you, and you just banged your hands on the steering wheel as you tried to rid the idea from your mind that that, too, had changed.

When you got to Eddie's front door, the lights were on and you prayed he'd answer despite the late hour. You knocked, waited; knocked again, waited some more. After 4 minutes, you were pounding at his front door until it was shoved open - forcing you back a step - and to your horror, there stood Chrissy Cunningham... In Eddie's favorite Metallica shirt.

And only his shirt.

"Oh, hey," Chrissy smiles awkwardly, shifting her weight over her feet. Her shining strawberry blonde hair is strung off her neck in a messy bun that makes her look fucking ethereal. "Um, Eddie's in the shower... Do you want me to go get him for you?"

But the small blemish poking out from the collar of the shirt she wore made you shake your head through tears; trying to offer a small smile. "No, oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to interrupt. Shit, my bad, Chrissy," you backed away down the stairs, needing to use the railing to save yourself from falling over.

"You weren't," she assured. "We were, um... Done. H-He's in the shower, why don't you come in?" Her brows pulled together as if a string was threaded between them, offering sweetly, "I was gonna make some tea, do you want some? We could, um, hang out? Until he's out of the shower, i-if you want?"

FUCK! You knew Eddie didn't have fucking tea, so, the sweetheart must've brought it with her and now, she's offering to make you some? God damn it. Why'd she have to be so nice!?

"Oh, yeah, um, no, no thanks, Chrissy, that's really nice of you, but it's really nothing. I should just get going, I'll talk to him later, um... H-Have a nice weekend, and I'm sorry, again."

"Are you sure? You look kinda upset - I don't think you should drive right now."

Eddie didn't notice - but one look from Chrissy Cunningham and she had. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was now.

You nodded despite the pain swelling in your chest, "Yeah, no, no I'm fine - I should've just called. It's not a big deal, I'm sorry again, um, good night, Chrissy, um, yeah - just, yeah, have a nice night."

She nodded, "You, too. I hope you feel better, I'll tell Eddie you stopped by."

You trusted that she would, returning home and with petals still sticking to your tongue, charged into your mother's room. She sat up in her bed in shock - late night shifts taking their toll and leaving her sleep deprived. This was her first weekend off in months, and you felt terrible for interrupting her, but you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You needed your mother. You needed her more than ever before because your fear was tangible, and you weren't ready to die.

See, thing is, your mother was borderline your best friend (besides Eddie, that is). She and your father had been high school sweethearts, married, and he died in a tragic car accident on the night your mother was going to tell him she was pregnant on their first wedding anniversary. She never dated, she never brought a man home, she only focused on you. When you got older, she figured she could work more and you were happy to support her; taking up more house chores to save her from any unnecessary stress.

It was just you and your mother... Until Eddie, then, he was a constant presences at your dinner table. He had his own Christmas stocking your mother knitted. His favorite snacks kept in a stocked up supply for whenever he chooses to visit. And you and your mother would spend an entire day baking a cake for his birthday before hosting a full meal for him and his Uncle Wayne.

Your mother never had an issue with doing any of that because she was grateful for Eddie being in your life. It made her feel as if you'd never be alone.

However, you now felt like a burden, but the moment your mother clocked your tears and trembling hands clutching bloody tissues, she was beckoning you to her chest and begging you to tell her what was wrong as she rocked you soothingly.

So, you confessed. Everything.

From that night in 7th grade when you saw Eddie mesmerized by Chrissy Cunningham for the first time. That being the night you coughed out petals... And how everything changed and got worse from there on, and you didn't understand what was wrong, why you were suffering.

You told her about how you were now coughing out the full thorny blooms, how the bleeding wouldn't stop; how the pain was festering, spreading, and suffocating your heart, mind, and soul.

You told her about tonight... What you saw... How nice the cheerleader had been, how you couldn't find it in your heart to hate her, and how you didn't know what to do anymore.

You told her how Eddie didn't notice anymore - he couldn't see you - because he could only see Chrissy, and it was slowly killing you.

It took all night to explain, and your mother sat you at the kitchen table. She made you hot tea and plated a few cookies - talking well through the night and into the morning. She wanted to understand everything and as the sun breached the horizon, she was encouraging you to tell Eddie how you felt after reading the same book you had that explained the disease you suffered from.

You told her she was crazy, but she begged you to at least try. She validated that you had the right idea in going to his trailer; she thought that you and Eddie had always been cute, that you'd make a great couple; and though your sense of style had changed again (after it didn't get Eddie's attention, like you'd hoped), she still thought you two complimented each other well. "You balance each other, my dove," she whispered. "Tell him. Please, for your own sake."

So, you bucked up the courage to tell him on Monday. You'd see him at school and couldn't back down, leaving it neutral grounds for you both to be honest and open in. Or, so you hoped.

That morning, you caught Eddie before he could enter the school and asked to talk to him. "Shit, I meant to call you, doll," he breathed, looking at you with concern. "Chrissy said you were upset and showed up at my door - are you okay? What was wrong? I'm sorry I wasn't there."

So, when Chrissy points it out, he pays attention. Instead, you just answered, "It's okay, I'm okay. Um, c-can we go talk? Privately?"

"Of course, yeah, c'mon," he agreed, leading you to the lesser-populated hallway to slip into the old drama classroom that now posed as the Hellfire Club room. Eddie sat on his throne but leaned forward on his knees to hold your hands as you took time to think over in your mind what you wanted to say.

"Eddie," you whispered. "I-I just really need to tell you something, and you have to promise not to hate me after."

He nodded, "I could never hate you, pretty girl, and you know you can tell me anything."

"Right," you sniffled. "Well, um, listen, I just want you to know that I-I value this friendship more than anything, and never want to jeopardize it..."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," Eddie chuckled. His hands squeezed yours, encouraging, "C'mon, sweetheart, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You nodded, blurting, "I'm in love with you."

Only the silence stretched between you two like an oversized bubble of Hubba Bubba - popping as your words registered in his mind. His eyes just shot between both of yours, mouth opening to form a word before sighing and shaking his head. Panic and fear gripped your heart, lungs, and mind in a tighter vice than the white chrysanthemums' roots.

"You can't be," he finally whispered brokenly.

A record scratched in your head, "What?"

"You can't be in love with me," his head shook as he repeated his statement. "No, no, you - you can't be."

"Why can't I be? Is it that hard to imagine?"

"Because you're my best friend - you're supposed to be my best friend!" He looked spooked, startled, unsure, and like he was going to have an anxiety attack. "You can't be in love with me, you're just - no!"

"Well, I didn't exactly plan it."

"Just - stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop loving me!"

"You don't think I've tried!?"

"Try harder!"

"For fuck's sake, Eddie! You don't think this is hard enough?"

"Well, it'd be easier if you had some kind of restraint!" He snipped, wiping a hand down his mouth. "Shit, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Well, why tell me?"

You gulped, fearing telling him the truth now. Instead, you just whispered, "I-I take it you don't feel the same?"

"Shit, sweetheart," he sniffled, shaking his head, "y-you know I love you but... But no, I-I'm not in love with you."

You nod slowly, blinking even slower, "No?"

"I'm so sorry - fuck, God damn it."

"It's not your fault," you promised. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? I swear, I didn't want to do this, I never wanted things to change between us."

He nodded sadly, "I get that, I do, but I think I need time to think."

"Wait, what? Think about what, Eddie? L-Like - you need to think about us? You need time to think about us?" You squeaked, panic swelling. You started to cough lightly, that sticky feeling clogging your throat again.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Because I'm with Chrissy and I don't think she would like... This."

Now you understood... "So, because you're dating Chrissy, you can't be friends with me? We've been friends forever, Eddie, why does this have to change things?"

"Because you're in love with me! I didn't want you to be, you were supposed to be my friend. Just my friend!"

"I'm sorry it happened, but why does this mean we can't still be friends? I've dealt with it this long, I can go longer - "

"Because I'm in love with Chrissy, and can't do this to her! For fuck's sake, why'd you have to do this, huh? Why'd you have to fall in love with me right when I got a girlfriend - "

"It didn't just happen, Eddie, I've been in-love with you since middle school! But notice how we stayed friends! Please - please, we can stay friends, this doesn't have to change anything."

He shook his head, standing abruptly, "It changes everything. I gotta go - I just can't be here, I'm sorry."

"Eddie! Please! Wait, just wait, please, let me explain!" You begged, watching him flee the room; the door slamming in an echo around you and forcing the tears teetering in your waterline to fall pathetically. You felt your heart nailing you to the floor, tears falling numbly down your cheeks; hands shaking and coughing getting worse. Your hands finally found feeling again and rose, covering your mouth and nose to catch the splatter.

You hacked as your lungs shriveled to expel whatever clogged them, falling to your knees and needed to use two fingers to reach in the back of your throat to pull a full floral bloom out; blood dripping off of it and from your mouth to soak into the old, dingy carpet. The thorns pierced your finger pads when you rolled the short stem between them, the flower falling into the puddle of blood you'd spat out.

Stumbling to your feet, you kept a tissue in hand and covering your mouth; the material slowly saturating as you punched your mother's number in the outside payphone.

"Mom?" You begged into the receiver, wheezing and sobbing through the pain. Everything had changed, again. "I-I need you to take me to the hospital. Please, Mommy, i-it's hurts. 'S blood everywhere, an-and the pain - Mommy, please, it hurts so bad."

Your mother was pulling up in a skidding halt within 6 minutes. Her rubber tires burned over the pavement, slight smoke wafting into the air to indicate not just her speed, but her harsh stop when she saw your body bolting towards her.

From the side of the school, moments before the first bell rang, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler watched you fully sprint for the car and how fast your mother pulled off, sharing an uneasy look before darting for the same payphone and calling Steve Harrington.

But they couldn't find you all over town, opting to wait at your house instead. They only waited for about an hour before your mother's car was pulling into the driveway.

"You gonna tell them?" Your mom muttered, smiling and waving at the three teenagers.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Doctors said keeping it a secret doesn't make it easier, right?"

She nodded, "For whatever it's worth, my dove, I think you're making the right decision. This took a lot of bravery, but you're going to get better, and you're going to feel better, too."

"I know," you whispered with a watery smile. "Just gonna suck until Thursday."

"I'll call the school, you're gonna be out for recovery for at least 2 weeks."

"Don't forget my post-op appointment," you nodded.

"Right," she agreed, opening her door and triggering you to follow suit. "Hey, kids," she beamed at your worried friends.

They greeted her politely (but enthusiastically) before she was excusing herself and heading for the house. It left you to stand before the three people, who, up until a few years ago, you wouldn't have imagined being real friends with.

Technically, you and Nancy Wheeler had been friends since before Eddie; Robin and Steve coming into your life through inter-dimensional circumstances before choosing to stick around.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked first, looking the most worried. "We saw you running from school and thought something was wrong."

"So, you blew off school to stalk my house?" you teased lightly, trying to alleviate the pain settling on your heart after leaving the hospital.

"Exactly," Robin crossed her arms. "You ran like something was chasing you - we knew something was wrong. What is it? A-Are you okay? I mean, you looked pretty spooked, we were afraid something else came back - you know - "

"Okay, Robin, yeah," you chuckled lightly, interrupting her rapid words. "Um, I appreciate the concern, but it could've waited."

"Not when you've been acting funny for months now," Nancy shook her head. "Don't think we haven't noticed; you're skinnier, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, you carry tissues around like you're paid for it... What's up with you?"

"And I've clocked the constant nose bleeds," Steve nodded, arms folding against his chest. "Look, if something's going on, you're going to need friends through it, and we're willing to take on the job."

Your heart swelled slightly and you nodded, blinking quickly to keep the tears down. "Um, yeah... Yeah," you sniffled, looking up at them as the emotion couldn't be kept out of your voice, "something's going on, and um... I-I think I would like to tell you guys about it. Do you mind waiting in the backyard? I've gotta grab a book from inside, trust me, it can explain some things better than I can."

Nancy looked nervous as her fingers twisted together; Robin nodding before nudging her along. Steve shifted on his feet and dropped his arms, clearing his throat, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a whisper. "Just hang tight."

He nodded with crinkled brows of concern, heading off behind the two girls as you bolted for the front door. Your mother was heard in her room, on the phone, and you dropped your school bag on your bed, snatched up the library book you checked out every year, and made for your backyard.

As kids, you and Nancy loved hanging out here because it was spacious, and your mother had a beautiful garden with patio furniture nestled amongst the greenery. At the white-washed table, Steve, Nancy, and Robin waited together, muttering quietly, and left you to take your seat.

Sighing, you opened the book and slid it forward; Nancy's hands darting to pick it up and read swiftly as you began your tale. After voicing everything to your mother, you had a better idea of how to word it all; starting with when you realized you had a crush on Eddie in the 5th grade, how it festered in middle school, and when you realized you'd only be friends - so, you kept it that way.

You told them about the tiny bits of torn up petals, then how they became intact. Next, you explained how things got worse for you; blooms being coughed out with blood, how Eddie crushed majorly on Chrissy, and then to how everything hit rock bottom.

You explained the petals changed into full blooms, sprouting thorns as you stuffed your feelings deeper inside your cracked heart. You explained the constant pain, the confusion, the sleeplessness, showed them the cuts on your lips and in your mouth; even picking a leftover petal from the inside of your cheek to prove your point.

Steve's hand deftly reached out to examine it.

You explained the mental anguish of loving someone who couldn't love you back; the anguish of being so close - yet so far; and the anguish of knowing you were being killed from the inside, out because you couldn't let go of your overwhelming feelings for Eddie 'the Freak' Munson.

Then... You told them about Chrissy and Eddie at his trailer when you went to tell him the truth. How you confided in your mother for the first time in years. How you were encouraged to tell Eddie - and how it royally backfired, which lead you to today.

To your decision.

To your appointment at the hospital that your mother bullied administration into giving you last minute.

To meeting the cardiothoracic surgeon that diagnosed you with, as the library book highlighted, Hanahaki Disease.

Steve had tears in his eyes; elbows bent on the tabletop to keep his folded hands in front of his mouth, like he was physically suppressing his emotion with the petal laid to the table. Robin stared at you the whole time, never once making you feel as if you were talking to thin air; brows crinkled and perked at appropriate moments, never interrupting.

Nancy had read the entire passage before slamming the book down and letting her tears fall. She listened intently as you explained to the three that you had to choose one of three options, and immediately after that, you told them you had come to a decision.

You'd made the appointment and you were to under the knife that Thursday before returning in two weeks for a post-op check-up that would ensure all of the blooms were cleared from your lungs. And after today, you had discovered the plants were creeping up your esophagus and if you waited, soon, it would kill you.

"Well, why're you upset?" Robin asked gently, reaching for your hand. "This is good, right? Y-You'll be cured!"

You nodded in agreement, but it was Nancy voicing, "She'll forget Eddie completely."

"What?" Steve asked, looking between you and Nancy urgently. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only contingency in exchange for my life," you nodded.

"You've been friends forever," he shook his head, leaning back. "No, I just - I can't believe him. He doesn't love you back? That's just bullshit - c'mon!"

"Steve - "

"No, seriously!" he cut Robin off, her hand tightening in mine. "We've all seen how he looks at you, how he behaves! It doesn't make sense, it's not possible. He's just scared," his head shook still, looking angry with pinched brows. "He's scared and he's not thinking."

"No, Stevie," you whispered, "he understands, and trust me, he doesn't feel the same. It's okay."

"You'll forget your best friend," Steve shook his head. "That's not okay."

"It's a small price to pay, right?"

Nancy nodded, "If it means you're out of pain, and you won't die, yeah, I'd say it's a reasonable price to pay."

You agreed, "It's gonna be okay, but I'll be in recovery until the surgeon okay's me to return to school and normal activity."

"Will you remember why you need the surgery?" Robin wondered.

"Apparently not," you shrugged.

For the next few days, you remained at home and prepared for your operation. Your mother worked extra shifts because she was taking Thursday through TBD in order to take care of you, and your friends visited you everyday.

Nobody spoke of Eddie, who had asked Robin that Wednesday where you were - only to receive a fierce glare and slammed locker in his face. Chrissy's brows furrowed at the aggression, worrying something was wrong with you if your friends were shunning Eddie. She reminded him of how upset you'd been when you showed up at his trailer, his mind flashing to when he found a bloodied white chrysanthemum in the Hellfire room after he left you when you confessed your feelings for him.

He knew that was why you showed up at his trailer that night, and his heart constricted as he grew cold in your absence. He had to admit, if you've had these feelings since middle school, you never let it interfere with your friendship and he was a fool for blowing up at you.

Could it really be that hard to love you? Was the idea that far fetched?

The day of your surgery, your mother and you pushed out of your front door at 4 am to make it to the hospital for pre-op; blood work; all the standard procedures that needed done before you were sliced open and roots carved out of your lungs. And to your honest shock? Steve Harrington was waiting on the street, leaning on his car, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old hoodie.

"What're you doing here?" You wondered, oblivious to your mother's knowing smirk.

Steve shrugged lightly, "Figured you'd want a familiar face around, and Nance and Robin have tests in school today - otherwise, they'd be here, too."

"'Too'?" You repeated with a soft smile.

"Yeah, well, I-I'd still be here," he nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding with a soft smile. "I think I'd really appreciate the, um..."

"Support? Comfort? Seeing my pretty face when you wake up from anesthesia?" He grinned.

"All of the above, Harrington, c'mon," you chuckled, waving him with you. In your mother's car, she kept conversation light as a distraction when your nerves flared the closer you drove to the hospital; the boy in the back doing his best to chime in charmingly. Steve was allowed to stay with you once in the pre-op procedure room (again, your mother bullied hospital admin into letting him stay), and cracked a few really poor jokes while needles were poked into your skin.

Medicine was administered, your hair stuffed into a surgical cap, vitals taken for a final time - and then it was time to go.

When you were wheeled away, Steve squeezed your hand and your mother kissed your forehead; both wishing you luck, reminding you of your brave decision, and sent you down the sterile hallway. While staring up at the blinding, florescent lights of the operating room, a gas mask was placed over your mouth and the anesthesiologist instructing you to count backward from ten... And your heart begged you to change your mind.

Begged you not to erase Eddie. Begged you to jump off that table.

But your mind told only your tongue to move, and you counted, "Ten."

Eddie's soft hair through your fingers, "Nine."

Eddie's stupid grin when he's showing you a new guitar riff he'd mastered, "Eight."

Eddie's laugh, "Seven."

The warmth of Eddie's hugs, "Six."

His hands holding your cheeks, thumbs sweeping to clear your tears as he would coo to you, trying to calm you down, "...Five..."

"She's out," the doctors nodded to one another; scalpels clinking over the sterile table, machines beeping to indicate vital readings, and rubber gloves snapped into place as your hospital gown was peeled away, and disinfecting betadine squirted over your skin.

Across town, in the hallways of Hawkins High, Eddie was pacing by your locker. He looked disheveled, not himself; confused and scared, by what Robin could judge.

"What're you doing here?" she shot venomously, using her hand to push his chest and force him back a step from your locker.

"Where is she?" he begged. "Please, Robin, I know she's hurt - I know I hurt her, but I have to talk to her an-and she hasn't been at school all week. Please - I have to talk to her."

She used your combination to open your locker and set the packet of missed work inside for her to pick up at the end of the day, sneering, "It's too late."

"No, it's not - "

"No, seriously, Eddie," she snapped, the locker slamming in an echo. "It's too late for you. She's let you go, time for you to do the same."

For two weeks, Eddie repeated the last words he'd said to you, how broken you looked when he said he didn't love you. The words you said to him, then how you weren't seen again, to that bloody flower he found, and how Robin, Nancy, and Steve were all giving him the cold shoulder. He thought over what went wrong and every single way he was going to make it up to you, because while he might be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, there was never replacing you - and he needed you.

Eddie needed you.

And his heart sunk to his stomach as he realized how bitter he's turned; shunning Chrissy, becoming testy, canceling Hellfire, and missing you to the point he was tugging his hair out of his scalp and chain smoking cigarettes.

Loving you was easy and maybe he's loved you longer than he's known - longer than he ever wanted to admit. But missing you was hard, and Eddie wasn't accustomed to it.

It was supposed to be easy between you two, but when you confessed your feelings, Eddie felt everything become messy and change. Eddie Munson wasn't very good with change. He missed your laugh, he missed your comfort, a few times he'd even looked up to his bed when he mastered a new guitar riff - and feeling his heart sink in disappointment when he only saw Chrissy.

Granted, she was smiling at him, but it wasn't your smile. Tears filled his eyes when he realized he spent every Friday with Chrissy, finding new ways to impress the cheerleader, and feeling crushed when he remembered he never needed to impress you. You were always proud of him, you always encouraged him, and with a single look, you could say more than ever opening your mouth.

Eddie needed you, and he had ruined any chance of loving you properly. But Edward Munson was stubborn and not willing to give up, not until you were beating him off with a stick. The two of you had been friends forever and he knew you had some fights, but one way or another, someone was always apologizing and together, you could move past the issue. So, until you were telling him to fuck off, he was going to try - because you had never given up on him.

Two weeks of nothing. Two weeks of your home's voicemail. Two weeks of nobody answering the front door. Two weeks of confusion, heartache, and stress. Two weeks of smoking packs of cigarettes, of snapping at Chrissy, of praying to a God he's never prayed to before.

When he saw you that Friday, Eddie's heart leapt into his throat and he gave a strangled gasp before sprinting across the carpark to make it to your side. You were surrounded by Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, all three piling out of Steve Harrington's car - who now leaned on his driver's door, mid-conversation - and he thought you looked more beautiful than ever.

The weight you've lost had slowly built back up now that you weren't constantly vomiting. Your head had cleared, your heart feeling lighter than ever before, your veins racing with helium, and the bags under your eyes had cleared. In fact, your eyes looked clearer than they ever had, and your skin was practically glowing.

God did you look good.

Eddie panted your name, coming to a skidding halt as Steve pushed off his car and looked at you with worry.

Why would Harrington need to worry about you?

"Oh, uh, hi there?" you nodded at him, tugging your binder closer to your chest and sending a cautious look to Robin.

But Eddie's heart was in his throat, "I-I need to talk to you, please."

To his horror, you shook your head, "Um, I don't think we actually have anything to talk about."

"What? No, we have so much to discuss, please, I know I was a jackass and you don't deserve that - "

"Wait, hang on, I-I'm sorry. You don't understand, we don't have anything to talk about," you chuckled weakly, "because I don't know you."

Ice shot into Eddie's veins, stuttering, "W-What? Th-That's not funny, doll, don't joke like that."

You looked at Nancy for support, whispering in a small, panicked voice, "I don't know him, do I, Nance? I don't think I know him."

"No, honey," Nancy assured, smiling softly at you before glaring at Eddie. "He's just a classmate."

Eddie knew Nancy was protective of you but what the hell was going on? What kind of a sick prank was this? Look, Eddie knew he's pulled some mean jokes in his life but this? This wasn't mean, it was cruel, and he didn't find it funny in the least bit.

"What? No - what the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie begged, looking between the four teenagers. "Sweetheart, it's me - it's Eddie. It's your Eddie, please, what do you mean you don't know me - what's going on? This isn't funny, sweetheart, please, okay? Look, we've known each other a decade, right, how can you - how can you not know me?"

"I'm really sorry, um... Eddie? Was it Eddie?"

His heart shattered, shards stinging as they were pumped through the rest of his body. "Sweetheart, no, please, I just... I'm so sorry, but this isn't funny - "

"Look, I'm really sorry, but this isn't a joke, I really don't know you," your head shook. "And I would remember someone I've known a decade - right?" You asked Nancy again, looking nervous. "I-I don't know him, but he knows me. Nancy, I-I don't understand, I don't know what's wrong. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, honey," she rushed to speak, sending Steve a pointed look when stress made your eyes shine. "You're okay, you're okay, it's okay."

"Okay, hey, hey, hey, okay," Steve stepped in, pushing Eddie back a few steps. "You need to back off, you're upsetting her."

"I'm upsetting her?" he repeated, tears collecting as his feet tried to plant against Steve's force. "She doesn't remember me - "

"Back off, dude," Steve warned.

"I'm really sorry," you called to him, genuine look of distorted pain over your face. "I'm sorry," you repeated to Robin and Nancy, "I-I don't know him, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what's wrong, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey, breathe, okay? It's all fine, it's all good, you're okay, I promise, just try to focus on breathing," Robin assured, hand rubbing circles over your back.

"No! Baby! You do know me!" Eddie begged over Steve's shoulder as Nancy turned you away. "Please! No! You know me, baby! Don't do this, please, please, I need you! Sweetheart - please! I need you, and I'm so sorry for what I said! Don't do this! No, please, I-I'm sorry!"

His heart glued itself back together just to shatter once again when Robin took your books to let your hands slap over your ears to block him out as Nancy directed you away - Steve still pushing Eddie back.

"Dude!" Steve snapped with anger coloring his iris' a darker shade, "You're fucking upsetting her!"

"Steve, please - "

"No," Steve shook his head. "You had your chance, and it's too late. Okay? Leave her alone, she doesn't remember and doesn't need you trying to 'remind' her when it's already done, dude. Okay? It's done."

"What the hell does that mean? Please, Steve, I need her - she's my best friend and I can fix this," Eddie begged.

Steve felt fleeting compassion for the other boy, seeing the distress and heartbreak over his face. Steve sighed, glancing back to see you being spoken to softly by Nancy and Robin, assuring you it was okay not to remember the boy with long hair, before turning to look into the eyes that had broken your heart on too many occasions.

"She doesn't remember because you were removed from her memory, Ed, you were just... All of you was removed from her, okay?" Steve sighed finally. "Look, it's hard to explain, but do yourself and her a favor?"

"Anything."

"Go to the library and look this up," he pulled a torn piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over. "It'll explain what was wrong, and you should hopefully be able to piece together why she can't remember you. Don't make this harder, all right? She's finally okay, and you were so sure you didn't want her that it's time for you to be okay without her, too. Don't do this to her, man, you get me?"

"What did I do?" Eddie whispered.

Steve gulped, shaking his head, "You couldn't love her back."

Eddie stood there, piece of paper clutched in his fingertips like the petal of a flower, as Steve turned and headed for you three girls. He lifted his arm to bring you in for a side hug, assuring you that it was okay not to remember - while Eddie stood there, like you had so many times, watching with tears and heartbreak in his eyes.

He didn't go to classes, he obsessively searched books for the Hanahaki Disease Steve told him about; finding his answers, and never finding peace. He had to live everyday watching you really bloom into your own person; becoming more radiant by the passing second, realizing he was draining you of your life before, and how there wouldn't ever be room for him with you now.

When you graduated with an acceptance to your first choice college, you returned home in your cap and gown with a giggling Robin and Nancy; planning on changing and getting ready to hit a few grad parties already. The girls were so excited that you were feeling (and looking) better now that they didn't want to waste anymore time and insisted you all hit a few parties. However, before you could hop up the stairs to your room, a large bouquet of flowers caught your attention.

Sat on your kitchen counter was a thick bouquet of white chrysanthemums. There was no note, no signature, but something in your gut twisted with knowledge. Your fingers reached out to gently stroke the petals before smiling lightly, leaning in to sniff them, and then turn for the stairs to rush up to your bedroom.

All the while across town, a long haired metalhead in a matching green cap and gown, tipped a bottle of Irish whiskey to his lips; a single stemmed white chrysanthemum rolled between his fingers; old polaroid photos scattered around his body on the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks, and regret echoing across his mind.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #requests open

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havecourage-darling · 2 years ago

Text

Teenage Dirtbag

Pairing: Eddie Munson x short, plus-sized, girly-ish, female reader.

WC: ~9K

Warnings: cursing, eddie being a lil bit of a horndog, unrequited but not unrequited love

A/N: This song screamed Eddie Munson to me and I had to write it, I don't know what to say for myself lmao I thought it was going to be 1K at most. Welp.

Masterlist || AO3

Eddie Munson knew he wasn’t the smartest person in town. He was far from the dumbest, Jason Carver took that title by a landslide.

In fact, Eddie would dare to say he was actually pretty intelligent. He wasn’t book smart, not with subjects he didn’t give a shit about, but he had common sense. Which, clearly, wasn’t so common – especially in Hawkins.

However, even Eddie had to admit that he was the dumbest son of a bitch on this planet sometimes.

The primary example was when he managed to fall in love with you, his English tutor.

After Eddie had bombed the first major test – on his second go at his senior year – his teacher had assigned him a mandatory tutor.

“I know you think I don’t like you,” Ms. O'Donnell said, her sharp eyes softening when Eddie snorted, “but I want you to succeed. You’re smarter than you let on and I can see that.”

“Don’t feel bad. All teachers hate me,” Eddie joked, a thread of truth to it.

“Well not me,” she said, “and to prove it to you – I’m going to assign you a tutor.”

What? “Aw, come on,” Eddie groaned, “I’ll do better on the next one!”

Ms. O’Donnell rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said all last year. I was the one who signed off on you using my classroom for Hellfire Club you know. It’s been four years and I’ve seen some of the things you come up with. You’re good at writing, Mr. Munson. You just need to apply yourself.”

Wait, she knew about some of his campaigns? “Which I’ll do from now on!” The comical expression on her face indicated that Eddie was not getting through to her.

“Trust me,” she said, “she took my advanced placement course as a sophomore. She’s a senior, like you, and she’s willing to do it as a favor to me.”

“Is this mandatory?” Eddie winced when his teacher’s sharp gaze returned.

“Yes,” she said, her expression softening when Eddie slumped. “I’ll make you a deal, just let her tutor you for the next quiz. If you get higher than a C, with genuine effort, you can opt out.”

“Deal,” Eddie sighed.

And now here he was, four months later and definitely more than one aced quiz later, with you in your first sundress of the season. Eddie had been waiting for you at the library, the same table in the back – hidden behind the cookbook shelves – when you walked in. The thin straps drew his attention first, his eyes trailing down to the neckline which exposed the swell of your breasts in a way that had Eddie shifting nervously in his seat.

You’d apologized, sitting down hastily, your breath coming out in quick pants. Your car hadn’t started this morning so you had to ask Dustin, your neighbor, to borrow his bike to get here.

The image of you biking in that dress was something that he didn’t know he needed.

Like always, you pulled out your battered copy of The Great Gatsby and got to work. Eddie had read the book, you’d been right – he did like it – but spent most of the first hour watching you explain the chapters he’d been assigned.

There was just something about the way your eyes lit up when you started rambling about literary terms and characterization. You tended to speak with your hands, cherry-colored nails flying as you waved a hand in the air.

Oh, you were saying his name. “Are you listening Eddie?” You asked, eyes shooting him a knowing look.

“Shortcake, I always listen to every word you say,” Eddie joked, winking. A flustered expression overtook your face and Eddie watched your fingers come up to your hair, a sure sign that his comment had hit. He hated the rush of serotonin that gave him.

See? Complete dumbass behavior.

“Pay attention, you have a quiz next week and then we start working on your final paper,” you said, tapping his hand softly. The warmth of your skin sent an electric current up his arm and straight to his chest. “Here, I brought an outline of what I thought would be good topics for you to choose from. I’m partial to Shakespeare – oh don’t give me that look – but I listed other options too. Let me see if they finally got that book that I was looking for.”

Eddie nodded and failed to avert his eyes as you walked away. Your hips swayed as the black patterned dress rippled with your movement.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. Eddie glanced at the paper you’d handed him, your handwriting neat and precise. He’d been dreading meeting you when Ms. O’Donnell had mentioned your name. You weren’t a cheerleader but you basically friends with the whole squad. He’d seen you at parties when he was selling, you always seemed nice but Eddie knew from experience that the popular crowd were just vultures waiting for a sign of weakness. Eddie wasn’t going to be stupid enough to expose any.

“Oh, hey, Lucas!” Your voice carried from a few shelves away. Eddie straightened. “I haven’t seen you since the last campaign!”

Eddie couldn’t hear what Lucas answered but your quiet laughter sent the equally stupid butterflies in his ribcage into chaos. Eddie fought a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. Honestly, he could hardly be at fault when you had the audacity to have a laugh as cute as that.

“Did you look over the outline? Oh, are you okay?” You asked, eyes pinched in concern. Eddie shook his head, his hair settling around his shoulders.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” he lied. “Was that Sinclair I heard?”

You beamed at him and Eddie swore he felt his heart stop in his chest. Jesus H. Christ, he was going to send you the bill when you sent him to the ER. “It was! I can’t believe he’s taller than me now,” you said, wrinkling your nose when Eddie laughed, “oh shut up. I meant, I used to babysit them. They were all little munchkins a few minutes ago. Now they’re freshman. That’s wild.”

“Calm down there, grandma,” Eddie retorted as you rolled your eyes, “besides, it’s not exactly hard to be taller than you nowadays shortcake.”

Eddie could tell you were trying your best to bite back a grin. “You know, I’m the one who brought your grade up from a F to a B minus, you should be nicer to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you your highness?” Eddie swooned, hands on chest, as he leaned back in his chair. “How can I ever thank you for saving me?”

“By passing your last quiz of the year,” you said dryly, eyes lighting up, “and maybe picking Macbeth for your final essay.”

Eddie snorted. “Not likely.”

“And that’s how you treat your hero?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes.

Fuck, those should come with a goddamn warning.

“How about I make you a mixtape?” Eddie joked, chewing at the end of his pen and giving your outline another look.

Your face, however, completely lit up. “Deal!”

“What?” Eddie stammered, dropping the pen from his mouth.

“No take-backs Munson!” You laughed, shrinking when the librarian shot you a look. Eddie huffed a laugh at your contrite expression and watched you turn back to him. “You get a passing grade on these last two assignments and you make me a mixtape as a physical form of your eternal gratitude.”

“Shortcake, I don’t think we have the same music tastes,” he said, eyeing the Walkman you’d left at the corner of the table with your bag.

A haughty look cross your face and the stupid butterflies slammed into his small intestine painfully. “How would you know?” You asked. “You barely ask me anything outside of English.” The second part was quieter, almost involuntary and Eddie was suddenly struck by something.

Eddie had never pushed for anything more than you had freely given. He tried not to ask about what you were doing, what you liked, or what your weekend plans were. You’d smile to him in the hallways at school but you had completely different schedules so you rarely saw each other. Besides, Eddie had an ingrained self-preservation intuition and vehemently avoided any contact with the popular crowd.

While Eddie was not a betting man, he took calculated risks. You were – beyond the ability to analyze. But…the way your face had twisted, maybe he’d gotten his signals wrong? Had you wanted him to be your friend? He’d always assumed you were doing this to fulfill some extracurricular activity. Wouldn’t you be…embarrassed to be seen with him?

“Alright sweetheart,” Eddie said eventually, “educate me then.”

You stuck out your tongue, breaking the tension and tucked your Walkman into your bag. “Too late. You snooze you lose Munson,” you said, packing up your stuff. Eddie glanced at his watch and was once again astounded to realize two hours had flown by.

“I’ll see you next week at the same time?” You asked. “Drop your paper outline in my locker and I’ll take a look at it so we have something to cover.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Eddie saluted.

“Oh,” you said, hand elbow deep in your bag, “you see Mike tomorrow, right? At Hellfire?”’

Eddie frowned, unsure. “Yeah?”

“Can you give him these?” You asked, dropping a set of die in his hands. “He wanted to borrow my old set.”

Glancing at the well cared for set in his hand, Eddie gaped. “Are these holographic?”

You grinned and pulled your backpack onto your shoulders. “Yeah! Dustin got them for me for my birthday a while ago. They’re custom! He painted them for me.”

Eddie felt his throat dry up and was almost positive he’d floated up into the stratosphere. Seriously, a semitruck could’ve trampled him and he would’ve been less surprised.

“You coming?” You asked, totally unaware of how close Eddie was to offering you his heart on a platter.

Spurred into action, Eddie pocketed the set carefully and grabbed his bag. “Yeah, I- I’m coming.” He took in your carefully stacked bracelets and dainty necklace. Your pink sandals echoed in the hallway as you made your way to the familiar bike chained outside. How did someone like you play dnd?

“Dustin taught me,” you said as you walked the bike next to his van.

“What?”

You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and squinting a little at the sun in your eyes. The air in his lungs caught at the sight of your skin in the light. Were you holographic? “Dustin and the other kids I babysat taught me how to play. I’m not very good,” you admitted sheepishly, “that’s why I never told you.”

“Oh,” he said, because his brain still wasn’t totally back from its trip into space.

“I’m an elf rogue,” you said, shrugging, “Will said it suits me since I used to practice archery.”

Eddie bit down on his cheek hard enough to almost draw blood. He fought every nerve in his body to not glare at the sky. Really universe? Really? Was his daily pining not enough?

“You’re a box of surprises, aren’t you, shortcake?” Eddie said, rocking on his heels.

You grinned. “I’m rusty at that too. My aunt lives in Indianapolis and she’s won a few competitions in archery. I’d stay with her over the summer breaks and she taught me. It was fun to run around thinking I was some kind of mini-Hawkeye or something.”

At that, he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Marvel?”

“I told you,” you said, looking incredibly flustered, as your eyes went down to your feet, “I babysat Dustin. For years. Some of it stuck.”

Say something, he urged, voice stuck in his throat.

“Uh, so I’m going to go,” you said, bright smile back on your face.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Do you want a ride?” He asked, gesturing to his van. Great, that’s the best he could come up with?

You turned your smile in his direction and Eddie almost stumbled at the power of it. Jesus, he really needed to get a grip on himself. This couldn’t be healthy.

Nodding, you’d taken a step towards him when a loud honk popped the bubble you both were tucked into. Eddie glanced over your shoulder and felt reality sucker punch him in the throat.

“Hey baby!” Nick shouted, torso almost hanging out that stupid Camaro window. “I’ve been looking for you. Your sister said you’d be here.”

Aaaand that was the second reason he was a complete dumbass.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Thanks for the offer.”

“Mhmm, see ya,” Eddie said, darting towards his van and completely missing your look.

Eddie started his van and shot out of the parking lot. He risked a glance in his rearview mirror and immediately regretted it. You were tucked into the quarterback’s arms, his face ducking down to yours, and Eddie tightened his hold on the steering wheel.

You had a boyfriend – a jock no less – because of course you did, since when did life ever like to be fair to him? Why would it ever start now? Eddie scrambled for the cigarette carton in his passenger’s seat and lit one up. Nick Jackson had been the one who almost broke Gareth’s nose last year in gym class. Nick Jackson would absolutely kick his ass if he knew how gone he was on his girlfriend.

What type of asshole had two first names anyway? And how the hell had he managed to land someone like you?

He knew the answer, obviously, but he was still in shock despite the fact that Eddie had seen you two together for the past month.

Whatever. Fuck high school. The second he had that diploma in his hands he was driving out of here and not looking back.

Eddie was over school. He’d finally gotten the news that he’d been given the green light to graduate and the first person he wanted to tell was you.

So, to mediate that, he decided to skip his last two classes and gone out to the picnic table in the woods behind the school to smoke. Taking another drag, Eddie leaned back onto the rough wood table and snorted. Who would’ve thought? He’d known ’86 was going to be his year.

Although it was in no small part thanks to you. Eddie had seen you this morning – dressed in a blue ruffled skirt, with a cardigan and a shirt that hid absolutely none of your curves. He’d felt like someone had slammed a locker door in his face, blood rushing to the bottom half of his body.

The sound of a branch snapping had Eddie jumping up, instinctively flinging the joint off towards the trees. He turned towards the sound, excuse on the tip of his tongue, when his throat closed. You stood there, shy smile on your face, hands gripping your bags strap tightly.

“Hey Munson,” you said, motioning to the table. “Can I join you?”

“Uh, yeah shortcake, please,” he gestured grandly to the old, rusted table like it was worth a million bucks. “Welcome to my hide out. Uh, sorry for the smell and the smoke.”

You laughed, eyes wrinkling and mouth turning up like he was hilarious. “I actually wanted to ask if I could buy some off of you,” you scrunched your nose and Eddie felt his heart stop. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“What?” Eddie smacked his hand to his chest exaggeratedly. “Me? Make fun? Of you? I’m insulted.”

“Ah yes, because you’re so friendly,” you joked. “I’ve never smoked before so could you sell me something already rolled?”

Eddie grinned. “You’re in luck shortcake,” he said, patting his denim vest for the bag he knew was keeping for later, “I’ve got some for you right here.”

“How much?” You asked, searching for your wallet.

Waving off your offer, Eddie dropped it onto your bag. “Consider it a thank you for helping me get to graduation.”

You froze, eyes darting up to his and Eddie couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face. “Oh my God, Eddie, don’t joke with me about this.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, opening his arms and throwing his head back. “I’m finally fucking out of here!”

Without warning, you threw your arms around him. Eddie stumbled, more than a little surprised, and stilled for a second. His arms, however, were much smarter and quicker than the rest of him because they settled immediately on the curves of your hips. You squeezed him tightly, your fingers scratching almost subconsciously at his back in soothing circles. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it Eddie, I knew it.”

Eddie leaned back to see that you were beaming, eyes bright and smile so wide it looked like it could crack your face in two. The sun pierced through the shade of the trees, landing on you like a natural spotlight – because of course it did. “Well, it’s mostly thanks to you. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. Which, was a hundred percent true.

He watched your eyes drift down his face, and for a millisecond he could’ve sworn they landed on his lips, but before he could confirm – you’d darted away. Hands fluttering down your pink cardigan, you soothed out the non-existent wrinkles and frowned.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I didn’t mean – I know people hate when I – I’m sorry.”

“When you what?” Eddie furrowed his brows, confused. “Don’t be sorry.”

You wrung your hands together and Eddie hated how small you tried to become. “I – uh, Nick hated when I just hugged him out of nowhere,” you sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Reason number one that jock was a dumbass. If Eddie had the chance, he’d cling to you like a goddamn koala.

“Hey, what’d I say? We’re friends, right?” Eddie asked, ducking to try and catch your eyes.

“Are we?” You said, surprised.

Eddie clutched his heart, looking down at his hands as if there were blood, and blinked at you. “I didn’t know you came here to shoot me straight through the heart.”

A beat of silence echoed in the clearing before you laughed, delighted by his antics. Eddie smiled at your joy; you were one of the only people in his life that never complained about his general over the top flair. “I’m sorry,” you said, tone adorably earnest. “I didn’t mean it like that – I thought, well, I thought you didn’t want to be friends with me.”

He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t but he let out an unattractive laugh and shot you a look. “Shortcake, if anyone was embarrassed to be seen with the other it’s definitely not me.”

An indignant sort of expression settled in your entire body. Eddie watched you, fascinated. He’d never seen you be anything but a human personification of a sunbeam.

“I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you,” you huffed, crossing your arms and Eddie’s eyes darted to the top of your head. Jesus Christ. He was not going to stare at your chest like a fucking pervert. He was not. Completely oblivious to his plight, you continued huffing. “I’ve tried to say hi to you like three times since I started tutoring you. You always looked like I was a lion who’d caught a mouse.”

“Because popular kids don’t talk to the outcasts, sweetheart. Don’t take it personally,” he sighed, “it’s a self-preservation tactic.”

You blinked at him. Eddie cringed internally – of course he fucked this up not even two minutes in. He scrambled to think of a way to rectify it when you sighed.

“Nick said he didn’t want me tutoring you anymore,” you said quietly.

Eddie didn’t know he could hear a heart shatter but he was positive that his just fell to the floor beneath him. That asshole. Didn’t he have enough? Thanks a lot universe.

“He said it wasn’t becoming of me to keep doing this so he wanted me to stop. I knew it was because he didn’t like you though,” you admitted.

Sighing, Eddie sat back down onto the table and pulled out another joint. Lighting it up he took a drag and blew the smoke towards his left. “So, I guess this is goodbye?”

A bird nearby sang, as if knowing he needed a soundtrack for this car crash waiting to happen. “No, you idiot,” you snapped, “I broke up with him.”

Everything tilted sideways and Eddie was sure someone had smacked him in the head with something. Maybe his hearing was off? “I’m sorry, I think I had a small seizure. Did you say you broke up with him?”

You nodded, coming over to sit across from him. “I never really liked him that much anyway. Chrissy thought we’d be cute together but I’m pretty sure I’m not his ideal type.”

“What, why is perfect too intimidating for him?” Eddie asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. Jesus fucking – just take him out. Universe? You can take me out now! He screamed internally.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, ducking your head. Eddie saw the pleased smile on your face before you hid it away and it sent a stupidly happy pang through his body. “I meant, well – you know.”

“I really don’t.”

Sighing, you motioned to your body. “You know, someone skinny enough to be a flier on the cheerleading team.”

Eddie felt his spine solidify. “Did he…did he say that to you?” He asked, his vision darkening. “That absolute fucking shithead.” What an asshole. Not only did he have the hottest girl in the entire fucking town but he was taking jabs at you? Eddie wanted to punch something.

“Wait!” Your cool hand wrapped around his wrist and Eddie hadn’t even realized he’d stood and walked in the direction of the school. “Munson! It’s okay – he didn’t say it out loud! Holy shit you’re a lot stronger than you look.”

Eddie felt you wrap your torso around his arm in an attempt to stop him. Your chest pressed against his bicep and Eddie had to close his eyes and think of his great-aunt. A soft poke to his cheek had him looking down at you, amused. You looked like a squirrel clinging to a tree. With a slow nod, he let you walk him to the bench.

“Was that a dig at my body?” He asked. “Do I look weak?”

A mortified expression settled on your face and you immediately shook your head. “That’s not what I meant at all! I just – I meant, I’m – oh, you’re teasing me,” you said, exhaling a loud breath. “I hate you.”

Smiling, Eddie bumped your shoulder with his. “No, you don’t.”

“There’s no hurt feelings, I promise,” you told him, referring to Nick, “I wasn’t what he wanted and he wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Yeah?” Eddie took another drag of his discarded joint. “What’s your type? Swim team? Basketball team? Wait, soccer player.”

You rolled your eyes and bumped his shoulder again. “No,” you said, crossly. “I don’t know. For starters maybe someone who doesn’t think Metallica is just random noise.”

Eddie sighed. He looked up at the sky, a common occurrence at this point, and wondered if whoever was up there was having fun torturing him. You played dnd and you liked Metallica. Sure. Why not? He hoped Mother Nature or God, or whoever, was having a great laugh at his expense.

“I had you pinned for a Madonna girl,” he said eventually, reeling in the affection that seemed to be pouring off him in waves.

“I am, I like a ton of music,” you said, “I’m not condescending with my music tastes.”

Gaping, Eddie shot you a look and fought his smile at your mischievous look. You were going to be the death of him.

“Hi Wayne!” Your voice floated through the front door. Eddie straightened, eyes darting around the room to make sure anything embarrassing was hidden away.

“Hi honey. You know you don’t have to bring me something every time you come over,” he said, sounding pleased. Eddie rolled his eyes. In the past two months, you and Eddie had become fast friends. In fact, Eddie didn’t know how he’d gone almost the entire second half of the school year without bombarding you with questions.

He wanted to know everything about you – he’d take any crumble you’d give him. You’d shown up to Hellfire a few times, went to movies together, and religiously showed up to the Hideout to see him play. Eddie wasn’t sure he remembered his life before you. So, obviously, like nephew like uncle and Wayne had instantly loved you the way Eddie had.

“Munson, you better be decent,” you said, not waiting for an answer and kicking the door down.

“If you really want to see me in a state of undress so badly, all you have to do is ask shortcake,” he said, loving the flustered expression he could draw out of you so quickly.

“I hate you,” you said, daintily sitting on his bed and handing him a napkin full of cookies. You’d made it a habit of baking on the days you were coming over and while Eddie definitely appreciated it – he knew you were bringing them to Wayne. Who, like Eddie, completely fell for your sincerity.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night is fine with me,” Eddie said, eagerly throwing half the cookie into his mouth. “Denial isn’t healthy though.” He winked.

“Jesus, does this have an off button?” You grumbled, flopping down onto his bed.

Eddie gave himself five seconds to appreciate the way your skirt hitched up higher on your thighs as you laid down, the bright purple material easily the most colorful thing in his room. He felt his eyes glaze over a little, imagining his teeth sinking into the meaty part of your inner thigh, the noises you’d made. Suddenly, you shot up, and Eddie tried his best to look like he wasn’t just being a goddamn pervert.

“Oh, I love this song!” You said, eyes lighting up.

His heart tripped over itself at the sight but he tilted his head and realized he’d left his stereo on as he was stitching a new patch, one you’d gotten him last week onto his vest.

When you know that your time is close at hand

Maybe then you'll begin to understand

Life down here is just a strange illusion

“That’s Iron Maiden,” Eddie said, stupidly.

You rolled your eyes. “I know, shithead,” you joked and Eddie blinked – he didn’t know why the way you cursed like a sailor was still so strange to him. Someone who wore pastels, bright colors, was in track to be valedictorian, and had a smile that rivaled the sun wasn’t someone who he’d thought would be ready to swing at the first sight of conflict. “We’ve been over your music superiority complex already, remember? I’m a woman of many interests.”

Eddie grumbled. You were right – you’d been the one who had bought him Metallica’s new album at the record store downtown when it’d just released. He thought he’d have to fight his way into getting his hands on it but, like always, you were there.

“So, do you remember how much you love me?” You asked, teasing. Eddie’s pathetic heart thumped against his ribcage and he glanced up at you.

“Why does that sound like the prelude to something I’m going to hate?”

You smiled, batting your eyelashes, and pressing your folded hands under your chin. “I need someone to go to the mall with me on Saturday. Pretty, pretty, please? I’ll do anything you want!”

Eddie’s brain short circuited for brief moment, imagining the list of things he’d both dreamed and would trade his soul to be able to do to you before he realized you were waiting for an answer. “Shortcake, I treasure our friendship but there are some things my fading sanity can’t take.”

You quirked a brow and Eddie had to fight not to visible react to your pout. He often wondered how it’d feel if he bit down on it. “Eddie?”

“Sorry, what?” He shook his head, returning back to the present.

“I said, and the mall would zap the last bit of sanity you had?”

Eddie nodded emphatically. “I’m not that strong.”

“Well, despite your complete betrayal,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Nancy said she’d go with me and helped me find a dress. I just wanted to see if you’d come with.”

“A dress?” Eddie asked. “You going somewhere fancy?”

Laughing, you shot him an incredulous look. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, where are you going?”

“Prom, Eddie,” you said with a weird look on your face, “aren’t you going?”

At that, Eddie snorted. “Me? At prom?”

“I mean, I’ll be there – so will Robin and Nancy. Gareth and Jeff told me they’re going too,” you mumbled.

“I – do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, confused. “I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. My chariot is your chariot.”

Something flashed across your face but it was gone before Eddie could decipher it.

“Oh, no, thanks. I think Robin’s getting a ride from Harrington and they’ll give me a lift,” you said.

Eddie hated how well you and Steve got along. He shouldn’t have been surprised, considering he ran in the circle you did, but when he introduced you to his friends, he hadn’t expected how quickly you bonded. It’d taken him four and half months to hurl himself out of the acquaintance zone and Steve did it in five minutes.

“Sure,” Eddie said, going back to sewing a new patch onto his vest and trying not to stab himself.

“Would you go if I asked?” You said after a beat of silence.

He was almost sure he’d snapped something important in his neck with the speed in which he turned to you. At his expression, you straightened. “I mean, like would you go to prom and hang out with us? You don’t need to go with me.”

Deflating, Eddie tried not to let it show. Of course, you hadn’t asked him to go with you. You probably had a date or at the very least someone interested. Even then, he didn’t want to lie to you.

“Yeah, shortcake, I’d go if you asked me to.”

The smile on your face was small and grew gradually into something blinding. His heart flipped, the butterflies yawned awake, and Eddie sighed. He was pathetic.

Eddie knew his strengths and weaknesses. Thanks to Wayne, he was pretty decent at fixing cars. He knew more about music than most people he’d come across. And when it came to guitar? He wasn’t humble enough to deny how good he was. However, he was blatantly aware that math and science were subjects from the depth of hell. His driving had been criticized once or twice, and, he wasn’t that great at sounding particularly eloquent.

He'd never been more aware of that than in this exact moment. Eddie was leaning against Steve’s car. His red BMW was recently cleaned and Steve was hanging out the driver’s window, telling him about his most recent date. The tie around his neck felt like it was choking him but he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t due to the anticipation.

Wheeler and Byers stood by their car, fumbling with her corsage and his tie. Robin’s front door opened and she came bounding out, her suit a bright blue that fit her perfectly. Her hair had been curled and she only seemed to wobble once on her heels as she made her way to the car.

“Man, if I don’t break my ankle before the end of the night,” she muttered, leaning on Eddie for support. He helped her catch her balance and smiled when she flushed at the compliments from everyone.

“You look good Buckley,” he told her, nudging her with his elbow.

Robin beamed. “You clean up well too,” she said, pulling at the suit he’d borrowed from Wayne. It was a little too big but Nancy had assured him no one would be able to tell. “I see you couldn’t resist,” she said bumping his converse with her pointy heel. “Why do you get to wear comfy shoes? She wouldn’t let me go in mine!”

“Because it ruins the look, Rob!” Your voice said from the front steps. Eddie glanced up and immediately felt the world freeze. Your dress was…molded onto your body. It was a long, lavender, flowy thing. It dipped low in the back and Eddie sighed. If the neckline was enough to give him a stroke, the back was going to have him flatlining. Your heels clicked against the stone as you hugged Robin’s parents goodbye.

“For fuck’s sake,” Eddie said under his breath, “that’s just not fair.”

Robin and Harrington, clearly heard him, snorted. “Careful there Munson, you’ll drop too much of a hint of how deeply in love with her you are if you keep that up.”

Eddie’s jaw snapped and he turned to glare at Robin. “What?” She said after Harrington snorted. “It’s true. They’re idiots.”

“Let them figure it out themselves,” Steve said. “We promised.”

“It’s infuriating,” Robin said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re both infuriating.”

“Alright, I’m all set,” you said, leaning forward to squeeze Steve’s hand. “Thanks for the ride, Steve.”

“No problem, you wanna ride with me or Byers?” Steve asked, settling into the seat.

Turning to him, he saw the question in your eyes and he cleared his throat. “Uh, wherever you want to,” he croaked.

Robin snickered and headed towards the passenger seat. Eddie shot her a glare but was interrupted by your hand on his arm. “You look great,” you said quietly as you waved to Jonathan. They honked at you as they took off down the street. “Thank you for coming.”

“For you? Anything,” he said, his tone a little too sincere than what he meant it to be. The blinding smile on your face after though, made it worth it. “You look…incredible,” he finished lamely. He heard hushed laughter from the car and fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” you said, picking up the bottom of your dress in one hand. “I was worried I’d look dumb but Nancy was adamant this was my dress.”

Eddie needed to get Wheeler a gift. “Remind me to thank her because, shortcake?” You glanced up at him. “That dress was made for you.”

With a shy and pleased smile, you slid into the backseat and settled close to Eddie. Holy shit, you smelled amazing. Eddie barely managed to keep from dropping his nose to the crook of your neck. He slowly dropped his arm over your shoulders and grinned when you leaned into him.

Grabbing a parking spot near the entrance, Steve pulled into the school. Hopping out, he offered his arm to Robin who took it gladly.

“Are you guys ready for the last night of your high school career?” Steve asked, eyes on the doors.

“Yeah,” Robin said, “fuck this place.”

Eddie bumped her fist and you grinned. “After party at your house, Harrington?” You asked.

He knew you had to have been invited to a few afterparties – Robin had promised to make an appearance at the house of some kid from band. He’d heard you tell Nancy that you’d be going with Robin. Steve had assured him that they’d tag along too.

“More like the after after party when you two are drunk off shitty vodka,” Steve said motioning to Robin, who rolled her eyes and made a silly face.

“It happens one time…”

Nancy waved a hand in the air before disappearing through the doors. “Come on!” She shouted over her shoulder. You huffed a laugh and linked your arm through his.

“Ready?”

“Not really, but I’ll follow you into hell apparently.”

“You say the sweetest things,” you told him, deadpan. He snorted, other hand coming to squeeze the one you were resting on his forearm.

Eddie immediately squinted in the cloak of darkness that was the gym – he had to give it to the committee, he hardly recognized the place. A ridiculous pop song came on just as you waved to a few of your friends. “Look, Nancy found a table. Want to drop off our stuff and dance?” You asked the group. Robin nodded, already making her way towards the table and Eddie had to admit he felt a little out of place.

The itch under his skin yelled at him to run but the happy smile on your face when you patted the empty seat next to you kept him tethered to you – because how could it not? Eddie was sure you could ask for the disco ball and he’d risk his diploma to get it for you.

“Drinks?” Eddie asked, overwhelmed by the five nodding heads. Byers, with a small smile, got up and offered his help.

While Eddie had grown, no matter how reluctantly, close to Robin and her sidekick Harrington. Jonathan had only recently become a new addition. His family had just moved back and he seemed too quiet to really like the chaos that Eddie knew he tended to attract. His kid brother however, Will, was one of his favorites. Not that he’d ever tell Dustin that. The kid had a jealousy streak a mile long.

They had both just settled into their seats, everyone with a drink in hand, when another pop mess song came on. Robin and you straightened, eyes going to each other before you scrambled to your feet. “I’ll be right back,” you said, dropping a kiss to his cheek that had him stunned for a moment. Robin grabbed your hand and you both ran towards the dance floor.

“It’s their favorite song,” Steve explained, watching them wave over a reluctant Nancy. You both bounced around, heads shaking, and zero care that a few people were shooting you looks. “You gonna ask her to dance tonight?”

Eddie shot Steve a look and hated that Steve felt comfortable enough now to ignore him.

“Don’t give me that look man,” Steve laughed, “you came together! You can’t not ask her to dance.”

“We didn’t come together,” Eddie muttered, taking a sip of the disgustingly sweet punch, “she made that pretty clear.”

“Or you heard what you wanted to,” Nancy said, finally standing with Jonathan’s and in hers. “Because from what I know, she thinks you’re here together.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie shouted at Nancy’s retreating back. He turned to Steve, who looked like he was hiding a laugh, “What the hell does that mean?”

“That you both have your heads stuck in the grass,” Steve sighed. “I promised Dustin that I’d let you two figure this shit out on your own but I’m giving you a needed shove. Come on Munson, we’re going to dance.”

He opened his mouth to protest but Steve put a hand under his arm and all but shoved him in your direction. Robin cheered when she saw him, her head bobbling wildly. You beamed, hands coming up to his and twirling prettily around him. His eyes were drawn to you like magnets, he couldn’t help it. You danced with abandon, graceful but chaotically at the same time. Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised but, he really wasn’t sure how much more in love with you he could get.

“I’m thirsty!” Robin shouted, pointing back to the table. Steve let her take his hand and dragged him off towards the sides.

You turned to Eddie, smile wide, and he watched it falter when the faintly familiar pop song turned slow. His feet froze and he glanced towards Wheeler – finding her arms around Jonathan’s as they swayed slowly. She widened her eyes and looked pointedly towards you.

Alright, he could take a hint. He wasn’t that stupid.

With a flourish, he bowed deeply and outstretched his hand. “Can I have this dance milady?”

Your laugh was muffled by the music but the electricity across his skin crackled as you took his warm hand with your cool one. How were you always so cold? He pulled your hands between his and tried to let some of his heat sink in. You grinned up at him, eyes soft, and he placed his own at your waist. “Okay?” He asked.

“More than,” you said, leaning your head onto his chest. He was worried you’d hear how fast his heart was racing but by the small, happy, sigh you let out – he didn’t think you’d mind.

“If you would’ve told me last year that I’d end up graduating this year, with a grade higher than a C, and that I’d be at prom with you – I would’ve laughed,” Eddie said.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Am I that bad of a date?”

Date? Holy shit, was Wheeler being honest?

“Shortcake, you’re the best date. I just didn’t think you’d want to hang out with the likes of me,” he clarified, “I’m either invisible or a cult leader. Take your pick.” He tried to play it off as a joke but he knew you’d hear it.

“I’ve always noticed you, Eddie. You’re not invisible to me,” you said quietly, your big eyes looking up at him beneath your lashes. Jesus Christ, how much more of this could he take? For once, you seemed to share his sentiment because you took a step back, out of his arms and excused yourself. He watched you dart across the gym, grab a bewildered Robin, and pulled her into a solitary corner.

Mystified, Eddie walked back to the table and Steve raised one of his brows. “What’s happening? We’ve only been here for like an hour.”

“I have no idea,” Eddie admitted. He started to worry when he saw your purple nails from the distance flailing left and right as Robin’s hands came down on your shoulders. She said something that clearly stunned you. After a beat both of you turned towards him and he darted his eyes away to act like he wasn’t being nosey.

“Uh, that doesn’t look good,” Steve muttered. Eddie glanced back up and watched as you made your way quickly over to him. A determined expression was etched onto your face and Robin followed at a slower pace, a smug look on hers.

Without a word, you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the hallway when a teacher had their back turned. “Uh, shortcake?”

“Shh!” You admonished, still leading him down the hall. You don’t stop until you find an empty classroom, the lights were on and door unlocked but it was clearly deserted.

He watched your chest rise and fall quickly, like you’d run a mile, and before Eddie could ask you what was wrong – you all but chucked an envelope at him. He’d almost ducked instinctively but he managed to catch it in his hands. Where the hell had that even come from?

“What’s happening right now?” He asked, holding the envelope in his right hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Open it,” you said, your fingers went up to tug at a lock of your hair – a telltale sign that you were nervous.

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie, open the envelope,” you stressed.

With a wary glance towards you, Eddie flipped the hastily taped tab and slid out a pair of tickets.

IRON MAIDEN, JULY 1ST INDIANNAPOLIS, IN.

“Holy shit, are these floor tickets?” He squawked, hands shaking. You had Iron Maiden tickets! How the hell had you managed that? “Shortcake, where did you get these? I thought they were all sold out.”

“My dad knows someone,” you said waving a hand like it wasn’t important. Like you hadn’t just handed him a priceless gift. “I got VIP passes too.”

Eddie’s soul was gone. That’s it, it was back up on the moon, throwing a party.

“It’s not my birthday, you know,” he said, barely containing his excitement. He rocked back and forth on his heels. Holy shit, he was going to see Iron Maiden! With you!

“I know,” you said, biting your bottom lip. Eddie’s soul slammed back into his body and he realized you were wringing your hands again.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“These are for us,” you said, pointing at the tickets.

“I assumed so,” he joked.

You closed your eyes, shoulders tense. “No, like… a date.”

Eddie snorted and immediately regretted it when he saw your head duck down. Shit, you’d been serious? You couldn’t have been serious. He knew Steve and Robin gave you both shit for it these past few months but there was no way in hell that you’d ever want to go on a date with him. He would’ve noticed. He absolutely would’ve noticed the signs.

“Oh,” you said, you voice incredibly sad, and Eddie wanted to slap himself. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed.

Eddie scrambled forward; tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “No, wait – I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, words jumbling together. “I didn’t realize you were serious. I thought – I thought you were joking.”

You winced. “I get it. I’m not…your type, we’re friends, it’s fine. You can take both tickets and take one of the guys.” The expression on your face was enough to make him want to face plant. You turned on your heel and walked to the door.

Eddie’s heart dropped to his feet and he lurched forward, hands reaching for you. “Wait, wait, that’s not what – please. Shortcake, let me speak. I just need a moment to process.” You tried to wrestle your wrist out his grip but Eddie clung on for his life. You were not just going to turn and run after dropping a bomb like that on him.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I promise I’m not – I’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t even know you liked me!” You shot him a contemptuous look and he refused to cower back. You were scary when cornered but he knew you had a soft, gooey center. Whatever he said now was important. He had to get this right.

“Sweetheart. Look at me,” he said, pulling you away from the door. “I swear, I didn’t think you felt like that towards me.”

Your hardened look softened a little when he ducked down to catch your gaze. Blinking, you frowned a little and straightened. “You’re not joking?”

“I have never in my life been more serious,” he huffed, “and I really mean that.”

Exploding, you waved your animated hands in the air and Eddie jerked back to avoid being smacked by one. “How the hell did you not notice? Everyone noticed! Even the cheer squad knew. I asked you to go with me to prom!”

“What?” Eddie’s voice cracked. “You said not with you – to hang out or something!”

“Yeah, I only said that after you looked like I had smacked you over the head!”

Eddie groaned. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever want to go with me!”

You crossed your arms and rubbed one of your temples. “It’s against school policy to tutor a student for longer than a month or two. It’s not fair to the program so we swap consistently. It’s a way to make sure everyone gets the coverage they need from the different tutors. Didn’t you question why we went from meeting at the school to the public library?”

“Uh, no?”

“Well,” you huffed, looking a little embarrassed, “I liked you from like the first session. You, obviously, looked more interested in watching paint dry so I thought I could win you over. After the month I told Ms. O’Donnell that you just needed some guidance and I’d sign off on your paperwork. I told you that we needed to start meeting at the public library instead.”

“But, what about Nick?” Eddie was so confused. Had he entered an alternate dimension again? He glanced around for any sight of the dust. “You had a boyfriend up until like three months ago!”

“Because I thought it would make you jealous!” You huffed, exasperated.

What.

“Well, it did!” Eddie shouted back, the words falling before he could stop them. “I wanted to punch his goddamn face in.”

You blinked. “But…you didn’t seem all that eager to be my friend. You barely asked me about my weekend plans. I couldn’t have dropped more hints!”

“Shortcake, you’re not only out of my league – you’re in a different dimension. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

“Well, you didn’t!”

“Great!”

“Perfect!”

“Amazing.”

“Stupendous.”

“Are you going to keep trying to have the last word?” Eddie snorted.

You rolled your eyes but he saw your hands reach up for your hair. “I know I don’t dress like those girls at the hideout and wear too much yellow and pink and you think I’m popular and that my taste in music is overrated – which really proves my point that you’re pretentious – but –”

Eddie barely heard a word you were saying, his eyes watched your hands dance in the air, and your eyes dimming the more you spoke. How the fuck could you have ever believed that he wouldn’t like you? You still believed that, his mind supplied helpfully, anxiety evident in the rigid set of your shoulders. He knew from experience that if he let you keep going, you’d go on for hours. So, he grabbed your arms and pulled you into his chest. Startled, you stumbled and glared up at him.

“Shortcake?”

“What?”

“Please stop talking,” he said and dropped his lips to yours. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms the best you could around his neck and pressed your body against his. Your cool fingers tangled themselves in his hair and he shuddered when your nails dragged along his scalp. Eddie, finally, bit down on your bottom lip and the low groan you let out shot straight to his dick.

Shit, even after imagining this moment for months – it really couldn’t compare. You tasted like punch, strawberries, and faintly of candy. He pulled back for air, your breath coming out in quick huffs. Eddie smiled, his heart racing at the sight of your dazed look. He did that. You liked him. He’d shared his life with you and you still liked him. Did shit like this really happen?

“So, you want to go to the concert with me?” You asked lightly, smile twisting your mouth.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. “I want to go everywhere with you, shortcake.”

“Everywhere is good, I like everywhere,” you babbled, “...well, Steve’s house has a lot of rooms. Maybe everywhere can include that at the end of the night?”

Shutting his eyes, he valiantly tried to exercise self-control and not imagine you naked on a bed squirming beneath him. Failing, just a little, he nodded enthusiastically. “Should we go right now? Because I’ll grab Steve if we need to.”

You laughed, the sound warming him even further. “We still need to go with Robin to that afterparty.”

Eddie let his head loll as he groaned. “Conformity is so much work.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” you teased, kissing him again. “Come on, someone’s going to catch us if we stay away too long.” Honestly, Eddie was willing to risk it but he knew you didn’t want to miss this.

As you both crept back towards the gym, your hand tucked in his, Eddie wondered if he was dreaming. He passed one of the wide windows in the hallway, the gym only a few yards away, and he pulled you to a stop.

“What?” You asked, peeking out through it.

Eddie ducked to look out the glass and caught sight of the dark sky and the full moon. He winked and pointed up at it. “You had me going there for a while, but this makes up for it. We’re even!”

“Who are you talking to?” You asked, glancing around.

“The moon. Or God. Maybe the universe?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said, shrugging like it was completely normal.

Jesus Christ, he loved you.

The familiar chords of Kiss floated out of the open doors to the gym and Eddie perked up. “Is that…”

Tonight, I want to give it all to you

In the darkness, there's so much I want to do

“Kiss?” You asked, grinning. “Yeah, I promised the DJ half a gram from you if he’d play a few songs you like.”

Yeah, he was gone for you. Totally gone. If he had any dignity or pride left, he’d be a little embarrassed but he really couldn’t work up the energy.

“Come on!” You said, tugging him back into the gym and onto the dance floor. A few jocks looked disgruntled at the change of music but Robin and Nancy were out on the dance floor, so were a few others. You immediately jumped around, eyes bright, hips swaying, and Eddie’s heart felt like it’d jump out his chest at any moment.

“And I can't get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me?” You sang, turning to wink at him. Steve and Robin waggled their eyebrows, shooting him knowing looks and he shook his head. Nancy laughed, offering up her fist and Eddie couldn’t help but bump it.

Alright universe, he thought, you win, you totally win. I owe you for the rest of my life.

Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist and beamed when you leaned into his touch. Your lips came up to his jaw and he sighed. Maybe the shit show that was the entirety of high school was worth it if you were waiting for him at the end.

I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years ago

Text

Of Monsters And Men

(Season 2)

Chapter 2 - Kaer Morhen

Summery: With your blistered palm on the mend, has your fearsome trio found themselves in Kaer Morhen at long last. With yourselves back in the fortress do you get a brief sense of safety when a secret Eskel hadn't shared till it was too late comes to rise.

Warning: blood, fluff

Word count: 8603

Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men Masterlist here

It's been one too many days since you all left Nivellen to his own demise in that huge lonely manor on the hill, a charred mark in the snow at his feet, and an empty village vacant of all life. All a past problem come and gone as everything typically does in your life with your Witcher and now a magical child of surprise. Weird yes, however nothing too out of the ordinary.

Your boots land upon snow as you dismount from Roach's backside, your dark cloak blowing in the wind as you touch your thinly wrapped hand which came into contact with Geralt's sword handle which in turn happens to be silver. You needed to kill Vereena quickly and a little pain was worth...well, was it really worth saving Nivellen's life? You're still not so sure about that, in fact if it was just you and him you'd probably have let her kill him too.

Too late for that now. Roach neighs as she speaks to her old friends at the stable as Geralt helps Ciri down. He tends to his mare while the white dressed princess of Cintra takes a long look around the courtyard of Kaer Morhen. And what a grand place it is; her greenish blue irises trail across the stones as she studies the place, "This is your home?" Asks Ciri as she lets her eyes glance over the tall fortress of the Witcher stronghold, an empty on at that, "How many did you say there were?"

"I didn't." He leaves his belongings be and walks over to Ciri, "Last I checked..we were 20. Now? Maybe less." Her brows furrow in thought as you start to walk towards the front entrance, Geralt following suit.

"And you're sure it's safe?"

"Keep up." Is all Geralt answers with as you smirk, this is going to be an interesting time.

Once you all find yourselves easily through the giant fortress have you led a nervous Ciri to the front doors leading into the evening hall where all the Witcher's are typically located, and by the mumbled chattering on the other end. You know for a fact that Geralt's about to get some kind of brotherly hug filled welcome, and you? Well you're never really sure.

He presses a hand to the wooden door that opens with little effort, the three of you walk inside with Geralt in the center as you anticipate the curious staring. "Is it too late to turn back?" You mutter softly to Geralt who simply hums in answer as the Witcher's attention falls to your rough looking trio. And surprised they are indeed.

Three benches lay in a U shape as you get closer to the mouth of benches holding ale and food. Two men on the left, two on the right, and three seated on the center one with three more standing elsewhere. All eyes to you, Ciri, and Geralt. Curious eyes of differentiating colors all looking, staring, glad to see a brother....puzzled to see a blonde girl in a white dress....and ever the mixed feelings to see you among them. Beautiful monster. Ruby eyed temptress. Princess of the undead.

Your eyes find the fluffy red hair of Lambert who turns around to see what's caused the doors to shut loudly, he gives a lopsided grin when he spots Geralt walking towards him, "Here comes trouble." Mutters Lambert comically to the others around him while he gets up from his seat on the bench, "Where the fuck have you been? We thought you got lost. Or killed...or, or turned into a red eyed bloodsucker by your lovely lady in black here." Jests Lambert as he peaks around Geralt to give you a wink as you bare your fangs at him in a playful manner. He chuckles, "Why Y/N, you haven't aged a day." Oh, ever the fearless flirt.

Crossing your arms over your chest do you tilt your head at him like a curious wolf, "Why Lambert, you still smell of horseshit and bad decisions."

He holds up a finger, "Aye, they're never bad."

"Just questionable?"

His finger droops as he thinks about this, "Yes." He soon nods in agreement before his goldish eyes land on Geralt now, he chuckles happily, "Brother!" Lambert smiling brightly, stepping forward as his arms open up to bring Geralt in for a big bear hug that is greatly received. Once parted does he smack him on the back as Coen greets the white haired man before him. And it looks as though Coen has lost some hair since the last time you've seen him too, got a couple new scars across the face as well. Though still ever with his one blue eye and one dark one that suits him well.

"So, he returns." Beams Coen as he goes to envelope Geralt into his arms, "Come here!" He mutters as they hug one another tightly before letting go once more. He pats him on the shoulder, "Knew you'd make a fuckin' entrance."

Lambert nods, "I knew it." He can't help but smile brightly at him, "Finally, brother. You're back."

"Wolf. You're home." Speaks the familiar voice of Vesemir as Geralt turns to see his old friend, your scarlet irises land upon the white haired man, he looks a bit older then the last time you saw him which was quit a handful of years ago.

Geralt nods in respect, "Vesemir."

The older Witchers eyes glance from Geralt to you standing a few feet behind him to his right, he smiles softly when your eyes meet, "Beasty, you've returned to us as well. Kaer Morhen wouldn't be the same." He muses as you smirk.

"How could I ever decline?" You shrug, "Can't seem to stay away, I'd miss Lambert's cooking too much."

He snorts, shaking his head at this until his perceptive gaze moves from you to the blonde girl, his brows furrow, "Hmm?" He nods to Ciri who's now found herself on your left. Still looking nervously around at everything as she purposefully keeps yourself between her and everyone else here.

Geralt shrugs, "Yeah. Had to make a few stops on the way." Vesemir nods at this, letting this odd happening slide by as the rest of the Witchers come to greet Geralt who's now too distracted to do anything else. You stand there off to the side holding your wrapped up hand to your chest as they mostly ignore you since Geralt is their brother after all and well, you? You've known them for some time, it's just a couple here and there still aren't very fond of your kind, as they like to put it.

You're not completely vampire, but half is enough for a few of them to keep their rightful distance, which only makes sense them being Witchers after all. This however doesn't bother you in the slightest, as long as Geralt remains at your side, Ciri is safe, and Lambert never misses a chance to flirt with you. All is well in Kaer Morhen.

After greetings are had and the brothers say their hellos does yourself and Ciri find your places around the long wooden table on the far end with the other Witchers. The one table closest to the medallion tree that's one fireplace away. Standing on the end, you part a piece of bread as Lambert leans his elbow into the table seated on the same side as Ciri, eyes glancing steadily between the lot of you as he begins his story, "So, there I am, freezing my bollocks off in the middle of a grain field for the second, straight, night.."

You take a sip of ale as he slowly stands, "...when the farmer's wife comes sneaking out to tell me that I'm wasting my time. It wasn't a mora her husband saw leaving that room. No." He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets the anticipation drawl on for a moment while he looks around before breaking out into a big grin, "It was the fucking field hand!" He shouts as the others burst into laughter as Lambert twists around in a circle excitedly, eyes lingering on you for a second as he catches your light amusement.

"Oh, and now she's wailing, "Oh, what are we gonna do?" He pretends to whine in a woman's voice, "My husband won't pay you if you don't deliver a mora head!" Chuckles Lambert as the others cackle, he then pretends to take his sword out, "So I pulled out my sword and I said, "Bet he'll pay double for the field hand's." The room erupts with more laughter as Lambert chuckles to himself before he turns to reach for his drink sitting on the table.

"Good old Lambchop." Snickers Coen as Lambert takes a drink before continuing his story.

"She returned with two horses and a fur rug. Best job I had all year." He says with a nod, taking another sip from his cup as you do the same.

"Each of your faces is cause enough for celebration." Announces Vesemir as he stands behind everyone with a silver cup in hand, "You're safe. You made it back. You made it home." He holds his cup up to make a toast that is joined by the others and even yourself.

"Here's to another winter, together." Says Coen as the others raise their various cups.

"To breath in our lungs." Adds Lambert.

"To our parts we still keep!" You muse as a few snicker.

"To the brothers." Says Geralt as he raises his bull horn cup once more, eyes glancing over from you to Ciri, "To old friends, and to knew ones."

"To forgetting the fucking Path!" Shouts a new voice into the mix as the doors close behind him, you turn to see Eskel, "For one fucking night. Who's ready?" He asks as Geralt pushes himself up from his seat to greet his brother who looks rather worn down from the trek up the mountain.

Large smile upon his handsome face does Geralt walk to the tired Witcher, "Eskel!" His arms pull the scar-faced man in without a second thought as another Witcher yells, "Eskel's back!" Both men part but not before Geralt tells him he looks like shit, Eskel telling him he should see the other guy. Now what's he been up to?

You take notice of a leather satchel slung over his left shoulder with what appears to be twisted sticks peaking out of it. Though he does indeed stink and look less kindly then you three still do, his smile never once falters as he looks to his friends while you eye up the bag suspiciously. You raise a brow at the mystery in the bag, "What treasure has the dragon found this time?" You ask as he parts his hazel eyes away from Coen to land them upon you.

Eskel's lips immediately form a flirtatious smirk as he focuses onto your questioning face, "Y/N, Y/N...still alive and well I see. How fairs your winter so far on this Continent?"

Rubbing the backside of your wrapped hand do you simply shrug, "I exist to be an inconvenience."

Eskel chuckles as Geralt shakes his head at your blunt wittiness, the brown haired Witcher takes a step closer, "Well said as I suspected as much. Though I'm sure most of us have missed your pretty face in these halls, myself included." He snickers as you roll your crimson eyes. Sometimes you get more flirtatious comments being in Kaer Morhen for less then twenty-minutes then you do from a week with Geralt. However you can tolerate Geralt more, a lot more.

"Alright now I know you're exhausted. Disillusioned maybe? Bewitched perhaps?" You mutter as he admires you from afar, you glance from his bag to him, "But I'm sticking with the ladder and by the scent radiating off of your clothes, you've just done battle with something of the woods. Haven't you?"

Eskel breaks out into an almost proud grin as he slides the bag down his arm, "Indeed. The bout lasted six hours. I'd have got the fucker, too, if I hadn't lost my elixirs." The men laugh as he throws the sack onto the floor, "I got her hands, though."

"What's this?" Questions Lambert as he looks down at the supposed fingers of whatever it actually is that peaks out, "Is that a leshy? What is it Esk?"

"Walked like one." Says Eskel as he turns away from all of you, "Talked like one....Sort of." He turns to see you all once more, uncertainty clear on his face as Vesemir repeats, "Sort of?" In a questioning tone. What does he mean by, sort of?

"I haven't crossed a leshy in a while." Says Lambert, "Not in Kaedwen."

"Well, count yourselves lucky." Begins Eskel with a humored grin, "Unless you're aching for the sting of one of their fucking roots." And he didn't kill it?

"Fire through the heart is the only thing that puts one down." Adds Vesemir as everyone goes silent, "Six hours in, didn't occur to you?" The rooms erupts with scattered laughter as Eskel becomes sort of a target of opportunity with this lot of badass fools. His once bemused grin lessens into an almost embarrassed frown as his eyes graze over the room until they fall onto Ciri. Frown gone in an instant as his brows furrow at this new face in the crowd, unfamiliar, unknown, even more interesting....this face belongs to a girl.

He slowly saunters over to the quiet princess as she makes herself small while taking a sip from her silver chalice, he bends down to come eye to eye with her in a non-threatening yet purposely intimidating way, "Who the hell are you?" She swallows her drink before setting it onto the wooden table as you watch to see how she'll react to him in her face like this.

She turns to look at him unflinching as a marble statue, arm rested casually against the tabletop while she fearlessly looks to him, "Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Pleasure to meet you." Your lips curve into a grin at this, she's becoming more like her true self as the days pass. You can almost see a little part of your younger self in her sometimes, it's pleasantly odd.

Eskel stands tall once again as he raises a brow, admittedly a bit impressed and clearly taken aback, "Eskel." Is all he says in greeting before walking off to pick up his bag and presumably find his room. Wherever that is.

In the next couple hours do you have your midday meal, soon heading off with Geralt to aid in a bit of training. For a good portion of the day do you clash swords with him until parting to clean yourself up before dinner in the evening. As the sun is slowly settling over the horizon do you wash yourself a bit and dress in less dirty clothing before heading out the door of your shared room with Geralt.

Down the hallway you go in search of the leshy's hand that Eskel brought when he arrived. There's just something about that creature that's hung in your mind like a bad dream all day, you want to know more. Alone do you find yourself in the large room filled with various tools for crafting potions and elixirs. A room you've been in many a times when aiding Geralt or Vesemir in their creations.

In the center, down three steps that circle the bottom flooring lays a stone table. Near this is the sack with the leshy's severed hands, you take them out and place the one hand upon a faded white cloth sprawled out over the middle portion of the long stone table. Your eyes hunt the shelves for some medical equipment before locating a couple small thin knives wrapped up in a faded white cloth holding other medical type equipment in various pockets. Perfect.

With one knife in hand now, do you steady the leshy's wrist as you prepare to cut though the jagged greyish brown bark, footsteps move across the ground, a heartbeat thudding within a mans chest who approaches close now. Stopping your hand from making the first cut into the leshy do you sigh in annoyance, "What is it now?" You groan, crimson eyes flickering up to land upon Lambert as he stands there like a nervous boy about to give a girl some pretty flowers.

"I wanted to see you." He says playfully with a little grin as you simply roll your eyes at the red haired man.

"I'm doing something here. I require silence and.." You face falls as Ciri steps into the room, "..oh come on now."

"What? She might learn a thing or two." Protests Lambert as he walks down the three steps, "So might I?"

You give the bold Witcher a miffed look, "I can hear her heartbeat. It's too loud, and you speak too much as it is." You mutter as he folds his arms over his broad chest, standing right in front of you from behind the stone table. You look around him to find Ciri walking down the same small steps, you let out a huff of air as she stands off to the side a tad awkwardly. You wave your knife, "Oh fine, come here then little lioness. Ciri can watch me slice this fucker up, but you can go my annoying fox. Get, before I call my wolf on you." Your concentration flows back down at the severed wrist as you prepare to cut.

Lambert halfheartedly scoffs, "Alright, alright, bossy. See you both later then." He gives you a playful wink, turning to nod at the princess respectfully before walking up the steps and out of the room he goes. Peace at last....for the most part.

Ciri slowly walks closer to the table as her enchanted irises study the creatures bark covered forearm, "It hides in forests?" She asks while leaning her hands against the tables edge opposite of you, curious eyes trailing over the strange wooden hand, "Are there are others like it?"

You break its skin open with some applied pressure, "A few. Dying out though because unfortunately for them, they can't reproduce like the common rabbit. Probably for the best in my humble opinion." You move the bark apart and look inside before pulling something out resembling that of spider silk, "Any you come across will have been around since the Conjunction, which was a long long time ago. A bit older then even I, however that's about the same age as my mother believe it or not."

"Your mother? The vampire." She asks puzzled though a bit surprised nonetheless. You truly never fail to intrigue her.

Setting the strange silken strand onto the table behind you does your attention come back to her when you turn around, "Yes. You see my mother is the first vampire to ever exist in these lands coming from wherever she was beforehand, that, I don't even know. But she is still the one who turned the second and third and so on and so forth. Vampire to vampire, forming her coven, establishing a kingdom, becoming the alpha of all before her, Queen over the Blood Throne and all that fun stuff." You explain while pressing the knife to the bark once more, "And remain she does....like this leshy who's presumably still fuming in the woods without its hand."

She pushes herself off of the tables edge to give the room a once over, "So, is that what we'll be doing here, then? Studying monsters, talking about them?" You can tell by her tone that she's not too thrilled about it either. You know she wants more then that, you can tell she wants to hold a sword in her hand, not hold some information about monsters and extensive history from another time.

You smirk at her natural impatience before ripping out a chunk of bark with your good hand, she looks at the shelves of empty glass bottles, "Collecting supplies for those potions Geralt takes?"

Holding down the creatures forearm do you steady a knife upon the bark once more, "Sure, something like that." The blade cuts into the flesh of the leshy as she picks up a tool from the other table and holds it in her hand. Not quite the weapon she's looking for.

"Training?" She states, looking questioningly at you who's not looking at anything but the leshy's arm though you hear her all the same.

"Training?" You raise a brow, giving her a quick glance, "Training is dangerous."

She looks from the flooring to the blade in your steady grasp and then to your concentrated expression, "So's the man with the black-winged helmet." She watches as you raise your gaze from the creature to fully look at her now, you have her attention. The Black Knight, and in a second does her drive to train so suddenly make a plethora of sense.

Your scarlet irises find her hardened gaze, just about staring into her soul do you set the knife down, "And you want to kill him?"

"Yes." She doesn't even hesitate.

"Why?"

Her expression turns to an underlying rage shown through her young face, "I hate him." You know she does, the way her eyes flash with anger and sadness and so many other things going unsaid. Ciri has every right to feel this way, but revenge you know does not bring them back no matter how good it may feel when the act is done. And this is not a path you want her to follow, one of hate and resentment. A driving force that could make anyone go insane.

Nilfgaard took Yennefer away from you, they killed countless other innocent people without remorse who mean everything to the ones still alive to remember them. Yet you have chosen not to let your heartache cause you to suffer and kill until you feel nothing left, a monster you'd undoubtedly become if the path of revenge was followed. For your own sanity have you decided to let her go for good....a heavy part of your past did she keep. Now a fond memory you'd rather not talk about right here with Ciri, who's own heart is swarming with these unhealthy feelings you'd had days and days ago.

Letting out a sigh do you press your palms into the flat surface of the table as you lean a little closer to her, expression serious and calm, "This is important, so listen well my dear princess. Though I am no Witcher I know they don't kill out of fear. They kill to save lives. Do you understand?" She says nothing yet her face tells you of her deeper conflicts, though she does give a little nod to show that she has received your words. "Good. Fear only makes a person more unstable and harsh, it weakens the heart and mind and clouds all adequate judgment. Keep that in your head and you'll do well in this world."

Removing your hands from the table do you place them upon the leshy's bark to explore some more as your focus is drawn down to the leshy and your task of finding some truth. Ciri watches you do this for a short bit of time before she breaks the sweet silence with a question. "Well, how did you spend your days when you first came here? Was Geralt with you?"

"He was. However his brothers almost sent a wooden stake through my heart the first time we all met. They were a little unsettled to say the least, but with time they grew fond of me and now only half of them still don't trust me. Which is fine, I don't blame them."

Ciri grins, "It's not hard to tell between the two."

"No it isn't." You chuckle, "I am what I am and that is dangerous and wonderful all in itself." You add while setting the knife to the side as you look to her, "I could have been so many different things Cirilla if I was raised anywhere else but my home. I could have become the most terrifying being to walk these lands, I could have become a symbol of death and blood wherever I went. But I didn't. You must understand something that the Witchers here will never, my mother is Queen of Vampire's, yes. But she is not evil, she cares for all life and knows how sacred blood is, Cirilla my kind do not kill for pleasure as some would think..

My people kill to survive, they kill to protect. You only hear stories about vampires as tall tales to keep little children and fools out of the woods after dark. We do not murder, we drink and we pass through a village and are gone before anyone even knew we came."

She thinks this over a moment, "So, vampires don't actually kill people to eat?"

"No, my kin feed only enough to disorient and weaken the person, then they move on to the next until they are satisfied."

Her brows furrow, "So, Vereena.."

"Yes, her. She's a Bruxa, a feral kind who choose to kill their victims and make a fucking mess about it. They are what gives all vampires a bad name if you do not know any better." You explain as she listens intently, "I want you to know this because I understand your inquisitiveness about me. My eyes are red as blood, I have fangs, but I can walk in sunlight unburnt. I can feel all emotions as you can, I can cry, I can get tired, and I feel bad when someone is hurting. That is my human side, a side that helps me try and feel as mortals do."

"They don't tell you anything about that." She mutters with a little grin, "If my friends could only see me now, I'm in a Witcher castle with you."

You smile a fangy grin, "They'd probably piss themselves huh?" Cirilla snickers as you pick up your knife, holding it now in preparation for the cut you're about to make, "So how's your room?"

"It has rats." She says with a tinge of disgust.

"That's a good sign, means it's one of the warm ones." You cut deep by the closest digit, severing the bark-flesh before ripping off the leshy's thumb as she watches your fingers rub against one another with a new black soot on them. You study the powdery darkness on your pointer finger and thumb as the sounds of men shouting calls your attention from the strangeness of this deceased creature.

"What's that?" Asks Ciri as her gaze looks to the right at the doorway leading into the evening hall where the sounds of men can be heard echoing down the corridor.

You set the knife down, "Not sure if I want to know." Wiping the black powder off on your dark colored pants are your legs already moving you across the room anyways, you hold a hand out while turning your head to give her a glance, "Stay here."

She follows after you, "You know, in Cintra, I went to parties.."

"Cirilla." Your voice is stern as you follow the sounds, a lesser warning yet one she understands all the same. Ciri stays put where she stands, pouting a little as you exit out the doorway and down the hall you go. Best not to irritate the dhampir princess, thinks Cirilla as she looks around the vacant room, unsure of what to even do now.

The yelling and loud banging of mugs against the table, among other things, finds itself in your sensitive ears as you wander onward. The laughter of women mixed with jewelry clinking together let's you know exactly what kind of company you're about to witness. Passing a torch stuck to the wall do you turn right, through the doorway you saunter into the great evening hall that shines bright with firelight and candles.

Witchers laugh and drink merrily as scantily clad women of the night laugh and dance with them on the tables and in their welcoming arms. You catch a glimpse of bare breasts more then twice as your scarlet eyes divert from things you'd rather not have seen. However you continue to walk through the busy crowd of drunken lovers to see if Geralt's around and why these women are even here in the first place. The fuck are whores doing in Kaer Morhen?

Past Coen and his lady you trek until a thin dark haired woman in a colorful dress and shimmering jewelry stops you with a hand to your shoulder. She smiles slyly as your eyes look irritably from the thin hand to her cheerful face, "So this is where the Witchers are hatched. Lucky you had these fine men all to yourself before we arrived." She says with a wiggle of her brows, "Miss us?" You give her a deadpanned stare in return while your jaw clenches in vexation.

"Get your hand off of me before I show you what the meaning of missing something really is." You seethe as your eyes glow an agitated crimson, she draws her hand back at this heated threat, only slightly deflated from your unhappy aurora.

"You don't remember me? I cleaned your vomit from your hair in a tavern outside Dorian a handful of years ago. You drank too much and your white haired lover was already asleep so I.." You're already walking away as she grows quiet, eyes following after you, intrigued.

"You shouldn't be here." You warn, knowing she's still paying attention.

"I hear you have a daughter now." She states out of turn, causing you turn around to see her smirking mischievously at you, "And I thought the softest thing about you was that you scared off old creeps in the street for women like me."

"She's not my daughter."

The woman gets a thoughtful look upon her slender face, "Oh? Well, in that case, I could take her in." She grins proudly, "She'd have the boys eating out of her hand.." You take a threatening step forward as she giggles and backs away like this is some petty game, "And she says she's not a mother."

"This close." You bring your hand up, fingers just barley touching together as she watches, "If I didn't have a heart, I'd rip yours out." She's left with nothing to say in return as you leave her there to probably ponder her life choices until a handsome face draws her back into the night. Damn whores have no filter and do not care about much else but coin and their looks. You don't particularly care for whatever they do, however you're not overly fond of them being here.

Moving past a naked woman dancing on the table next to another Witcher does your eyes catch the white hair of Geralt standing next to Vesemir. You swiftly keep moving until you've reached his side, "What is this?" You point a hand to the jolly drunken crowd before you three.

Geralt looks to you, almost apologetic as Vesemir answers, "Eskel found some friends down the mountain."

"They shouldn't be here. And they should know better." You counter as someone screams with joy, sounding more like thunder in your ears then a drunken whore getting her breasts fondled with.

"He drank too much stramonium for that sting, I reckon. They all did." Says Vesemir, "They won't remember anything by tomorrow. Certainly not how they got here." You sigh as your gaze falls upon Eskel and some blonde woman in a green and pink dress. Feeling him up as he leans into her, he looks kind of off though, like he wants to enjoy it but can't completely.

You nudge Geralt, "Go talk to him. They need to leave, the snow isn't going to stop anytime soon and the longer they stay here the worse the conditions are going to get. I don't feel too particularly fond about escorting a bunch of night women down the mountain in a weeks time. Or dealing with them if they decide to stay the winter." You give him a warning look, "I'd rather have my heart staked."

Holding his amusement in does he give you a small nod, "Fine. I'll handle it." Leaving your side to find Eskel, you watch as they speak though Eskel is clearly drunk and still in pain from his battle with the leshy. He's agitated and speaks a few choice words to Geralt who doesn't appear fazed in the slightest. Then he turns to leave with his women before swiftly turning around to punch at Geralt who's quick to block this. Geralt then tells him to go to bed and with that does Eskel sneer before leaving with the women. Men.

You roll your eyes at this and let them be, Geralt returning to your side soon enough as now it's just you leaning against the wall looking rather loathsome to be here at all. "Having fun?" He teases.

You huff, "Do I not look it?"

"I know when you're having fun." He says while positioning himself against the wall as you are, "And I can't say you're having any sort of enjoyment out of this mess."

"Okay, I do not care that they are having a good time, and I do not care that these women are also having a wonderful time. It's just Kaer Morhen isn't exactly an adequate place for them."

He nods slowly, "That is a fair statement to give."

"Someone here's got to keep their full wits about them, might as well be the only immortal one".

Geralt lightly chuckles before his amusement dies down when a troubling thought pops into his head, his brows furrow as he looks over at you, "Where's Ciri?"

"I saw her pounding White Gull and dancing on the table." You mutter, "She's now learning how to throw daggers at a moving target with Coen over there. Just about hit one of the whores too it was really something to see.."

"Y/N." He says lowly in a warning tone, if not for the current circumstances you'd might have had a shiver run down you spine. Oh the way he says your name sometimes.

You roll your eyes, "I caught her spying." He looks conflicted as you tilt your head at him, "My love, it's her first night here. What did you expect?"

"Where was she before? I told Lambert to take her to find you."

"Yes thanks for that." You grumble, "I was trying to figure out that damn leshy's hand when they arrived but it wasn't too bothersome in all honesty. Well once Lambert left that is. Ciri and I had a nice conversation and then I did tell her to stay put.."

"So she didn't listen to you."

"Kids never do what you say." He hums as you take his hand, "She's fine, I had Vesemir show her the armory before sending her off to bed." You conclude as your expression shifts to a more conflicted one while you give his hand a light squeeze, "Are you...are you sure we're ready for this?" You've never actually had to deal with a child before in your entire life, now this, this is new and it's scary.

More terrifying then any monster you've ever fought.

His face softens as he looks into your uncertain gaze, "I was in a cell beneath the city when Cintra was sacked. I heard it all. Fire, screams, and death...Things I know you have heard and witnessed for yourself before I even existed in this world. You told me yourself long ago, when you lived in Brayla, there in that kingdom because you felt for the abused queen who you couldn't save from her husband or you'd have been exiled...

When their enemies came, when their king killed himself to escape a worse death, when the walls were surrounded did you stay with her. Just her, protected her until her brother's army came to reclaim Brayla, you were the last surviving of her guard when the walls fell. Then it was just her and her desolated kingdom gifted by a terrible husbands rule. Just you and the young queen, were you ready then?"

"No." You whisper, gaze falling from his as they land upon his Witcher medallion.

"But you protected her anyways."

"No. I taught her how to find the right allies and how to survive on her own." He chuckles as you let your eyes raise up to find his again, this time with a small smile upon your lips as you press a hand to his cheek affectionately. He's just trying to make you feel better about all of this, you know he's scared too.

"You did more then that."

"I know." You pause a moment, "I haven't thought of that in a long time. And that queen has been dead for centuries too, she might have lasted longer if I would have stayed. I should have."

"You did what you could, Y/N. Now you have this."

"This." You repeat, like you're testing out the word for the first time, "This ugly little kingdom."

Geralt chuckles as you continue to contemplate why and how everything in your life has led up to you falling in love with a Witcher and now becoming a protective figure over an exiled princess. He squeezes your hand affectionately, "This will not always see dark clouds, you know the sun in bound to rise again." Says Geralt as you give him the ghost of a smile.

"That's not something I've been told often by my kin. Or anyone really."

He shakes his head, "You know what I mean."

"Maybe think of better analogies first you sound like a poet...or Jaskier."

"I thought it was pretty good. And it made you smile." Points Geralt, "See? You're smiling now."

Rolling your eyes do you gently push his face away with the hand holding his cheek, "Oh shush." He takes this hand in his, golden eyes glancing from the white wrapping around the skin as he holds your palm up where a reddish brown stain can be seen filtered through the fabric.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much, I heal quickly remember?"

He looks into your gentle gaze, "I remember. But I will still ask my lover if she is in pain or not."

"And what will you do if she is?"

He grins softly, "I will kiss her sweet lips until all remembrances of her hurt are gone like dewfall to a morning sunrise. How's that sound for poetic?"

"I'd say considerably well, however I'd rather have you distract me with something else then a few pretty words spoken from those lips of yours."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I have in mind a mixture of things, however if you're about to take your top off, now that'd be a wonderful place to start."

Geralt gifts you a handsome grin while you try to hold in your laughter as best you can. Though he turns a bit confused when your expression swiftly shifts to an incredibly focused one, like when a cat is listening to something out of eyesight of their owner. The pupils of your eyes growing small as an ocean pearl as you sense immediate danger, he knows you smell fresh blood being spilt somewhere close.

"Y/N? What is it?" Whispers Geralt, concerned, as your concentration keeps to somewhere over his left shoulder, its almost as though you're entranced by an useable force pulling you towards its light. But what would make you stop everything and not respond? The only thing in the entire world that could cause such a physical reaction is blood. Something you've always struggled with when caught off guard, when you're not anticipating it can you deeper instincts come out to play.

Suddenly you hear a faint scream just as the medallions hanging upon the tree vibrate and shake, the same happening to Geralt's necklace and that of the other Witchers still in the crowded evening hall. Immediately have you snapped out of your deep focus to part from Geralt, "Something feels wrong." You smelt blood....somewhere close...too close.

All the Witcher's medallions shimmer and shake with the sense of something supernatural in the midst, something bad and threatening. Everyone halts their movements to listen to the creaking and jittering of the walls as something large moves within. "Maybe Eskel's leshy wants its hand back." Jests Coen as the pattering and creaking continues, it sounds as though a beast or some giant spider is crawling through the walls.

"Wield your wits, boys." Warns Vesemir as he pulls out his sword.

"I'll help secure the guests." States Lambert already pulling a woman's hand towards the door as her sisters quickly follow.

Coen looks to Vesemir, "I'll check the east wing."

"I'll check the perimeter." Says another as the women leave along with the rest of the Witchers in search of safety or the cause of this damn ruckus.

"We'll find Cirilla." Adds Geralt as he begins to take a step away, you have a hand on him in a second that causes his eyes to land upon you questioningly.

You shake your head in disagreement, "Like fuck you will, I'll find her. You deal with whatever that shit is." He pauses a moment, soon giving you an agreeable nod, "Good, now I'm going to go find her. I'll see you when it's done." Parting from your grasp upon him do you give Vesemir a respectable nod before turning and heading for the doorway.

You leave the puzzled men in the evening hall to talk over their plans as you head off in search of Ciri who's most certainly in her bedroom, hopefully. You pass by a couple frantic women and a Witcher or two as you run down the long stone corridor. Luckily when you reach her door, bursting into her room, are you correct, "What the fuck?"

Ciri sits on the bed in her small room with four other whores standing about her, they all jump in fright when you come charging in to stop and stare at them, a bit surprised. Hand still on the handle do you raise a brow, "Oh, didn't realize you were having a secret meeting without me. I'll come back another time." You jest, pretending to step back and close the door.

"Wait!" Shouts Ciri distraught, "Y/N."

You open up the creaky old door a bit wider, "Just fucking with you. Of course I'm staying, you're one young girl and these ladies here aren't exactly fighting material." Shutting the door behind you does the room feel as though it's been rocked, dust falls from the stone ceiling as the one head girl who you met earlier steps forward to pace a bit.

"Should've known better than to bring my whores to a Witcher den. Danica, you fool." She scolds to herself while pacing around. Ah, so her name is Danica. But why the fuck are they in Ciri's room?

The door opens up yet again to the golden eyes of Lambert, "Stay here. Take cover." He advises before leaving just as quickly as he half-entered, slamming the door shut right after. You doubt he even saw you in here.

Ciri's heartbeat picks up with justifiable panic, "Wait! No, no, no, no!" She runs to the door before opening it, "Lambert! What's happening?!" He's already gone and out of sight.

"Fuck this. I'm not dying here." Says Danica defiantly as she walks past you to where Ciri stands in the doorway, "What's the quickest way out, girl?"

Ciri's dark brows furrow as she takes a second to think, "There's stairs to the nor..."

"Shut it." You snap as their gazes fall to you, "No one is leaving this place. It's a long fucking way back from Kaer Morhen, you don't have proper attire, and it's dark out. How the fuck do you presume you're getting back in once piece?" You ask, stepping in front of Ciri as you tilt your head to Danica who's clearly stressed out.

"What? No, move we can handle our own." She protests, "Step aside."

"We have to stay." Adds Ciri as she steps next to you, looking at Danica, "Geralt.."

"Geralt may be dead already!" Cries Danica, eyes set to your unflinching form before her, "Your darling Witchers may be gone as we speak. Let us go!"

Ciri's eyes widen in fear for this new possibility she hadn't been thinking of as you shake your head, still completely calm about this whole situation, "You're all safest where you are now."

"Look, Witchers fight. We run." A crashing sound is heard that causes the women to gasp and jump in fright. Danica attempts to take a step forward when you slip your dagger from its sheathe, pointing it right at her chest, she freezes and takes a cautious step backwards, hands held up in defense.

You bring the small weapon back down to your side, "Now this is not for you. So to keep all your precious blood from spilling this night I highly advise that you all stay right the fuck here."

Her breaths are heavy with nervous adrenaline as her girls hold her close, "Or what? What will you do if we try to leave?" She challenges, though a tad bit afraid by the shaky tone of her voice.

"Then I'll knock you out. I'm not killing anyone, this dagger is for whatever's causing that noise if god-forbid none of the Witchers can kill it first."

She relaxes only slightly, eyes still as wary and doubtful as before, "So you won't kill us? If we try to run?"

You point the tip of your shiny dagger at her, "I'll make you see darkness instead."

She swallows thickly as her eyes dart from the door behind you to your two very scary red eyes shimmering like rubies in the candlelight. You're most definitely not bluffing and she knows it. "Fine. We'll stay but if we die I'm going to haunt you the most." She threatens as you simply turn around to shut the door.

This is going to be a long night.

A good forty minutes later does the first rays of the sunrise peak into the tiny window of Ciri's room. They fall upon the far wall as you guard the whores and Ciri who's still seated on the bed, too nervous to sleep. You can hear how her heartbeat cannot seem to slow down as she's too worried for Geralt. You know he'll be just fine...you're certain of it. Right?

As the sun crawls across the wall can you hear footsteps slowly walking their way down the hall, headed for either this room or the one across from it where the other whores are. You know these footfalls, you know this heartbeat, soon the door opens up to reveal a disheveled Geralt. The five whores stand and quickly run out of the room, not giving you or Geralt a single glance as they follow Danica to wherever next. You don't care anymore.

Your eyes land upon his dirt smudged face and cut lip and you know something is very wrong. "It was Eskel wasn't it?" You softly whisper as he sighs, expression hard, hiding an inner pain that you can see all too well. Not saying a word do you bring him into your arms, hugging him tightly as he frowns into your neck.

"Is it over?" Asks Ciri as you part from Geralt, "Are we safe?"

He purses his lips together, taking a step closer to her does he put his hands to either shoulder, "Are you okay?"

She gives a little nod of reassurance, "I'm alright. Y/N was here to protect us." He takes his hands off of her fur coated shawl and shares a glance between the two of you.

"Come with me." ——

Standing high upon one of the half destroyed stone balcony's does your cloak flap in the wind as a cool breeze blows your hair back. Though you cannot feel this chill, with one quick breath into your nostrils can you catch a sense that the air is cold as frost on a window. And quite obviously with there being an observable amount of snow, and every time you take a breath out can your exhalation be seen in the form of white mist.

Your gaze tails over the mountainous horizon as the sun rises on a new day, you feel for the Witchers here and the loss of a dearly beloved brother. Eskel was in pain and you cold sense it yet you did nothing, you do feel a bit regretful for not trying to force the matter out of him. But he was one of the ones who could never seem to fully trust you as much as they'd have liked. And for that you gave him his space as not to cause a problem. And anyways, how where you to know a leshy had already gotten to him in the way that it did?

But maybe, just maybe if you would have....no, the matter is gone and done with. He is dead as there is nothing you could do about it, so here you stand as a sort of living gargoyle upon the battlements. Over watching of all that moves in the courtyard below, soon Geralt and Ciri arrive out from a stone arched doorway.

Still rather rough looking does Geralt appear though he cares little of that now. He's brought Cirilla to this place with a purpose you can only assume to be for sword mastery. He's going to teach her a first lesson. You watch as they walk across the snow, listening from afar to what he says to her first, "When I first came to Kaer Morhen, Vesemir said to me that the world outside these walls is a dangerous place."

He pauses for a moment as she looks up at him, "But times are changing, even here. Nowhere is safe now. You can't run from the world. You can't hide from it. But you can find power and purpose." He moves his sword in a gentle methodical motion, "A chance to survive the horror. This Continent was meant for no one." He stops his movements to reach down and pick up a wooden sword.

Geralt holds both silver and wood in his hands as he looks to Ciri, "All you have to do, Ciri, is keep your sword close, and keep moving." He holds it out for her to take, unsure of herself does she slowly grasp her fingers around the hilt.

Holding it now at her side does Geralt give her a look of reassurance before turning in the opposite direction, he assumes a stance. She quickly removes the fur shawl from her shoulders and takes a step forward. Eyes set to how Geralt's moving with his weapon in hand, she does her best to mimic him.

A smile pulls to the corners of your lips as you watch them begin to train, maybe she has what it takes to become a warrior after all?

——

Thanks for reading everyone!

Tagged: @letseatnow @certainwonderlandperfection @rafecameronswhore @diegos-butt @seninjakitey @haleypearce @ashleyforeverareject @beck07990 @kmuir1

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #the witcher #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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sunmoonandsandsoundtracks · 3 years ago

Text

love me like you do

... ... ...i- ...so this- ah, fuck me. there's too much to say about this. it's been in the works since december. it was meant to be for gaara's birthday, but that didn't happen.

that said, this is hands down the best version and well worth the wait. i have never put half as much effort into editing anything, which might surprise a few of my english teachers, considering how well my essays usually turned out.

this is not my first ever serious attempt at smut, but it is the first i've ever felt ready to publish. if something is awkward in the writing of the more erotic scenes, please, constructive criticism. i tried so hard with this, and then went back and fixed where i thought i tried too hard.

i also did my very best to make the character as relatable as possible for everyone. i researched colors that looked good on all skin colors, i avoided any actions that would indicate a specific body/hair type or height, and i worked out a not too extreme personality. i aim to represent everyone in these characters as best i can. tall, short, curvy, skinny, thick hair, thin hair, long hair, short hair, black, white, brown... the one thing i know i'll probably suck at representing is anything outside american culture. i have little exposure, so i'll have to do more research where i want to include it in my stories. i'm going to do my very best.

huge shout out to my husband. oh my god. i have been through so much that has nothing to do with covid, and he has been so supportive of everything. he sat with me for hours a day, at least a few days a month, while i plotted and vented about this story, helped me work through writer's block, and even read this to give me feedback. seriously. this wouldn't have happened without him. i would have dropped it by may. update 2/14: sequel up!

masterlist

spotify/youtube

word count: 18,222 yes, issa big baby and it would ruin the flow to break it into chapters.

warnings: none

nsfw below the cut! enjoy, and i really hope i convert you all to boss kink, if you didn't already have it.

Monday.

The worst day of the week to almost anyone that works a standard five day, nine to five white collar job. It was the death of the weekend.

One particular Monday was to be the death of you.

You had barely managed to drag yourself into work, and you did so with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their execution. Hell, your execution would have been more welcome. You anticipated an immediate summons from the second you trudged through the door. That hadn’t happened, and therefore you were kept on the literal edge of your seat, for two unbelievably arduous hours, biting your lip until you saw him, and then everything got so. much. worse.

“My life is over,” you said, volume barely above that of a whisper. Even then, your voice cracked as you dropped your head to your desk, making a sound loud enough to alarm those within a large radius. You didn’t even allow yourself to express your pain in a word, just as a punishment.

“Are you okay?” Matsuri, your coworker and friend that occupied the cubicle to your right asked, forehead wrinkling as she furrowed her brow. Concern for your well being rolled off her in heavy waves.

“No,” you groaned, not even trying to straighten up. “I’m doomed. Done, finished, expired.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not bad enough to actually beat yourself up over it.”

You lifted your head a little and turned it just to give her a deadpan expression. “Trust me, it is.”

“Why don’t you tell me, maybe I can help somehow?” She tentatively offered.

“Unless you have a way to magically delete the picture where I’m ninety-five percent naked that I sent our boss by mistake last night, I doubt it.” You returned to your previous position, letting your head hit the surface with a quieter thud than the first time, tempted to do it a few more times. If you managed to do enough brain damage, you hoped to forget the whole debacle. Maybe you could claim that some questionable brain damage was the reason the whole debacle happened in the first place.

Matsuri gaped like a fish for a minute, the opening and closing of her mouth was muted as she grasped at straws for a response before giving up and going back to her task without another word. You didn’t blame her for not wanting to be involved further. Your dignity was six feet under, and just a little over six hours later, your job likely would be too.

A simple slip of the thumb with a dash of carelessness- a miniscule action coupled with a lack of precaution- knocked your world off its axis. You had a circle of friends that were very open and occasionally sent sexy pictures to the group chat. That was the first time you had done so, or thought you had, and it would be the last. You had been hyped about splurging on some sinful lingerie the day before, and while you were all about doing it just for yourself, you wanted to have someone appreciate it with you and on you. Everyone was so supportive when others did it, blowing up the chat with compliments that could only help the confidence of the brave soul who put their body on display.

Was it so wrong to want a little adoration? Apparently it was, because the name of the chat put it just below your boss’s contact in your messaging app, and when you went to hit where to send the indecent photo, you opened the wrong conversation. Lesson learned- always, always, ALWAYS check the contact name before sending. You’d never make that mistake again. How you had made it to that point in your life without making it before was a wonder.

Maybe some mischievous spirit decided things were too good in your life and decided it would be fun to fuck you over.

You spent that whole day ditching, dodging, and ducking whenever you saw or heard any hint of the man who controlled the balance of your life at that time. You were almost home free when-

“Please see me in my office when you’ve finished your work for the day.”

Fuck.

Truth be told, even though your mind said that he was preparing to issue your death sentence, the sound of his voice when he might as well have whispered in your ear after sneaking up on you at your desk in the last twenty minutes before you could clock out had your body buzzing with excitement. Those last twenty minutes were an absolute hell as you were torn between wanting them to move at the speed of molasses, and wishing they would hurry up so you could be alone with a man that, to be perfectly frank, made you want to drool and pant like a bitch in heat.

Yes, the entire situation was made even worse by the simple issue of him not just being your boss with whom you had a friendly work relationship, but the amazingly appealing man that kept coming to mind when you bought the underwear in the problematic picture.

The end came, and you were so strung out from both abject dread and intolerable anticipation. You felt like you had downed ten cups of coffee after not sleeping for a week.

“See you tomorrow?” Matsuri said as she finished gathering her things.

“If he doesn’t have me pack up tonight,” you sighed, surrounded by an air of defeat.

She gave you a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder. “It may not be that bad. You and I both know that he’s kind and understanding. If you make it clear that you had no intention of sending it to him, I’m certain he’ll let it go and just move on.”

“You’re right,” you admitted. He made you imagine him and you in the dirtiest scenarios your mind could conjure, but it was more than just physical desire that had you eager to be around him. He was the best supervisor you’d ever had because of both his work ethic and the kindness with which he treated everyone, subordinate and superior.

He wasn’t the most sociable, and you had noticed times when he was clearly feeling awkward in more casual settings, like company parties, but he tried, and he just exuded energy that drew people in once they realized he wasn’t as tough as some might believe at first glance. You were part of that some, but found out so quickly that he was tender hearted, and patient, and understanding, and appreciative, and… and… and...

You could go on for some time about his positive attributes. You confessed that you were more than a little infatuated as well as lustful, but you weren’t the only one. Most of the women you’d seen him interact with all had the same look in their eyes. They would kill for the chance to love him, and love on him. You were sure you had the same look when he was near.

Without realizing that you had spaced out after answering Matsuri, you came around. She was gone, and it was almost ten minutes later. You were late.

“Shit!” You cried a little too loud as you stood up, straightened your clothes, then rushed as professionally as you could to his office. Though you were already tardy, you made a stop in the break room to get him a cup of coffee. You’d seen him make his own a handful of times, so you knew the right amount of cream to add. Your heart hammered in your chest as you continued on, growing louder in your ears along with the rushing of your blood the nearer you drew. Despite the eager twisting of your stomach, you arrived all too soon for your liking. In your hurry, you didn’t even take a moment to collect yourself before lightly knocking on the once imposing door with a shaky hand. It came out so soft, you doubted he heard anything. That was when you took a moment to breathe and get yourself together. Your body barely listened, but it was a slight improvement, and you could work with that.

Another knock, firmer than before, and then you took a small step back. He didn’t answer immediately, so your eyes began to wander. It seemed somewhat as if you were searching for help. You noted the closed blinds at the front windows to his office. Usually, those fixtures were open until he left for the evening, which, besides being a smart move to avoid any potential misunderstandings or incorrect conclusions whenever he had an employee in for a performance review or such, made him more approachable by allowing everyone to see if they were interrupting anything important. A few times every few weeks, especially around the end of each quarter, he would have them closed during the day as a sign that he was not to be disturbed for anything less than an emergency as he was tasked with paperwork and the like. What constituted an emergency varied by the position someone held. At your level, something had to be on fire, or someone had to be dying to merit an interruption. Even then, you weren’t sure you could be the one to interrupt him.

“Come in.”

You took another breath to steel yourself, then opened the solid wood door and strolled inside, trying to project some composure. Your breath caught for a second as you caught sight of him gazing out the floor to ceiling window that gave him a wondrous view of the city which, at that hour of day during the winter season, was already well lit. His back was enough to get you worked up in more ways than one, and you had to admit that you had it pretty bad. He had his hands in his pants pockets, and his suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair. His posture was stiff, but you were surprised to see him even that casual.

“I-I apologize for making you wait, sir,” you said with a slight verbal stumble as you approached his desk, staying on the proper side.

He barely acknowledged what you said with a slight hum, not even turning to face you for you had no idea how long, but it dragged on for ages. At least it gave you a chance to study him a little more. It was better than sneaking glances when he was least likely to catch you.

He stopped your survey of him when he said your name. “Do you know why I asked you here?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered, gripping the coffee cup that you couldn’t put down because it kept you from fidgeting, and the heat in your hands was comforting. “It’s about what I sent you last night. I’m very aware of how unprofessional that was, but please, understand that it was not intended for you. I never meant to breach not only company policy, but the boundaries of our relationship. It was an accident that only happened because I didn’t check the contact before sending it.”

Silence fell once again, and you were ready to crawl out of your skin. It was agony.

“I take it this other contact you meant to send it to was someone with whom you have an intimate relationship?” He questioned after a painful amount of time, his voice was laced with an emotion you didn’t dare try to label.

You dropped your head in shame, wondering what he thought of you. Would he think worse if you were honest with him? He always got to the bottom of any issue he was presented with, and you’d heard his colleagues praise how much he valued the truth, no matter how bad it was. He didn’t pry where it wasn’t necessary in any situation, but he cared enough to clear up any misconceptions, so he sought out any information he deemed crucial.

It didn’t occur to you to question just why he needed to know anything about the one to whom you intended to send such a scandalous image. You trusted him completely to keep it appropriate.

“No. It was for my friends. I, um, have some very confident friends who are big on body positivity and share a lot more than most people would. I was just... looking for some validation and to be appreciated. I’d never done it before, and I’m never planning to do it again, e-even when I...”

You couldn’t go on. Despite your friends being so open and okay with flaunting their bodies, some of your loved ones were very conservative and would frown greatly upon what you had done, believing that no one should see you in such a state other than someone with whom you were deeply committed and intimate. Some of them held the belief that it should be reserved for marriage. He was so upstanding at work, you feared that even though you knew he wouldn’t condemn you, he wouldn’t want to be associated too closely with you. You had no idea what his personal life was like, what kind of company he kept.

The silence was deafening by that point, and you swore on your grave that you were going to combust if you didn’t get some closure soon. You dared to slowly raise your head and saw him leaning against the window, bracing himself up with an arm over his head.

“I see,” he muttered, immediately clearing his throat.

You stiffened and straightened up at the tone of his voice. Should anyone have asked you what you thought you heard, you wouldn’t have been able to say it out loud. You could barely think it, but part of you was confident that you heard relief in his voice. The same kind of relief you felt and heard in your own voice after finding out that the gorgeous woman you’d seen visit him and bring him lunch was his older sister, and not his girlfriend. Even if she wasn’t, he still could have had one, or he may not have been into women at all, for all you knew, but you were flying high for the following two weeks.

Having the friends you had for as long as you had, had quashed most of what you used to claim was an inbred tendency to disparage yourself, so you weren’t saying that he couldn’t possibly desire you in any way, but unless he saw something in you during your interactions that were strictly work-related, you believed that he wouldn’t. You got to see a lot more of who he was than he saw of you, or so you assumed.

“I completely understand if there’s certain protocol you have to follow in this situation-”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” He deliberately interrupted you, which had never happened before, especially not with such a curt tone. The mix of worry and need returned as the no nonsense attitude pierced through you. You’d seen that attitude employed before, but never where you were directly involved. In fact, you’d never seen it directed at anyone specifically. It was the biggest indication to everyone that the stress was getting to him, and you suspected that it was the last warning someone would get before he snapped if they continued to agitate him.

What would happen if he lost control? How would he vent? What kind of outlets did he use even when he was in control of himself? What you wouldn’t give to know...

A brief clip of him fucking you into oblivion to channel his rage and stress danced through your imagination, which couldn’t have been worse for the given situation.

“J-just my friends outside the company and Ma-Matsuri, sir,” you nearly squeaked as the clean cut sight of his backside was replaced with the mirage of him facing you, those reading glasses he only wore when he had to do paperwork after the sun’s natural light no longer shone through his window perched low on his nose. The top few buttons of his maroon dress shirt that complemented the red of his combed down hair- which you swore varied from ruby to a dusty kind of scarlet to garnet, depending on everything from the lighting to the time of day you saw it- were unbuttoned, the cuffs of his sleeves were rolled up, and the hem was untucked. His black silk tie was loose, hanging lazily against his chest. His black slacks seemed to sit a little lower on his hips, not that you could really tell with the shirt covering the waist line.

You were so completely, wholly, and otherwise indisputably fucked when the clothes on the imaginary him started falling off until he wore nothing but the tie and glasses. It was beautiful. God, it was beautiful, but it was not helping. Guilt over your barely contained lust coursed through you, and it wasn’t just because of him… Okay, maybe it was. However, you were not an animal and you were going to get in control of yourself. There were more important matters at stake than going home unsatisfied and desperate.

Like your job. You just passed your year mark as a technical support agent with the company. Your coworkers had given you a small celebration, letting you know that they were happy to have you as part of the team. He had been there, gifting you a sweet smile that you went home and giggled over that entire night, and adding his praise to the others. You loved your job, though it was far from perfect, and you loved the rest of your team.

Like your blossoming friendship with him. Even if you stayed right where you were with your job, you didn’t want to lose the amicable conversations, or the ease with which you regarded each other.

Like hell you were going to put your desire for what could end up being mediocre or even disappointing sex that may not amount to anything once it was over above the good deal you already had. Even if it was mind blowing, it wouldn’t be worth it if it put the rest at risk.

Focus. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in-

“All right. If there are no future indiscretions of this nature, then there is no reason to dwell on it further. We will carry on as if it never happened.”

Breathe out. You breathed out more air than you had taken in with your relieved sigh.

“Thank you so much, sir! I swear that it will never happen again. I’ll make sure of it-”

What happened next was the catalyst that turned what was going to be a night where you went home and bounced between celebrating that you still had a job, with hope that nothing would change between you and him, and whining over how badly you wanted him into.... a night where you didn’t do any of that.

You let out a shrill cry of pain as the still scalding coffee you forgot you were holding for the slightest second soaked through your blouse after splashing on you when you jerked your arms back too quickly. You dropped the cup, spilling the rest onto your feet. At least you didn’t have to worry about where your mind was focused anymore.

It was only then that he turned around, eyes widening in horror as he saw you kicking off your shoes while trying to get your shirt up. He didn’t know what happened, but the noise you made was enough to drive him to help without question. Had anyone been watching and even half way blinked, they would have missed him bolting from his place at the window to you. His hands were steady where yours fumbled as he assisted in the removal of your top.

As soon as your shirt was out of the way, he raced for the nearest office first aid kit for treatment supplies, and grabbed two of the softest rags he could find in the supply closet, soaking one in cool water and wringing it out. Upon returning to you, he got to work gently cleaning and drying where your skin was the most irritated, before applying an Aloe Vera gel that felt incomparably wonderful as it soothed the scalded area. Nothing was said as he knelt down and took care of you, even tending to your feet, with a focused thoroughness and caring tenderness that only added to why you wanted to cry.

A sharp sting that was still fading, utter humiliation, and the realization that it really was more than mere infatuation that you felt for him, that you were seriously falling in love with him with the intensity of a skydiver, brought tears to your eyes. One of those overpowered the other two with ease.

“S-sir,” you spoke, not achieving more than a whisper as emotion grabbed you by the throat. You cleared the blockade of sentiment with a little cough so you could be heard. “Thank y-you. I’m so sorry about the mess on the carpet, I’ll pay to get it cleaned if there’s not a budget or something you can use, and-” You cut off and looked over at his desk, not seeing anything alarming, but you were beside yourself with worry anyway. “Oh no, did I get any on your desk? God, I hope not. What if it got on something important? I’m so, so sorry-”

Your fretting was interrupted by a gentle finger pressed to your lips- when did he stand up?- and your eyes met what you’d say was likely the softest gaze you’d ever seen. Those bright eyes that almost seemed to glow peered directly into your own, and you swore your spirit left your body. Your warm breath blew out around the digit that rested against the plush cushions of your mouth as you tried to avoid hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, voice full of concern. “It doesn’t look too bad, but if you think you need it, I can take you to the hospital.”

His hand dropped, allowing you to speak, but you only covered your mouth with your own hand as you choked on a sob and tears filled your eyes. He was so kind, so genuine, and with how tense you’d been the whole day, fearing the worst, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You felt so many things at once, and not even half of them made sense.

Being a man who knew more about rocket science than he did about how to appease an upset woman- the only thing he picked up from having a sister like his was to shove copious amounts of chocolate at her and otherwise stay clear unless she made a specific request, but that didn’t seem to be apt for the situation- he waited patiently, and silently, until you gathered yourself. A slight nod succeeded by a sniffle and deep breath answered his question.

“I’m so very sorry, sir,” you said, your voice heavy with exhaustion, head lowered, eyes closed. You were ready to go home and deny until you could forget as much of what had happened from the moment you took that picture to the moment you left the office as you possibly could. “This is a very compromising position that could have been avoided if I had exercised a sliver of caution or intelligence before sending that picture, and just now, if I hadn’t gotten-”

“They were accidents,” he cut you off for the second time, his tone curt.

“Yes, but they were preventable accidents,” you argued, determined to take the blame you felt you deserved. “Again, if I had-”

“What matters is that I understand that I was not the intended recipient, and that you are all right.”

You pinched your bottom lip between your teeth until you pierced it enough to result in a drop or two of blood, drawing some satisfaction from the pain, intent on giving yourself some punishment. A hand on your bare shoulder made you raise your head to see him staring at you again.

“Give me just a minute to finish up here, then I will take you home or to the hospital. Do you feel that you can cover up without causing any pain?”

Only then did your partial state of undress hit you. Fuck. The picture was bad enough, but because you had never changed out of that new underwear set you had wanted to show off, he was seeing in all glory of the burgundy strapless elastic floral lace bra that cinched between your breasts where it drew the eye with a large, lightweight, golden diamond shaped glass rhinestone. You might as well have just dropped your skirt to show off the matching lace briefs.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, unable to contain the quiver in your voice, eyes darting from one side to the other and back as you tried to avoid seeing whatever discomfort or displeasure he might be trying to hide from you. That lasted only a minute, until you came to a hard stop to see him offering his own starched shirt to you. There may or may not have been the quickest rush of disappointment when you saw the long sleeve black undershirt he had on, but it was gone when you noticed how form fitting that shirt was. Some higher power, be it a deity or karma, finally decided to throw you a bone.

He was on the leaner side, which you’d always suspected, but hadn’t seen much of because of the loose shirts and jackets he wore around the office. That said, the undershirt was a gift that more than hinted at the muscles that formed the contours of his firm chest as well as a pack of abs. You needed to find out when, where, and how he worked out.

Your face heated as you accepted his offering and put it on. Once in the privacy of your apartment, upon finishing your moping over everything that had gone wrong, you were going to be spilling every detail to your friends. They’d laugh, cheer for you, and- no matter how baseless their suggestions were- speculate that he had a thing for you. Like you were special. Like he wouldn’t treat anyone in your position the exact same way.

“Thank you, sir. This is so kind of you.”

He felt awkward and unsure of how to respond. but he gave a nod to show that he heard you before turning his back to you to go around the desk. It was all he could do. The wires running around his brain crossed whenever he even thought about setting his eyes back on you, in his shirt, wearing that cursed underwear that had him sweating profusely from the second he laid eyes on that damned picture.

He could only wonder if he was having some sort of dream when he opened that message. That thought was later disproved when his mind began to wander and he saw an apparition of you in his kitchen. Your lips were curled in an inviting smile, and he was aroused in a way he hadn’t been... well, ever. The apparition disappeared with a dose of caffeine- to wake up his exhausted mind, at two in the morning, that did nothing to help his restless body- but the picture was still on his phone. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of you in a context outside of work, but the way he was thinking of you that night and, to his embarrassment and horror, the following day was reprehensible.

Asking you to his office with intentions to clear up the issue was not easy for him, especially when he found that the only time he had to meet with you was after hours. All he could think of was you in that lingerie that made him realize he had a taste for that type of clothing- to be fair, the style of clothes you wore to work every day made him realize he had a taste for clothing on anyone else at all- and it made him avoid you as long as he possibly could, which was until twenty minutes before the end of the day. He couldn’t handle another night without some sort of closure.

Then that whole fiasco happened. He had been so focused on taking care of you, from when he heard you cry out to when he offered you his shirt- which he hadn’t the slightest idea of how bad an idea that was- nothing registered beyond making sure you were okay. When the adrenaline had slowed and the worry had ebbed, he was left staring at you, a hunger that had nothing to do with food rising within him, and if he didn’t put some distance between your bodies as well as distract himself somehow, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to keep himself from seeking something to appease that hunger. Even a man as disciplined as him had only so much restraint.

He removed his reading glasses and set them down on the desk, then his hands flitted over the documents he had out, placing them into the appropriate folders and stacking those on top of each other. As he opened the drawer to put them away, he spotted the gift box under his desk that contained a fine, well aged red wine along with a pair of stemless wine glasses cushioned by styrofoam that were gifted to him by his managers that day for his birthday, with the wish that he celebrate with a good friend or someone special. He didn’t tell them that he really wasn’t a wine drinker, or an alcohol drinker in general. He only ever had a drink for special occasions, and he supposed that’s what that bottle would be reserved for, but-

“Would you care for a drink?” He found himself offering before he could fully process the decision.

Your eyes widened slightly. It wouldn’t have surprised you in the least if he hadn’t said another word that wasn’t purely out of courtesy to you the rest of the night. What kind of drink he meant tickled your curiosity, because you noticed that he never drank at office parties, and only once or twice out of the handful of times that he had joined your team out to celebrate a birthday or such.

“Oh, I... You don’t... I-I mean,” you stuttered, fidgeting with your fingers as you struggled to find the right words. You only needed three. “Yes, thank you.”

“Forgive me, if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he rushed to apologize while maintaining his composure as he reached for the box. “I have some wine here that I know I won’t drink much of and I just thought that you’ve clearly had a trying day. That’s what I’ve heard a lot of people say they enjoy when they’ve been stressed. .”

“I take it you don’t count yourself among that group,” you muttered with the tiniest smile.

His eyes finally shifted to you when he placed the box on top of his tidied desk.

“You would be right,” he confirmed, opening it and pulling out the contents, one by one. There was even a corkscrew. Either that was sold as a well stocked gift box, or his managers were extra thoughtful to make sure he had everything he needed to make use of their gift. “I only ever drink socially, for special occasions, and even then, I try to be sparing.”

“I can understand that. I’m sure everyone has seen someone get drunk enough to put them off heavy drinking. That is, if they aren’t the person everyone else sees get drunk enough to be put off.”

He couldn’t resist the chuckle that originated from his chest. “I suppose that’s true. I’ve seen a few people like that.”

“So have I. A few of my friends make that a bit of a habit. They make for good stories, right?” You replied with a girlish giggle that immediately had you biting your lip in embarrassment.

He didn’t react to it at all, allowing you to relax a bit. You watched as he opened the bottle. You enjoyed wine well enough, but you didn’t drink it often. You had your taste in lower priced beverages and stayed faithful to that, only occasionally indulging in something a little more expensive every now and again. Your eyes strayed to his arms, and you noticed how they tensed when he used the corkscrew. There was a bit of defined muscle there, and once again, the idea of watching him at the gym hit you. That, and the idea that the undershirt truly was a gift. You’d never get to see the finer workings of his body in action under the shirt you were wearing.

God, you needed help, you realized as your throat ran dry from a different thirst than the kind that wine could satisfy.

“Here.” He held out one of the glasses to you, and you accepted it, almost robotically.

“Thank you, sir,” you muttered before sipping from it.

He nodded once more in acknowledgment and took a sip of his own. He didn’t react to the taste, so he was either accustomed to it, or he had a face that was well practiced in maintaining stoicism. You wouldn’t be surprised if either or both turned out to be true. The ticking of his clock was grating on your nerves, and you had to put great effort into not shaking like a newborn fawn.

“S-so, is today a special occasion?” You ventured to ask, cursing your inability to keep your voice from trembling. “Or are you just kind enough to drink to keep me company?”

His lips curled into a slight smile. “I suppose you could argue that it’s a special occasion, though I try not to make it public knowledge.”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” You guessed with a light laugh. “That’s hardly fair. I know all the teams that you oversee would have loved to wish you a happy birthday. I’m sure they wouldn’t have made a big deal of it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about anything, I just don’t care to be reminded of it more than I have to be. My family and friends do that well enough.”

The answer was disheartening. You understood wanting to have only a small celebration, that was a matter of taste, but in your personal experience, anyone that didn’t care to acknowledge their birthday had at least one ruined for them in the past. It might not have been a deeply traumatizing reason, but it could have been. Regardless, you hated to think that the man before you had suffered anything at all to make him take such a reluctant attitude toward his special day.

“I see. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known, could you?”

You gave a modest shake of your head before taking a larger drink. Your mind blanked on any conversation starters, which you figured was just as well, since after the sad revelation, you were sure that you’d be tripping over your tongue too much to articulate any that you did conjure. A subdued silence overtook the two of you, and you could only look out the tinted window- or pretend to, as the fluorescent light from the ceiling fixtures bounced off it and blocked your view with your own blurred out reflection- as you drank mindlessly. Sip. Sip. Si-

You had emptied your glass. You used your thumb to wipe any drops that had caught on your lip. The thought to go delicately wash it out so he could put it back in the fancy box crossed your mind, and you were about to offer when he picked up the bottle and offered a refill. One more glass couldn’t hurt, you reasoned as you thanked him.

It felt like you entered a time loop as you downed your next glass, doing exactly as you had done with the first, except you were daring enough to risk glances at him as he stared out the window. Could he see out any better from his angle than you could? Did it matter, or did the light trick you into thinking you saw his eyes glaze over in thought, suggesting he wasn’t seeing anything at all?

“Sir, am I keeping you?” You asked, drawing his attention from either the window or whatever was going through his mind. “I’m sure Shinki is eager for you to get home.”

“You aren’t keeping me,” he answered, appreciating the acknowledgement of his adopted son he had mentioned to you a few months prior at the company’s anniversary celebration. “No one is expecting me for another hour.”

“Because of the extra work you have to sort through. So I’ve just distracted you from your job. Great. I can’t seem to stop messing up when it comes to you lately, can I?” You said, following up with a bitter laugh.

If anyone asked, you would truthfully tell them you were not a lightweight. Not in the stripping, too drunk to care that you’re performing karaoke when you can’t sing, throwing up then blacking out only to wake up with a hangover so bad anyone that looked at you instantly got a headache way. However, it took an embarrassingly little amount of alcohol to get you buzzed. You’d still be highly functional, but your tongue was loosened enough to get off the leash your brain typically had it on, and your inhibitions- and shame- dropped enough for you to do some of the things that your friends encouraged you to do. The longer the silence persisted, the more you drank, and the more of a disconnect there was between your impulse control and your body.

There wasn’t a whole lot on your mind as you eased up, but one question popped up, and as you emptied your glass a second time, you found yourself voicing it.

“Is this the first time someone has accidently sent you a picture like that?”

You wondered if he was so far absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you. You wouldn’t have repeated the question, you had enough awareness and control to keep yourself from pushing it, and had given up on getting an answer when his voice pierced the silence.

“This is the first time I believe it truly was an accident.”

You weren’t surprised in the least, but you wondered what the reasons were behind the pretense that it was an accident. Were they all employees trying to take a shot, but cover their asses too? Cowards.

“What?” He looked at you, puzzled by the last word that you thought you had only thought, but had actually spoken aloud.

“O-oh, ah- I...” You were thrown, so even though it wasn't embarrassing or untoward, you grasped at straws for an answer. “I-I just meant that if the others did it intentionally, they should have been ready to face the consequences, not run away like cowards with that excuse.”

He hummed in agreement, then turned away from you once more. It was growing irritating and almost insulting, but you rationalized that he was trying to preserve what little professionalism the situation had left. There were other potential reasons, such as he felt it would be disrespectful, he was uncomfortable, he thought it would make you uncomfortable, or... well, maybe he had someone that wouldn’t appreciate it if, for any reason more than your previous emergency, his eyes did linger on you.

“Would you care for one more before we go?”

Your eyes raised from where they had been glaring a flaming hole into his desk, which you hadn’t been consciously doing, to see him partially turned in your direction, but still not looking at you. Why wouldn’t he- No, you didn’t need to know exactly why he wouldn’t. If nothing else, he was as much the gentleman he appeared to be by the light of day, and that was enough reason for you.

“At the risk of sounding like an alcoholic, yeah,” you joked, almost slapping your hand to your forehead, feeling stupid.

“I don’t think three glasses of wine makes one an alcoholic,” he pointed out.

“You’re probably right. An alcoholic likely wouldn’t be able to stop at three, and three is definitely where I draw the line.” You handed him your glass for your second refill. His eyes landed only where they needed to and you silently sighed. For all the reasons in the world, it would still be nice to know he found you at least somewhat appealing to look at.

“Forgive me for asking,” he spoke up as he handed you your glass back. “I noticed your- ah- interesting marking.”

So he did notice something about your body before closing himself off. He was insanely observant, you’d noticed, and it didn’t surprise you that he’d picked up on that little detail.

“Oh, well, I-I got it right after my closest friends and I all turned twenty-one,” you explained, using the glass in your hand as a focal point. You liked having the kanji for love tattooed in red on the flesh over your heart, but you had to admit it was really cheesy.

“Why that particular one?” You wondered if the wine was getting to him as well, because he hadn’t seemed so eager to talk a moment prior.

You tried to sum up the reason without diving into a whole anecdote. “To put it simply, it was the only thing we could agree on. I’m the only one who got this particular one, but the others got sentimental meanings as well, and we couldn’t agree on the font or language, which we wanted to match. We each have our own interests in fields of study, and while it isn’t the most interesting culture to each of us, Asian culture is the most interesting culture we agreed on based on interests. Art, history, language, mythology, storytelling, traditions, cuisine... It was the best compromise.”

Your lips shifted from a shy smile to a victorious smirk. “I won that one, honestly, convincing them to go with kanji, because while linguistics wasn’t my major or even my minor, it was one of my passions, and I studied as much as I could, whether I learned the language or not. In terms of writing, Japanese is the most complicated system, and I’m just fascinated.”

You blushed and shrunk into yourself a bit when you realized you were talking to a Japanese man. “I-I probably don’t need to tell you that, though.”

If you’d been looking at him, instead of at your drink, you’d see the tease of an amused smile pulling at his lips and the way he leaned toward you just the slightest. “I wasn’t aware that it was the most complicated, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Y-yeah.” You indulged a glance, then looked back down.

A compressing weight bore down on you with the silence, and you were ready to be put out of your misery. You were not drunk enough to endure the awkward discomfort any longer. It was time for your favorite liquor to finish what the wine had started, so you politely sipped the rest of your glass faster than the first two.

“Are the friends you got the tattoo with the ones-”

“Some of them,” you cut him off as abruptly as he had broken the silence. It was clear where that question was going, and despite having the slight buffer that gave you some comfort, you couldn’t handle hearing him bring up the unintentional sext again.

He suppressed his chuckle with a sip. He was just finishing his first half glass, which made you feel like you had a drinking problem with how quickly you polished off three.

“I didn’t take you for the type to be interested in things like tattoos, to be frank,” you said, your mouth running off again, immediately biting your lip to keep from saying more.

He couldn’t have been more grateful for the natural stoicism that kept the quirk of his lips from evolving into a smug smirk. You knew nothing about him outside of work, which was how he had preferred to keep it with most, but it also entertained him to envision your reaction to just what kind of track record he had. Tattoos weren’t even half of it.

“You’d be surprised,” he chuckled, drawing your gaze to him.

Then he did it. He deliberately combed a hand through his hair, disheveling his bangs, showing hints of the tattoo on his forehead covering up a scar he’d given himself as a child.

“No way,” you gasped, and you hadn’t even seen just what it was yet. He pushed his bangs completely out of the way, and you were sure you went into shock. “Oh my god.”

He allowed himself the smirk that he’d held back. If only he could show you the rest of them.

“Mine is not as sentimental as yours, but it’s interesting that we both have the same one.”

You gave a mute, wide-eyed nod. You could only think of one thing- were there more?

He put his hair to right and subtly studied you. It was clear to him that you were like many others who, based on the personality he showed them, thought him to be a choir boy with an unblemished record. That was just how he liked it, but he was so tempted to roll the sleeves of his undershirt up a bit to see how you reacted to his sleeves of tattoos. How wide would your eyes go? How far would your jaw drop? Would your face flush? It was a far too tempting experiment, but he resisted.

“How are you feeling?” He inquired when you didn’t make any noise, looking deceptively innocent.

“F-fine,” you answered, feeling a little light headed. It was the wine’s fault, you argued with yourself. That’s right. It was all the wine’s fault that you were acting like a brainless bimbo... Yeah, you didn’t believe that half-assed excuse.

“I mean your feet and your stomach,” he clarified, still enjoying your reaction as he composed himself as if nothing had happened.

“O-oh, um, it- I’m fi- They’re good,” you managed to spit out after searching for words that should not have been so difficult to find.

“So I should take you home then?”

“No, sir, I can get myself home,” you insisted. You put the glass that you’d forgotten you’d been holding on the desk gently, stood up, and started working on the rest of the buttons you’d left undone, but as your arm brushed your side, it pressed the material to your tender skin, and you flinched. He noticed.

“I’m sure you could, but I’d feel better if I made sure you got there myself.”

“Sir, I’ve already caused you enough trouble. Let me leave with what dignity I have left,” you nearly begged, which stirred something unpleasant in his chest.

“You shouldn’t feel that way,” he argued. “I’m concerned. You’re still in pain, and I can get you home faster.”

“Theoretically, you could, but with the streak of luck I’ve had in the last twenty-four hours, I seriously believe that I’ll do something to cause you to get in a wreck on the way, which means neither of us would be getting home for quite awhile, rendering your argument inaccurate,” you countered as you tried not to whimper when the smooth material grazed the heated skin of the right side of your stomach.

He stood and said your name in a way that made you freeze, paralyzed by the authority in his tone. Before you could return to your senses, he rounded the desk to stand in front of you, and you weren’t sure if it was the air of command he exuded, but something was controlling you like a puppet on strings as you turned toward him, your eyes locking with his.

“Si-sir?”

“I am going to examine your burn, and if I feel it’s safe, I will take you home,” he stated with such gravity, it almost knocked you to the floor. It was a little exciting, especially because you knew he wouldn’t fire you if you defied him. Still, you were powerless to do such a thing, so you complied instead.

It was like a caress as he moved his shirt out of the way to see the skin that, to his relief, was not blistering, or showing any signs of being anything more than a superficial issue. He very gently brushed his fingers over it as his eyes went to your face to see the extent of your pain. You winced, but it wasn’t strong. He retrieved the gel from the first aid kit he’d left on the desk and applied another layer on the dry skin that had absorbed the first one, then checked your feet, which seemed to have received minimal damage. When he stood in front of you once again, you avoided looking at him.

“Thank you, sir, but please, let me just get a cab home. I can’t stand the thought of causing you any more trouble.”

“And I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you safely home,” he sighed, then gave in. “I will see you into a cab, and I would appreciate it if you texted me when you get home.”

“Sir, me texting you is the whole reason we’re in this mess,” you said with a bark of laughter.

“Then call me. Just promise to let me know, or you’re not going anywhere without me,” he demanded, sending a little chill down your spine. It was evident in his tone that he genuinely cared about you, but you could write it off as just being in a professional sense. If you had just lifted your eyes to connect with his, you’d see the smoldering embers in his gaze that would tell you otherwise.

“All right. I promise to text you. I apologize that if by some freak accident, you somehow end up with something even more inappropriate than what you already have. No matter how much I want to, I’d never send anything to you that would put either of our jobs at risk-”

“How much you want to?” He cut you off.

You gasped, realizing your major faux pas. Hands fidgeting like they were on steroids- you really needed to do something about that- you searched the recesses of your mind for something you could use to save the situation.

“No, no, th-that’s not... I meant.... How much I may want to, in a hypothetical case... Oh, god,” you finished with a pathetic groan as you covered your face, burning with embarrassment that put the heat of your injury to shame. The speed and efficiency with which you crafted the knot of your own noose would have made any boy scout envious.

While your fears from earlier came crashing back into you with the force of a meteor, he couldn’t take it anymore. You had been well out of his reach for multiple reasons before that day, and he was fine with that, until that godforsaken text. He’d optimistically planned to clear things up, then hopefully return to normal before too long. No one that could bring down any consequences on either of you, but especially you, would need to know. Crazy incidents that sounded like they belonged in some ridiculously written plot aside, he was still aiming for that, but then-

“Si-sir?” You muttered, still not looking at him.

You put a foot over the line, unintentionally taunting him when you inadvertently confessed that you wanted to intentionally send him something like that. If the circumstances were right, he figured. What would dictate those circumstances? Would you do it out of the desire to be intimate with him? You weren’t like many of the others who’d come onto him. Over the year you’d been employed under him, he felt like he’d gotten a good sense of who you were as a person, and that sense told him you’d stick around for more than one night- if even that long in the cases of some he’d seen sneaking out of his brother’s room when they were younger- of passion. You’d give him what he needed, which was a relationship of substance. He was confident that he wouldn’t be nearly as attracted to you as he was if he didn’t feel you could and would commit to him. And he was really attracted to you, in many ways, as evidenced by the delusion and other reactions the whole mess had brought about in him.

“Well, I’m going to go now. I’ll let you know when I get home, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

Even if you didn’t return his affections in the same way- but if you didn’t, why would you be willing to send him such an intimate image? You made it clear that you wouldn’t send it to just anyone, so... you had to feel the same way, right?

Damn it, it was just frustrating him, and he swore that he was going to get closure. He technically had for the issue he’d intended, only to have a different one plop in his lap. He could go home and repeat the previous night, or he could get answers and deal with them, for better or for worse.

“What did you mean by that?” He asked, coming off as more demanding than he meant to. You were halfway to the door when he spoke, and against your better judgment, you stopped.

“No-nothing,” you responded as you shook, back still to him as you clutched the shirt in your hands, not worried about wrinkling it, since you planned to get it dry cleaned that weekend, if not sooner. “I’m sorry, please just write it off.”

“If you tell me what you meant, I’ll let it go,” he promised, needing to hear the truth.

You clenched your hands into fists and your eyes shut as the hot sting in your eyes warned you of even more impending tears. Forget going home and getting drunk, you were going home to cry like a baby into your pillow until sleep took you, hoping you made it that far before you broke down. You couldn’t take anymore stress, humiliation, or slip-ups that could cost you everything you had built in your current occupation.

You grit your teeth, warring with yourself before caving. “I meant that I wish we were in a relationship where you want me to send things like that to you… but mostly one where I can be honest about how I feel about you, and hopefully, you’d feel the same.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll put in for a department transfer first thing in the mor-”

“I won’t approve it,” he cut you off for a third time. He was getting pretty comfortable with doing that, and it likely would have irritated you to some small degree under normal circumstances. “If you truly want to transfer, report me for misconduct so that you don’t need my approval.”

“For what misconduct?” You snapped, turning around. “As far as I can see, the only one guilty of that is me! Why won’t you approve it?”

“Because you’re an invaluable part of this team,” he said, his face giving away nothing.

“It’ll function fine without me,” you retorted.

“Why does what you said in the last thirty seconds mean that you have to transfer?”

You barked out a sardonic laugh. “Why does me basically telling my direct supervisor that I have romantic feelings for him mean that I have to transfer? Seriously? As if that’s not enough, look at everything else. Are you really going to be able to pretend that none of this happened?”

You just covered your eyes and hung your head. “All right, fine. If this has no effect on you, then I won’t make a bigger deal out of it than you want to. I’m going home now, before I do even more damage to myself, or god forbid, you. Goodnight.”

“You really think that’s all we are?” He said before you could turn away again. “I was under the impression that we had reached a level of friendship.”

You sniffled and rubbed at your eyes, smudging your makeup a bit. “Okay, yeah, we do have that. Tell me tomorrow if you still feel that way, again, if you’re able to pretend that this sorry mess didn’t happen.”

He set his jaw in determination and narrowed his eyes. “I won’t be able to because I have no desire to erase what has happened.”

“And why is that?” You questioned in exasperation, wondering why you weren’t kicking off your heels and walking out barefoot to give your poor feet some relief- Oh, yeah. Because the soreness called at least some attention away from the other aching parts of you, like your heart and your head.

So many answers flew through his mind, and none of them felt right. What if he said the wrong thing and you finally broke? What if he pushed you too far and you did push for a transfer? What if you quit? His rational mind said that you weren’t the type to quit over something like that, but you would try to get away from him within the company at the very least. What was the right answer?

“Let me clean up here, then I’ll see you into a cab.”

That was not it. That was not it at all.

“Fine,” you weakly agreed, too defeated to argue any further. “Here, I’ll go rinse those out.”

You approached his desk once more and reached out to pick up the short glasses, but one hand was restrained by another on your wrist. Turning your head, you fixed him with a curious stare, wondering what more he could possibly have to say. He said nothing. Even after a good half a minute of wondering what the hell was he thinking, neither of you said anything.

Of course, by that point, it was impossible to speak when your mouth was sealed by his. He was so not following standard protocol with the way his lips moved against yours. Not at all. For a dream-like moment of indulgence, neither were you as your eyes closed and your hands floated up to land on his shoulders.

Then you woke up.

“Sir!” You gasped as you pulled away abruptly, stepping backwards. “Wh-what... Why... We can’t-”

“I was responding to the confession I all but forced from you. I couldn’t think of the right way to tell you why I don’t want to forget any of ‘this sorry mess,’ as you put it. We can.” he said, answering what went through your mind as if he could read it.

What are you doing? Why did you kiss me? We can’t do this.

“B-but I can’t… Do you… How?” You sputtered.

He said your name with a reverence and tenderness that almost made you cry again as he stepped forward, gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and made you look at him. “Tell me, do you want this?”

“God, yes!” you gave in, “but what about company policy? I don’t want to lose my job, and I know you don’t want to lose yours!”

To your frustration and confusion, the slightest laugh came from him. At your expression that conveyed the utter lack of understanding, and even some injured pride, he smiled softly.

“That’s the official rule, yes, but there are many relationships between employees of different positions. The unwritten rule is that as long as it is kept discreet and genuine, the higher ups look the other way. It has obviously been working as far as discretion goes, because most have the same idea you do, which is generally how we’d like to keep it. I’ve heard of very few that resulted in firing before something changed that allowed them to go public,” he explained.

“You’re kidding. So that section of the employment contract that everyone has to sign dictating that there can be no unprofessional relationships between employees that aren’t on the same rung of the corporate ladder is just a smoke screen?” You questioned.

“Essentially."

You looked off to the side, processing. “I see. That explains a lot, actually.”

It certainly explained how people you knew to be strict rule followers didn’t seem to try nearly hard enough to hide-

Wait, wha-?

Your head whipped back in his direction as you covered your mouth with a hand to hide the gaping hole it had become when your jaw hit the floor.

“So, what you’re saying is that you want a relationship... with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he confirmed, face void of anything that would give you misgivings that he was less than deadly serious. Everything about him suggested that he didn’t take much lightly, but the way he removed himself from any conversation that drifted in the direction of romantic relationships had given you the impression that they were a topic that he kept very close to his chest for whatever reason.

“Sir-”

“I have a name,” he said, his deep voice floating through the still air. “I wonder if you remember what it is, given I’ve never heard you use it.”

That was true. Everyone else called him ‘sir’ less than half the time. It was usually Mister Sunano, or even his first name. He didn’t really care what he was called. Being addressed informally at work was nothing compared to the echoes of what had been shouted at him in his youth... But you were the exception.

Your eyes met his as you slowly lowered your hand, face far more composed than a second before. Yes, you’d barely referred to him as anything but ‘sir’ even outside work, let alone called to him with anything more familiar. Your friends teased you that he was either going to be turned off completely by your refusal to establish more intimacy through the typical convention of using his name, or be so turned on that if he ever got his hands on you, he’d make sure you understood just why you couldn’t use that particular title in public any longer. You told them to put a sock in it. You had originally been too intimidated to call him anything other than that, and then it just became habit after a month or two, and then when your little crush became harder and harder to ignore, you were afraid that increasing familiarity would break down the cage you were trying to keep your heart in-

When you didn’t respond for an agitating amount of time- if only you’d had the presence of mind to take the tiniest amount of sadistic pleasure out of watching him suffer in imposed silence- he sighed. “If you are still uncomfortable with the idea of going against the relationship rule, I understand. We will pick up tomorrow as if none of this ever happened. I can’t promise that I’ll forget, and I apologize if that makes things difficult. If you honestly wish to transfer, I will-”

“Gaara, please stop talking,” you softly commanded while you tried to think, cutting him off. When it hit you that you had interrupted him- jumping straight to using his first name at that- and again said what was on your mind without it passing through your mental security check, you tensed, starting to panic again, thinking that the world was seriously going to end because, dear god, you slipped up again and-

and then you reached your stress limit, and it all just came crashing down.

A house constructed of verbal filters, social barriers, professionalism, worries, and excuses in your mind just collapsed onto the foundation that had been cracking since the second you caught yourself thinking of him as anything other than your boss. Your throbbing heart was visible through those cracks, leaving you exposed, your eyes peering into his, completely unguarded. What was left for you to hide?

His eyes widened in mild shock at the angel’s sigh that was his name passing through your lips. He really had no idea what he had been missing, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go back to hearing ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ all the time.

“Again,” he muttered. “Say it again.”

You mouthed it, but nothing came out, so you tried again, and it was a just barely audible whisper.

It was enough.

There was no way to tell if one of you kissed the other first that second time. The pair of you were akin to an erupting volcano that oozed a year’s worth of sparks from each interaction, a year’s worth of affection that only showed when your masks slipped just slightly, a year’s worth of stolen glances that the other never saw, a year’s worth of attraction that made blood boil and cheeks flush... It flowed as smoothly as molten lava, and possessed even more heat.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as his hand returned to the back of your neck and the other rested lightly on your hip, feeling the familiar texture of his shirt. He was tempted to break the kiss so that he could stare at you and finally appreciate what was in front of him without guilt, but your lips on his felt too good.

Slowly, and reluctantly, you separated when the need for air became priority, but just enough for your eyes to lock with his, at least until those beautiful bright blue-greens ran over you from head to toe and back up. It made you feel both thrilled, and a little self-conscious.

“S-sir-”

“Unless I tell you otherwise, please, use my name when we’re alone,” he requested in a feather soft tone.

You acquiesced with a nod.

“Gaara,” you whispered. You’d forbidden yourself to get comfortable with even thinking his name before, but you knew right then that it was going to be all too easy to get used to saying it.

He smiled, the sweetest expression that made your heart pound.

“So,” you started, blinking at him with a face that couldn’t have been more innocent. “Does that mean I can send you pictures of a similar nature to the last one on purpose?”

His smile immediately fell, and it was obvious where his mind was when his eyes fell to your covered chest, then returned to your face, which was morphing from the naïve expression to a cat that ate the canary grin. His stomach sank and he felt a thrill of his own as he realized that he was going to see an entirely new side of you.

“And will there be opportunities to show you my little splurges in person without burning myself in the process?”

Your hands went to the top button of the shirt and undid it, then went to the second, and the third, and so on. When you sadly confessed that you were in love with him, you thought you were going to be going home, a pathetic woman that didn’t know how you survived that day, nor how you would survive the following days. There was no way on earth, in heaven or hell, that you would have believed you would end up kissing him, and then teasing him only seconds later. Blaming the stress and following relief made you feel less crazy.

“Speaking of that injury, would you mind looking at it one more time, please? One more layer of that gel should get rid of the stinging for good,” you requested politely, shrugging the shirt off when you finished unbuttoning, exposing the alluring lingerie you’d been so eager to show someone...

His eyes couldn’t have gotten any bigger, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was as shocked as you had been when he first kissed you, or because they were trying to drink in the sight of you to commit to memory. It was so much better than an illusion. He found himself nodding and kneeling down to inspect your skin that he was relieved to see was much better. The scalding wouldn’t leave anything that wouldn’t heal in a week. He brushed his fingers over it, light as a feather, and checked your face for a reaction. There wasn’t even a wince.

“You look like you’re going to kiss it better,” you joked.

He raised a non-existent eyebrow- the theories in the office regarding that particular topic were ridiculous- then the corner of his lips quirked up, almost looking mischievous, before they were pressed to your abdomen, where it was still a bit warmer than normal from the injury. Endorphins rushed from the point of contact through your whole body, eliciting a soft moan. You were hit by a huge wave of disappointment when he pulled away, only to have it dry up when you felt another kiss placed a little higher. More and more came, soft and slow, and it made you shudder and gasp as he moved up your torso, until he reached the bra, staring it in the giant rhinestone. The look on his face made you realize that you were going to get to see a new side of him.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, teasing you back. You gulped and shook your head. He rested his whole hand over where the worst of the damage had been. “How about this?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’d say that you’ll survive.” He faintly smirked.

“I’ll trust you on that,” you said, suddenly feeling a little like a mouse staring up at a cat as it licked its lips.

“I think I better check again, just to be safe,” he muttered. He touched his fingers to your navel, the furthest extent of the damage, and ran them up your stomach to stop right at the gold colored diamond in between your breasts. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” you whimpered, realizing how touch starved you were. Your hands shook and your right one grabbed his wrist. His eyes narrowed in concern, afraid he’d crossed a line, then relaxed when you nervously pressed it to your chest. When you teased him with the little strip show with his shirt, you felt emboldened and in control, but he managed to turn the tables, making you feel like a shy school girl. You didn’t think he intended to do so, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a time for games.

The reverberating staccato of his heartbeat in his ears was unmatched as he beheld the softness beneath his hand. You were so beautiful, and it excited him to have you within reach, but it was all so new to him. He wasn’t sure how to proceed.

He pulled his hand away, and only by great self control were you able to hold back a whine. You eyed him, noting that he wasn’t showing discomfort exactly, just nerves. He refused to look at you, totally different from when he was feeling up your midsection... He didn’t fully understand that you wanted him, physically or emotionally, despite your declaration. He did say he felt he forced it from you, and then he must not have understood that the kiss you shared was your enthusiastic consent and confession.

“Sir,” you said deliberately, drawing his attention. “Forgive me, but I think it’s best that we establish a contract with terms and conditions, given this change in the status of our relationship.”

It was evident by the drop in his shoulders and the disappearance of the worried wrinkles in his forehead that your attempt at humor with the formal proposition relaxed him. Success.

“I suppose you’re right,” he answered with a faint laugh and smile, allowing you to make eye contact once more.

“You’ve already given me one, about using your name. Do you have any others?”

“I don’t have any experience with ventures of this nature,” he admitted, cheeks pink. “I think you should set your terms first.”

“I have very few. Be honest, be clear, and be you,” you stated politely. “We’ll both get the most out of this joint effort if we maintain trust and open communication, and it’s bad practice to enter any agreement under false pretenses. I will hold myself to the same standard. Is that agreeable?”

He couldn’t help the light chuckle that came from his chest, and his heart warmed at the way you lightened the mood.

“Yes, I find that all agreeable.”

“How would you like to seal the deal?” You questioned, leaving the next step up to him.

Those beautiful eyes that bordered on luminescent, outlined by dark rings that you’d been told were the result of years of insomnia, stayed on you. Slowly, as you could see the gears turning in his head, he projected an air that shifted from a man who didn’t seem confident in what he could do, to one that was ready to experiment with his boundaries. It was a sudden thrill ride that made your stomach sink and had you itching to rub your legs together to alleviate the sudden heat between them.

“I’d like to see the rest,” he stated firmly in a way that was not quite a command, but left little room for defiance.

Heat rushed to your face as you processed his request. “Th-the rest? You mean..?”

He simply nodded. You’d half way undressed for him already, but just how far did that willingness extend? He’d seen you in your picture, yes, but that was entirely a mistake, so it was different. How much of yourself were you content to bare to him?

You had no problem with showing yourself to him. There was no question of his respect for others, and for the entire year you’d known him, you’d never once seen him indicate in the slightest that he found preference in any certain shape. You’d overheard him agree with some men at the office end of year party that one of the female managers was really pretty, but he said it with the interest of someone stating that the sky was blue. It was one of the moments that made you fall for him the most. He appreciated everyone for who they were and their individual talents.

Still, the act of kicking your shoes off as you unzipped your pencil skirt felt awkward under his scrutiny, and you had to stare at the floor to keep your composure as you slid it down your legs. You stood in front of him, allowing him to see you with all your physical flaws, and crossed your arms over your stomach in a way that made you feel secure, but didn’t really hide you from him.

He didn’t like that. His hands came up to very gently pull your arms away so he could see you in all your splendor, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. His eyes gave away nothing, making you squirm just slightly, but then his whole expression softened and his smile made a reappearance.

“I really like that color on you.”

“I wasn’t going to get it, until something told me that you would like it,” you admitted. “If that doesn’t make you question how accidental sending that picture was, nothing will. I swear, it really was. I was just-”

You cut off as he grabbed you by the hips and pushed you down on the edge of his desk, drawing out a shocked squeak.

“You’ve already made it clear that you didn’t mean to send it to me,” he growled. “You don’t need to keep saying that.”

You couldn’t keep the smug smile off your face. “No, sir. I didn’t intend to keep reminding you.”

“What did I say about using my name?” He snapped, waking up the brat in you.

“I don’t know. I mean, old habits die hard, sir. You might have to break me of it,” you taunted him.

He took that as a challenge that he just couldn’t turn down. His hands slid up your sides to the gorgeous clothing article, mindfully feeling it from sides to back, and when approved, to the front. His eyes focused on your breasts for only seconds before they shifted to your tattoo, heating up as they soaked in the flaming red that popped beautifully against your skin tone. A pale digit touched it, brushing over each line of the kanji, followed by his lips.

God, he was so romantic, and you were positive that he was a man to whom it just came naturally. Either that, or you needed to warm up your vocal cords to sing the praises of whoever educated him on how to treat a-

You opened your eyes- when had you closed them and dropped your head back?- to see the ceiling, a soft moan tearing up your throat when you felt him nip, then cautiously bite on the sensitive flesh at the base of your neck. When he had moved from your chest, you weren’t sure. You must have checked out for a second when you were appreciating the sweeter than sugar way he was handling you.

It was all too surreal, barely made easier to grasp the more his senses took you in. The taste of sweet mint still on your lips from the gum you chewed after lunch, the feeling of your succulent body under his hands quickly becoming so ingrained that he was sure his fingers would still be tingling with the phantom sensation the next day, your scent- a mix of your shampoo, body wash, and favorite perfume- clouded his mind, your breathy sounds and the whisper of his name ringing in his ears, and the vision of you in front of him, so very willing.

“Sir?” You spoke up when he backed off and his eyes took on a distant gleam, not intending to be defiant that time.

He held out for a few seconds before his mind returned from wherever it had wandered off to.

“That was your second strike,” he growled again, and your body temperature went through the roof.

You bit your lip and crossed a leg over the other, knowing there was no way you were dry after that. Leaning back on your hands, you smirked. Oh, could tempting your boss into taking you on his desk be more of a dream come true? It couldn’t, based on the hungry way his eyes raked over you.

“And what’s the punishment for strike three, sir?”

That last little formal address pushed him over the edge. He untied the double Windsor knot and removed the black silk tie that hung from his neck, his eyes never leaving you.

“You’ve never had a problem following orders before.”

“You’ve never ordered me to do anything before. You’ve always been so cordial and polite.”

You watched as his empty hand beckoned you forward, and like a puppet on a string, you obeyed.

“I’m not feeling cordial or polite right now. I’m definitely not feeling very patient.”

You grinned, unable to even pretend to put up a fight.

“Then I’ll accept whatever punishment you feel is appropriate.”

He guided you up by your hips and turned you around. pressing his chest to your back, and then everything went dark. You felt a pressure at the back of your head as he tied a knot to hold the makeshift blindfold in place. With the inability to see, every single nerve in your body became a live wire.

Without you looking at him, it was easier for him to focus on what he was doing without getting anxious under your gaze. His arms wrapped around you and his hands flattened against your stomach. Taking his time, he ran them over your midsection, grazing over each imperfect square inch of flesh that your friends glorified in an attempt to boost your confidence. So soft and warm, and he couldn’t see himself tiring of holding you. In fact, he’d give just about anything to be able to have you in his office every day, so he could take breaks and just hold you in his arms when he was getting too stressed...

“Gaara?” You dared to whisper, ripping him from his appreciative reverie.

“No talking,” he demanded, his voice raspy as he exercised a dominance that only seeped out through the tiny cracks in his genteel demeanor from time to time.

A violent shiver raced down your spine like electricity at his tone, then again when his fingers slipped under the lace, barely brushing over the underside of your breasts. Was he simply exploring, or testing how little effort it took to drive you out of your mind?

In his head, he was mapping you out like uncharted territory, and he’d be lying if he said your reaction to his slightest movement, his lightest touch, didn’t fascinate him. He hadn’t felt so excited by anything in such a long time... It was exhilarating, and he could only crave more. More of the little noises you made, more time to memorize you, more contact-

You cried out as his fingers moved higher, causing a pleasant prickling sensation when they slipped beneath your bra and brushed over your nipples as his palms cupped each mound. It was a beautiful torment as you tried to obey his rule. The words strained against the chains of your control, and a whimper of his name escaped as you brought your hands up to cover his.

“What did I say?” He questioned, sounding anything but irritated by your disobedience.

“So-sorry, si- Gaara!”

“You’re misbehaving on purpose, aren’t you? You have to be. I know you’re far more competent than this,” he said with a dark chuckle. His hands released you after pushing the fabric up, exposing your tits to the air, then ran down your stomach to your underwear.

Legs quaking, you were so close to giving in and relying on him to support you as he slowly- so agonizingly slowly- slipped his fingers underneath the top edge. There was a gush of slick awaiting him between your legs, but to your frustration, he stopped just as his knuckles disappeared beneath the material. Was his goal to drive you insane?

“Is this really okay?” His voice, mild and a bit uncertain, floated into your ear.

“Yes,” you mewled, but as you felt a brush of his shirt against your back, you stilled. “Wait.”

Without moving the tie that was blocking your vision, you turned around, using your hands to locate his shoulders. You could feel the change from the confidence and amusement with which he’d previously been groping you to confusion.

“This feels unfair to me. I’m all but naked here, and you’re no less covered than you were when I first walked in,” you pointed out. “I’d feel a little bit better if there wasn’t such a disparity between our levels of vulnerability.”

You felt down to his waist, where his cotton-polyester second shirt was tucked into his dark slacks, and pulled at it. Pulling it up by the hem at an unhurried pace to give him plenty of time to resist, you listened. Your ears detected a hiss of air between his teeth, and you froze. You couldn’t see that he had raised his arms to allow you to remove the clothing.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded quickly, and you couldn’t help your pleased smile.

“Of course,” you answered with a nod and finished taking it off. Subtle warmth radiated from him, making you just want to curl up in his arms and rest for eternity. You dropped his shirt so you could take advantage of the golden opportunity to get a feel for those muscles you’d only barely discovered. Under your hand, they felt better than they had looked under his shirt, and you nearly discarded your blindfold to get a glimpse of them.

He watched you with a fiery intensity, enjoying your touch, growing desperate for more. It wasn’t lust that moved him, though he’d be remiss to not admit that he was certainly experiencing the powerful emotion. The need to build a stronger connection- not only to satisfy a basic human need, but also to fulfill a personal need of everything that amounted to you that was deepening by the second- charged him like a powerful battery. He didn’t think when his arms darted out and encased you, the skin on skin contact causing a massive rush of endorphins and drawing a blissful sigh from both of you. “Gaara,” you whimpered, and then he was kissing you again, amorous and gentle one second to fierce and forceful the next. His hands ran over your body tenderly, caressing you like a treasure he’d searched for his whole life. When they found your breasts once more, he pushed your bra up, and the force with which he groped your chest had you torn between a gasp and a moan. A deeper moan interrupted the previous one as the pads of his thumbs brushed your nipples for a second time. The gentle touches were a rush, but nothing compared to the one that came when he suddenly removed your bra, displacing your blindfold for a second before he re-adjusted it, then turned you around once again and pressed up against your back. You couldn’t see the mildly possessive desire burning in his eyes, but you could feel the passion that had built up in him straining against his pants. His hand had returned to where it had been before he had stopped to receive verbal consent and kept going. He may not have been the most experienced, or experienced at all, but he had plenty of crude education, courtesy of his older brother and his blonde best friend, and that education told him that judging by how absolutely soaked you were, something had already done a good job of working you up. He couldn’t say for sure if you had come into his office less than dry, but his ego purred at the thought that he was the one who could claim credit. You were almost relying on him to keep you standing as he familiarized himself with your intimate area, powered by the noises you made.

Your knees were quaking as you leaned against him and clutched the hand over your ribcage. He brushed against your clit and you saw stars. It had been so long since anyone else’s hand had touched you, and the fact that it was your boss- no. The fact that it was Gaara- socially awkward, sweet, intimidating at times, devoted to his work and loved ones- no matter his position, had you ready to snap. “You’re so hot,” he whispered in your ear, running his hand on your chest down to your stomach. “We should probably do something about that.” And then he did the last thing you would have thought he’d do. He moved you to the huge window and pressed you up against the glass. You were dying to know where the fuck the man got his kinks. Luckily, you were high enough up that no one who wasn’t flying by in a helicopter could see you. The chilled surface felt amazing on your skin- he was right, you were overheating a bit. He then removed his tie and let you see the artificially lit city. It was breath-taking, and you briefly wondered if this wasn’t actually a kink, but his attempt to be romantic and helpful- “I want the whole city to know you’re mine,” he growled, sending a tremor down your spine that would have put a level eight earthquake to shame.

Nope. Definitely a kink.

“Am I?” You challenged him. “Am I really yours?” “I believe that’s what we agreed on.” “Did we?” You pressed back against him, brushing your ass against his straining length. “Prove it.” He wasn’t a total beast that lost control, like you had started to think he would be. No, he was much worse. He turned you around and-

“Oh my god,” you gasped when you saw the inked images running up and down his arms. You got a full look at the half naked man before you. His hair was tussled, his forehead and arms were tattooed, and his eyes were absolutely wild. He was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

He got you on your back- after laying his jacket down under your back so you wouldn’t be irritated by the coarse fibers of the carpet- and then he dialed back his intensity, which was brutal after being brought to such a pleasurable height only a couple minutes before. “You were such a good girl before. What happened?” He taunted, lightly touching you in the places you’d responded most strongly to when he was exploring you before. “Gaara,” you groaned. “If only everyone in the office knew you were such a tease.” “They’d never believe it if you told them.” He smirked with pride. He had a carefully constructed mask, and no one that he didn’t feel close enough to could see through it. You were one that he had deemed special enough. He was allowing you to see the faces he hid from everyone else. The uncertainty, the doubt, the love, the lust, and everything else, you knew he’d let you see them all with little reservation- in comparison to what he showed others, anyway- because he wanted you and trusted you.

The thought struck you hard, ringing through your being, and you couldn’t help smiling. Your body released its tension, stupefying him. You were on the verge of begging him to give you release, and suddenly became the picture of tranquility. When you stepped into his office, you were wrestling with fear and wanton desire that were eating at you like ravenous wolves. When you were trying to leave, you were disheartened and defeated. When you actually walked out that door, it would be with your head held high and in the best spirits you could imagine, feeling loved and appreciated by someone you deemed special enough to merit putting your heart on the line before you even knew how they felt. He watched you as you sat up, having no idea where things were going. “No, they wouldn’t, and I’m pretty happy about that. I get to keep this side of you all to myself.” His eyes changed from swimming with confusion to your favorite tender gaze, the one that had started everything for you from the first time you saw it. He leaned in and you shared the softest kiss yet. What had previously been more one sided as power shifted between you two, whoever could fluster the other being the one in charge, became a sweet and equal balance. You held him loosely by the back of his neck while your other hand ran down his chest, eliciting a soft growl from deep in his throat. “Gaara,” you whispered when you broke apart. “I love you.” Shock flashed across his face, followed by an expression that you could only describe as insecure and frightened. “You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know. Come on,” you told him, then laid back down, inviting him with twinkling eyes and a playful smile. “Are you sure?” He inquired, and you saw clear conflict in his eyes. There were rumors around the office ranging from that he was asexual, to the idea that he had his own personal harem. You had no clue where most of those ideas came from, but you had a feeling the more scoffed at idea that he wasn’t asexual but had never had sex was right on the mark, especially since he admitted that he had no experience in establishing a relationship.

“Yes, but it’s okay if you’re not,” you assured him, “If what we’ve done is all you’re comfortable with, then it’s enough.”

You got on your knees in front of him. “But give me a chance to make you feel good?” He appeared a little unsure, and you wondered if he had any experience being touched at all, or if he had a bad experience. He had no problem making sure you felt good, but he didn’t seem to have an idea of how it felt to be catered to. “It’s okay,” you said with a soft smile before pecking him on his lips and getting up to dress. Inside his head, Gaara was running laps. You were the first person he’d ever been so intimate with- ever desired to be so intimate with- but when it came down to being fully vulnerable, he hesitated. He’d been in positions of power for so long, and even when he had higher ups to answer to, no one would ever make the mistake that he was ever less than in complete control of his position. The idea of handing that control over to someone, even if it was only for a few moments of pleasure… It terrified him. More than terrified him. He didn’t know how to relinquish that much control to someone, did he? That’s what love was all about, right? When you said you love him, he didn’t doubt it for a second, but he choked on his reply. You took it in stride and kept moving…

“Gaara?” He barely registered that you had spoken to him, and that you were kneeling back in front of him.

You called his name again, but he was unresponsive. “Oh god, I broke my boss,” you muttered, touching his shoulder. You had no idea what to do to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. Throw water on him? Gently slap him? Shove him? ...You got one idea that you hoped would stop you from needing to use force.

“Okay, sir, I guess I’ll just head home, if that’s all you need,” you said clearly and at a higher than normal volume, praying that it would shake him up enough.

One word pierced through the mental fog, and the rest got through, eliciting a growl and glare. “I told you not to call me that, and you aren’t going anywhere without me.” “Oh, thank goodness,” you sighed in relief. “You scared me.”

Confusion painted his face. “I lost you for a bit there. I’m very sorry if I did something that upset you or triggered something unpleasant. We can talk about it later, if you want, and you can tell me what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to do anything that you’re unsure about. It’s probably best that you get going anyway, since you’ve got people ex- Mmph!”

You really should have kept a tally on how many times he did that, but how he went from a state of confusion to- “Shut up,” he panted when he stopped kissing you to catch his breath, and his hands went to undo the buttons you had just done up.

It was your turn to play host to the confusion he’d previously held, and it was much deeper than it had been with him. “Wha-” “I gave you an order.”

Your briefs were not going to dry out on their own any time soon, and your legs were quivering as you leaned back on your calves.

He wasn’t confused about anything, and it had changed so fast, it would have left the metro train in the dust. He trusted very few people enough to risk being compromised- four, to be exact- and he wasn’t inclined to strip down and tangle with any of them- it would be a crime if he was to do so with three of them. Naruto… He wouldn’t have ruled him out exactly, if asked, but otherwise, he wouldn’t have contemplated it at all.

Then you were right in front of him, in his shirt again, worried about upsetting him, wanting to see to it that he was comfortable… It wasn’t just then either. It was how you had been with every interaction since the day he met you. You showed interest in him as a person, but you weren’t pushy. He’d analyzed you as an employee for a year, and without thinking about it, he’d fallen in love with you.

Without thinking about it… When he didn’t think, when he just let himself feel, the fear went away. Just feeling was what got him to that point with you, and he didn’t regret it in the slightest. It wasn’t easy, but just moving without stopping to assess the consequences felt nice. It didn’t go over his head that it was only because it was you, who had been brave enough to face him after that picture and accept whatever decision he made about what would come of it, strong enough to admit to him how you felt about him when you had already been so exposed in more ways than one, kind enough to let him set the pace, considerate enough to think about the people waiting on him, thoughtful enough to bring him coffee when you believed he was staying late… It was only because you made him feel so at ease. He was safe with you, he wanted you, and as long as he focused solely on you, he wasn’t afraid.

“Ga-Gaara?” You whispered, seeing that he was in a bit of a trance again. It was enough to bring him back, and then he kissed you again, unable to explain what was going through his mind and heart. It was so soft and sweet, you were completely distracted and didn’t even notice that he’d removed the shirt from you again. Again, you whispered his name, and again, it lit a fire in him. His body pressed to yours as he lowered you onto your back on his jacket once more, a hand around the back of your neck to keep your lips pressed to his, and the other on your lower back.

Nothing entered your mind as you held him against you, wishing that you’d never have to let go. Your lips moved against his in a manner that was opposite to the frantic way your hands felt him up, like you were going to lose him any second.

With no preamble, he pushed up your skirt, bunching it over your stomach. Then his hands moved to your drenched briefs and paused, wanting to hear you consent again. “Please,” you whimpered before he could ask, desperate to feel his hand there again.

He gave a slight nod, then slid them down your thighs, over your knees, and all the way off. How would you react if he told you that you weren’t getting them back? His lips curled into a semi-smirk at the thought, and that, coupled with the way you were gazing at him- as if he were the most god-like being, yet also seeing the humanity in him- drove him forward. He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and an instinct he never realized he possessed took over. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him with growing adoration, amazed at the way he took control. You would have gladly taken the lead and didn’t expect much of him, but he was carrying on with more confidence than you would have expected of anyone who had been so nervous just a minute or two before. He was so focused and intent as soon as he confirmed once again that you were a willing participant. Willing was an understatement if there ever was one.

He gazed back at you when he was free from the confines of his pants, but his cock was still tucked into his briefs. “What do you want me to do next?” He inquired in a soft voice, not wanting to shatter the tranquility that had settled over you. He wouldn’t have spoken at all, but he wanted to make sure he did it right. You beckoned to him, coaxing him into looming over you. “I want you to fuck me, sir,” you whispered, barely above the volume of a breath. There it was again. That goddamn title. He growled, warring with himself on whether or not to give you what you desired after your insolence that he just knew was intentional. He desired it too, evidenced by the sensation in his stomach and his throbbing member- the erection that had mostly been maintained despite the interlude of uncertainty was at its max, and he couldn’t hold back. He pulled it out from his underwear- the tip red, engorged, and weeping- and brushed it against your dripping sex.

The moan that came from you was not one you had ever heard before, and it might have been embarrassing, but you were well past the blushing point. You needed him then and there, and you let him know with a whine of his name.

In the future, he would deny you and tease you until you couldn’t remember your own name- and make you wonder what the hell happened to the sweet, slightly shy man you’d initially seen- but that would have to wait until he made you his. You gave a cry of euphoria mixed with the lightest pain as he made his way inside you, stretching you out as he moved deeper and deeper and deep-

Another cry of delight was ripped from you as he hit the spot that had your whole body buzzing like your nervous system was coursing with electricity.

He faintly chuckled as you adjusted, interrupted by a sigh of bliss as you clenched your walls around him, greedily taking what he gave.

“Mo-move,” you requested, almost demanding as you shifted your hips, trying to find that spot again.

“Who’s supposed to give the orders here?” He said, the gruff tone of his voice making you shiver, but complied because he wanted to please you, and he wanted to further explore the physical pleasure he’d never experienced before. He really thought Kankuro was exaggerating.

You were so far gone in pleasure, but you could still appreciate the way the sweat beaded on his brow as he thrusted into you, taking no half measures. You reached up and brushed his bangs out of the way as they fell into his eyes. A particularly hard and well placed thrust had you reflexively pushing your hips back against his, drawing a staggered groan from his throat. It shoved you to the very edge, and you were one good push away from falling over.

“So close,” you whimpered, your hands going to his beautifully inked arms.

In return, you got a grunt as he gave a harder thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in as tightly as you could. That put you at an angle that had him nailing you in the best way,

Your shriek of his name would have anyone still in the building running to you. The emotions from the day, every second of dread, sorrow, and fear culminated in the greatest high, channeling into the positive feelings you’d felt with him. Your soul, body, and mind had reached nirvana.

He wasn’t far behind as your hot pussy tightened around his cock, overwhelming him and leading to his undoing. He answered your shout with one of your name as he gave one last thrust and emptied himself into you. You had the brief thought that you were glad you were on regular birth control.

The two of you panted as you stared at each other following the release, and there was a surrealness about it, both of you wondering if it really happened, or if you’d wake up the next morning and find it was only a delusion. Both robbed of words, you were mute as you sat up and pushed your skirt back down, then looked down at your hands. If it was a delusion, you wanted to make sure everything was said.

“I love you,” you muttered, then repeated it a bit louder. “I love you so much, Gaara, and I’ll never be able to go back to what we were before. I don’t know what will happen from here, and if you don’t completely feel the same way, I understand. That’s all right, just-” “Shut up,” he commanded, but it was tender.

You lifted your gaze to see him looking a total mess, but it was even more attractive than his normal appearance.

“What about what we just did gave you the impression that I don’t feel exactly as you do?” “I-I’m just saying that-” “And I’m just saying that I do. I don’t know any better than you do about the future, but I’m not about to let you go. I love you, and I’ll do whatever we have to in order to make this work.” A short laugh of disbelief escaped you before you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“Okay. I can work with that.” Smiles bloomed on both of your faces, and after a few kisses that gradually grew more heated, you managed to part enough to put yourselves back together. Agreeing to spare the cleaning staff the confusion and possible horror, you did the best you could to clean the evidence of your escapade out of the carpet, and used the rag he’d treated your burn with to clean each other up. He reluctantly allowed you to reclaim your briefs. That time.

“I’ll take you home, if you’d like, but I have an affair that I’d enjoy a lot more if you were there,” he said as the two of you were heading out. “I understand if you’d rather not.” “You mean… Meeting your family?” You questioned, joy and terror at the thought washing over you.

“Yes, but as I said, I under-” “I’d love to. I just don’t know if I’m properly dressed, and they aren’t expecting me.” “You’re dressed fine, but we can stop by your home for you to change, and as the guest of honor, they can deal with me expanding the guest list by one person.” You laughed and nodded, loosening up slightly. “Okay.”

When you walked into the house Gaara owned and shared only with his son after swinging by your apartment for a change, you were met with wide-eyed looks of disbelief. It only took a minute before Kankuro and Temari were smirking at their little brother, being privy to how he talked about you whenever they asked him about how work was going.

“Wait, so you two are dating,” Kankuro said after the awkward introductions. “Is this going to be some watered down Fifty Shades of Grey shit?” “Kankuro!” Gaara scolded, then glanced at Shinki, who seemed blissfully unaware as he analyzed you.

“Gaara, I hate to say it, but he’s going to hear about it within the next few years, with how prevalent it is in pop culture,” you spoke softly, smiling at the boy, then glared at Kankuro. “That said, anyone who openly discusses what’s in that book or anything like it in front of a child is going to meet the business end of my newest stilettos, got it? Besides, she was never his employee. If you’re going to say stupid things like that, at least get your facts straight.”

The elder brother eyed you, then looked to the younger. “I see why you brought her home.”

A smile bloomed on Gaara’s lips as he watched you bend down to get better acquainted with the eight-year-old. This was no doubt a worthwhile venture that he hoped to maintain for as long as possible.

You stayed until after Temari left, and Shinki went to bed. Kankuro offered to take you home as he was preparing to leave.

“If it’s not out-” You started to say. “She’s staying the night.” You tried not to show the astonishment you felt at the abrupt change of plans. Kankuro smirked. “Moving kind of fast, aren’t you, little brother? You better be careful. I know you don’t keep any protection on hand, and you don’t have any experience with this kind of thing, but those emotions can get pretty powerful, pretty fast-” “We’re not teenagers, Kankuro,” Gaara sighed.

“I know. I’m just saying.”

“Then stop.”

Once the other man was gone, you shot Gaara a proud smirk. “So... that was a sudden change.”

Guilt was written on his face as he gazed back at you. “Is it a problem? I’m sorry, it was presumptuous and impulsive. I just thought it was the best way to end my-”

Your lips barely brushed his as you leaned in and whispered something that made his head spin and cost him his ability to think straight.

“What are you waiting for? Take me to bed.”

#naruto modern au #boss kink #gaara x reader #smut

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jackson--t · 3 years ago

Text

Hate me, adore me.

Part IV

Summary: Ivar is not good with children.

Words: 3.1 k

Warnings: smut, swear words, rude behaviour, a lot of fucks (really).

Tag buddys: @youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace @punkrocknpearls @neverwantedagony @moonlightsspirit

AO3? here.

Ivar liked many things.

He liked to watch his basketball games on TV, along with a cold beer. He loved Game of Thrones with ramen in his bed, all Sunday long when he wasn't on duty. He loved chocolate ice cream, preferably with lots of colorful sprinkles on top - and he loved good sex.

But on this day, Ivar felt reminded once again of all the things that annoyed him terribly and that drove the absolutely annoyed wrinkles on his forehead already at 7 a.m.; it wasn't just Heahmund's know-it-all attitude, once again, when he had forced Ivar to fasten his seat belt while driving; or the fact that he had once again wanted to forbid him to chew gum. Ivar had ironcladly defied the gum rule: because he needed it. He needed it bitterly so as not to get too upset and to keep his mouth closed as best he could, to have something to do so as not to let expletives hail. Because one of the causes of his bad mood was just waddling across the street at super low speed and was caustic and annoying: children.

Ivar had always successfully avoided having to escort the little buggers across the street in the morning until now - but thanks to Heahmund's terrific, terrible effort and his disgusting good nature as Mr. Jesus, he had been forced to ride with Heahmund to the nearest elementary school even before he was actually on duty, and to go on duty as a fucking friend and helper. His mood was in the basement, more than that.

He cast a scowl down at a small, blond girl who was staring at him with wide eyes; she had her mouth slightly open and was still staring at him when Ivar had turned away slightly. When he noticed, he looked at the girl again; the little girl blinked.

"Are you a policeman? You don't look very nice, do you?" the little girl squeaked, and Ivar rolled his eyes. He loved his job because of the guns, because of the violence, because of the "don't give a shit" attitude he could let out to some - but today was a shitty day. And those little green poison dwarfs didn't make it any better.

Ivar stared at the girl for a moment, then let out a deep and annoyed snort. "Nah, I'm a garbage man, you little devil. Move along before I eat you up."

The girl stopped for a moment in shock, and when Ivar took a faked step towards her, she shrieked and ran towards Heahmund, who was standing just a few feet away, directing the children across the street with a broad smile. Urgh, Mister Perfect. Again.

"Ivar!" echoed over to him, and Ivar chewed his gum in annoyance. He threw Heahmund a rough nod, while the older policeman eyed him indignantly.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to scare the kids!" he said reprovingly, turning directly back to the little girl who Ivar had scared earlier with a smile.

Ivar wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He still couldn't decide what made him feel sicker to his stomach: those little buggers, or that the critters worshipped Heahmund so much it almost looked like a scene from the damn Bible.

It seemed worlds between today and yesterday; endless, endless days since he'd had sex with Heahmund, and for the first time experienced a different side of the cop than his haloed nerd side. Ivar bit his lower lip softly at the thought of their "slip" and stared at Heahmund; he hated to admit it, but that encounter had left its mark on Ivar.

Of course, he would never confess it in his life, not even under torture: but he had easily fallen for Heahmund - at least the part that had fucked him mercilessly yesterday. It had been that unbelievably good sex, that passion that had been there between them - and that sheer tension that had existed between them for ages. They were like fire and water, like night and day - but that's what made it exciting for Ivar. He had almost not been able to look at himself in the mirror the next morning, because he had actually jerked off to that memory twice the night after the "accident" - always that perfect body in front of his eyes, that smell that had been on Heahmund's skin, those damn arousing kisses that had given Ivar more than goosebumps.

And yet he hated him, in a way. The way he stood there, bringing those fucked-up kids across the street, with an angelic smile that sent sheer goosebumps of horror across Ivar's skin; he could hardly stand the way the little fuckers looked at the man like he was the next messiah, while they just eyed Ivar like something they were afraid of. Ivar just stared at a fat kid who was eyeing him particularly challengingly as he jutted his chin slightly.

"What do you want, pug face, huh?" he snarled, and it wasn't a second before Heahmund's voice thundered across the street.

"IVAR, damn it! It’s enough!" Oh, Ivar heard the anger from the raspy voice, that little thread of last, polite restraint guaranteed to snap in the patrol car. He looked at Heahmund, unimpressed, and raised an eyebrow; Heahmund's blue eyes had darkened.

"Would be nice if you didn't play godfather to the fucking lambs for once, so we can get out of here," Ivar retorted snottily, while Heahmund snorted.

"Okay, get in the car. And don't use those damn swear words! Kids, don't listen to him. They call him the Grinch at the station." Heahmund deaclred, amused, while he was immersed in soft children's laughter.

Ivar had had enough. He threw his stupid ladle against the sidewalk and lit a cigarette; he walked the few meters to the patrol car and casually leaned against the passenger side. His lungs were burning, so hard he pulled on the cigarette - but he didn't care. Let the fucking Heahmund shut his fucking mouth! Had he possibly imagined that there was more going on there? Had he possibly jerked off twice on him by mistake? Yes. But that was really just a slip. It could hardly be anything else, after all Ivar didn't go for men like Heahmund. Fuck it, whatever his stupid heart said.

It wasn't fifteen minutes before Heahmund appeared at the patrol car with a more than angry expression on his face; he stared at Ivar for a moment, then nodded roughly in the direction of the car. Ivar flicked his cigarette onto a patch of grass and got in; as they sat in the car, their eyes met. For a moment there was a tense silence, during which Ivar calmly chewed his gum so clearly that Heahmund could see it perfectly; only when he leaned back slightly did Heahmund's deep voice murmur at him.

"Did you just throw a lit cigarette on a lawn there?" he asked, and Ivar looked out the window for a moment. He snorted softly before turning to Heahmund again and putting on a soft, overly friendly smile that was hard to beat for sarcasm.

"I don't know, you should check it out. And maybe pick up trash on the side, and you're guaranteed to go to fucking heaven."

Heahmund's brow furrowed slightly; Ivar saw exactly how his hands curled into light fists, but he returned Heahmund's angry look with the still wide grin.

"Ivar, honestly, you're such a fucking asshole, you know that? I really want to punch you in the face right now. You do realize that throwing away burning cigarettes violates environmental regulations, and most importantly, endangers safety?" he hissed, and Ivar shrugged.

Heahmund looked at him for a moment, then actually got up and went outside to properly dispose of the cigarette. Ivar, meanwhile, stared out the window: he looked at Heahmund's butt, at the broad shoulders, at the handsome face that seemed to curse softly. "You fucking nerd, look at you.", Ivar muttered to himself, catching himself biting his lower lip lightly as Heahmund ran his hand through his black hair: one had to hand it to him, he was just damn good looking.

Ivar was still staring at him, too, when Heahmund sat down next to him again and let out a deep sigh; he leaned his head back for a moment, though Ivar was still looking at him. Something tingled inside him.

"You could... hmm... you could punish me really bad under Section 17b, don't you think? You fucking nerd.", Ivar hummed softly; as Heahmund's blue eyes locked on him, he grinned slightly. And his body was bathed in sheer goosebumps when Heahmund finally turned the ignition key and snorted softly. Ivar knew he was taking him up on his offer when they drove into an area where there were almost no buildings - except abandoned factories. It was almost too good, the tingle that shot through his bones when Heahmund finally parked; and before the older cop could open his mouth and lecture again about any regulations, Ivar's hands had cupped around his face and he was kissing the older man, who, underneath all the hatred and dislike, also inspired terrible and urgent lust in him.

He couldn't even last two minutes in his own seat and had quickly sat down wide-legged on Heahmund's lap. The older cop emitted a slight gasp, almost barely audible, as Ivar's hands dug through his clothes, fumbling with the belt of his pants.

"You're insatiable. And a monster.", Heahmund groaned out between two biting kisses; his hand had long since made its way to Ivar's bulletproof vest, undoing the Velcro and pushing the soft shirt up under Ivar's vest. Ivar loved those warm, rough hands on his torso, and he let Heahmund feel it clearly with a soft moan. His fingers ran desirously urging along Heahmund's zipper on his pants, feeling the thick bulge in them that he was particularly lusting after. Fuck, he was so fucking hot for this guy it was almost embarrassing.

"No foreplay, you greedy grinch? Fuck, Ivar... at least with a condom this time!", Heahmund murmured softly, even though Ivar's hands were already pushing and softly rushing into his pants. When he had the thick and already hard cock in his hand, Ivar exhaled for a moment; he closed his eyes and pressed himself against Heahmund's torso before hissing softly, "Tell me, are you somehow only getting horny when you have protection? You want to maybe leave that fucking vest on during sex too, nerd?"

As Ivar intensified his movements on Heahmund's cock, Heahmund's pelvis clearly moved upward; Ivar sensed him looking at him and opened his eyes.

"Would it turn you on?" Heahmund murmured breathlessly; Ivar opened his lips breathlessly, moving his warm hand tighter and tighter around Heahmund's cock. He loved how the trained cop grew harder and harder, how wet drops of pleasure appeared on his tip, which Ivar easily wiped away with a slight gasp and a nimble movement with his thumb; Heahmund moaned, but they were still looking at each other.

The corners of Ivar's mouth lifted slightly, then he grunted. "Fuck, yeah."

"I knew it. Harder." Heahmund moaned, pulling Ivar's neck closer, covering his neck with warm, smooth, slightly biting kisses as Ivar's hand continued steadily. His own erection was pressing like mad against his pants, and Ivar was so incredibly hot for Heahmund that he didn't take any time. After all, a damn stake could flutter in at any moment.

He unzipped his own pants to the slight groan of Heahmund, pulling them down somewhat awkwardly along with his boxers to the point where he could still practically sit well on top of Heahmund; his body was covered in goosebumps as he watched Heahmund spit into his own hand in one fluid motion, wetting his hard cock with it. Ivar grinned slightly; he wet two of his fingers before sliding them into his entrance with a slightly awkward motion, widening it slightly; the sound that came from Heahmund sent pure pleasure through his body. The two looked at each other.

"Fuck, Ivar. You're such a fucking beast, I swear I'll fuck the hell out of you already."

"Oh, come on - you're into it. You probably only had 0815 cunts that looked pretty but had nothing on them."

Ivar almost whimpered when Heahmund abruptly stopped him from his movements; his fingers slipped out and he was pulled onto Heahmund's lap with a firm and strong grip; he placed himself over Heahmund's cock, moaning slightly as he looked into the dark-haired man's eyes.

"Then let's see how good you can ride, gutter boy!" Heahmund groaned; Ivar's fingers clawed brutally at Heahmund's chin, holding it up as he gently lowered his pelvis and let Heahmund's hard cock slide carefully inside him; he did it deliberately slowly, letting that rock-hard muscle stretch him open gently, loving the way Heahmund's mouth opened slightly, the way his fingers clawed harder into the flesh of his hips.

"Fuck, Ivar!" he moaned darkly, and Ivar jerked his chin up again that had turned shallowly towards his chest - those blue eyes staring at him full of fire.

"Don't call me that! You fucking bastard." Ivar hissed; he whimpered softly as he felt himself sink to the base on Heahmund; they were both breathing heavily, and Ivar pulled Heahmund's face closer to him, pulling the older cop into a biting, hard kiss before slowly moving up and down.

Fuck, damn. It hadn't been enough that Heahmund had been an absolute grenade in bed the last time, no - his cock just seemed made for Ivar's core. It was perfect in thickness, and even more perfect in length, that it was already softly grazing the soft bundle of nerves inside Ivar with every deep movement Ivar made on it. Ivar swallowed audibly and clawed at the back of Heahmund's neck; he loved feeling the pressure of Heahmund's hands on his body, loved the fucking vest he was still wearing, which only further vocalized his fucking nerdiness, which seduced Ivar beyond belief. His movements became steadier, more violent, and he became more and more breathless.

Oh man, this was going to end in an orgasmic disaster. Heahmund was just too good.

They kissed breathlessly, and Heahmund's hands slid up to Ivar's waist; they closed warmly around the arches of his ribs, supporting him in the movements that were becoming more fluid and deeper, even as they took away Ivar's breath. His belly was pleasantly filled with warmth, so full of feeling.

"We can...fuck, Ivar!- ...we could maybe discuss the punishment thing over an evening...dinner. Fuck, you're killing me," Heahmund cursed, and Ivar threw his head back slightly.

He knew he wouldn't last long - but he would definitely not get ahead of Heahmund this time. He knew too many tricks in this position for that. He smiled softly as he let his entrance twitch slightly around the thick cock; it drove a moan from Heahmund's lips.

"Is that a fucking date, Heahmund?" Ivar exhaled, clawing harder at the base of Heahmund's black hair on the back of his neck. The older cop underneath him groaned, and his hands at his waist twitched. Ivar repeated the motions twice before Heahmund threw his head back slightly in his seat.

"Is...no, this is an...on-duty...fuck!... meeting”. Heahmund's voice grew harsher, thirstier, Ivar heard it clearly. It turned him on so much that he himself had to be beastly careful not to come right on top of that hard cock thrusting into his prostate at the perfect angle over and over again; but he was too proud. He held out for a little while longer. But the thought that Heahmund had just asked him for a private meeting chased even more lust into his body.

He was hot, so damn hot inside.

"Sure, you weirdo." Ivar hummed with pleasure, soaking in the taste of another kiss that Heahmund breathlessly gave him; his hands weren't letting go now, and the cop's pelvis thrusting from below was getting a little faster. When their lips parted, Heahmund opened his eyes slightly, seeking Ivar's gaze.

"Fuck, I think I..." he groaned, and Ivar moaned.

"You're coming, aren't you? Come on, you know I want you to...", Ivar breathed against those fucking delicious lips, stealing a breathless kiss before watching Heahmund's eyes close with a powerful wave of heat in his body.

"Fuck, I'm coming..." the cop moaned so harshly that Ivar moaned softly; he clawed at Heahmund's body as tightly as he could, wrapping his heated arms tightly around the body, almost amazed, manically turned on, at how quickly it made Heahmund come, that simple touch.

The man groaned a dark moan right at Ivar's sensitive collarbone, deep and rough as he came jerking inside Ivar. Ivar continued to ride him, riding him hard and demanding until he too felt the violent crashing peak of his orgasm: the wave of pleasure crashed over him so brutally that he had to stop his riding movements to avoid losing control completely. Just like the first time, this orgasm tore out something deep inside Ivar, gave him everything he needed, nourished him with so much love and lust that he almost choked on it.

The windows were fogged the hell up when Ivar broke away from Heahmund after what felt like an eternity; they were able to wipe away the mess they'd both made just fine, because of course the nerdy Heahmund had good tissues with him; Ivar grunted quietly and had to grin a little wryly when Heahmund had to spend a long time wiping at a stain on his black vest, with a quiet, annoyed snort.

"You can tell it's gravy," Ivar said, earning a nasty look from Heahmund after he luckily managed to remove the stain just fine; when Ivar was back in his seat and, to Heahmund's satisfaction, even buckled up for once, Heahmund looked over at him. The two looked at each other, and then Heahmund smiled slightly.

It was a beautiful smile, one that Ivar hadn't seen from him before, and one that made him feel sick in a different way than he did on the road today. As if suddenly, there was something in his belly that fluttered around like crazy and made him almost happy inside. Disgustingly happy.

"I was serious about the... dinner." Heahmund said; the blue eyes sparkled slightly, and Ivar grinned a little wider. He couldn't go soft now, no way - Heahmund couldn't score points everywhere with his nerdy, gentlemanly behavior, after all. "Maybe we'll get along better someday. Get to know each other better." the dark-haired man added, and Ivar turned his head slightly so that Heahmund wouldn't see him blush slightly on his cheeks. He popped a new piece of gum into his mouth and winked.

"Shut up and drive, you miserable nerd. You won't get the Nobel Peace Prize for polishing, too."

But his heart had already said yes, and he also knew, without looking over, that Heahmund knew, too.

#vikings #ff #fanfiction #cops #ivar the boneless #heahmund #heavar #ivar x heahmund

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issaxcharlie · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost Of You 2/2

Pairing: Ghost! Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

Summary: Luke, Reggie and Alex have to assimilate their loss. For Luke of his girlfriend, and for the others of their best friend after suddenly learning that she didn’t have the future they imagined, and instead died 23 years ago.

Thank you to @cookiebuba for being the head of the entire idea and trusting me with it, and to Emy for almost holding my hand to force me to write🤣💜

PART 1 HERE

“It can’t be.”

“Luke, I-”

"No, Julie. You are not telling me that the woman of my life, the purest person who has ever stepped on this world, not only lost her partner and her best friends, but was only able to live her life for two more years and then ended in a horrible accident. It's as if life wanted to torture her before taking her too.”

“Love of ?... Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away. Of course.”

“I- It can’t be true, please tell me it’s not true, Julie.”

“Luke... she loved you so much.”

He falls on the floor. The impact is strong, as if his legs have stopped working.

"I know." He whispers slowly, his gaze empty as multiple tears fall from his eyes.

The rest of the gang threw themselves to the ground around him and hugged him with all their might, trying to unite his broken pieces without any success. Alex and Reggie each crying silently over the loss of their sweet friend.

“What day did she pass away? Alex whispers.

"Let me search, one moment." Julie gets up quickly and checks on her laptop to find a little note about the singer's death.

"The rising singer Y/N Y/L who had just released the biggest hit of her career passed away this afternoon in a terrible car accident after leaving the cemetery where her late boyfriend, Luke Patterson, was buried. Y/L was there in commemoration of the 2 years of the loss of the aspiring musician, who died from a sudden tragic intoxication along with the rest of his band. Something to rescue from this tragedy is that at least she's already reunited with her eternal love. May both rest in peace.”

“This can’t be. My Y/N can’t be gone. Not her, not like that.” Luke is still in denial, unable to believe that his little girl suffered such a terrible ending.

“Maybe she’s not. There's still a chance that she's also a ghost.”

“Yeah, Julie’s right. We need to look out for her, we can't write her off without trying to find her first.” Reggie's eyes sparkle with hope, rushing to cover Alex's mouth in case he says anything other than motivating.

Luke takes his flannel and disappears immediately. Both Reggie and Alex stare sadly at Julie who simply whispers a "go, he needs you." They nod and teleport to their friend.

As expected, Luke is in front of the window of an old music store. He met his girlfriend here so many years ago, the day his parents agreed to buy him his first guitar.

The store had a small section where customers could try out some instruments and she was playing the guitar they had there and singing for the small audience. It seemed like it was something she did often because both the workers and certain customers seemed familiar with the girl.

Luke was captivated by her from the first moment. The energy and passion that radiated from her in every move was unreal. He had never seen anyone happier, much less singing with a borrowed guitar from a small downtown store.

The store is completely abandoned, so without saying anything he comes in and walks towards the small stage.

The ghosts of two 12-year-old kids singing together into the microphone invades his memory. If they only knew.

"Do you remember what was the first thing she said to you?" Reggie and Alex sit next to him on the floor, looking straight at the very small stage. They both try to imagine what their friends must have looked like singing here together the first time. Luke totally invading little Y/N's presentation trying to captivate her with his 0% music experience and 100% of enthusiasm.

Luke laughs through tears. "You have the voice of a country singer."

Alex starts crying when he imagines her. He met her just a few weeks later so he knows exactly how she must have looked and sound.

Reggie smiles while shedding a tear, remembering all those afternoons Y/N convinced Luke to join them in their country sessions. He knows that's why Luke hasn't wanted to know anything about country or his songs since they got back. They remind him of his sweet girl.

“I was so offended. I still didn't know anything about music but I had already decided that I would be a rocker. If I hadn't already been so dazzled by her I would have left without looking back.”

“And what did you answer to defend your honor?”

"You think so?" The three of them start laughing while still crying. A heartbreaking mix of pain comes from their chests.

“C’mon guys, next stop.”

The three of them were teletransporting around the city during the day without any success. Luke's desperation increasing for every place the songwriter wasn't.

At night the three decide to go back to the studio. Luke is heartbroken, bloated after crying all day, eyes red and sore, and whatever it was that was driving him to continue, off.

His friends couldn't do much for him either because each was living the loss in their own way, concentrating on living their own pain until they could process it.

Julie wraps them in blankets on the couch and tries to fill them with love, making sure to hug Luke tightly, who seems about to fall apart.

“Does anyone want to talk about her? Maybe it could make you feel better.”

“She was my entire soul, the words and melody in each of my songs. I just, I love her more than anything in this world. I would give anything for her. My guitar, my voice, my songs, whatever it took for us to be together. I know it doesn't seem like it at this point, but we belong together.”

“We know you do, man.”

“I didn't tell you but I dream about her almost every night since we got back. It is always the same dream. She is in bed, leaving my side intact. She's wearing one of my shirts and hugging my favorite one while sobbing. She falls asleep listening to the ballad I wrote for her soaked in tears and no matter how hard I try to wake her up, I can't get her to see or hear me. I can’t get her. After a few minutes she gets up still asleep and begins to dance as we did so many times, but alone. Then she stops and starts crying again inconsolably. And that's when I wake up."

"I'm so sorry, Luke. She deserved so much more." Reggie walks over to hug him, his head resting on his arm while he sobs.

“We couldn't even say goodbye to her.” Alex cries, his eyes completely red.

“We already know that she visited your graves, perhaps we could do the same, dedicate a few words to her.” Julie offers in an attempt to help them find some peace.

Luke looks devastated, but he nods his head as tears continue to fall from his face, the ring that his girlfriend gave him going in and out of his finger. Alex hugs Julie while she strokes his hair in an effort to calm him down and Reggie runs up to get a notebook and pencil to start planning what to say to his best friend tomorrow.

The three of them hang around all night, crying, writing, hugging, remembering the spark of Sunset Curve. In the morning before going to visit her, they realize is exactly the 25th anniversary of that tragic night that changed the lives of the four forever. Luke nearly punches a hole in the wall upon hearing the sad coincidence.

Her grave is right next to Luke's, who has never been here before and can't help but feel a bit anxious.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start.” Reggie tells the guitarist as he takes a step forward, a small smile on his lips.

"Hello, princess. Long time, huh? I'm Reggie, by the way. In case you don't recognize me from the slight change in my hair. I am trying a little more gel, I want something more elegant and classic. What do you think? Yes, I also thought you would like it.” Julie and Alex smile at hearing him talk to her as natural as possible.

“I tried very hard to think of what to say, because if there is anyone who deserves my best words, it is you. And three things came to mind that I want to share with you.

First, the color yellow.

Yellow like the guitar you were saving for two years to buy. You did everything. You were a babysitter, you walked dogs, you worked in the school library, you sang with your old acoustic guitar in every cafe, basically everything that will let you win some money.

And the day before you could finally go buy it, my dad broke my bass in a moment of anger in one of his typical fights with mom that got really out of hand. At least he didn’t hurt her, huh? But when you're a kid you don't even think about the possibility that something like that could happen, you just focus on the broken instrument in your hand. I ran out and ended up on the stairs of your house with my face soaked and one of the broken pieces in my hand.

You hugged me and promised that everything would be fine. That I was always going to have you four and that we would always be family. You assured me that good things happen to good people. And I believed you, you know? You were always right. But now that I'm here, that I know you didn't have the happy ending you deserved, I'm honestly not so sure anymore.”

Luke and Alex start crying again, each hugging Reggie from one side. Reg tries with all his might to continue through the tears, while Julie looks at them with a broken heart.

“The next day when I came back from school a new bass was on my bed. You talked to Mom so she could take the credit for the gift, but coincidentally was exactly the bass that I fell in love with a year earlier when we went to check if your beloved yellow guitar hadn't dropped in price. Luke revealed to me a few months later that you had to borrow money from your mom in order to complete the exact money for that one.

How generous do you have to be in order to do something like that? how noble? How loving? How selfless? You were always more than I deserved. I was supposed to be like an older brother for you, but it was always you who took care of me. I have Julie and Carlos, and I'm trying to be with them as you were with me. I had the best step sister in the world to teach me, and I hope I can do you justice.” Julie starts crying too after hearing his words, and resists the urge to going to hug him because she knows that they need their space to let go all the suffering that they carry.

“Second, my leather jacket.

When we started the band we made a 100% commitment to being rockstars. And a very important part is the look. You accompanied me on a walk around the city looking for the right outfit to literally go sing to the people who were lining up in front of the clubs.

Anyone could have left me alone on that for multiple reasons, not even these two wanted to face the trouble. But you followed me without thinking twice.

The afternoon was over and we still haven't found anything. Our feet couldn't take it anymore and we had 10 minutes to run to the club. But we stopped by a little store that had a black leather jacket in the window and you said, Reg, this is it.

You excitedly took me by the hand and when I tried it on, the rest was history.

Then I tried to get the whole band to use them but these two boys without fashion sense didn’t want to. You, on the other hand, supported me and wore your leather jacket during all the Sunset Curve performances we had, convincing me that they were our good luck charms and that if we both used them everything would be amazing. Oh god, I miss you so much.

And third, a star.

I thought you were a star when I heard you sing for the first time.

I thought you were a star when you and Luke managed to write the whole Sunset Curve album in 2 months.

I thought you were a star when you bought me my bass, when you made Alex feel better after one of his strongest attacks, when you filled Luke with love and support when he needed it the most.

And I believe it now that I know you are gone.

If you are in heaven, you have to be a star. And not just a star, the brightest star of all. I promise to look for your light every night to wish you sweet dreams. I will also sing you some country since you were the only one who appreciated my incredible sound, I hope it makes you smile.”

“That was beautiful, Reggie. I’m sure she loved it.” Julie finally reaches out to hug him as Alex prepares to be next.

“Hey. I don’t even know where to start.

I- I guess I should start saying I could never pay you all the times you were there to pick me up when I needed someone the most. I went back to dancing a little again. It's not the same without you, but somehow it makes me feel you close. I also met someone, oh Y/N, he’s so special, I'm sure you would have loved him and I would have loved the opportunity to introduce him to you. You were always there.

You were there to support me when I decided to learn drums to cope with my anxiety. You sang the song I was practicing over and over to keep me company and reassure me that what I was doing sounded good.

You were there to support me when I told you I like to dance. We spent hours choreographing different iconic songs and just laughing and enjoying creating more memories together.

Not shocking at this point but you were also there for me when I confessed to my parents I’m gay and you gave me strength all those times that I wanted to fall because they no longer saw me the same way.

You were always my safe place. And I regret with all my heart that I couldn’t be yours.”

Alex breaks down. She kept them on their feet during her darkest days and they paid her off by causing her the most horrible pain imaginable. Julie and Reggie surround her in their arms while sobbing. The last one of the band standing moves closer to the grave and drops to his knees.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so fucking sorry.” Luke tries to be strong, but tears start falling like waterfalls from his eyes, his face red in a mixture of despair, sadness and anger.

“I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone. Baby, I've been without you for only 1 month and I’m going crazy, even with the boys and Julie by my side. I don't even want to imagine what you must have been through those two years. My soul is shattered just thinking about it.

At first when we returned I imagined you were happy after having fulfilled all our plans with someone else. And I thought nothing could hurt me more than that, but obviously I was wrong. Because although it hurt me that I couldn’t be the one who was with you, thinking that you had been happy gave me the peace to be able to continue. Now that I know that life took away your opportunity, the only thing I feel is anger.

Anger towards me, anger towards destiny. Anger at not being able to be together even after death. Since we discovered where you are, I have only been able to think of cross over and finally be with you again.

Or at least go back to the night before everything turned into a nightmare. Fall asleep with you in my arms one more time.

I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss, as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“Hello again, my love.

I can't believe 25 years have passed. First of all, I want you to know that I'm okay. Or well, the equivalent for ghosts that are destined to haunt the earth alone for all eternity. I made a friend for several years, Rose. I told you about her, remember? I know you guys would have been good friends, she was a ridiculously talented musician. Since she died I no longer had the strength to go back to the studio, but for a long time I enjoyed her company in one of my favorite places. She promised to tell you that I'm waiting for you. I will wait whatever time is necessary, okay? I love you so much, baby.

You three are always on my mind, and I think I can finally accept that the pain is just never going to go away. But lately something super strange has happened to me, let me tell you.

Throughout these years, in the darkest days, I see you. But, they were always memories.

A month ago, I started to see you having other kinds of experiences and I honestly don't know how to feel about it. Am I going that crazy? I selfishly hoped that you too were ghosts for so many years. I looked for you 5, 10, 15, 20 years. And just as I decide to give up, my head imagines you all over the city.

The first time I saw you singing Reggie's jam on the beach. You guys looked so happy, love. It filled my heart with peace for a few seconds, knowing that somewhere up there you are enjoying life singing together all day.

Then I saw my beloved Alex with a cute boy. My heart melted, I can’t even explain how much I wanted to run to hug him and gossip about it.

Baby, he looked so peaceful. I always wanted that for Alex. I didn't know whether to be happy or cry because that didn’t actually happen, so I did both.

The penultimate time was a few nights ago when I was walking in front of the Orpheum and I heard your voices. How wicked my mind is, right? A knife to the heart would hurt less.

And now, I can't even get close to your grave because I'm imagining you all again.”

Y/N doesn't know what to do, if she gets close enough will they disappear? What If they don’t? Will she bear to see them up close? She has been dancing with their ghosts in her dreams for so many years, but It’s not the same as doing it when she is fully awake.

She is about to run out of there in fear when the silhouette of a fourth person catches her attention. She doesn't know why, but it immediately reminds her of Rose. Could it be that she is imagining her friend too?

Curiosity is stronger than fear, like all those times when she got into trouble with her boys. She walks carefully towards her grave which is next to her beloved Luke.

“I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“I don't freaking snore, I told you a million times already... and now I'm talking with my imagination, great.”

The band turns in shock towards the fifth voice. That's when she can see the girl's face and realize who she is.

“Julie? But, how?”

“Y/N?” Alex whispers on the verge of passing out.

She starts to panic, just before the boys can do something about it, a new person appears behind her.

“Hey, you took a long time." She turns around and jumps into the arms of who has become her only friend in recent years.

“Phoenix, thank god.” Her body continues to shake but she clings tightly to her friend while crying uncontrollably.

To say the ghosts are confused would be an understatement. And apart from that, the guitarist is having many conflicts with the jealousy that he is feeling at the moment. They haven't seen each other in 25 years and when they finally do, she runs into someone else's arms and clings to him like her life depends on it.

What does that mean for them? Is it too late?

“Beautiful, what's wrong? Who are they? Oh, wait. You guys were at the club a few weeks ago, you're friends with Willie, right?”

Luke feels like dying all over again hearing him call her that. She continues to shake but finally lets go.

“What? You can see them?”

“Shouldn’t I?” He looks at her skeptical and shifts his eyes from her to the ghosts.

“I- Oh my god. I'm going to pass out.“

“Baby, look at me.” Luke’s voice is a mix between a plea and a demand. The terror of knowing that perhaps he has already lost her without having had the opportunity to fight for her clouds his judgment and tears begin to fall from his face again.

25 years. 25 years fighting not to forget his voice. 25 years having him only in dreams, in memories, in melodies. 25 years waiting for him. 25 years on her own.

She turns slowly to meet those honey-green eyes she craved for so long to see, a painful smile from Luke makes her smile through tears.

She carefully lifts her right hand and gently draws it to his cheek, almost exploding at the feel of it.

“You came back. Oh my, It’s really you.” She jumps to the guitarist, entwining her legs at his hips, her arms tangled with all her strength around him, her head buried in his neck inhaling his scent. Tears coming out as if to drown her, all the pain and suffering that she faced all these years finally leaving her body.

Luke wraps her tightly in his arms, still unable to process what’s happening.

Alex and Reggie begin to smile without fully assimilating what is happening, while Julie begins to jump of joy.

“Babygirl, I'm sorry to ruin the moment but I have to rush to the club. Will you be okay here?"

“She's always safe with me." The guitarist growls, and Y/N starts laughing when she hears it.

"The jealous, protective baby in the beanie is right, don't worry Nix. I’ll go and find you later."

Phoenix nods with a smile and disappears. Julie begins to scold Luke while Reggie and Alex approach to touch the cheek of their best friend, still in the arms of the guitarist who does not seem to have any intention of letting go.

“We should go home to catch up. Reggie and I will accompany Julie, it seems that you two should speak alone first." Luke doesn't think twice and disappears with her in his arms.

“Good things happen to good people.” Reggie whispers as he hugs his friends and they start walking home.

Luke and Y/N reappear in the studio and they are both shocked for a few seconds. The girl trembles again in fear of dreaming.

“Hey, come here baby. Shh, I’m here, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me ever again, please.” He can see that it is very difficult for her to understand that is really happening, and to think that she lived without him not 2 but 25 years makes him want to cry again.

“I won’t. I promise, beautiful. Never again.” Luke wraps her in his arms, but she lifts her head from his chest to push her lips against his. The kiss is urgent, but they both instantly recognize each other and fit in perfectly. Luke picks her up again and gently lays her down on the couch, both desperate to feel the other, to recognize every inch.

“I missed you so much baby, I love you more than anything.” Luke whispers between kisses, not willing to have her an inch away from him.

“I love you my love. I love you, I love you, I love you.” She says while kissing the love of her life, happy for the first time in 25 years.

Before things get to escalate, the rest of the band shows up in the studio followed by Julie who clearly walks through the door.

"Let go of her man, it's our turn!" Y/N gets up quickly from the sofa while her boyfriend complains and she throws herself at both of them who pick her up as best they can and spin her in the air.

They put her down and Julie and her stare each other, both raise their arms and meet in a quick but sweet hug.

“You said my name back there, how?” The question that she has stuck since she met her finally coming to light.

“I met your mom many years ago when I came to visit the studio and realized that she could see me. We were friends for many years and I had the opportunity to see you grow up, but I always made sure to be upstairs when you came in in case you could see me too.”

“Well, now I understand how Carlos felt when he found out that we lived with ghosts. And It sounds like mom watches over us both from heaven.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she does.” Both girls smile and hug each other once more.

“I can't believe I endured 25 years without having those beautiful arms around me.” She whispers as they both lie on the couch, Luke has her completely cornered in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It breaks my heart that you have suffered that much for so many years.”

“It was not your fault. You lost as much as I did that night. Besides, I always knew that you would find me sooner or later. We belong together.”

“We do. I, I k-know we have way more to talk about but, who was the dude from the cementery?”

The insecurity in his voice is evident and Y/N can't help but smile. His emotions are complex, real, and nothing can make her happier than that.

“I’ll tell you all about my friend later, okay? For now... dance with me? I want to dance with the real deal.” He smiles and they both stand up, hugging each other as they slowly move through the studio as they did many times before life separated them.

The Luke in her arms is her Luke, the same one she has been waiting for so many years, finally back in her arms. And just as she thought when she lived, she will dance with his ghost for all eternity.

Thank you for reading✨✨

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