#because the only person who doesn’t see him as the big bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rebelfell · 13 days ago

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for your viewing pleasure┃vol. 1

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and I’ve included a “finale” of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.

cw: pornstar!au, so…porn. but it’s also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.

18+, MDNI┃8.7k

special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 🥰 ilyaaf

After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from his first job.

Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.

So, so, so bad. Like, he’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. We’re talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.

And that’s great for her, but terrible for camera.

They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they can’t with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be—and they’re yelling “CUT” and scolding him all over again.

And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and ‘just do me this solid—please?’ in her eyes.

So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so it’s really obvious how real it really is.

And so they can move the fuck on already.

Then they’re filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.

He’s not just slamming into her without any care; he’s not using her to get off; he’s trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.

Like so good, she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.

Her boyfriend of six years be damned.

And once they wrap, Eddie’s not exactly “fired” but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting called back.

Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.

So the production company is like, “We gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.”

And just so we’re clear, he gets that contract.

But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.

“My buddy, my guy, my man, you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.”

So Eddie walks. And he’s ready to call it quits entirely…until you approach him.

Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alert—you do.

You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.

Something different. Something special.

And, oh. He is so on board with that.

Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devil—that’s the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.

And Steve Harrington is LIVID.

He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.

They’re literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.

Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.

Then he watches it.

And, oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.

For one, he wasn’t going down on girls. He just wasn’t. He’s not like…against it, or anything. But he sort of didn’t realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuck’s sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasn’t that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)

Secondly…the girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other “orgasms” in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he can’t un-hear it.

From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.

No, seriously.

Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.

The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.

Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a hit.

The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and she’s been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.

Not on Eddie’s watch.

He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So he’s not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.

Although his is very, very nice.

His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.

He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she can’t hold it back any longer and explodes.

And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, “Everything okay in there, babe?” after she’s done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.

Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.

Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.

It’s alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.

Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.

The one thing you’re never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.

He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.

The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because he’ll be happy to.

It’s…completely and utterly disarming.

He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesn’t ever stray from that unflagging decency that’s so rare in this industry.

And you pray he never will.

It’s Eddie who pitches your next film.

He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.

(One guess who’s playing him.)

Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.

All part of the vision, he assured you.

They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry’s off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.

Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.

It’s oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branches—a foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds.

And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.

Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he fell off the table.

Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.

Except you’re not watching them…because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.

And you almost, almost, ask him about her—but you’re cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.

The studio is calling, and they’re pissed.

They’ve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.

Plus exclusive use of Eddie.

(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)

You know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of it—you swung big so you’d have plenty of room to negotiate—but it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.

You both know you’re onto something special and you’re in it together, to the end of the line.

Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.

He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.

An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because he’s got on this tank top with arm holes that’ve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you aren’t entirely sure why you’re getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when there’s not a single intimate inch of his body you haven’t already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.

In fact, it’s the same body you’re watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And he’s wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.

You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward, more like you’re mutually tickled by the fact that it’s not? There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.

In a way, it’s like there never was.

He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. He’s interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. There’s such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. It’s ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.

You think it’s a great idea…at first.

But then you’re watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.

It’s all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you can’t help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.

“So, uh, what…what exactly are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.

“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.

“I find my moments,” he says.

Smirks back. Winks.

And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?

He’s close now. It wouldn’t take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You can’t, though. You don’t. Because it would be so…stupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything you’re working towards, totally gone.

You’re starting the porn for women movement, here. You can’t fuck your first star!

And you don’t. You keep it professional. You tell him you’re going to call it a day and head home so he’ll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire life…Well, that’s different.

That’s totally and completely different.

The next time you see him, it’s business as usual.

You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.

And it is just a crush. It has to be.

Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.

Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex you’ve ever seen in your life. But that’s unrelated.

The next shoot is your biggest yet. It’s at this massive mansion that you’re dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort. Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.

After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think it’s best you lean hard into the “Eddie fucks it better” sort of storylines.

Because why not play to your strengths?

Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and she’s nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isn’t like her, she’s never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.

The light is perfect, everyone’s in place…but there’s no one for Eddie to fuck.

Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and you’ve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.

It’s gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you don’t think of something. Like, right now.

Eddie can see you’re stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.

You could do it.

You’re here, for one. And you’ve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.

It’s been a while, and you’re not quite “camera-ready” after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.

The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and you’ve got a bigger crew now—people who know your vision and can help bring it forth.

Plus, you’ll be with Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. You’d bet your life on it.And, well…you and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.

The shoot is…interesting.

From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. He’s got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face.

And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.

Before you even get to the sex stuff, you’re putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs.

You’re not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher… arousal promptly pooling between your legs.

He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive.

As if he’s constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.

Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were his…

His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.

You wait for his next line—when he offers you a very ‘special’ massage with a ‘special’ technique he ‘doesn’t use on just anyone.’

But Eddie goes off script.

He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he can’t stand to take it away, even to speak. “I had to taste you…”

“It’s okay,” you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, “It’s okay, just please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going until you come, until you’re reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, it’s back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every time—

That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.

Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.

This pussy is all mine now, you understand?

And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But it’s the other stuff he does—the quieter, subtle things you aren’t expecting—that really push you over the edge again and again. And again.

It’s the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so you’re the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or I’m gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one now—

It’s…it’s almost too much. You knew he’d be good, you just didn’t expect how good.

And you definitely didn’t expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure he’s not being too rough, telling you how great you’re doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you all…fluttery.

But it’s not until after you wrap for the day, after you’ve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.

Not once.

When Eddie calls later that week, it’s to ask you out. Not on a date, though.

Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you haven’t been able to think about anything besides him since.

You. Can’t. Date.

You’re pretty much his boss, don’t forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paper—but if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you don’t want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). He’s earned everything he’s gotten.

And now that includes an award.

That’s what he’s calling about. He’s been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except he’s sort of freaking out because he’s never done anything like this before and he’s really nervous and he kind of needs you there because ‘you’re the only one I’m always comfortable with.’

So he asks if you’ll go with him. As friends.

And you say you will. And it’s fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this—FUCK.

Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.

It’s unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you can’t stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand around—

Nope. Nope. You’re not going there. The only place you’re going tonight is these awards.

Except when you get there, the organizers don’t want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still aren’t familiar with you as a director, and you haven’t starred in a project in months. That’s practically a century in porn time.

Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didn’t even work on. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While you’re shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, he’s being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.

You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. She’s a biter.

They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.

And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like you’re chewing on glass. But it’s…difficult.

Especially when you look up at the worst possible time—the exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss.

Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.

Eddie should have walked with you.

He should have done a lot of things, actually.

He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.

He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this ‘as friends’ bullshit.

Maybe if he had, he’d be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy you’re with right now.

Eddie knows him. Well, he doesn’t know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.

Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.

(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie you’d ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort of…happened across one. Or five.)

And it’s not that he’s jealous—because there’s nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. You’re just catching up with an old coworker.

It’s fine. Totally fine. Did he mention it’s fine?

But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, he’s striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.

The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.

And he’s really not sure.

Because much like you, he’s not used to this; he’s not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; he’s not used to holding anything back—not when it comes to you.

“I should have stayed with you,” he blurted out at last. “That was messed up, I—”

Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. “It’s fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it,” he shot back. “I could have said something, I could have told them—”

“What for?” you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. “I mean, what…what would be the point? It’s not like we’re…or that you’re…”

He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.

“God, listen to me!” you laugh bitterly. “I sound like some crazy, jealous…something, and I don’t know why I’m getting this upset when you don’t even like me—”

“Wait, what? Who the fuck said that?”

He can tell you’re shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thought…”

You fell silent as Eddie’s hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze.

Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.

Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.

His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to grip you harder. There’s a tenacity in his kiss, as if he’s trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.

You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be coming—a slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.

He might deserve both, but receives neither.

You don’t pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, “I didn’t want the first time I did that to be on camera.”

You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you don’t ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.

“What about the second?” you whisper.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.

He’s not kissing you like it’s his job; like he’s just doing what was written for him in a script—he’s doing it like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like it’s all he needs.

Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life.

The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.

You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.

“More,” he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. “Fucking please, sweetheart, I need more—”

Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.

The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddie’s passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.

Room full of people be damned.

Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.

But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.

There’s a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.

Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking up—but it’s usually not until the afterparty.

Cocktail hour isn’t even over, for crying out loud.

Then they realize who it is.

The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddie’s hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudly—too absorbed in what he’s doing to even realize what’s happened.

Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way you’re covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.

Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.

Together.

The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.

Whereas on the way to the convention center, you’d ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. It’s like he thinks he’ll die if he stops touching you for even a second—lips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.

You do your best to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere ‘sorry’ for the display. But he seems unphased.

Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, you’re lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.

Of your apartment, that is.

Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see you’re lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.

He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, he’s still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.

The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.

Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.

You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.

With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddie’s hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handle—more erotic than anything you’ve ever filmed.

He’s going slow because it’s slowly dawning on him what you’re about to do.

And how this time it’s not going to be for work or for a camera. It’s going to be real.

Except…is it going to be real?

Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? Shit…

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that this—that you—aren’t special to him.

Then suddenly, he’s not going slow anymore.

He’s stopped completely.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. “I just, ahhh…I don’t know, I think I’m psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.”

“Thinking about what?” you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.

His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh that’s heavy with fondness and whispers, “How I don’t want to mess this up.”

He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something he’s done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when it’s just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.

“Is it just me…or does it feel like something is missing?”

It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet.

Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.

The red light blinks as you hit ‘record,’ barely taking a second to check if there’s a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.

You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.

“That better?” you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.

“Wanna taste you,” he grunts out roughly.

He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.

Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.

In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like you’re trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like you’re going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesn’t have to carry them alone.

There’s a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t want it,” he groans back, “I need it. I’ve needed it since I fucking met you.”

The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.

“Everyone always uses you,” you tell him softly, almost mournfully.

His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.

“I want you to use me,” you instruct him. “Take whatever you need, as much as you want.”

And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.

“Sweetheart, I—oh, fuck,” he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.

“I’ll stop you if I need a break,” you reply firmly.

The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.

And you knew Eddie’s dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. He’s almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when you’ve not even gotten started.

It was practically a miracle he didn’t soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.

His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like you’re at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.

“Fuck my throat, Eddie. Please.”

And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. It’s almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your hand—

He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth that’s dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.

The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.

“Jesus Christ…”

Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.

Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like he’s in pain even though the sounds he’s releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.

“Oh, pl…p-please,” he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.

He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.

You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddie’s undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.

His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and they’re wet—shiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.

Quick as you can, you’re on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if he’s okay. And Eddie can’t answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.

He can’t kiss you enough, it seems.

You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.

And you know there’s still a lot left to figure out—damage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.

Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.

All that matters is you and him.

You lay there for a while, just…being. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body he’s always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and don’t seem so daunting anymore. Don’t seem so scary.

When he’s hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.

“Something wrong, Ed?” you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.

“F-fu…fuuuuuck meeee…” he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“Oh,” you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, “I’m sorry, is that not what I was doing?”

His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.

Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.

“Nah,” he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Sorry is what you’re gonna be.”

A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddie’s hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.

Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.

The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice you’ve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like he’s trying to eat you, like he’s trying to fuse your faces.

You’re certainly not complaining.

And now that he’s the one with the camera, he’s eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position he’s been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, there’s not a single angle on you that isn’t pristine.

He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust back—seeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache he’s made.

And even as you’re making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.

It’s a love tape.

thank you for reading — love you, mean it! 🏝️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #stranger things

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it

Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words

Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. Sirius had tried rubbing your leg and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath.

“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes.

In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job.

“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him.

You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?”

Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?”

“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead.

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before.

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?”

“Everywhere.”

“By your eyes?”

“No.”

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?”

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.”

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels.

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus.

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.”

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up.

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained.

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.”

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now.

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?”

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his boyfriend’s heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now.

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.”

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.”

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.”

James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.

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cuntyji · 26 days ago

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CUPID'S DUMBEST SOLIDER ౨ৎ RYOMEN SUKUNA X READER

summary: ryomen sukuna, king of the school and reigning bad boy extraordinaire, has one rule: prom is for losers. but apparently, his too-good-to-be-true girlfriend (seriously, what are you doing with him?) thinks promposals are cute. so now he’s stuck planning the most over-the-top, cringe-inducing spectacle known to mankind. armed with zero artistic talent, a ton of misplaced confidence, and multiple dumb ideas, sukuna’s on a mission to prove that he’s boyfriend material. will he survive the humiliation of public vulnerability? will his classmates ever stop laughing at him? and more importantly, will you even say yes after watching him trip over his own ego mid-promposal? spoiler alert: sukuna might hate prom, but he doesn’t hate you — just don’t tell anyone or his bad boy reputation is toast.

warnings & tags: all characters except yuuji are high-schoolers [aged eighteen]. 100% sfw and crack. lots of high-school and social media related drama. sukuna is ooc but he's a loverboy. slight angst, misccommunication and misunderstanding, reader gets bullied. mentions of drugs & vaping. reader is sort of preppy [only when compared to sukuna], implied stsg and tomema. mentions of: yuuji, choso, gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, toji (zenin), naoya, yorozu, mei mei, uraume, mamaguro, wasuke itadori, mai and maki zenin.

a/n: i'm writing this because i'm thinking about my last year of highschool a lot. please enjoy <3

‼️i recommend reading on ao3 :) thank you for being here!

chapter one: love at first “you’re kidding, right?”

prom sucks.

sukuna's decided this long before he even knew what it was, back when he was a kid and thought dances were just for the weak. now? the banners are inescapable, plastered on every wall like wanted posters, except the only crime being committed is how much glitter they used. seriously, who thought this level of sparkle was necessary? he doesn’t even want to look at them, let alone read the overly enthusiastic “prom countdown” in bold bubble letters.

but here’s the kicker—you’re excited.

you. his girlfriend. the only person he’s ever willingly given his jersey to, the one he pretends not to care about but secretly loses his mind if you’re even five minutes late to meet him after practice. you’re actually grinning at the posters, casually mentioning how it might be “fun.”

fun. the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth, much like the time he accidentally puffed on his teammate’s fruit-flavored vape, pretending he didn’t low-key enjoy it. and now, just like back then, sukuna refuses to admit the truth: the idea of seeing you all dressed up, looking at him like he’s worth more than a fistfight and a bad attitude, is enough to make his brain short-circuit.

“you know,” you say one day, glancing over your shoulder at him as you tug on his sleeve. “prom doesn’t have to be a big deal. it’s just one night.”

“then why’s everyone acting like it’s the olympics?” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, not on the way your smile softens like you already know what’s going on in his head.

because of course you know. you always know. it’s annoying.

but the thing is, sukuna’s always been a fighter. he knows how to take a hit, how to deliver one back, how to keep moving even when his ribs feel like they’re cracking under the pressure. this, though? asking you to prom? it feels like trying to fight blindfolded in a ring full of glitter bombs.

“you’re thinking too hard about it,” you tease, leaning closer, and he has to resist the urge to snap back with something sarcastic. instead, he just grumbles something incoherent, hoping you’ll drop the subject.

spoiler: you don’t.

“come on, it might surprise you,” you add, giving him that look—the one that makes his chest feel annoyingly tight and his brain feel like it’s melting. and just like that, sukuna knows he’s doomed. he doesn’t even know how you managed to turn this whole thing around, but here he is, contemplating how to ask you to prom like it’s some epic quest.

but for now? he’ll just keep glaring at the posters, convincing himself it’s all for you. definitely not because he’s secretly imagining what it’d be like to see you under those stupid lights.

yeah. that’s it. it’s for you.

why is sukuna losing his absolute mind over asking you, of all people, to prom? it’s not like you’re some untouchable deity perched on a golden throne. you’re just you—the one person who’s seen him shirtless and sweaty post-practice and didn’t immediately gag. the one who has the audacity to call him “cute” after he’s just finished smashing someone’s face in and honestly? he still hasn’t forgiven you for that.

and yet, here he is, spiraling like a damn teenager—which, fine, he technically is, but that’s beside the point. this isn’t just prom. this is war. but why does it feel like he’s already lost?

he doesn’t even know when this whole “you and him” thing started.

oh wait. yes, he does.

cue the flashback: sukuna, bloody and bruised, crouched in an alley after picking a fight with college kids who were built like linebackers. he was sure this was it. the end. game over. then suddenly, you appeared, haloed by the sun.

or maybe that was just his swelling eye playing tricks on him.

“are you seriously bleeding again?” you’d said, hands on your hips like you were scolding a toddler who’d colored on the walls. you looked so annoyed, so unimpressed, so... angelic? he doesn’t know. blame the blood loss.

“what’s it to you?” he’d snarled, expecting you to walk away like everyone else. but instead, you crouched down, pulled out a first-aid kit from god-knows-where, and patched him up right there. like some feral stray, he’d just sat there and let you.

and then, because subtlety is not in sukuna’s vocabulary, he’d yelled at you a few weeks later to “just be my girl already,” fully prepared for rejection. except you’d said yes. casually. like it was no big deal.

liar. it was a huge deal. he’d wanted to cheer so loud they’d hear him across town. instead, he’d just grunted and said, “fine,” as if he hadn’t just won the lottery.

now, here’s the thing: sukuna doesn’t “do” feelings. or labels. or mushy crap like this. but somehow, you’ve made it your personal mission to take care of him, and the worst part? he lets you.

so, yeah, obviously he needs to “man up” and ask you to prom before some other idiot gets the idea. the thought of someone else—someone less deserving—getting to stand next to you in those ridiculous photos everyone takes? absolutely not.

but how is he supposed to ask you?

“hey, wanna go to prom?” no. too boring.

“you and me. prom. be there.” god, no. too aggressive.

“i’ll fight anyone who tries to take you if you say yes.” okay, maybe, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

and what if you say no? …no, scratch that. you wouldn’t. right?

“why do you look constipated?” your voice pulls him out of his internal chaos, and he realizes he’s been frowning so hard his face hurts.

“shut up,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. you just laugh, that soft little sound that makes his chest feel annoyingly warm. “you’re so silly sometimes.”

silly? silly? sukuna’s this close to snapping back, but he bites his tongue. for now. he’ll figure it out. eventually. probably.

unless someone else beats him to it.

nope. not happening. over his dead body.

chapter two: swipe, stress, repeat

if sukuna from a month ago could see sukuna right now, he'd be frothing at the mouth. the self-proclaimed king of school, the untouchable badass who spent his time punching people and skipping class, reduced to lying in his bed, phone clutched in hand, scrolling through tiktok like some lovesick idiot?

embarrassing. absolutely humiliating.

the guy would’ve torn his own future self apart, verbally and probably physically, for this kind of behavior. but present-day sukuna? he couldn’t care less. if past sukuna had a problem, he could take it up with the tiktok algorithm because, damn it, he was busy right now.

sukuna's room is peak sukuna. the walls are painted a deep gray—an edgy, brooding shade that screams “it’s not a phase mom,” and yet the color somehow sets off the aggressively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. don’t ask why he has it. it’s your fault, anyway, since you bought it for him, and when he told you he wouldn’t use it, you pouted. now the damn thing stays on every night.

his bed is a mess of black sheets, crumpled in a way that suggests he both sleeps like a starfish and fights imaginary enemies in his dreams. the single poster above his bed is of some obscure underground metal band you probably pretend to care about when he rants, but the corner is peeling because he’s too lazy to fix it.

on the desk? chaos. protein powder tubs, half-used cologne bottles, random dumbbells, and a notebook that’s only ever been opened once—probably because he mistook it for a coaster. nestled among this battlefield of masculinity is his phone charger, tangled in a knot that somehow feels symbolic of his life choices.

but let’s talk about the tiktok doom scrolling session. sprawled on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, sukuna clears out his notifications, which are predictably 90% you tagging him in ridiculous couple reels. “this is us <3,” you captioned one, featuring two lopsided cartoon bananas cuddling. another one? a video of raccoons stealing food with the words “me and you robbing mcdonald’s after your practice :3” plastered over it. he groans loudly but still clicks the tag, because god forbid he misses one.

and then he sees it: the initials trend. he stumbles across a video with the letters r + your initial floating on-screen, surrounded by sparkly hearts. it takes him a solid two tries, but when the stupid thing finally lands on the right combination, sukuna practically slams the save button. the smug grin on his face could rival the one he wears after winning a fight. “got it,” he mutters to himself, as if he’s achieved something monumental. and maybe he has—because nothing screams romance like a tiktok filter confirming your undying love. his phone buzzes again, and it’s you, sending yet another video. he opens it, and it’s a clip of two fat seals flopping in the water together. “this is us,” you text, followed by a string of hearts. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “you’re so dumb,” he mutters, even as he saves the video.

but tonight, sukuna is a man on a mission. a stupid mission, in his humble opinion, but one he’s reluctantly accepted because of you.

his night started the same as it always does lately—on call with you while you go through your nightly skincare routine. he pretends not to care, half-listening as you ramble about serums and exfoliators, but if anyone asked why he knows the difference between niacinamide and retinol now, he’d deny it with his whole chest. “okay, goodnight,” you say eventually, and he feels weirdly warm when you pause, waiting for his reply. “yeah, yeah. goodnight,” he mutters, then sends you a five-line-long text he drafts with the precision of a tactical operation. it’s disgustingly sweet, full of things so cheesy he could probably use it as a weapon in a fight.

of course, he ends it with a selfie—him lying on his bed, shirtless but casual, because he knows you eat up this couple-y nonsense. “cute,” you reply immediately, followed by a flurry of heart emojis that make him roll his eyes and grin at the same time. with that out of the way, it’s doom scrolling time.

but tonight isn’t about your endless tags of raccoon memes or seal videos. no, tonight, sukuna is diving into the depths of promposal content.

his room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of his phone and the offensively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. the contrast between the lamp and his deep gray walls is glaring, but he’s gotten used to it—he even mumbles a “thanks, kitty” when he turns it off at night. sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a haphazard array of items—a half-empty protein shake, a stray dumbbell, and a random sock he’s too lazy to find the pair for—he scrolls through tiktok like a man possessed.

promposals flood his feed, one after the other, and his frown deepens with every video. flowers, posters, confetti—it’s all the same. one boy after another holding a sparkly sign with some cheesy pickup line, and a group of random bystanders shrieking like it’s the second coming of christ. “yuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely noticing when he tosses his dumbbell off the bed with a loud thud! “this is how people live? pathetic.”

then he sees it: a video of a guy holding a giant poster that reads, “are you a parking ticket? because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

sukuna’s jaw drops. “oh, hell no.”

without thinking, he types out a comment: “i can do better.” and when the notifications flood in from strangers defending the boy’s cringe-worthy effort, he actually guffaws, shaking his head in sadistic satisfaction. but then a thought strikes him. what if this is what you expect? what if you want the cheesy pickup line, the sparkly poster, the ridiculous crowd cheering you on? the idea makes him physically recoil, but he can’t ignore the tiny voice in his head whispering, it’s for her.

and when he exits tiktok, his matching hello kitty profile picture with you stares back at him, painfully cute and obnoxiously pink. it’s a sharp contrast to the guy who spent ten minutes this morning threatening his neighbor’s dog for barking too much.

groaning, he sets an alarm on his phone for tomorrow morning. “five hours of sleep,” he mutters to himself, glaring at the clock like it’s personally offended him. with a dramatic sigh, he reaches over and switches off the hello kitty lamp. the room plunges into darkness, but his mind is already racing, plotting ways to outdo every cringe-worthy promposal he’s seen.

you’d better appreciate this, he thinks, punching his pillow into shape before flopping onto it. because if sukuna’s doing this, he’s going to do it better than anyone else.

—

the next day, sukuna wakes up with the vague hope that he’ll somehow embody the effortlessly cool energy of those coming-of-age movie protagonists you seem to fawn over. the universe, however, has other plans. his “cool boy” morning routine includes stubbing his toe on the corner of his bed, swearing loudly enough to make the neighbor’s dog bark, and grabbing a shampoo bottle to wash his face before realizing, mid-lather, that something isn’t right.

by the time he’s dressed in a ratty old lakers jersey his mom gave him ages ago (that’s definitely seen better days), he’s already on edge. he triple-checks that the beaded bracelet you made him is securely on his wrist. one time, he forgot it in the abyss of his bag, and you didn’t talk to him for all of lunch period. the memory alone makes him shudder. high school relationships are no joke; he’s convinced they’re scarier than any fight he’s been in. “yuuji!” he bellows, dragging his seven-year-old brother by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving cat. “we’re gonna miss the bus!”

“but i’m watching powaaaaa rangerrrrsssss!” yuuji wails, kicking his legs in protest. for the fifth time. in a row.

“i don’t care if they’re morphin’ again for the hundredth time,” sukuna snaps, hauling the squirming kid out the door.

once on the school bus, sukuna practically shoves yuuji into the front seat with his group of loud, chaotic little friends—toge, the broody one, and nobara, the one who’s probably already plotting world domination. “don’t cause trouble,” he growls, earning a cheeky grin from nobara and a half-hearted glare from toge. then, sukuna retreats to his rightful throne in the backseat. people probably think he’s texting some gang leader to set up a fight or maybe coordinating a weed deal. but no. you know what he’s actually doing?

writing you the sappiest good morning text imaginable.

with his phone held at a suspicious angle, he types furiously:

good mornin sunshine ❤️❤️❤️ sorry this is late. woke up thinking about you and totally forgot how to function lol. you’re probably already looking perfect but don’t forget to eat breakfast okay???? can’t have my girl passing out and making me look bad 😏. also did i ever tell you your bedhead is cute? bc it is. anyway have a good day baby i’ll see you in school soon. love you.

he stares at it, debating whether it’s too much. but then again, you’re the type who sends him texts like, “did you know sharks existed before trees? good morning !! <3 :3” so he figures he’s safe. after hitting send, he leans back with a satisfied smirk, like he’s just conquered the world. if anyone dares to ask, he’ll lie through his teeth about what he’s doing. but deep down, sukuna knows he’s whipped. totally and utterly.

—

sukuna’s morning ritual of chaos continues as he practically shoves yuuji toward the elementary school section, muttering curses under his breath while dodging questions about his bracelet.

“but when can i get tattoos like yours?” yuuji asks, for the millionth time this week.

“never,” sukuna snaps, ruffling yuuji’s hair just hard enough to mess it up.

“but why nooottt?” yuuji whines, pouting. “they’re cool! toge said they make you look like a bad guy!”

“tell toge to mind his own damn business,” sukuna growls, ignoring the way yuuji’s tiny friends scatter at the mere sight of him. when one of the kids starts crying, he scoffs loudly. elementary schoolers are weak.

with yuuji safely deposited, sukuna sprints—yes, sprints—to the high school section, expertly weaving through crowds of students. if anyone asks, he’ll say it’s because he’s late to class, but really, he’s looking for you.

when he spots you at your locker, a familiar warmth floods his chest, but he quickly shoves it down, replacing it with a carefully practiced scowl. if sukuna could have it his way, he’d profess his undying love for you in the most dramatic way possible—on his knees, quoting some shakespeare nonsense about your ethereal beauty or whatever the old dead guy used to write about. but alas, his bad boy reputation is at stake.

so instead, he settles for a gruff, “yo,” as he leans against the locker next to yours, arms crossed, trying to look casual. you glance up, smiling brightly. “morning! did you sleep okay?”

“yeah,” he lies, conveniently forgetting the part where he only got five hours of sleep because of tiktok research.

you go on, oblivious to the way he’s fighting the urge to smile like an idiot. “ugghhh, i got up five minutes late today. five whole minutes!” you pause dramatically. “so i didn’t have time to pack my stationery, and now i have to use my backup stationery pouch from my locker. do you know how annoying that is?”

“devastating,” sukuna deadpans, nodding solemnly. “truly, the world is cruel.”

“right?” you huff, pulling the pouch from your locker. “like, what if the backup doesn’t have my favorite pens? what am i supposed to do then?”

he watches you, amused, as you rummage through your locker like your life depends on it. secretly, he loves how animated you get over the smallest things, but god forbid anyone else find out. “wish i had backups,” he mutters, half to himself. “my locker’s just got junk. extra shoes, pants, a charger, and, uh…” he pauses, eyeing you carefully. “a vape.”

you turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “a vape?”

“it’s not mine,” he says quickly, standing straighter. “holding it for a friend.”

“sure,” you tease, smirking. “it’s true!” he insists, trying to look indignant but failing because you’re smiling at him, and it’s making his brain short-circuit.

as you shut your locker, you start rambling about your next class, and sukuna does what he does best—stands close, nods occasionally, and tries to act nonchalant. inside, though, he’s cataloging every word you say like it’s gospel, marveling at how even your complaints sound cute. he stuffs his hands in his pockets, pretending not to care, but the truth is written all over his face: sukuna is hopelessly, ridiculously in love. and it’s a problem he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

as you and sukuna make your way down the hallway, everything seems normal—or as normal as a high school hallway can get. the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, lockers slam shut, and a cluster of juniors are trying to tape a "kick me" sign to someone’s back. sukuna’s tuned most of it out, but that’s when the universe decides to test his patience. smack dab in the middle of the hallway, it happens.

“oh my god!” you squeal, tugging on sukuna’s sleeve.

he already hates this.

in front of you both, a whole crowd has gathered. there are girls crying into their hands, boys hooting like it’s a football game, and teachers yelling about how this is a fire hazard, which no one is listening to. and at the epicenter of it all is none other than gojo satoru.

“suguru!” gojo announces, holding up a bucket of kfc chicken in one hand and a bouquet of roses made entirely out of dollar bills in the other. “you’re the butter to my biscuit, the drumstick to my chicken, and the love of my life! if you don’t go to prom with me, i’ll throw myself into oncoming traffic!”

“oh my god, he’s so dramatic,” you whisper to sukuna, but your voice is dripping with excitement. “this is adorable!” sukuna blinks at the scene, trying to process what’s happening. “adorable? this is a migraine waiting to happen.”

meanwhile, geto—poor, unsuspecting geto—is standing there looking like he’s debating whether to run or laugh. “satoru, what the hell?” he finally manages, his voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“it’s love, suguru!” gojo declares, dropping to one knee for added effect. “say yes, or i’ll never recover!”

“that’s definitely not true,” sukuna mutters under his breath.

“shh!” you scold, hitting his arm lightly. “this is so cute!”

“it’s cringe,” sukuna grumbles. “he’s holding chicken.”

“the chicken makes it better!”

“the chicken makes it worse,” sukuna counters, crossing his arms. but he can’t deny that the bouquet of dollar bills is kind of genius. if he had to respect one thing, it’s that. geto sighs loudly, clearly resigned to his fate.

“fine,” he says, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smile on his face. “i’ll go to prom with you, satoru.”

the hallway erupts.

girls start crying harder, like their hearts have been ripped out of their chests. “geto’s off the market!” one of them wails, collapsing into her friend’s arms. the boys cheer, probably just glad they don’t have to be involved in anything like this. and gojo? gojo lets out a triumphant yell, pumping his fist in the air. “i told you he loves me!” their friend group immediately piles on, clapping geto on the back and hyping up gojo like he just won the lottery. you, meanwhile, are clutching sukuna’s arm and bouncing on your toes. “oh my god, that was so cute!” you gush. “did you see the chicken? and the bouquet? sukuna, that was so sweet!”

sukuna looks at you, then at the chaos, then back at you. he feels a headache creeping in. “sweet? that was... loud.”

“you’re impossible,” you say, laughing as you let go of his arm to keep walking.

but sukuna isn’t laughing. oh no, because now there’s a new problem: he has to top that. as he follows you down the hallway, he rubs his temples, muttering to himself. “chicken and dollar bills. great. what’s next? fireworks? a live band? a damn parade?”

you glance back at him, raising an eyebrow. “what are you mumbling about?”

“nothing,” he snaps, quickening his pace to catch up.

but inside, he’s panicking. topping gojo satoru’s level of absurdity is a tall order, and sukuna isn’t sure whether to be pissed off or impressed. probably both. one thing’s for sure, though: he has his work cut out for him.

sukuna finally wades through the chaos of the hallway—largely composed of gojo clinging to geto’s foot like a very loud termite—and drops you off at your first class of the day: english language and literature. you sigh dramatically, digging through your bag and muttering about how your lack of highlighters is basically a crime against academia. “how am i supposed to annotate macbeth without my stationary pouch?”

sukuna, leaning against your desk with all the casual confidence in the world, rolls his eyes. “it’s not that deep.” but then, in a move that makes you freeze, he pulls a neon highlighter out of his pocket and tosses it to you. “use that,” he grunts, like he just handed you a scrap of paper, not an intimate act of love.

you blink at the highlighter, then at him, like he just gifted you the moon. “did you just—where did you even get this?”

“don’t ask questions,” he snaps, already looking like he regrets the decision. (he definitely stole it from someone’s pouch months ago.) but you’re staring at him with so much adoration it’s almost embarrassing.

“this is... this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me.”

sukuna freezes. “you’re joking.”

“i’m not joking.”

he looks like he’s questioning every life choice that brought him here, but before he can respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from toji zenin. the message is cryptic and infuriatingly vague: “grounds. now.”

sukuna sighs loudly, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “gotta go,” he mutters. he leans down and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before bolting out the door, and you both freeze for half a second, equally flustered. “uh—bye!” you call after him as he practically sprints out of the classroom, the beads on his bracelet jingling against his wrist.

by the time sukuna reaches the school grounds, he’s already mentally prepared for a fight. he’s even got his tough guy face on—jaw clenched, shoulders squared, the works.

but when he spots toji zenin and shiu kong standing by the bleachers, something feels off. toji isn’t cracking his knuckles or smirking like usual. instead, he’s pacing, running a hand through his hair like he’s stressed.

sukuna narrows his eyes. “what the hell is this? if this is another one of your stupid pranks, i’m decking you both.”

“relax,” toji says, holding up his hands. “i’m not here to fight.”

“yet,” shiu mutters, earning a glare from toji. sukuna crosses his arms. “then what do you want?”

toji looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is listening. then, in a voice so low sukuna almost doesn’t hear it, he says, “i need your help.”

sukuna blinks. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“no, i definitely didn’t. because it sounded like you said you need my help.”

“i did.” toji looks like admitting it physically hurts him. “look, it’s about fushiguro.”

sukuna raises an eyebrow. “who?”

“you know, my... my...” he gestures vaguely. “crush.”

sukuna stares at him. “you dragged me out here to talk about your love life?”

toji groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “listen, it’s not that simple. i need your help to... to bully her.”

“...what?”

“bully her,” toji repeats, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “you know, make her life miserable so i can swoop in and save the day. it’s foolproof!” sukuna stares at him for a long moment, trying to process the sheer idiocy of what he just heard.

“you want me to bully your crush so you can play knight in shining armor?”

“exactly.”

“you’re an idiot.”

“c’mon, sukuna,” toji pleads. “you’re good at the whole intimidation thing! you don’t even have to go hard, just—”

“no.”

“but—”

“no.”

shiu snickers from the sidelines. “told you he wouldn’t do it.” toji glares at him, then turns back to sukuna. “fine. then give me advice or something! how am i supposed to ask her to prom?”

“i don’t know, maybe try not bullying her?”

“wow, thanks for the groundbreaking advice,” toji says, deadpan. sukuna rolls his eyes. “look, just—give her something she likes. flowers, chocolates, whatever. don’t overthink it.”

“flowers? chocolates? what is this, a rom-com?” toji scoffs.

“then figure it out yourself,” sukuna snaps, already turning to leave. “i’ve got better things to do.”

“like what?”

“none of your business.” sukuna snaps, already regretting every second of this interaction.

this is the point where toji is wailing, absolutely wailing, and it’s honestly one of the worst things sukuna’s had to witness, and he once saw yuuji eat spaghetti with his hands.

“you don’t get it, sukuna!” toji cries, pacing back and forth. “if i don’t get fushiguro—mamaguro, the love of my life—i’ll look like a fool for calling myself toji fushiguro all year! do you know how many people think we’re already married? do you understand the pressure?”

“no,” sukuna deadpans, crossing his arms. “because i’m not insane.”

“this is a matter of marriage or death,” toji insists, dramatic as ever. “marriage! or! death!”

shiu, leaning against the bleachers, snickers. “it’s more like marriage or public humiliation, but yeah, sure, toji. go off.”

“shut up, shiu!” toji snaps. then, in the most embarrassing move yet, he turns back to sukuna, clutching his arm like he’s begging a god for salvation. “please, sukuna. please. i’ll do anything!”

sukuna yanks his arm back with a grimace. “don’t touch me.”

“i’ll pay you,” toji adds, desperate now. “how much do you want?” shiu, ever the opportunist, pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket. “i’ll double whatever you’re thinking.”

sukuna glares at him, then at the money, then back at toji, who’s practically vibrating with nerves. the sheer audacity of these people.

“what do you two think i am?” sukuna growls, stepping closer. “someone you can just buy?”

toji and shiu exchange a look.

“yes,” they say in unison.

“you’re not wrong,” sukuna mutters, snatching the cash out of shiu’s hand.

and that’s how sukuna finds himself storming into the art room, where fushiguro—lovingly dubbed mamaguro by the school fraternity, who is also the unknowing subject of toji’s unhinged obsession—is peacefully painting a landscape.

“yo,” sukuna calls, making sure his voice sounds just gruff enough to make an impression. mamaguro looks up, confused but polite as ever. “oh, sukuna. what brings you here?”

“uh…” sukuna falters for half a second. then, remembering the script toji forced on him, he clears his throat. “your art sucks.”

mamaguro blinks at him. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” sukuna says, louder this time. “these clouds? they look like—like… mashed potatoes!”

“mashed potatoes?” she repeats, her tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

“yeah! and this—this tree? it’s—it’s… ugly!”

he’s running out of insults fast, but thankfully, he doesn’t have to keep going because, right on cue, toji bursts into the room like a man possessed.

“stop right there, sukuna!” toji yells, pointing dramatically.

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard he nearly pulls something.

“how dare you insult her art?” toji continues, marching forward. “you know nothing of the beauty and grace she pours into every stroke of her brush! apologize to her, right now!”

sukuna glances at mamaguro, who’s now staring at toji like he’s grown a second head.

“um…” she starts, clearly confused.

“and not only that,” toji adds, dropping to one knee, “i, toji fushig– i mean, zenin, would be honored if you would accompany me to prom!”

the silence that follows is deafening.

“…what?” mamaguro says, her voice a mix of shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“say yes, please,” toji begs, still on his knee.

sukuna takes this as his cue to leave before his brain cells start dying en masse. as he walks out, he hears a mixture of toji’s frantic pleading, mamaguro’s incredulous laughter, and shiu’s obnoxious whooping from the hallway. “cringe,” sukuna mutters to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. on the way out, he snatches the rest of the wad of cash from shiu’s hand. the guy doesn’t even protest; he’s too busy recording the whole disaster on his phone.

normally, sukuna would use this cash for something like a new vape or a pack of cigarettes. but now? now he’s a man with a mission. he’s going to use this money for your promposal.

assuming he can think of something. preferably something that doesn’t involve dollar bill bouquets or public humiliation.

as sukuna storms off the art room steps, he’s already thinking of how he could possibly top the circus act he just witnessed. whatever he comes up with has to be cool, low-key, and—most importantly—not the type of thing that makes people point and say, "look at ryomen sukuna doing that." because if there’s one thing sukuna won’t tolerate, it’s losing to toji zenin in a battle of charm.

he stuffs the cash into his pocket, muttering to himself, “this better be worth it.” and by "this," he means putting up with high school drama, helping idiots like toji, and figuring out the best way to ask you to prom without looking like a total sap.

little does he know, shiu is already uploading the footage of toji’s “promposal” disaster onto his burner account with the caption: “zenin family downfall: live footage.”

and in the back of his mind, sukuna knows one thing for sure—he needs to act fast. whatever he does has to blow everyone away, especially you.

—

sukuna leans against the wall outside the school gates, trying to look as nonchalant as humanly possible despite the fact that his brain is doing cartwheels. his day’s been an absolute dumpster fire—between toji’s soap opera, shiu’s cryptic smirks, and some freshman mistaking him for a guidance counselor (how? how does that even happen?), he’s just about had it. and then, like the climax of one of those rom-coms you force him to watch, you step out of the school building. sukuna swears he hears a choir of angels, some harp strings, and maybe even sees a glowing halo over your head.

but of course, he’s ryomen sukuna, and he’s supposed to be the "bad boy." so instead of saying something poetic like, “you’re the light of my life,” he settles on:

“what the hell took you so long?”

your indignant pout hits him like a sucker punch, and he immediately regrets his choice of words. “excuse me, mister,” you huff, hands on your hips. “i was finishing my community service hours.”

“community service?” sukuna raises a brow. “what’d you do this time? steal a library book? jaywalk?”

you roll your eyes. “not everyone’s a delinquent like you, ‘kuna. i was helping clean up the school garden.”

“right. of course you were.” sukuna mutters, trying to ignore the sharp contrast between the two of you. while you’re out here being a model student with a résumé the size of a textbook, sukuna’s résumé might as well just say “can punch really hard.”

you don’t notice his inner turmoil as you launch into your usual spiel about your packed schedule. “so after that, i had drama club practice, then i’m helping with the fundraiser for the library, and then i have to—”

sukuna zones out for a second, overwhelmed by the sheer productivity radiating off of you. jesus, she’s a walking linkedin profile, he thinks, mentally comparing your extracurriculars to his…well, lack thereof. unless fistfights, bad decisions, and looking hot in leather count as extracurriculars.

“—and next week i’m presenting at the school board meeting!” you finish, beaming.

“you know, some of us don’t have time to kiss ass,” sukuna mutters under his breath, though there’s no malice in it.

“what was that?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, reaching out to grab your hand before he can think too much about it. he gives it a small squeeze, hoping it’ll shut up the voice in his head that’s been nagging him all day. you glance down at your intertwined hands, your expression softening. “you okay?”

“yeah, fine,” sukuna lies, looking away so you don’t catch the slight pink tint creeping up his ears. you let it slide, leaning closer as you walk beside him. “you know, you don’t have to wait for me every day.”

“and let some idiot try to ask you out while i’m not around? yeah, right.”

you laugh, and sukuna feels his chest loosen a little.

“you’re silly,” you say, swinging his hand a little as you walk.

“and you’re too good for me,” sukuna blurts out before he can stop himself.

you stop in your tracks, blinking up at him. “what?”

“uh—nothing,” he says quickly, his brain screaming at him to shut up. but you don’t let it go. you tighten your grip on his hand and give him a look so sincere it nearly floors him. “sukuna, i like you for you, okay? not for some résumé or checklist or whatever you’re overthinking right now.”

“who says i’m overthinking?”

“your face.”

sukuna scoffs, trying to mask the relief that washes over him. “yeah, well. you’re lucky i like you too.”

you grin, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and sukuna swears he hears those angel singing again. maybe you really are untouchable, he thinks. but then again, you’re holding his hand, choosing him out of everyone else. and maybe that’s what true love is—messy, imperfect, and way too good to be true.

—

sukuna stumbles into his room after the long, exhausting day. his feet drag on the floor as he sheds his jacket, but leaves his shoes on—he's too tired to even care about a single thing right now. his bed looks like a warzone, clothes scattered across the floor in what can only be described as a "i’m a badass" fashion, but anyone who’s seen it knows it’s just laziness masked as chaos.

one of his dumbass bandanas is hanging off the lamp, and his hello kitty nightlight still glows faintly by his desk, casting a strange aura around the room. a vape lies carelessly tossed beside his pillow, some loose change, and a stack of junk food wrappers. he’d never admit it, but there’s a half-open box of chocolate chip cookies on his nightstand because, surprise surprise, he bought it for you earlier but kept it for himself when you weren’t looking.

ryomen sukuna, ladies and gentlemen.

plopping down onto his bed, he lazily scrolls through his phone before flopping down, leaving the screen bright enough to nearly fry his eyes. as if the day wasn’t already overwhelming enough, now he’s doing something even dumber. he opens discord.

and without thinking twice, sends a message to uraume, the e-friend he’s been talking to for months, mostly while they’ve been playing apex legends. he had no clue how this strange friendship even started, but honestly? uraume was sarcastic, annoying in a way that made him laugh, and didn’t take his “bad boy” persona too seriously.

he leans back, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, holding the vape in his mouth while scrolling mindlessly through tiktok videos, making mental notes about the stuff you liked—stuff like cheesy couple memes, random boyfriend-girlfriend skits, and, of course, the tiktok videos of couples doing those “promposals.” sighing dramatically, he sends the message to uraume.

kingofcursezz: yo kingofcursezz: how the hell do you ask someone to prom without making it cringey kingofcursezz: help me out bro kingofcursezz: i'm trying to avoid looking like an idiot

he exhales a puff of smoke, irritated with himself for even reaching out to uraume about this. this is beneath him. but the thought of you—and how you’re so sweet, how you deserve the best….

yeah... he can’t screw this up. not now, not after all the effort.

his phone pings with a reply, and sukuna, having put it off for a second, glances down at the screen:

starume666: LOL starume666: are you seriously asking me this?

kingofcursezz: if you don’t help istg i’ll show up with a bucket of chicken and a bouquet of dollar bills. that’s my backup plan so you better give me something good.

he pauses to let out a tired, humorless laugh as he wipes his face. god, he’s not gonna survive this.

starume666: lmaooooo starume666: dude you’re way too hard on yourself starume666: just do smth simple but meaningful starume666: what’s the thing you know will make her smile?

kingofcursezz: uhhhhhhh kingofcursezz: how about not being a weirdo who doesn’t know what the fuck a promposal is? kingofcursezz: i’ll be the guy in the background who just buys her flowers and does the bare minimum like some jock that’s been forced into this tradition 💀💀💀💀

starume666: yeah but you’re not a jock bro starume666: you’re a bad boy 😹 so act like it starume666: maybe do something unexpected n go off-script.

kingofcursezz: i mean ig she’ll like it if i show up in a full suit kingofcursezz: but i don’t have a tux so kingofcursezz: 💀

starume666: i swear if you don’t do this right i’m flying to your school and putting a bucket of kfc on your doorstep starume666: figure out what she likes and then do that. just be honest dude.

kingofcursezz: okok fine kingofcursezz: i’ll show up and do smth kingofcursezz: if you could stop texting me like my mom, that’d be great.

starume666: [reacted 😹 to your message]

sukuna rolls his eyes as the conversation ends, staring at his phone for a long while. he can’t help but think about you and the fact that he might actually care enough to make this promposal thing work. he shakes his head and grins at the absurdity of it all. for you, though? he’ll do anything. even if it means figuring out how to pull off the world’s least embarrassing promposal.

with that, he flicks his vape one last time, sits up, and starts brainstorming—maybe a simple bouquet? or, wait—does she even like roses? the inner turmoil continues, but one thing's for sure: he’s committed to this, for you.

chapter three: flowers are expensive, but regret is worse

sukuna’s day is just one monotonous loop of chaos, like some cruelly predictable high school sitcom. the cycle starts as usual: he drags yuuji, still wailing about his half-finished power rangers episode, onto the bus. the kid still begs for face tattoos, and sukuna swears he’s about to lose his mind if yuuji brings it up again. after that, he waits for you by the school gates like some lovesick loser who’s too proud to admit it, walks you to class, and then spends the rest of his day dodging every cheesy, cringe-worthy promposal happening at every corner.

but today? today, he’s got a mission. because apparently, the hellscape of high school doesn’t just end at promposals. no, the school administration has to rub salt in the wound by charging $20 per ticket for prom.

$20. per person.

“are they funding a space program or what?” sukuna mutters under his breath as he trudges toward the admin desk, a wad of cash in hand. the admin, of course, isn’t at the desk. instead, gojo satoru is standing there, grinning ear to ear, holding a stack of offensively pink prom tickets. sukuna stops dead in his tracks.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” sukuna grumbles, glaring at gojo. “good morning to you too, sunshine!” gojo chirps, twirling the tickets between his fingers like he’s actually enjoying this. “what are you doing here?” sukuna asks, shoving the cash across the desk with zero ceremony.

“volunteering,” gojo says, batting his lashes as if he’s some kind of saint. “community service, you know? unlike you, i’m giving back to the school.”

“you mean they forced you here after you nearly set the chem lab on fire last month,” sukuna deadpans. gojo gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “how dare you? those were experiments! i’m a man of science, sukuna.”

“you’re a man of stupidity,” sukuna snaps, snatching the two tickets from gojo’s hand before he can start twirling them again. the pink nearly burns his eyes.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” gojo says, leaning over the desk like some smug cat. “you excited for prom? oh wait, let me guess. you’re one of those guys who’s too cool for prom, huh? you’re just going for your girlfriend’s sake, aren’t you? how adorable.”

sukuna grits his teeth, refusing to give gojo the satisfaction of a response. instead, he grabs the clipboard to sign his name and yours, hastily scrawling the details. “oh, and while you’re at it,” gojo continues, leaning further into sukuna’s personal space, “you should totally sign up for prom king. i mean, look at you. tattoos, brooding face, bad-boy aura. the people would eat it up.”

sukuna freezes, pen hovering over the clipboard. “prom king? really?”

“absolutely!” gojo beams. “and hey, if you win, you’ll get to dance with your queen on stage in front of the whole school. talk about a moment, right?” sukuna scoffs but signs his name anyway. not because of gojo, of course. but because there’s no way in hell he’s letting some random idiot stand next to you on stage as prom king.

gojo squints at the clipboard, noticing sukuna’s addition. “wait, you’re actually signing up? no way! oh my god, this is going to be epic. i can already see the headlines: ‘bad boy turned prom king—how sukuna stole the crown.’”

“shut up, gojo,” sukuna growls, shoving the clipboard back across the desk. “you got it, your majesty,” gojo smirks, giving a mock bow.

sukuna storms off, tickets in hand, muttering to himself about how much he hates this school. but deep down, he’s already imagining you as prom queen, standing beside him, both of you looking annoyingly perfect.

sukuna’s first instinct when he spots you walking toward him is to shove the glaringly pink prom tickets into his mouth and chew. problem solved. except, knowing his luck, you’d catch him mid-act, choke on the damn thing, and die right there in the middle of the hallway like some bad joke.

so, instead, he opts for plan b: stuffing the tickets into his shirt. brilliant. considering you’re shorter than him and can’t reach his chest, it’s practically foolproof. he adjusts the tickets awkwardly under his jersey, patting them down like some suspicious drug mule as you get closer. totally suave. totally inconspicuous.

“hey!” you chirp, completely oblivious to his internal crisis.“yo,” he grunts back, hands jammed into his pockets like they’ve been superglued there.

you squint at him. “...you okay? you’re standing like you’re hiding a bomb or something.”

“nah, i’m good,” sukuna says quickly, shifting his weight like he suddenly forgot “how to human.”

you tilt your head, but thankfully don’t push it. instead, you start talking about your day—something about a community service meeting and a teacher who forgot their own syllabus—and sukuna does his best to nod and grunt in all the right places. but his mind? it’s running a marathon.

how the hell is he supposed to propose?

the obvious answer is to just...hand you the tickets. easy, straightforward, zero theatrics. you’d say yes, because of course you would—it’s not like you’ve been subtle about dropping hints that you wanted him to ask you. but then he remembers the look on your face every time you watch one of those elaborate promposal videos on tiktok. the way your eyes light up, how you gush about the effort people put in, how cute it is.

and that’s when it hits him like a brick to the face: this isn’t about proving a point to the rest of the school, or even about outdoing gojo’s obnoxious stunt with geto. it’s about you. about making you smile, giving you a moment you’d remember fondly for years. he’s gotta do it right. for you.

but how?

his brain is a war zone of terrible ideas:

buy a giant teddy bear and make it hold the tickets? nah, too cutesy.

write a message in the sky? too broke.

pretend to lose the tickets and ‘find’ them in front of you? too stupid.

he realizes, with a sinking feeling, that this is why he’s been spiraling. because this whole relationship thing? it’s uncharted territory for him. you’re his first relationship, his first everything, and the last thing he wants to do is screw it up.

goddamn it.

you’re still talking when he zones back in, noticing the way you’re looking up at him expectantly. “...so? what do you think?”

“uh,” he says, blinking. “yeah. sounds good.”

“sukuna, i just asked if i should shave my head for charity,” you deadpan.

he stares at you, caught red-handed. “...no?”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and he feels something in his chest unclench. for now, at least. he’s got until the end of the week to figure this out. totally doable. right?

wrong.

sukuna slumps onto the gym floor after basketball practice, sweat dripping off him like he’s just crawled out of a swamp. he grabs a water bottle, downs half of it, and tosses it aside like he’s starring in a gatorade commercial, all while muttering to himself, “this is a nightmare. i’m surrounded by idiots.”

“what’s the crisis this time, king sukuna?” naoya zenin drawls, leaning against the wall and doing absolutely nothing productive. the guy wouldn’t even break a sweat if his life depended on it, yet somehow he’s always the loudest voice in the room. “none of your business, zenin,” sukuna snaps, trying to ignore the fact that he even brought this up.

“aw, come on,” naoya smirks. “let me guess. girlfriend troubles? did she finally realize you’re all bark and no bite?”

sukuna shoots him a glare that could probably set someone on fire. “i’m trying to plan a prom-posal, dumbass.”

“oh, that’s why you look constipated,” toji pipes up from where he’s sprawled on the bleachers, looking like he’s auditioning for a mattress commercial. “need me to step in? i can bully her a little for you. worked like a charm with my mamaguro.”

“toji, shut the hell up before i make you swallow that smug look,” sukuna growls, though toji just chuckles, completely unfazed. “don’t listen to him,” nanami says, peeling off his sweatbands like he’s had it with everyone’s nonsense. “if you want a genuine suggestion, vogue says simplicity is key. a heartfelt speech, some flowers—”

“you’re reading vogue now?” geto interjects, raising an eyebrow.

“it was for a research paper,” nanami replies, deadpan. “and no, i will not elaborate.”

“you’re all useless,” sukuna groans, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. he turns to geto, the only one who hasn’t actively annoyed him yet. “what about you? you’re practically married to gojo at this point. what worked for you?” geto groans like he’s been asked to relive a traumatic experience.

“please, don’t remind me. the guy brought kfc and roses made of dollar bills. do you know how many times i’ve had to explain to people that i didn’t say yes because of the chicken?”

“but you still said yes,” toji points out, grinning like the devil himself.

“because he threatened to throw himself into traffic if i didn’t!” geto snaps, throwing his towel at toji’s face. “what was i supposed to do, let him die in front of the school?”

“yes,” sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a snort from nanami.

“look, you’ve got this,” nanami says, attempting to be the voice of reason. “just think about what she’d like. something meaningful. and maybe, just maybe, don’t get advice from this crowd.”

“i hate all of you,” sukuna announces, standing up and grabbing his bag. “but especially you, toji. never speak to me again.”

“love you too, bro,” toji calls out as sukuna stomps out of the gym, muttering curses under his breath. he’s no closer to a plan, but at least he’s 100% sure of one thing—he’s never asking these idiots for help again.

—

sukuna drags himself into the house, tossing his bag onto the floor like it’s personally offended him. the sound echoes through the living room, but yuuji doesn’t even flinch. the kid’s sprawled out on the couch, a juice box in one hand and the tv remote in the other, utterly engrossed in mean girls. “the hell are you watching?” sukuna asks, toeing off his shoes.

“mean girls,” yuuji replies, eyes glued to the screen. “it’s ‘bout some mean girls, duh.”

“you’re seven, yuuji. why are you watching a movie about high school drama?”

“’cause i gotta get ready for high school. duh again.”

sukuna rolls his eyes but stops when he catches the prom scene on the screen. his brows furrow as he watches. could this help? nope. just people dancing and some heartfelt speech about how everyone’s a queen or whatever. useless. he groans and flops onto the armchair, rubbing his temples. out of pure desperation—and because his brain’s running on fumes—he asks, “hey, yuuji, how would you ask someone to prom?”

yuuji pauses the movie and turns to him with the seriousness of a kid about to give the most groundbreaking advice in the universe. “easy! dress like their favorite power ranger.”

“what.”

“and then you go, ‘will you go to prom with me? hiya!’” yuuji does a karate chop for emphasis, nearly spilling his juice. “and if they say no… boom! mass destruckshin.”

“mass what?”

“mass destruckshin!” yuuji repeats, puffing his chest like he’s just dropped the most foolproof plan of the century. “you gotta show them you mean business!” sukuna stares at his brother, wondering if it’s possible to feel both amused and like his life is spiraling out of control at the same time.

“yeah, no. thanks for nothing, yuuji.”

“you’re welcome!” yuuji chirps, unpausing the movie. “don’t forget to do the hiya part!”

sukuna groans and leans back in the chair. he’s not about to karate chop his way into a promposal. that’s a one-way ticket to you dumping him on the spot. his mom would’ve been a better bet, but she’s probably halfway through her night shift by now—and even if she were here, she’d skip prom entirely and go straight to planning your wedding. he shudders at the thought. not because he doesn’t like the idea of marrying you—hell, the thought of you in a white dress has his brain short-circuiting—but because his mom would absolutely order a three-tier cake before you’d even said yes to a prom date. “get a grip, sukuna,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. prom first, wedding later. priorities.

yuuji, oblivious to his brother’s existential crisis, pipes up again. “hey, ‘kuna, if she says no, can i have your power ranger costume?”

“i’m not wearing a damn power ranger costume!” sukuna snaps, chucking a throw pillow at yuuji, who ducks with a laugh.

“okay, okay! fiinnnneee. but if you mess up, can i have your juice money?” sukuna glares at him. “shut up, yuuji.”

“love you too!” yuuji sing-songs, turning back to mean girls like nothing happened. and sukuna? he’s mentally preparing himself for what feels like the most important mission of his entire high school life.

—

sukuna woke up with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath. it was the weekend—not the artist, fortunately, but the actual day—and the irony of hearing the weeknd's "reminder" on loop in his brain from all those tiktok promposals wasn’t lost on him. tiktok really had a way of making everything worse, didn’t it? he groaned, rubbing his face as he sat up in bed, his hair a complete mess and his shirt wrinkled from falling asleep in it.

“alright, flowers,” he muttered, standing and grabbing a hoodie off the floor. it was one of those old, oversized ones with some random logo he’d stolen from his cousin choso. paired with his basketball shorts and beat-up sneakers, sukuna looked like he was ready to run errands or rob a gas station—either worked.

the neighborhood was its usual weekend self—kids playing, dogs barking, and aunties gossiping by gates like it was their full-time job. sukuna stuck out like a sore thumb as he wandered from florist to florist, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, trying not to look like he was about to hold the place up.

his first stop was a quaint little flower shop with pastel walls and a ridiculously cheery name: bloom haven. sukuna stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the overpowering scent of roses and lilies. “good morning!” the florist, a middle-aged woman with a bright smile and an apron covered in flower prints, greeted him. “how can i help you today?”

“uhhh… bouquet?” sukuna said, voice low like he was ashamed to be seen in public buying flowers.

“wonderful! who’s the lucky someone?” she asked, practically sparkling with excitement. “just… someone,” he grumbled, glancing at a bucket of roses. “how much for these?”

“oh, roses are $5 per stem!” she chirped.

sukuna’s brain screeched to a halt. “five bucks? for one flower?”

“they’re premium quality!” she said, as if that justified daylight robbery.

“yeah, premium my ass,” he muttered under his breath, leaving the shop before she could try to sell him anything else.

the next place wasn’t much better. a hipster-owned flower truck parked near a cafe, blasting indie music and decorated with fairy lights. the owner had a man bun and greeted him with, “peace and petals, brother.”

sukuna hated him immediately.

“you got bouquets?” sukuna asked flatly.

“absolutely, bro. we handcraft our arrangements using sustainably sourced—”

“how much?” sukuna interrupted.

“oh, a bouquet starts at $45,” the guy said, like that wasn’t insane.

“forty-five?” sukuna’s voice cracked. “for flowers?”

“yeah, but they come with vibes,” man bun said, gesturing to the arrangements like they were ancient artifacts. sukuna turned on his heel and walked away, muttering, “i’ll give you vibes, idiot.”

by the time he’d hit his fourth florist, his mood was sourer than expired milk. flowers were so stupidly expensive. why did people even like them? they just died after a week. he considered the idea of pulling a tree out of the ground—free, big, dramatic. totally memorable. but then he imagined you looking at him like he’d lost his mind and immediately scrapped the plan.

“what are you even doing, sukuna?” he mumbled to himself, stopping on a street corner to rub his temples. the hoodie wasn’t doing much to hide him from people who were now giving him concerned looks as he stood there, muttering like a lunatic. eventually, he caved and called the only person who might understand his suffering: geto.

“yo,” geto answered, his voice muffled. “what’s up?”

“how the hell do people afford flowers?” sukuna barked into the phone.

“uh, normal people have jobs?” geto replied.

“i have a job,” sukuna snapped. “it’s called surviving high school and taking care of yuuji. do you know how much that little monster eats?”

“okay, calm down,” geto said, laughing. “why are you even buying flowers? is this for her?”

“obviously,” sukuna muttered, lowering his voice like the trees might overhear. “just go to the supermarket,” geto said. “grab some from there. they’re cheaper.”

“supermarket flowers?” sukuna sneered.

“they’re not bad,” geto said. “it’s the thought that counts, right? plus, you’re gonna make up for it with the rest of the promposal, right?”

“...yeah,” sukuna lied, glancing at his empty hands and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. “good luck,” geto said, clearly trying not to laugh.

“shut up,” sukuna muttered, hanging up and sighing. supermarket it was, then. hopefully, you wouldn’t mind flowers that came with a discount sticker.

on his way to the supermarket, sukuna didn’t plan to get distracted. but there it was—a tuxedo shop with mannequins that practically mocked him, standing tall in their fitted suits. he told himself he’d just peek. just a look. but somehow, sukuna was inside, staring at a rack of tuxedos, his hoodie feeling embarrassingly out of place in the crisp, polished environment. he ran a hand through his hair, eyes landing on a sleek black tuxedo with satin lapels. it was classic, clean, and exactly the kind of thing you’d probably love seeing him in. just try it on. what’s the worst that could happen?

five minutes later, sukuna was glaring at his reflection in the mirror, fumbling with a tie that refused to cooperate. “stupid, overcomplicated—” he grunted, yanking at it so hard he nearly choked himself.

“you’re gonna kill yourself before prom, kid.”

sukuna turned to see a short, older man with a grumpy face and an air of authority that reminded him of a drill sergeant. the man—wasuke, according to his name tag—walked over and snatched the tie out of sukuna’s hands.

“stand still,” wasuke barked.

“i’m not a kid,” sukuna muttered, but he stood still anyway, letting wasuke adjust the tie with the precision of a man who had probably done this a thousand times. “you’re fidgety. just like i was before my prom,” wasuke said, his gruff tone softening slightly. “you nervous about asking someone?”

“...something like that,” sukuna admitted. wasuke grunted, finishing the tie and stepping back. “i was nervous too. didn’t think she’d say yes. but she did.”

“yeah? how’d you ask her?” sukuna asked, genuinely curious despite himself.

“showed up at her house with a dozen carnations, a guitar, and no plan,” wasuke said, chuckling. “played the worst version of wonderwall you’ve ever heard. still don’t know why she said yes, but she did. forty years later, she’s still here.”

sukuna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. for a moment, he imagined himself and you forty years from now. he hated how much he liked the thought. “cool story, old man,” sukuna said, brushing it off.

“you’ll figure it out,” wasuke said, patting him on the shoulder. “just don’t overthink it. and maybe don’t strangle yourself with the tie.”

with that, wasuke waddled off, leaving sukuna to face the mirror again. the tux fit perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering at the waist. the black-on-black look was sharp, especially with the skinny tie wasuke had wrestled into place. he looked...good.

too good, apparently, because he did the dumbest thing imaginable: he pulled out his phone and snapped a mirror selfie. “what am i even doing?” he muttered, staring at the photo. it was too late to stop himself, though—his thumb hit send before his brain could catch up.

the text went to you.

you.

“shit,” sukuna hissed, panic gripping him as he watched the message deliver. seconds later, your name flashed on his screen. video call. “hey!” your voice came through immediately, bright and excited. “are you trying on a tux? lemme see!” sukuna groaned, holding the phone at arm’s length so you could see the tux. “don’t freak out,” he muttered.

“oh my god, you look so good!” you squealed, and sukuna swore he felt his soul leave his body. “is this for prom? are you finally gonna ask me?”

his heart slammed against his ribs. “uh, no,” he said quickly. too quickly.

and then, like the coward he was, he hit end call.

he stared at his reflection, his ears burning. “god damn it,” he muttered, yanking the tie loose. wasuke’s voice echoed in his head: you’ll figure it out. “yeah, right,” sukuna muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket and heading for the fitting room. he wasn’t sure what was worse—your reaction, or his. probably his. definitely his.

—

a hello kitty phone charm dangled from your phone, clinking softly every time you tossed it onto the bed after furiously texting sukuna. you giggled like a maniac, clutching your phone with both hands as his unread replies piled up.

you: omg you’re SO HANDSOME, why didn’t you tell me sooner???!!! you: can’t believe you look THAT good, excuse me while i pass away you: also if you’re dressing like that for prom, consider me yours all over again </33

your fingers flew across the keyboard, unable to stop yourself. there was just something about seeing him all polished up that had you swooning, even if he couldn’t see your reaction. sukuna being flustered? rare. sukuna being flustered and looking that fine? a national treasure.

your room was the perfect mix of chaos and comfort, a little shrine to your personality. fairy lights twinkled around the edges of your room, casting a soft glow over the colorful mess that was your bed—a heap of throw pillows and the softest blanket you refused to part with since middle school. your laptop sat open in front of you, the screen glowing with pinterest boards full of prom dress inspo: sleek satin silhouettes, dreamy tulle gowns, and even some edgy alternatives, because why not keep your options open? stickers covered your laptop’s lid—mostly cute animals, a few doodles of your favorite characters, and a sneaky, ironic skull-and-rose design that reminded you of sukuna.

your room smelled faintly of vanilla candles, the remnants of last night’s study session still lingering in the air. posters of your favorite bands and a few anime characters covered the walls, some slightly crooked but perfectly placed in your eyes. your vanity table overflowed with skincare, hair clips, and makeup products, while a laundry basket overflowed in the corner—a battle you’d deal with later.

you rolled onto your back, phone still clutched in your hand as you refreshed sukuna’s chat. no reply yet. that was fine. you grinned, imagining him struggling to come up with something cool to say.

you: don’t tell me you’re too busy being HOT to reply now 🙂‍↕️😹 you: also hi ily bye 🤭

closing your chat for a moment, you leaned back against your pillows and stared at your laptop screen. prom dress inspo was serious business, and as much as you wanted to keep teasing sukuna, you couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling in your chest. prom was coming, and with a boyfriend like sukuna, it was going to be perfect—even if he was probably sweating bullets over the whole promposal thing. let him sweat a little longer, you thought with a giggle, clicking on yet another gown that made your heart skip a beat.

chapter four: gossip girls and a guy who can’t communicate

the bathroom was dimly lit, the flickering bulb above one of the stalls doing nothing to make you feel any better. you hadn’t even been planning on overhearing the conversation when you snuck into the last stall, phone in hand, planning to scroll mindlessly through pinterest to distract yourself during the break. but then their voices carried in, sharp and intentional, like knives aimed straight for your heart.

"i mean, can you believe she hasn’t been asked yet?" yorozu’s saccharine tone dripped with malice, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. "like, it’s kind of embarrassing at this point. you’d think someone as clingy as her would’ve forced sukuna to do it by now."

mei mei let out a low laugh, the kind that made your stomach twist. "maybe he’s just not into her like that. i mean, bad boys don’t exactly do promposals, do they? unless it’s for someone worth the effort."

"exactly," yorozu snickered. "like, if he really cared, she’d have already been bragging about it all over instagram. but nope. maybe he’s keeping his options open? can’t blame him." their laughter cut through the air, and you pressed your hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. your chest felt tight, and for a moment, you thought you might actually cry. not here. not in front of them. not where they could hear.

from the sinks, shoko ieiri’s voice came sharp and cutting, a stark contrast to her usual laid-back drawl. "god, can you two shut up? it’s break, not your audition for mean girls 2."

"what’s your problem, ieiri?" yorozu snapped, but there was an edge to her voice—shoko wasn’t someone to mess with lightly.

"my problem is your ugly-ass voices ruining my smoke break," shoko replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke with practiced indifference. "if sukuna hasn’t asked her yet, it’s probably because he’s not a performative little attention whore like, oh, i don’t know, you two."

mei mei sniffed. "whatever. we’re just saying what everyone’s thinking."

"yeah, everyone," yorozu added, her voice dripping with mock concern. "but hey, maybe sukuna will surprise her. or not."

their laughter followed them out the door, and the sound of it made your stomach churn. the bathroom felt unbearably quiet once they were gone, the only noise the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. you stayed in the stall for a moment longer, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. their words circled in your head like vultures, each one pecking away at your confidence.

maybe he’s just not into you like that.

bad boys don’t exactly do promposals.

someone worth the effort.

your mind spun in spirals. was it true? sukuna had been acting distant lately—or was that just your imagination? he hadn’t replied to your texts about the tuxedo selfie, and now that you thought about it, what if it wasn’t meant for you? what if it was meant for someone else? maybe mei mei and yorozu were right. why would someone like sukuna—brooding, aloof, undeniably cool—want someone like you? you heard the stall door creak open, and shoko’s voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"hey. you okay in there?"

you hesitated before opening the door, forcing a tight smile. "yeah, i’m fine."

shoko frowned, her cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers. she looked at you for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before finally muttering, "those bitches don’t know what they’re talking about."

"it’s fine," you lied, brushing past her. your hands were trembling as you gripped the strap of your bag, and the lump in your throat made it hard to breathe. shoko didn’t stop you as you left, her awkward, apologetic smile lingering in your mind as you walked down the hall, head low, trying not to let the tears spill over.

is he really stringing you along?

does he even care?

two days until prom, and he hasn’t said a word.

the voices in your head were relentless, their whispers feeding your growing self-doubt. and for the first time in your relationship, you wondered if you’d been wrong about sukuna all along.

the day had dragged on forever, the weight of yorozu and mei mei's words pressing heavily on your shoulders. by the time school ended, you were so emotionally drained you couldn’t even think straight. but when sukuna pulled up on his bike, leaning casually against it with that stupidly handsome smirk of his, you plastered on your best smile, determined not to let him see how much you were spiraling. "hey, handsome," you chirped, sliding onto the back of his bike, your voice just a little too bright. "miss me?"

he glanced back at you as he handed you the helmet, brow furrowed slightly. "you good? you sound... weird."

"weird? no way!" you forced a laugh, strapping the helmet on. "just, you know, long day. classes were boring. people were annoying. the usual."

sukuna didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged it off, revving the engine as you wrapped your arms around his waist. the ride home was silent, save for the growl of the bike and the occasional honk of a car passing by. usually, you’d chatter about everything and nothing, filling the air with your stories, your laughter, your plans. today, though, the words felt stuck in your throat, your mind too tangled in thoughts of prom and sukuna and you. when he stopped in front of your place, you hopped off and handed him the helmet, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, "can i ask you something?" his eyes narrowed slightly, his usual nonchalance giving way to something more guarded. "what’s up?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "why haven’t you… you know… said anything about prom?" sukuna blinked, caught completely off guard. "huh? what d’ya mean?"

"i mean…" you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "it’s just… prom is in two days, and everyone else is, like, getting these cute proposals and stuff, and i thought maybe… maybe you’d—"

"oh, come on," he cut you off, his tone more defensive than he intended. "you know i’m not into all that cheesy shit. i’m not gojo or toji, running around making a scene." your heart sank at his words, and you tried to keep your voice steady. "it’s not about making a scene, sukuna. it’s about—"

"about what?" he snapped, rubbing the back of his neck. "you already know we’re going together, right? so what’s the big deal?" you stared at him, your chest tightening. "the big deal is… i just wanted to feel special, okay? like you care. but if that’s too much to ask, then—"

"you think i don’t care?" he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "you think i’m just stringin’ you along or some shit? what kinda dumbass idea is that?" the tears you’d been holding back all day threatened to spill over, and you quickly looked away. "forget it. i shouldn’t have said anything."

"no, seriously, where’s this coming from?" he pressed, his frustration clear. "you’ve been acting off all day, and now you’re throwing this at me?"

"you’re impossible," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking towards your door.

"wait, hold up—" he started, but you didn’t stop, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond. sukuna sat there on his bike, watching you walk away, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t know how to describe. he wanted to call after you, to explain that he was trying, that he wanted to give you something special, but the words just wouldn’t come out. instead, he clenched his fists, cursing himself under his breath.

as you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, tears streaming down your face. your thoughts were a chaotic mess. does he even care? am i being unreasonable? is this all in my head?

meanwhile, sukuna sat outside for a few moments longer, staring at your house with a sinking feeling in his stomach. he’d messed up, and he knew it. but how the hell was he supposed to fix it?

—

sukuna was lying on his bed, arms splayed out like he’d just been KO’d by life itself. staring at the ceiling, he let out a groan so deep it rattled his soul. it’s so over, he thought. this is it. the end. the fat lady’s singing. the curtain’s dropping. i’ve fumbled my way into boyfriend hell. his phone was propped up on his chest, the screen dimmed but still visible, waiting for the one thing that could bring him solace: a notification from you. no cute animal reel, no cheesy meme, no “omg this reminded me of you <3 :3” tag. nothing. nada. silence. sukuna stared at the unlit screen like it was actively mocking him.

so this is how it feels to die inside, he mused, scrolling aimlessly through tiktok, where every other post was either a cringy promposal or a “men ain’t shit” rant. great. he tossed his phone aside, facepalming hard enough to leave a red mark.

"bro, can you NOT," yuuji’s voice boomed through the thin wall, followed by the sound of something heavy slamming against it. "some of us are trying to get good sleep over here!" sukuna didn’t even flinch. "and some of us are trying to figure out why we’re the literal worst boyfriend on the planet, yuuji," he shouted back, voice muffled by his pillow.

there was a pause, and then yuuji called back, "sounds like a skill issue!"

yeah, thanks for the moral support, kid, sukuna thought bitterly, rolling onto his side and glaring at his phone like it held all the answers to his problems. should he text you? call you? grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness? nah, too much. probably. "but what if it’s not too much," he muttered to himself, his overthinking spiraling like a tiktok rabbit hole. he grabbed his phone and opened your chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard. he started typing:

sukuna: "hey."

no, too casual. she’s probably still mad. delete.

sukuna: "sorry for being a dick earlier."

ugh, too vague. she deserves better than this half-assed apology. delete.

sukuna: "pls don’t leave me i’m stupid and i love you."

god, get a grip. delete.

he groaned again, tossing his phone across the bed and burying his face in his hands. he was spiraling, and not in the cute “omg i like her so much” way, but in the “my life is a flaming dumpster fire” way. the worst part? he couldn’t even properly apologize yet because the grand promposal he’d been planning wasn’t ready. and if he apologized now, you’d probably forgive him, but it’d ruin the big moment he was hoping to surprise you with. but what if waiting too long means she never forgives me at all?

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling again. “why is being in love so goddamn hard? people on tiktok make it look so easy. just dance, propose, and boom, happy ending. where’s my happy ending?”

from the other room, yuuji shouted, "SHUT UP, ROMEO!"

"eat shit, yuuji!" sukuna barked back, even though the kid was right.

god, he needed to get his act together before you realized you could do way better than him. but for now, he just laid there, shriveling up and dying like the dramatic dumbass he was, waiting for a miracle.

—

your room was a disaster zone: laptop open on your bed, your playlist stuck on “prom dress” by mxmtoon like it was 2019, your phone precariously balanced on a pile of mismatched socks, and tissues littered around like you were auditioning for a sad indie movie. the death metal hello kitty pajamas—thrifted with sukuna—clung to you like a bittersweet hug, the fabric somehow feeling heavier tonight. you weren’t about to cry over a boy. but also… you might cry over a boy. the duality of woman. and because emotional self-destruction is best paired with a sprinkle of pettiness, you grabbed your phone, snapped a cute selfie in said pajamas, and slapped a caption on it: “cozy nights >>>> everything else 💕”

posting it was an impulsive decision, but it was also calculated. you knew the power of a cute, casual post. it wasn’t technically aimed at sukuna, but you also weren’t about to sit here and pretend you didn’t want him to see it, to notice you, to maybe—just maybe—grovel a little in your DMs. the likes and comments started flooding in immediately because your socials were basically the hub for school tea and wholesome vibes.

mamaguro: our little fashionista!!! thrift QUEEN 😍

god bless that woman. she deserved the world.

shoko: (attached gif of a woman dramatically fainting on a chaise lounge)

classic shoko.

maki: ugh, if i thrifted this, mai would burn it out of spite. cute though. thumbs up. mai: shut up maki. also, not bad. 8/10. maki: don’t rate her outfit like it’s your stupid games, nerd. mai: cry about it.

sibling banter in your comments? worth it.

and then, of course, there was:

naoya zenin: so glad someone else noticed how good you look in pj’s 😏

you rolled your eyes so hard you saw another dimension. of course he had to slither in. you didn’t even bother giving it a pity like.

you refreshed the page once, twice, twenty times. still no sign of sukuna. no like, no comment, no DM. you threw yourself back onto the bed, groaning into your pillow like a banshee. was it really that hard to double-tap? and then, the spiraling started.

what if he didn’t like it?

what if he thought it was cringe?

what if he saw it and scrolled past, thinking about how much of a baby you are for posting this in the first place?

or worse — what if he thought it was for someone else? like naoya?

ew.

you shook your head violently, trying to physically rattle the thoughts out. sukuna wasn’t that stupid. right? he had to know this was for him. but as the minutes ticked by, and the comments from your friends kept rolling in, the notification you wanted most stayed stubbornly absent.

boys are so stupid, you thought bitterly, scribbling “stupid sukuna and his stupid abs and his stupid everything” in your spiral-bound diary. it stayed locked away in your closet, expertly hidden in the event of an accidental snoop, because some things were too raw to share with the world. you hit play on “prom dress” for the 17th time that evening, feeling the lyrics a little too personally as you kept refreshing the post like a woman possessed. love, as it turns out, was truly exhausting.

—

sukuna had just slumped back in his chair, doom-scrolling tiktok and internally mourning the lack of a “girlfriend tagged you in a tiktok” notification, when your instagram post pinged onto his phone. for a solid five seconds, he froze. like a caveman discovering fire.

you looked ethereal. the death metal hello kitty pajamas, the soft glow of the fairy lights, the cozy chaos of your room in the background—sukuna didn’t even know how to process it. you looked like, uh, a… renaissance painting? yeah. except, sukuna was 98% sure he couldn’t spell renaissance if his life depended on it.

r-e-n-a…sauce? god, no.

whatever.

like an idiot, his thumb hovered over the comment section for too long, his brain scrambling for something cool but romantic but not cringe but also boyfriend-worthy. and then, because he was absolutely useless under pressure, he panicked and commented:

sukuna: 🔥🔥🔥

the second he hit send, he let out the longest groan known to mankind, slapping his hand over his face. what the hell, sukuna? he might as well have sent a dm saying, “wyd ;)” for how basic that was. wasn’t he your boyfriend? he was supposed to be above fire emojis!

meanwhile, across town, your phone buzzed, and when you saw the notification, your entire soul ascended for half a second before crashing back down. fire emojis? that’s what he gave you?

your reaction was visceral.

a gasp so loud it nearly knocked the fairy lights off your wall. your heart rate skyrocketed. every fiber of your being screamed, is this what my life has come to? my boyfriend thinks i’m fire-emoji-hot, not love-letter-hot? "oh my god, no," you muttered, pacing your room. this is it. the tiktoks didn’t work. i failed as a girlfriend. what’s next? marrying someone who comments ‘send bobs and vagene’ on my posts?

but before you could plan the ultimate self-roast in your diary, another notification came through. sukuna, clearly in full damage control mode, had added a second comment:

sukuna: my girl. 💪

you stopped mid-spiral, blinking at the screen. the simplicity of it. the possessive undertone. my girl. two words, and somehow your heart went from shriveled raisin to blooming flower.

back at sukuna’s place, he was staring at the new comment with narrowed eyes, second-guessing himself yet again. was that too much? was it cringey? what if she thinks it’s corny? what if she screenshots it and sends it to shoko, and they both roast me? what if—

and then, your like on his comment came through, followed by you pinning it under the post. sukuna let out a dramatic exhale, flopping back onto his bed. ah, love. exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and, somehow, totally worth it.

chapter five: when subtlety isn’t an option

dragging yourself onto campus that morning felt like a herculean effort. you were running on fumes and whatever scraps of serotonin sukuna’s ridiculously over-the-top goodnight message had left you. sure, it was sweet—ten whole lines about how he’d “reshape reality” for you or some nonsense—but was it an apology? was it a promposal? absolutely not. boys were a disease.

as soon as you stepped through the gates, gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice rang out, cutting through your existential crisis like a foghorn. “diva down!” he declared dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d personally betrayed him by showing up in less-than-perfect condition. before you could even muster a glare, geto’s hand shot out, smacking gojo square in the stomach. “read the room, satoru,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “ow!” gojo wheezed, doubling over. “i was just stating facts!”

you ignored their antics, trudging toward your locker, when the crackling intercom interrupted the usual morning chaos. nanami’s voice, as calm yet strained as ever, floated over the campus. “attention, students. all of you are required to assemble on the football field immediately. this is not a drill.” a murmur rippled through the halls. was it a fire drill? a surprise pep rally? something worse? you glanced around, half-hoping to see sukuna leaning against a wall with his usual “i don’t care about anything” face, but he was nowhere to be found.

“weird,” you muttered, joining the slow shuffle of students heading outside. on the field, clusters of confused teenagers were gathering under the bright morning sun. you scanned the crowd, squinting against the light. no sign of sukuna. where was that idiot? meanwhile, gojo and geto had caught up to you. “what do you think this is?” gojo asked, clearly already bored.

“hopefully not another motivational speaker,” geto muttered. “or a fire drill,” you added, your voice flat.

“whatever it is, it better be quick,” gojo whined. “my skincare routine does not involve standing in direct sunlight for this long.”

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the crowd. something about this felt off. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it had something to do with sukuna.

the murmurs in the crowd were growing louder, restless. one of the jocks inhaled, clearly gearing up to yell something stupid—probably “this is so lame” or some other brilliant insight—when the jumbotron sparked to life with a loud buzz. everyone froze, heads snapping toward the giant screen.

there he was.

sukuna.

in a tuxedo.

he looked… disheveled, to say the least. his tie was slightly crooked, and his bloodshot eyes gave him the appearance of someone who hadn’t slept in years. or maybe ever. but the way he leaned back in a chair, dressed like a mob boss with the confidence to match, had the crowd whispering excitedly.

“oh my god, is this for real?”

“is he—he’s wearing a tux! is this, like, a movie?”

“is he single?” one girl whispered, earning a sharp glare from her friend.

you? you were just standing there, slack-jawed, because what was he doing?

on screen, sukuna let out a deep sigh, his voice lower and rougher than usual, probably from the late hour. “hey,” he started, glancing off-camera like he wasn’t sure how to say this. “so, uh. this is for… my girl.”

your heart stuttered.

“listen,” he continued, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m the world’s worst boyfriend. like, bottom of the barrel. absolute trash. no one’s worse than me.”

“i mean, he’s not wrong,” gojo stage-whispered from behind you. geto smacked him again.

sukuna’s voice dropped even lower, making half the girls in the crowd swoon. “but i’m trying. and if i have to humiliate myself in front of the entire school to make it up to you, then so be it.”

your breath caught as the screen cut to black with a simple message: turn around.

you whipped around just in time to see sukuna—your sukuna—riding his motorbike onto the football field like he was in a damn action movie. the crowd gasped, screamed, and scattered as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the field, yuuji riding behind him, holding on for dear life. “this is better than coloring claaaasssss!” yuuji yelled, his little voice carrying across the field. in his tiny hands was a bouquet of… lego flowers? some of the pieces were dangerously close to falling off. behind them, sprinting full speed like his life depended on it, was choso, carrying an actual vintage boombox over his head. half the girls in the crowd were now screaming, but not for sukuna.

“who’s that?”

“he’s so hoott! does he go here?”

“you’re all so basic,” geto muttered under his breath.

as sukuna parked his bike, yuuji jumped off and ran toward you, yelling, “you hafta say yes! otherwise big bro will cause mass destrunkshun!”

sukuna groaned, glaring at his little brother. “yuuji, shut up!” but yuuji ignored him, shoving the lego flowers into your hands. “here! they never die, just like big bro’s love for you!”

the crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and cheers as sukuna finally got off his bike and walked toward you, his face red but determined. “listen,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “i know i’m an idiot, and i suck at this whole ‘romantic boyfriend’ thing. but i love you, and i want to take you to prom. so… will you be my date?”

you blinked, tears welling up as the boombox suddenly blared heart of glass by blondie. choso gave you a thumbs-up, still holding the boombox over his head like a champ. “say yes! say yes!” yuuji chanted, jumping up and down.

“oh my god, yes!” you finally shouted, throwing your arms around sukuna’s neck. the crowd roared, clapping and cheering as sukuna hugged you back, a relieved smile breaking across his face.

“finally,” gojo muttered. “that was so painful to watch.” but you didn’t care about the crowd, or the noise, or even yuuji yelling, “yay! no destrunkshun today!”

all you cared about was the way sukuna looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.

—

sukuna flopped dramatically onto your bed later that evening, still in his slightly wrinkled tuxedo from the ridiculous escapade earlier, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thump. “do you even understand what i went through to pull that off?” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “i might as well retire. i’m too old for this.” you snorted, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your gaze flicking to the lego flower bouquet proudly perched on your desk. “you’re eighteen, sukuna. relax.”

“eighteen with back pain,” he muttered, shifting to look at you. “and a vendetta against a certain flower set. do you know how many pieces are in that thing?”

“clearly, enough to drive you insane,” you teased, reaching over to nudge his shin. “so… tell me how it all went down. i need to know what mastermind put this together.”

he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow with an exaggerated sigh. “fine. but just know that i better get some kind of boyfriend-of-the-year award for this.”

“you’ll get a sticker. now spill.”

“okay, first of all,” he started, counting off on his fingers, “i had to beg nanami to bend the rules. i was like, ‘listen, dude, just one announcement. i swear i won’t get detention for the rest of the year.’”

“and he believed that?” you raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“well…” sukuna grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “i might’ve also thrown in a promise to help him clean the chem lab after school for a month. he was this close to saying no, though.” you laughed, imagining nanami’s face at sukuna’s desperate pleas. “sounds about right. and choso?”

“ah, choso,” sukuna said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like he was reciting a shakespearean monologue. “the real goat. he flew in from across the state—i’m talking dead of the night—to bring me that stupid lego flower set.”

“you made him travel for legos?” you gasped, barely holding back laughter.

“hey, it was symbolic!” he defended, pointing a finger at you. “and he didn’t just deliver it; he stayed up with me all night building it. i thought we were gonna lose a piece at one point, and let me tell you, i almost cried.” you couldn’t stop giggling at the image of sukuna and choso frantically building lego flowers in the middle of the night. “okay, okay. what about yuu?”

“oh, he was the easiest to convince,” sukuna said, smirking. “i just told him, ‘power rangers need good deeds on their resume, like helping their big bro.’ he was all in after that.”

“of course he was,” you muttered fondly, shaking your head.

“so, there you have it,” sukuna finished, stretching out on your bed with a satisfied sigh. “a night of blood, sweat, and legos. all for you, baby.” you smiled, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me,” he shot back, his tone smug.

“unfortunately,” you teased, though your cheeks warmed at his words. there was a brief silence before you hesitated, biting your lip. “sukuna?”

“hm?” he hummed, eyes half-closed.

“mei mei and yorozu said some stuff yesterday. about you and… us.”

his eyes snapped open, narrowing. “what kinda stuff?”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but he wasn’t having it. “they said you were stringing me along. that you’d never—”

“oh, hell no,” he growled, sitting up so fast he almost hit his head on your fairy lights. “i’m gonna—”

“no, you’re not,” you interrupted, grabbing his arm before he could launch himself off the bed. “we don’t beat people up, remember?” he grumbled under his breath, clearly displeased. “fine. but if they say one more thing—”

“they won’t,” you said firmly, giving him a look. “because we’re gonna ignore them and enjoy our nap instead.” sukuna sighed, flopping back onto the bed with a resigned groan. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, tugging you down beside him.

“and you’re lucky i put up with you,” you shot back, settling into the warm space next to him.

the two of you lay there under the glow of your fairy lights, the faint scent of your vanilla candle filling the room. the lego flower bouquet sat proudly on your desk, a quiet reminder of sukuna’s chaotic but heartfelt effort. as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile. love with sukuna was messy, dramatic, and over the top—but it was yours.

you tried. you really tried to fall asleep. but how could you, when sukuna had casually dropped an “i love you” like it was just any other sentence? sure, he said it before when he asked you to prom, but that was in the middle of a chaotic proposal involving legos and yuuji screaming about power rangers. this? this was casual. this was deliberate. this was real.

your brain spiraled faster than your pinterest boards during finals week. did he mean it? like, really mean it? was it a slip-up? does he just throw around the word “love” like that? you stiffened in his arms, your body going ramrod straight like a ruler, and sukuna, ever the perceptive one (at least when it comes to you), noticed immediately. “you good?” he mumbled, voice groggy as he cracked one eye open.

you didn’t respond right away, too busy drowning in your thoughts. was this what all those romance novels meant by ‘confessions catching you off guard’? but this wasn’t a confession, was it? or was it?

“hey,” sukuna nudged you lightly, his brows furrowing. “you’re acting weird. what’s up?”

you sat up suddenly, twisting to face him, your fairy lights casting a soft glow on his confused expression. “you… you said you loved me.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in… well, ever, sukuna looked genuinely nervous. “uh… yeah? i mean, yeah. i did. i do. why?”

“you do?” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. you couldn’t help it; the man was notoriously bad at expressing his feelings, and now he was just casually confirming his love for you like it was no big deal? “uh, yeah?” sukuna scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the corner of your ceiling. “i mean… why else would i do all this crap? the flowers, the tux, the boombox…”

“so you’re saying you really love me? like, love-love me?” you clarified, your hands now gesturing wildly because, of course, this needed to be crystal clear. at this point, sukuna’s face was turning an alarming shade of pink—like, my melody type pink, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “yes, okay? i love you. love-love you. happy?”

you blinked at him, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did when he looked at you like that, all flustered and frustrated but undeniably sincere.

“wait, why are you smiling?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “this is so embarrassing. i knew i should’ve just—”

you didn’t let him finish, leaning forward to kiss him, your lips cutting off whatever self-deprecating nonsense he was about to spew. when you pulled back, his ears were now as red as his eyes, and he stared at you like you’d just stolen his soul. “i’m smiling,” you said softly, “because i love you too, dumbass. and because i think it’s cute when you get all flustered.”

“cute?” he repeated, deadpan. “did you just call me cute?”

“yep,” you chirped, lying back down and snuggling into his chest. “get used to it, my melody.”

sukuna groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes, but you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened under your cheek. and as he tightened his hold around you, mumbling something about how you better not tell anyone about this, you smiled to yourself. maybe you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, but at least now, you’d be lying awake with a warm, fuzzy feeling instead of overthinking yourself into oblivion. love-love really was something else.

chapter six: the painting, the prom, and the prince

the evening of prom was finally here, and sukuna rolled up to your house looking, dare he say it, hot. okay, maybe he wouldn’t say it out loud, but judging by the double-take you gave him when he stepped off his bike in that sharp tux, it was safe to assume you thought so too.

and then you walked out.

he swore his brain short-circuited. he’d seen you in a hundred different outfits, every single one somehow better than the last, but this? this wasn’t just a dress. this was art.

“you…you look…” he stammered, his usual cocky bravado completely out the window. “uh…you look like…you know…like…a renaissance painting or something.”

you blinked at him, clearly amused. “a renaissance painting?”

“yeah,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly regretting his life choices. “you know, like, those really fancy ones. with, uh, good lighting.” you bit back a laugh. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

“you should,” he grumbled, averting his eyes because looking at you too long felt like staring into the sun. “you look perfect.”

as the two of you got on his bike and headed to prom, sukuna felt like he was riding on air. that was, until you turned to him halfway there and asked, “so, do you have the tickets?”

oh, shit.

his mind raced as he remembered exactly where those tickets were: stuffed into his t-shirt so you wouldn’t find them during his promposal planning. and then, last night, in a frenzy of cleaning and trying to look cool, he’d tossed the shirt into the laundry. “uhhh…” he stalled, trying to come up with a lie, but your raised eyebrow told him you weren’t buying it.

“‘kuna,” you said, already exasperated. “please don’t tell me—”

“okay, okay, maybe i left them in the washing machine,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. you groaned, but to his surprise, you didn’t seem mad. instead, you reached into your purse and pulled out two tickets. “lucky for you, i bought these ages ago,” you said, smirking.

“wait, what?” he blinked, genuinely stunned.

“what? i wasn’t about to risk you being unprepared,” you teased.

“okay, wow, first of all, rude,” he said, though he couldn’t help but grin. “second of all, you’re amazing. third of all…can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

“not a chance,” you replied, laughing.

fast forward to the gym, where the school had, of course, gone full cliché with the decorations: fairy lights, balloons, and a weirdly overused “enchanted evening” banner that looked like it had been recycled from at least three other events. but none of that mattered when you spotted yuuji and choso standing near the punch table. well, you saw them. sukuna, on the other hand, saw chaos.

“why the hell is yuuji here?” sukuna hissed, his hands already on his temples. “don’t ask me,” you said, equally baffled. “how does a seven-year-old even get in here?”

“puppy eyes,” sukuna muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

sure enough, yuuji was grinning ear-to-ear, his hair plastered to his head in spikes from what must have been an entire bottle of power ranger-branded gel. “big bro! you made it!” yuuji shouted, running up and practically tackling sukuna in a hug. “yuuji,” sukuna groaned, prying the kid off him. “what are you doing here?”

“helping!” yuuji declared proudly. “plus, i used your tickets!”

sukuna’s jaw dropped. “what?”

“he’s surprisingly resourceful for a kid,” choso muttered, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here as he adjusted his tie. “next time, don’t leave important things lying around.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” sukuna grumbled, running a hand down his face.

meanwhile, you were barely holding back laughter, especially when you noticed the cluster of girls gawking at choso from across the room. “looks like choso’s got some fans,” you whispered, nudging sukuna.

“yeah, well, they can have him,” sukuna muttered. “i’ve got everything i need right here.”

and just like that, the stress melted away, replaced by that smug, confident grin you loved so much. prom was a mess, but it was your mess. and honestly? you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

—

the night was winding down, and with prom nearing its end, you and sukuna made your way toward the photobooth. sukuna had his arm slung over your shoulder, and you leaned into him, already envisioning how cute your pictures would turn out. but, of course, peace was short-lived.

“oh, look who it is,” came mei mei’s unmistakably smug voice.

you stiffened, turning toward her and yorozu, who stood there with their arms crossed, both looking like they had nothing better to do than spread bitchiness. “figures you’d show up,” yorozu sneered. “thought you’d be too busy fixing your ‘perfect relationship.’”

“is this where you get your weekly drama fix?” sukuna drawled, his voice low and sharp. he glanced between the two with a look that could’ve cut glass. “or did you just run out of things to do since no one wanted to take you?” mei mei opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, sukuna bent down and scooped you up bridal style.

“sukuna!” you yelped, clinging to him in shock.

“don’t waste your energy on people like them,” he said simply, striding past the two women without so much as a second glance.

“you can’t just—hey!” mei mei called after him, but sukuna didn’t bother stopping. yorozu muttered something under her breath, but even she knew better than to push it.

“you really didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your voice. “didn’t have to?” he scoffed. “like hell i’d let them talk to you like that.”

the line for the photobooth wasn’t long, and before you knew it, you were stepping inside with sukuna still holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re not putting me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “nah,” he said with a smirk. “you look too good tonight. gotta keep showing you off.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

once inside the booth, sukuna finally set you down, pulling you close for the first set of pictures. the two of you posed like a typical couple at first, all smiles and laughs. then sukuna decided to make things interesting by pulling faces, sticking his tongue out in one, and pretending to bite your shoulder in another.

“these are gonna look so stupid,” you laughed, pushing at his chest. “nah, they’re gonna be fire,” he said, grinning.

just as the final photo flashed, the curtain whipped open, and toji’s booming voice rang out.

“move over, lovebirds! we’re crashing this party.”

toji and mamaguro squeezed into the booth, nearly squashing you and sukuna against the wall.

“what the hell, toji?” sukuna groaned, glaring at the intrusion.

“what?” toji said innocently. “you think i’m missing out on free photobooth pics?”

“scoot over, lovelies,” mamaguro chimed in, pushing toji aside so she could squeeze into the frame.

“there’s no room!” you said, laughing as you were squished further into sukuna.

“there’s always room for one more,” came another voice, and before you could even register what was happening, gojo leapt into the booth, landing half on toji and half on sukuna.

“what the—get off me!” sukuna growled, shoving at gojo.

“smile, everyone!” geto called, popping his head into the frame at the last second.

the camera flashed, capturing the chaos in all its glory. by the time the prints came out, you were crying from laughter, holding onto sukuna to keep from doubling over.

“what a night,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes. “yeah,” sukuna said, his voice warm as he looked at you. “what a night.”

—

the picture on sukuna’s instagram was a beyonce level of iconic. the both of you stood side by side, wearing your prom king and queen sashes, though sukuna refused to actually wear his properly—it hung off his shoulder like he was in a fight club. you, however, looked perfect as always, your sash gleaming and your tiara slightly askew from all the dancing. sukuna was leaning just enough to rest his chin on your head (a “power move,” as he called it), and you were holding the bouquet of lego flowers proudly. the caption? equally sukuna.

prom king and queen, obv. any losers who’ve got something to say can take it up with me. she’s the queen, i’m the muscle. try us, idk 🤷‍♂️ also yeah, she's mine. no refunds.

within seconds of posting, the comments started flooding in.

gojo: the muscle? more like the court jester 💀

yorozu: lmao no one even voted for you two 💀💀💀

choso: solid pic 🔥 i’ll be charging for the lego flowers btw

mamaguro: MY BABIES LOOK AMAZING!!! 👑😭💕

toji: me and my girl did it better 😹

“yorozu really can’t keep my name out her mouth,” sukuna muttered, already cracking his knuckles. “ignore her, my king,” you teased, throwing a pillow at him from your desk chair.

your room was a warzone after the night’s chaos. your shoes were discarded near the bed like a crime scene, your fairy lights had a sad strand that had gone out mid-celebration, and your makeup wipes, bobby pins, and jewelry were strewn all over your vanity. you’d kicked off your sash somewhere in the mess, and your dress was neatly hanging off the edge of your chair because despite the chaos, you couldn’t risk ruining it. meanwhile, sukuna was lying sideways on your bed, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place, his tux jacket slung over the back of the chair you were sitting in.

“should we clean up?” you asked half-heartedly, already knowing the answer.

“nah,” he said, throwing his phone onto the bed. “it’s post-prom. chaos is mandatory.”

before you could argue, sukuna’s phone buzzed. he picked it up, squinting at the email notification, and then froze.

“what’s up?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he stared at the screen for a second before a grin slowly spread across his face. “i got in.”

“what?”

“sports scholarship,” he said, holding the phone up like it was a trophy. “same college as you.”

your jaw dropped, and then you were practically tackling him onto the bed, laughing and hugging him at the same time.

“we’re going to college together?” you asked, beaming.

“hell yeah, we are,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “best decision ever.”

and as the night wore on, with your messy room, tired limbs, and full hearts, you realized he was absolutely right.

epilogue

the morning sun cast a golden hue on your driveway, and there was a quiet buzz of excitement mixed with nervous energy as the taxi rolled up. your suitcases, meticulously packed with everything you thought you might need for college, sat neatly by the curb. sukuna, leaning against the taxi door, looked as relaxed as ever, though his towering frame and sharp features gave him an intimidating edge. “you ready?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. he was holding your suitcase because, apparently, carrying your own bags was “not allowed” anymore.

“as ready as i’ll ever be,” you said, patting the strap of your carry-on bag nervously. the realization that you were actually leaving home was starting to hit.

“you’ve been glowing lately, by the way,” sukuna said casually, as if he hadn’t just paid you the highest compliment. “probably ‘cause you’re spending all your time with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto your face. “it’s called a skincare routine, sukuna. maybe you should try one.”

before he could retort, a loud, familiar voice shattered the morning calm.

“WAIT! WAIT!”

both of you turned to see yuuji sprinting toward you, waving something in his hand like a man possessed. “YOU FORGOT THESE!”

you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding. as he got closer, it hit you: your prom queen sash and tiara. “oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “i knew i was forgetting something.”

yuuji skidded to a stop in front of you, panting heavily. “you’re welcome,” he wheezed, thrusting the items into your hands. “how could you forget these? you’re a queen!”

“thanks, yuuji,” you said, taking the sash and tiara from him and trying not to laugh at his dramatic delivery.

“don’t forget to wear it on your first day of college!” he added, grinning ear to ear. “yeah, sure,” you said, ruffling his hair. “and maybe i’ll wear a ball gown to class, too.”

“you’d still look better than half the people there,” sukuna chimed in, snatching the sash from your hand and draping it over your shoulder like he was crowning you all over again. “okay, that’s enough theatrics for now,” you said, adjusting the sash so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “we’ve got a flight to catch.”

yuuji’s face fell slightly, and he threw his arms around you in a sudden, tight hug. “i’m gonna miss you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“i’ll miss you too, yuuji,” you said, squeezing him back. “but we’ll visit, okay? and you better facetime me every week.” he nodded, pulling back and giving sukuna a pointed look. “you better take care of her, big bro.”

“always,” sukuna said without hesitation, ruffling yuuji’s hair in return. “and don’t eat all the snacks mom buys, okay?”

“no promises,” yuuji replied, grinning.

as you settled into the taxi and it pulled away from the driveway, you glanced back to see yuuji waving wildly until he was out of sight. you leaned back in your seat, holding the sash and tiara in your lap. “i can’t believe i almost forgot these,” you said, shaking your head.

“you packed a literal hello kitty lamp,” sukuna said, one eyebrow raised. “but not your prom queen stuff. priorities.” you laughed, swatting his arm. “the lamp’s for your dorm, thank you very much. i’m not letting you live in a depressing man cave.”

he smirked, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “yeah, yeah. but hey, this is it, huh? college.”

you nodded, the weight of the moment finally settling in. “yeah. it’s the start of everything.”

“good thing we’re doing it together,” sukuna said, reaching over to take your hand.

and as the taxi sped toward the airport, you realized he was right. this was just the beginning—not just of college, but of a whole new chapter of your lives. and with sukuna by your side, you had a feeling it was going to be a damn good one.

thank you for sticking till the end <3 this was a drabble i decided to format into a full length fic because i recently came across my old prom photos and the nostalgia was very real. while i can safely say i did NOT have the ideal high school experience, i am deffo making my reader[s] have it 🙂‍↕️ if you'd like to find out what type of reader are you (based off of my fics), click on the quiz link here <3 thank u for reading !!

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enderlovez · 2 months ago

Note

Oooooo I have a Spencer x germaphobe reader where everyone knows how Spencer is with germs, which isn’t that bad. But imagine everyone’s surprise when they find out he has a huge crush like I mean in love with their coworker who is an extreme germaphobe (think of Ms, Pillsbury from glee) so she’s extra clean but he doesn’t mind he only has eyes on her so he tries to help her while also helping himself and she already has a crush on him but thinks he sees her as a patient in a lab even when he doesn’t but their feelings come to surface and they get a lil dirty lol angst, smut, and fluff thank u❤️

Germaphobe, Too

Spencer Reid x Female Germaphobe Reader WORD COUNT: 3600+ (yeah I got a little carried away)

Summary: You hate germs more than anything else in the world, and Spencer is so very much in love with you, so he's always trying to help you in any way he can — little does he know, that maybe you're feelings about the situation are a little bit different.

Content Warning: reader shows traits of obsessive compulsive disorder, germaphobia and germs, probably misinformation about germaphobia, NSFW content, reader is a freak, dry humping, reader bites Spencer a few times, miscommunication, Spencer likes boobs, groping, nipple play (sort of), unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), virginity loss on both ends, Spencer doesn't pull out, and I think that's it!

A/N I've never actually watched Glee so I went on a bit of a search-spree to try and find out how I would write this, so I hope I did it justice! Also, thank you so much for being the first person in my inbox, you have no idea how excited I was when this popped up, and I hope I did your idea justice!

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

From the moment you joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit, everyone knew you were different — from the way you open doors with your sleeves rather than your bare hands, to how you scrub your hands raw after touching something that's not even really that dirty.

And it's not necessarily a bad thing that you're so conscious of these things, it can just be a little... difficult to navigate sometimes.

Take that one time for example, when you were helping out on a case! Morgan had no writing utensils on him, so without thinking, plucked a pen from the breast pocket of your blouse. To anyone else, it might not have seemed like such a big deal, but you were close to tears.

To put it plainly, you are a germaphobe. You're like a female version of their very own Doctor Spencer Reid, but on steroids, and somehow still a whole lot more sociable despite this fact!

Seriously. It's not to say they don't still see you as the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things, nor is it to say they don't frequently talk about you when you're not around, but they think you might just be the sweetest human being to ever grace the BAU.

Which is why it really shouldn't have seemed like such a secret, shouldn't have shocked everyone as much as it did, that Spencer was absolutely and irreversibly smitten with you.

At first, it was just little things like watching you from across the room with this strange look on his face — he was just watching the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things!

When he started spending more time around you than anybody else at work, and when it became apparent that he preferred your quiet company, it was just because you showed some similar traits to him, right? Nobody thought anything different, because come on, this is Spencer we're talking about here.

But in truth, Spencer is beyond mesmerized by you, the most beautiful woman he's ever met, and so kind to everyone even though they clearly treat you different to your other coworkers.

The poor man doesn't think he could ever admit this to you, though, considering he's a blabbering mess of hot skin and stutters every time he talks to you. So instead of further embarrassing himself (and giving Morgan ammunition to tease him for the rest of eternity), he shows his affection towards you in other ways.

Spencer himself is not a big fan of germs, so he can understand, to an extent, how you must feel most of the time. You've explained it to him before, while he was standing beside you at your desk, watching as you wiped the surface down with an antibacterial wipe.

"I know it probably seems like I overreact, but it's not something I can just turn off," you'd said to him in a whisper once. "I don't do this because I want to annoy people or make life harder. It's just... if I don't, I feel like I'll unravel."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Sometimes it feels like the world is too loud. A stranger is screaming in your ear, you can't see them or touch them, but they're there; there's a bee buzzing in front of your face, but you can't swat it away.

How are you supposed to get rid of something you can't see?

You can't — it's as simple as that, but you can try you're very best.

As if sensing that your thoughts are headed somewhere unsavory, Spencer appears beside you on a rolling chair, as he does most days.

Out of all your coworkers, he's the only one that doesn't poke fun at you behind your back. That's how it's been your whole life, people testing your boundaries and teasing you for something you have no control over, so it's... a nice change of pace.

"Good morning, Spencer," you say softly, offering him a warm smile before turning back to your work. "How are you today?"

"Good—um, good morning," he responds awkwardly, smiling even though you're not looking at him anymore. You see it out of the corner of your eye, his little smile and his firetruck-red face, smiling faintly to yourself as you type away on your laptop.

You ignore how he completely dismisses your question, knowing he'd probably just say the same thing as always — 'Yeah, I'm doing great, thank you. As—as long as you're doing alright.'

He always gets so strange around you, and while you try your best to ignore it most of the time, it still irks you.

No, he doesn't join the teasing with Morgan and Jareau when they think you can't hear them, but he still treats you differently.

"I got you something," he says in a quiet voice, reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. You eye him nervously as he carefully places it onto your desk, using one finger to push it towards you. A tiny smile pulls at your cheeks when you see it's encased in a protective plastic film, but it quickly drops when you see what the actual book is.

'Overcoming Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: A Journey to Recovery' by David Veale and Rob Willson.

You peel the plastic away, tossing it into the little trash can under your desk and sanitizing your hands before picking up the bright yellow book, opening the front cover with a blank expression.

It's not like you aren't grateful he's trying to help, of course you're happy he cares so much. But a book isn't going to fix your problems, despite what he may think at times. And right now he doesn't feel like a friend, he feels like a doctor, and you feel like a patient laying on a lab table, vulnerable and stripped bare for the world to see.

For once, you just want to have a normal conversation without it turning into some kind of therapy session.

"Thank you, Spencer — um..." You voice shakes ever-so-slightly as you put the eyesore book in your bag. "I will be reading that tonight, that was very kind of you."

You know you'll probably put that book in a box and never look at it again. He doesn't seem to pick up on your unease, smile widening at your apparent acceptance of his gift.

"Actually," you continue softly, in a voice so quiet it's almost silent, head bowed forward, "I'm actually not feeling too well right now, think I might head home for the day."

The smile on his face falters slightly as you push away from your desk and stand up, packing your things away into your backpack. "Is everything — would you like me to drive you home?"

It's not unusual for your mind to trick you into thinking you actually are sick, but on the off chance that you really are feeling something, he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to drive yourself home.

"You know, about twenty-one percent of fatal car crashes involve tired or impaired drivers."

"I'll be fine," you reply blandly, though those statistics do alarm you mildly, stepping around him and walking in the direction of Hotch's office. "Thank you, though, Spencer."

As you disappear into the Unit Chief's office, Morgan give him this curious look from across the room, eyebrow cocked in question, but all Spencer can do is shrug, his own face twisted with confusion.

Usually when you get like this, there's some kind of trigger that sets you off, like a chain reaction of sorts, but right now, he can't for the life of him come up with something that might've set you off.

You're only in the office for thirty-seven seconds (Spencer was counting) before you reemerge, your head still bowed as you rush out of the bullpen, like there's something chasing you away.

"What'd you do to get Miss Sunshine all blue and teary-eyed?" Morgan asks mockingly when you're out of earshot. "She looks like you just kicked a fluffy little kitten in front of her!"

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's never been to your apartment before — nobody on the team has, the only reason he's standing here now is because your address is on your information.

It feels a bit like an invasion of your privacy being here when he's not even supposed to know where you live, but Morgan was right. You did look like Spencer smushed a kitten under his shoe as you were leaving, and he couldn't in good conscience not check on you.

He reaches a tentative hand up, hesitating for a (very) brief moment before knocking thrice.

There's some muffled shuffling behind the door before it opens, revealing you, wearing a cream colored cardigan with delicately embroidered flowers on it. And while you're still neatly put together, there's a more casual air about you now, like you're more relaxed.

"Oh — Spencer, what're you doing here?"

Your voice rasps slightly, and when he takes a closer look at your face, Spencer finds that your eyes are a little red.

"I was just..." He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed upset when you were leaving work."

You purse your lips and give him as once-over, then shift out of the doorway — inviting him inside? You close the door behind him once he's inside, guiding him towards the living room with a gentle hand on his back.

It's shocking, to say the least, that you're actually touching him right now, but he doesn't say a word.

"Would you — um — like some tea, or something?" you ask awkwardly, pushing him to sit on the sofa. "Or — or some water?"

"No, but thank you for offering."

You leave the room for a few minutes, presumably to make yourself something to drink, but come back with two steaming mugs, placing one in front of Spencer regardless of what he said.

Another couple of minutes pass where neither of you say anything, sipping on tea and glancing at each other every now and again. He's pleasantly surprised to find that you've used lavender tea.

Your apartment is very clean, looking more like a set you'd find at a department store than anything, but it's still so warm and inviting. You have a couple of candles lit around the place, and Spencer's fighting the urge to warn you about candle safety.

"I don't want you to try and fix me."

Spencer turns his head away from the tall bookshelf across the room to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Fix you. What do you mean, he's trying to fix you?

"The book," you reply meekly, "I don't want you to try and fix me."

That catches his attention, the emphasis on that one little word — it's not that you don't want anyone to help, you just don't want him to help.

You must see the flash of hurt cross his expression, because you're rushing to elaborate, stumbling over your words.

"It's just that — um — I really like you, Spencer, and — uh — when you're giving me stuff like this..." You gesture to the coffee table, where the yellow book he'd given you is sitting. "I don't know, you kind of make me feel like I'm a patient in a lab. Something to be studied and prodded at and — and fixed."

"There's nothing about you that needs to be fixed," he murmurs, trying his best to ignore what you said — 'I really like you, Spencer.'

You place your half-empty mug of tea onto the coffee table and pull your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them.

"I wasn't trying to fix you — everything about you is perfect," he says, quiet and without thinking. "You just seemed so uncomfortable at work all the time, and I wanted to help you out."

"Why, though?" you ask sadly, a faint heat rising to your cheeks. "Why not just join in on all the teasing and mockery? It would be easier than dealing with me all the time."

"Because..." You raise an eyebrow at his entire face quite literally turns the same shade as a tomato. "Because I really like you, too. I didn't think about how it might come off, and I'm so, so sorry for—"

You hold up a hand to shut him up, leaning a little further towards him than he would have thought you'd like.

"Spencer, it's alright," you assure him, placing your hand on his knee, much to his surprise (and embarrassment). "You didn't need to worry, though — you're really the only person at work I spend much time around, and I'm not uncomfortable around you."

"You're... not?"

A soft smile graces your lips. "Not even a little bit. Not even at all."

Spencer deflates into himself, every inch of his his skin uncomfortably hot — this is news to him.

"That's a relief."

Your voice takes on a teasing lilt. "Why? Because you really like me?"

And just like that, his face gets infinitely hotter, but he gives you the tiniest nod, knowing that if he said anything, he would fumble.

"I don't understand why you're embarrassed," you whisper fondly, "I am the one who said it first, after all. You should be teasing me."

He might be the only one you'll accept it from, just like how he's the only person you'd ever accept physical contact with, the only person you'll ever trust enough to put your mouth near him, like right now."

Spencer has to restrain himself from physically recoiling in shock when you press the softest of kisses to his blazing cheek.

Your instincts are screaming on the inside, but if you're being honest, you couldn't care less.

This isn't a stranger, you assure yourself, this is Spencer, and he could never make you sick.

Spencer could never make you sick.

"Is this alright?" you ask as you press another slightly firmer kiss to the skin under his jaw, your voice dripping with something unfamiliar.

Unable to form a single word, Spencer nods, reaching to place a hand on the back of your neck, gasping when your teeth nipped at the sensitive skin.

It's a complete one-eighty from the shy, germ-conscious girl you usually are, but he can't find it in him to complain.

The girl of his dreams, the one who can't even bring herself to touch his hand at work, currently has her mouth on him, she's biting him, and his mind is in a frenzy.

"I'm not gonna freak out if you touch me, Spence," you tease lightly, lips fluttering over the space just beside his mouth. As if to prove your point, smirking against his skin, you take his hand in yours and settle it on the space just below your breasts — under your clothes.

Where you're not wearing a bra.

His mind reels and melts into goo at the feel of your bare skin against his hand, so soft and warm.

An embarrassingly loud whine escapes his mouth as you bite down on his neck again, sucking the skin into your mouth. His hand drifts slightly upwards, brushing against the supple skin of your breast and gently grabbing onto it.

Your breath hitches as he gropes at your chest, lips pulling off his neck with a little pop and head resting against his shoulder.

"Can I take your shirt off?"

Your question leaves him speechless, but he nods nonetheless, reluctantly letting go of you to help you get his shirt over his head.

The sigh of his bare chest has your mouth watering, and you want nothing more than to leave a trail of hickeys down his stomach, but first, you press your lips to his, hands threading through his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into your mouth, hands resting on your hips as you grind down onto him. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering as your hips wildly buck down on him. You've never been like this, desperate for the touch of another person, let alone a touch so intimate.

Spencer's grip on you tightens some, and he uses this new leverage to guide your hips, carefully pressing you clothed heat against the hardness straining against his pants.

"P-please," you choke out, arms wrapping around his shoulders, gripping him for dear life as he moves you.

"Hm?" he hums quietly, shifting the angle so he's rubbing right up against your covered clit.

"Please," you breathe out again, clenching around nothing. "Please, Spencer."

You're not even sure what you're begging for, only that you want — no, need more of this stimulation.

He seems to understand what you need better than you do, gathering your body to him and laying you on your back.

Your thighs automatically fall open for him, allowing his body to fit between them, one hand holding himself up. He presses himself against you again, drawing a desperate moan from the back of your throat as he works on undoing the buttons of your cardigan, letting the fabric slide off your body and pool at your sides.

The hand he's not using to support himself reaches for you, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple. The corner of Spencer's mouth twitches upward as you arch up against him, eyes screwed shut.

"You like that?" he asks genuinely, doing it again. You nod frantically, mouth dropping open, but no sound coming out of it.

"Yes," you pant, bottom lip catching between your teeth. "Yes, I like that — please."

"Please what?" His mouth descends upon your neck, fingers continuing their attack on your sensitive nipple, clothed cock still rubbing up against you oh-so wonderfully.

"Please... please touch me," you beg, unable to stop your hips from bucking up against him. "I need you to touch me, Spencer."

Such vulgar words coming out of your mouth. It shocks the man, but he complies, shifting his body backwards so he can pull your skirt and underwear down your legs.

The sight between them is magical — your folds glistening in the soft light of the room, you writhing in anticipation in front of him — and something he has, admittedly, thought about once or twice.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asks, running his middle finger through your slick and pressing down gently on your clit. You shake your head lazily, face screwed up in pleasure, a sight Spencer will cherish forever.

A strangled moan rips out of you as Spencer presses a finger against your hole, thumb rubbing soft circles on your sensitive bud, and enters you with little resistance.

"Neither have I," he admits sheepishly, pumping his finger in and out of you rhythmically, curling it until he finds that spongey spot within you that has you crying out his name and spilling over his hand.

"Two virgin germaphobes," you mumble jokingly, trying to wiggle closer to him again. You fumble with his belt, somehow managing to pull it through the loops, and toss it on the ground carelessly.

He helps you to push his pants down, just enough for his cock to slip out.

"Two virgin germaphobes," he agrees quietly, adjusting your bodies so you're both in a more comfortable position, sliding his heavy tip through your slick folds. "Are you sure—"

"I'm sure, Spence," you abruptly cut him off, running your fingers through his hair, subconsciously pulling him towards you. "Please just — just fuck me."

Spencer doesn't need to be told twice, slowly pushing into you, gasping as your warm walls suck him in, gripping his cock like a vice. He holds his breath, trying not to immediately blow his load.

You're writhing, gasping, clawing at his back, whispering his name out into the air, and it only works to make him more hungry for you. But he stills one he's fully sheathed inside you, giving you time to adjust.

"Does it — uh — does it hurt at all?" he asks in a whisper, directly into your ear.

"N-no," you gasp back, the small pain slowly morphing into one of pleasure. "It doesn't hurt, you can — fuck — you can move, when you're ready."

He doesn't think he'll ever be ready, with how tightly you're gripping him, but he still finds himself pulling out until only his tip is nestled in you, and slowly pushing back in all the way. You hum shakily, trying to press yourself closer to him as he repeats the action, then again.

Already so sensitive from your first orgasm, you know you're not going to last long with his slow movements, thighs clenching around his. Pressure grows in your abdomen as he thrusts back in, slightly harder this time, grunting into your neck.

"God, I'm already so close," you choke out, head thrown back, sounds you didn't even know you could make raking out of you. Spencer can't get enough of them, leaning down and catching one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on the sensitive nub.

Without warning, you're spasming around him, drool dribbling out of your open mouth as you come, body going slack against the couch.

"W-where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you mumble incoherently, biting your lip hard enough to leave marks, tears building on your waterline. "Please, Spence, I want you to come inside me."

Your words alone are enough to have him spilling inside you, thrusts sloppy and unrhythmic. Your hum in content, clinging to him like a koala as he gently pulls his softened cock from inside you, rubbing soft circles onto the skin over your breastbone. It's comfortably quiet.

And then...

"Hey," you whisper in a tired voice, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. "I would love to," he whispers back fondly before standing up from the couch, "but first, we need to get you cleaned up and rested.

#spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x shy reader #spencer reid x germaphobe reader #germaphobia #fluff #smut #angst #enderlovez

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ryozakidesu · 3 months ago

Text

The Fine Art of Rejection - h.rj

3/4 diary of the heartbreakers

summary ➸ ♡ Huang Renjun, the sweetie of the year, is one hard star to catch. Not as easy as his other friends, he's quite difficult to have. Although he has a fair share of affairs with girls, it is considered to be a rare occurence. But you? Oh boy were you something. You were quite head over heels over him. His friends could never understand, but you were persistent to get the boy. No matter how much he refuses your advances, Its like you found art in rejection. But to what degree can you hold it out?

"I can be everything I want, but fuck, I only wanted to be yours. Even though you couldn't be mine."

GENRE: Unrequited love, Humour, Fluff, Angst, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Violence, Alcohol Usage, cheerleader!reader, asshole!renjun

AUTHOR's NOTE: This has gone way too angst-y than I planned but hey, i thrive for angst. Longer than what I expected but it's not gonna be a ryo fic if I stuck with the expected wc lmao. also i cried while writing this fic lol

WC: 19k (told ya)

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

Enjoy reading! -ryo

My dearest Renjun,

I hope you had a wonderful day! I heard you have an exam today. Don’t forget to eat on time, okay? Here’s some brownies, I know you love them xoxo

-y/n

You clicked your pen after writing the letter, spraying a bit of your perfume on the note. You put it nicely on top of the box of brownies before putting it on your bag.

You checked the time, and you nod when it says exactly 7am.

“Seriously, a handwritten letter? You’re crazy,” your roommate, Julie, sassed at your small box of sweets.

You tighten your shoe laces, before turning around to get your bag. You smiled at Julie, “It’s a habit,” You hear her scoff, but before she argues again, you are fast on your feet.

As soon as you entered the school premises, you were greeted by some of the freshmen, waving at you. You of course, waved back and gave them a good morning back. It was nice to greet people, even if you don’t know them. You don’t know when a simple greeting could make someone’s day. It sure makes your day better at least.

You’re supposed to go left at the gym because you have practice at 7:30 sharp and you’ve used up all your chances to be late. However, if you run fast enough, you’re sure you’ll get there in time.

“Hey, y/n! Be careful!” One student says as you run through the hallway. You still manage to respond with a smile.

You look at your watch, and you silently curse. 7:15.

Once you made it at the school garden, you hover your eyes at the entire field and sure enough, you see who you’ve been looking for.

There he was. He sat with his three other friends, which you knew of. Usually, it’s only him and Jeno, but this time, there’s Jaemin and Haechan with him at the picnic table. Haechan slumped in the table, Jaemin mindlessly watching something on his phone and Jeno, along with Renjun, seemingly studying for their upcoming exam.

You put on your best smile, and dust off your cheer uniform.

Once you reach their table, you clear your throat. It was Jaemin who granted you attention first, and as soon as he looked at you, his smile beamed brighter than the sun. He’s good at that, a charmer, really. Too bad it doesn’t affect you in any way.

“Renjun, someone’s here for you,” He says through his smile and nudging Renjun.

You hear the boy grunt, and let out an exasperated sigh. Finally, he turns to you, and even if you swore you had a big smile, seeing him made it even bigger.

“Hi, Renjun! Uh,” you waved at him, and then brought the box of brownies out your bag, glad to see it's still in pristine condition. “--I brought brownies.. For you and your friends,”

That’s when Jeno and Haechan, who suddenly woke up from his sleep, looked up at you.

Renjun rubs his forehead, and sighed again. He puts down his pen that he was holding from earlier. “Y/n, I told you, stop making these for me.”

You gulp in nervousness. “Do.. do you not like them?” you can’t help sound dismayed, with the end of your sentence getting quieter.

“I like brownies. I just don’t like when it comes from you. Don’t you get that?”

Honestly, you were expecting this. Renjun was always harsh, however, you like to think he’s just brutally honest. But you would be lying if you say that it doesn’t sting.

“Oh-kay,” Jaemin joins the conversation, attempting to dilute the tension. Your smile falters for a second but you try your best to smile again. Jaemin continues, “Sorry, birdie, he’s just extra grumpy today ‘cause of the big exam later.. I’ll get that,” he grabs the brownies out of your hold.

You whisper a small thank you to Jaemin. “Renjun, if you change your mind, I guess Jaemin has the brownies..” you still tried to sound cheerful.

Renjun, however, didn’t say anything.

“I’ll shove it down his throat if I have to. Go on now, Birdie, I heard you guys have cheer practice at 7:30.” Jaemin answers for him again, sweet as ever.

That piqued your interest. You raised your brows, “How’d you know?”

“I have a friend in your squad. Now, shoo! Don’t wanna be late! Renjun says fighting!” He grabs Renjun’s hand and waved it forcefully, but Renjun just pulls away from his hold.

“Okay. Uh, bye everybody! Bye, Renjun.” Your eyes glanced at him with hope, but came to no avail when he just continued reading his book. Jeno waved a little bit and Haechan just gave you a fake smile. Haechan, for reasons unbeknownst to you, doesn’t seem to like you either. But you don’t dwell on it too much because frankly, you don’t care.

Jaemin smiles, waving at you. You turn your heels and start to run. You have two minutes to get to the gymnasium. It was worth it tho, you like to start your day seeing him.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

After a few hours of practice, you were dismissed due to the classes you have later on the day.

“Why were you late this morning?” Sunghoon, one of your spotters on the squad, asks as you walk to your class.

You didn’t have a chance to answer, when Minnie spoke. “Duh, she did her daily rejection therapy, of course.”

You shook your head and chuckled at her. “It’s not rejection therapy, Minnie.”

“Oh please, Huang Renjun could literally stomp at your feet and you’ll still show up with freshly baked cookies the next day.” Minnie was annoyed more than anything, but you still smile at her. You know she means well.

You chose not to answer because really, what’s there to say? Minnie might sound mean, but she’s just telling the truth.

Huang Renjun has rejected you more times than you can remember. Honestly, you think you’re immune to it now. Sometimes, you find it really interesting that he just won’t budge, at all. He hates your guts, but as long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he doesn’t verbally say to your face that he hates you, technically, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing.

Much more women do worse, actually. Renjun’s really popular with women, despite the attitude and sass he possessed. Some girls are intrigued, curious as to how they could get with Renjun. Going further as to literally kneeling in front of him just to sleep with him. Poor Kim Chaeyon.

You’re not at that level of extremities yet, thank god.

Although he was picky, he did kind of have a fair share of girls. Some students call the girls he’s been with the chosen ones, making you laugh. Renjun has a standard, and he likes to abide by it.

Unlike his friends, Renjun can count in his fingers how many girls he was with. And boy, were they special.

Renjun is picky. He’s not someone you can just get together with just because you’re pretty. His standards are sky high, but hey, they don’t call you Birdie for no reason.

“I don’t get why you keep on pursuing Renjun, to be honest. Yeah, I heard he’s hot shit, but come on. You’re Y/n. NCU Cheersquad Captain, Thee Bird, and not to mention, a Mathematics Olympiad runner up. You’re like.. Einstein’s hot little sister.” Minnie didn’t stop, even after class she blabbered about your undying admiration for Renjun, claiming it doesn’t make sense to her.

It doesn’t really matter how many times Minnie likes to remind you that Renjun isn't worth your time, your answer stays the same.

“I just like him. It doesn’t have to make sense to you, Minnie.” You say casually as you bite into your apple.

“Ugh! You’re insufferable,” She says before standing up and stomping her way out. You just laughed at her reaction. Minnie’s easily pissed, and it amuses you.

It’s past five when you finished your day, ready to head back to your apartment. Your routine was consistent, it sometimes just differs depending on your practice and classes. You never really enjoyed going out with your friends, not a party-goer, and most especially, you’re not really amused by other boys, much to your friend’s dismay.

There have been attempts, here and there, of trying to pursue you. You just don’t feel like giving attention to any of them, when you already set your eyes on someone. It feels like a waste of time.

When you enter your dorm, you see Julie, all dressed up and ready to go out. You eye her up and down and give her a smile. “Going on a date?”

“Yeah, uh,” You notice she’s struggling to clasp her bracelet, so you try and help her with it.

“That dress looks cute on you,” you compliment her.

Julie never really dresses up for dates, well, at least you don’t see her getting this dolled up for a date. You have always questioned that, because she’s always out on dates and she looks good in dresses as well. But hey, each to their own.

“Thanks, y/n.” She replies with a forced smile, but you assumed it’s because she’s nervous.

You walk inside further, leaving her in the doorway putting her shoes. “Hey, don’t forget your keys.” You remind her.

“Uhm, I think I won’t need them.” Your smirk got even wider at her response, understanding exactly what she meant.

“You go, girl. Enjoy your date.” You giggled before you entered your room.

You sigh as soon as your back hits the soft mattress, relieved that you’re now in the comfort of your own home. You don’t let your eyes rest for more than three minutes because you have papers to finish tonight and you don’t intend to accidentally pass out earlier than what you’ve planned.

You did your basic night routine, ready to turn on netflix before drowning yourself in papers.

Your last step was to put your phone on Do Not Disturb, but before that, you shoot a text to the one who matters to you the most.

[8:01] to: renjun <3

just got home! i hope u ate some of the brownies from earlier, it’s really good! enjoy your night and see you tomorrow, renjunnie!

xoxo -y/n

[9:05 read]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Just go talk to him, y/n. Get your mind off that Renjun boy.” You roll your eyes at Minnie who nudges you.

You don’t know why people even attempt to ask you out. You’ve made it clear that you only have eyes for Renjun, and the fact that you never went out with anyone should’ve made it obvious. Do you have to write it across your forehead?

Sungchan’s nice. Really tall, not bad with the eyes either, and from what you’ve heard he’s a real sweetheart. Not a bad bone on his body. A perfect man, maybe, but not for you. Nobody really is for you unless it’s... well, you get it.

“Listen, atleast I tried, right?” He snickers, but you can tell it’s unenthusiastic.

“I’m sorry, Sungchan.”

“Should’ve listened to Jeno,” He whispers, one you can’t make out but you didn’t push. He then bids you goodbye, but before leaving, he asks you if you two could be friends.

“Of course, we can be friends, Sungchan.” You’re glad he offered to be one, at least you don’t turn him down in every possible way. There’s still something there.

He smiles at you again and now fully walks away. You also stood up and turned around, but when you do, you see Renjun, on the sidelines talking to Jeno and Yangyang.

Speak of the Angel.

You widen your eyes in great surprise, smiling ear to ear as you see him, hands folded in his chest. Seeing him instantly brightens your mood— even looking like the most intimidating person ever.

You silently run back, putting an extra hop in every step. You stop where Renjun is, and waved at him.

“Good morning,” you smile at him. You always give your best smile towards him, and not that you put an extra effort to, but he just brings it out of you. A magic pull, in some ways.

He takes a deep breath, “Morning,” he muttered, not even sparing you a glance before going back to whatever they were talking about.

You don’t know why, but you still stood there. You’re waiting for something, but you don’t exactly know what it is. Maybe, it’s just an excuse to look at him longer.

“What time is your lunch? Wanna grab lunch later?” You ask and you hear Jeno snorts on his side..

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, do you mind?” Renjun says, again with his usual cold tone towards you. In some twisted way, it made your chest flutter.

“You’re really cute,” you say, making both Jeno and Yangyang laugh. You don’t know what they find so funny. You’re just telling the truth. Renjun’s cute when he gets grumpy. Tho, sometimes you wish it’s not directly at you.

Renjun closes his eyes in frustration and grunts, you can tell there’s another strong statement that’s boiling in his mind. Before he could though, you heard Minnie’s voice from afar.

“Birdie! Practice back on!”

“Oh, gotta go. Bye Renjun!” You say in your most cheerful voice, throwing him a wink before running back to your squad.

You giggle as you run through the field. You got to talk to Renjun!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today, you’re opening auditions for the squad, to prepare for the upcoming cheerdance.

Pulling up your phone to track the time, 6:54am.

You carefully place the cupcake on the box, getting rid of your pink mittens and finally, a perfectly tied bow to finish it off.

A glimmer of a smile appears on your face as you admire the box.

Packing it safely, you made your way out of your apartment, looking at your wrist watch, 8:32am.

"Just on time." You whispered to yourself.

"Hi, y/n!" A junior student greeted you as you passed by, which you bowed back. "Hello!"

"Good morning, y/n." You waved back to another student.

Finally, reaching up to the fourth floor, you strutted yourself to the empty hallways until you reached the abandoned elementary library.

"Do Not Entry" It says on the door.

Knocking three times, finally, someone opened.

"Oh, hi, y/n-ie. I'm guessing this is for Renjun?" Jaemin, with his sweet smile, asked as his eyes fixed on the box you were holding.

"Hi, Jaemin. Yeah. Is he here yet?" You tried looking pass Jaemin,into the room, but to no avail, as he was literally blocking everything inside.

"No but I'll make sure he got this, alright?" Jaemin grabbed the lunchbox from you, not missing the opportunity to wink at you.

"Oh. I guess he's late. Okay, Jaemin. Thanks." Disappointed that you didn't get to see your Renjun, you turned around bitterly.

You decided to just get to your first class early. Only a few people was in the room, because its quite early for the class to start. You crossed your arms over the desk and rest your head.

You're sure Renjun's just running late. Biting your lip,

You pulled out your phone, texting Renjun.

[9:01am] to: renjun

hi goodmorning! i brought u a cupcakes today. are u running late? be safe! xoxo -y/n

You didn’t see him the entire day, and even though you tried to focus on other things, your day didn’t seem complete without seeing his face. But you didn’t let it ruin your day, of course. You’re sure tomorrow, you’ll get to see him again.

You hop your way back to your apartment, with your laptop bag on hand. It’s getting chilly, you notice. You thought about what you’ll eat for dinner when you exit the elevator.

You were about to take a step out, when you see someone in front of your apartment, hugging whom you assume is your roommate.

You can’t be mistaken. You’re sure it was Renjun. You can never mistake him for someone else.

Renjun’s hugging Julie, before smiling at her and letting her enter the apartment.

Your lips fall ajar, baffled at what you saw. Your clutch in your bag tightens, and you feel sick. Renjun and Julie? Since when?

You immediately step back into the elevator, pushing the button desperately, just to get it to close. You don’t know if you can look Renjun in the eyes, at least not right now.

When it slowly closes, you still stand there frozen. In a split second, in the tiny gap of the elevator, you see his face. And there, you see the shock on his eyes. But before anything else happens, the elevator closes.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

That night, you slept at Minnie’s apartment. You were lucky that her roommate’s nice enough to let you, although Minnie says that you don’t ever need any permission to sleep over at hers. You smiled at the thought that at least, you have Minnie.

It was rough, to say the least. You weren't a stranger to heartbreak, especially when it comes to Renjun. You’ve literally liked him for so long, and you’ve witnessed him with girls before. This one’s just special because it’s your roommate. It’s Julie, for christ sake.

She witnessed your Renjun shenanigans for months. She would even laugh at you for waking up early just to prepare food for Renjun. God, you sure looked stupid.

Despite Minnie’s disapproval, you still sent a text to Julie, informing her that you wouldn’t be going home tonight. You still apologize for making her wait, if she ever did wait for you. You never received a reply back, but she’s just probably asleep by now.

The next morning was tough. You don’t know if you should still bring snacks to Renjun, maybe you should respect his relationship with Julie. So you didn’t.

You went to the campus half asleep, Minnie offering to buy you a drink from the cafe. You seriously can’t thank her enough.

Sunghoon was the first one to greet you at the gymnasium.

“Hey, captain!” He waves, completely oblivious to your bad mood. However, you still waved back and gave him a smile.

“How many are auditioning?” You ask as you sit in one of the chairs that's laid out.

“Thirty? I don’t know, but I recall seeing your roommate on the list tho? You never told me that your roommate’s interested in Cheerleading?”

You froze. Julie’s auditioning? You might just pull your hair out. You really cannot catch a break, huh?

You scan the paper he held out, and much to your dismay, her name’s listed. Han Julie.

You mentally curse at yourself.

And in some effed’ up timing, you hear a couple of steps coming in the gymnasium. You assumed it was your other teammates, or one of the students that's auditioning, but you were dead wrong.

Sunghoon stood up, looking at your back since you’re seated facing back at the hall.

“Oh? Renjun, Haechan and Jaemin’s here.” He says in a casual tone, you, on the other hand, just wanted the floor to eat you alive. There’s no way this is happening to you right now.

“Can you deal with them for a bit? I have a headache,” You rub your temples to up your acting, Sunghoon obediently nodding and walking towards them.

But before you can even catch a breather, Sunghoon returns.

“They want to talk to the captain, Birdie,” He says carefully, afraid to piss you off. But you can never be pissed off, silly Sunghoon.

You smiled, and stood up. You start walking towards the three men who stands out like a sore thumb, with Haechan’s leather jacket and Jaemin’s baggy ripped jeans. Renjun, still looks like an angel, and in your eyes, he fits wherever he goes.

“Hey, hi. You guys need something?” You ask, in your usual tone. Avoiding looking at Renjun because you know you can’t help but to melt in his stare.

“Hi, birdie. Actually,” Jaemin smiled, grabbing Renjun’s shoulder and pushing him slightly towards you. “--Renjun here, just dragged us here. Apparently, he wants to talk to you!” He wiggles his brows excitedly.

“Oh?” You act surprised, now looking at Renjun because you literally have no choice.

“You want us to give you some space or—” Before Jaemin could even finish, Renjun interrupted him, grabbing at his friend’s forearms, to avoid him leaving.

“No, this’ll be quick,” His tone was cold, nothing new to you.

Haechan, on the other side of him, just looks bored. Honestly, he looks like he just woke up. But when he saw the other cheerleaders walk in, his body jolted. Typical.

“Listen, y/n.. uh,” Renjun clears his throat, “My friend.. Julie is auditioning. I just want to let you know that she’s really good at cheer and I want you to really consider letting her in the team.”

His friend? Oh, you want to throw up. He’s sick. He’s really… ah, he’s really done it now. You didn’t know Renjun could ever ruin your day, but wow.. He just did.

“Wait, what the fuck?” You hear Jaemin curse beside him, Haechan just letting out a laugh. You wanted to burst out in anger and bash his head in concrete, but that’s not very nice.

You decide that you can’t handle this kind of conversation at 9 in the freakin’ morning.

“Renjun, I would love to let her in the team, but she really needs to pass the auditions first. I’m not the only one who decides if a someone gets in. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, but let out a deep sigh. “Alright, I know she’ll pass the audition. Anyways, we’ll watch…”

You nod, not having the energy to keep up with him. You immediately turn your heels and you walk away. Yeah, this will be a long day.

Surprisingly, there’s a lot of people who showed up for the auditions. Apparently, some had an info that Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno and Renjun are watching, (Jeno showing up half an hour after the other three arrived) and that’s when a wave of students came in.

You didn’t let your sour mood ruin your judgment, so you put on your big girl pants, and watched every audition in full professional mode. You don’t want to sabotage the team, by letting just about anyone join just because you’re not in the mood.

They were good, you have to point out some hopefuls that didn’t fit the criteria, in the nicest way you could. However, Minnie took her role as your ‘anger translator’ seriously.

“Are you sure you know what you were auditioning for?”

“Oh honey, you’re really good! You should really try to be a singer.”

Or sometimes, just cutting off the music mid-performance. Of course, you scolded her for that and let the girl continue, but there’s just no coming back from that.

“Babe, I’m sure you can work on your cartwheels a little bit better. If I’m still here by next year, just call me out and I’ll for sure get you in the team. But for now, you can practice, okay? You can even call me for guidance, okay?” You say softly at Sofia, after her performance. She just nods eagerly, but you can tell she was about to cry.

You really want to go up there and hug her, but you can’t because you’d have to do that with every single one you reject.

This is why you hate auditions.

You were still arranging the papers at your table, anticipating the next person when you heard Minnie curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You whip your head up, seeing Julie walk up on the stage.

As soon as she stood in front, you knew she had knowledge in cheerleading. Her stance says it all.

She started the performance, and even if you want her to be bad, she isn’t. She’s really good, and it annoys you so much. God, why does she have to be good?

The routine she did wasn’t easy either, and she nailed it to the ground. Some of your team was actually impressed, and you can’t lie and say you weren’t. That back handspring was perfect, to say the least.

“You guys know that we judge not only with skills, but with personality and attitude as well, right?” Minnie just sounded eerily like a mean girl, saying it to your team but also loud enough for Julie to hear.

You silently nudged her, earning a whine from Minnie but you looked at Julie instead, giving her a smile.

You don’t know what to say, to be honest. Your cheerleading captain side of you, says that this girl is perfect for the team. But the y/n part of you wants nothing to do with her.

You roam your eyes across the bleachers and like a magnet, your eyes swiftly went to him. Surprisingly, he’s also looking at you. Or at your direction, at least.

His elbows are in his knees, his entire upper body leaning his height on his elbows. He looks to be anticipating your answer, because at the end of the day, what you say goes.

You took one final breath before tapping your pen. You look up at Julie, and finally, giving her a wide smile.

“Welcome to the team.”

A mix of cheers, clapping and a curse from Minnie fills your ears. You look up, back at Renjun, seeing him smiling and clapping his hands as well. You look down, ignoring the ache you’ve got going on in your chest.

You hope you won’t regret this decision. You really hope so.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“That’s fucked up, you know. That’s really fucked up,” Jaemin won’t stop bitching up until they got home to their apartment, and Renjun just wants him to stop.

In his head, there’s nothing wrong with what he did. He tried to help a friend, to get a spot she fully deserved. He just did a favor, but it seems to Jaemin that it means he’s a horrible person.

“She passed the audition, Jaem. I didn’t do anything,” Renjun says, stirring his iced americano in hand.

“Yeah but d’you really need to talk to Birdie about it? Like dude, everybody in this world knows that she’s head over heels for you. Then you get in her face talking trying to get some other chic on her team? That’s messed up!”

“She’s the captain of the cheerleading squad! Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Renjun can’t see where he ‘messed up’.

Sure, he did have a hint that you were affected with his whole situation about Julie, especially when he saw you at the elevator that night. You looked genuinely hurt, but there’s nothing he could do about it.

He told you many times that he wasn’t interested. He doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just stop seeing other people because of you.

“Man, I say she deserves it.” Haechan joins in the conversation, taking a sip from Renjun’s drink.

Jaemin gives him a disgusted look, “You’re such a hater, Lee Haechan.”

“She deserved to be treated the way Renjun does, especially when she did those things before, right, Renjunnie?” Haechan scoots up into Renjun’s side, leaning his head onto the boy’s shoulder.

“Come on, that was years ago! You can see she clearly regrets it by now,” Jaemin continued to be at your defense, confusing Renjun as to why because he has never seen you two around each other. Jaemin doesn’t know you like he knows you.

“Do you wanna be with her, Jaem?” Jeno joins in and smirks at Jaemin.

“No! Of course not! I won’t do Renjunnie like that!” Jaemin quickly on the defensive state.

“I’m literally right here?” He states, reminding his friends of his presence because they seem to talk about him like he wasn’t in the room.

“What I’m saying is, can’t you just put all those things behind you now? I just feel bad for the girl,”

In Renjun’s head, Jaemin makes a lot of sense. And yeah, Renjun really did tried to forget all of the things that happened in the past.

He tried to leave it all behind and just completely start fresh. Because really, he’s got way better life now. He basically could have the world now if he wanted to.

Wouldn’t it be better if he left all his baggage behind?

Unfortunately, all those are all easier said than done. Considering that everytime he looks at you, he’s just reminded of the fact that you made his life miserable for your own gain.

He relates your smiles to all the tears he had way back when he needed you the most.

For everyone else, you were an angel in disguise. To him, you were the devil he once loved.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

Ever since you were ten, you’ve dreamed of being a cheerleader.

The entire saga of Bring It On was your lifeline as a kid, and every part of that movie is engraved in your mind. Every dialogue, every routine and every single pose in that movie is burned in your brain.

Ever since then, you knew you’d be a cheerleader.

Whatever it takes.

It was summer, you remember it vividly, sophomore year when you met Renjun.

Your first meeting didn’t go well, though. You still laugh when you think about it.

It was the first day Renjun moved to your school. The teachers announced a Chinese boy joining the class, and you were excited.

Then here goes a pale and soft looking boy walking into class, with a pair of glasses and a bag that looks heavier than him. You were dumb, of course, assuming that Renjun would only speak strictly Chinese.

So you pulled your phone out, and tried searching Chinese words to impress the boy.

You finally chose one and practiced it over and over, and when you decided you were comfortable enough, you approached him.

“See-sow-jian zai na-lee?”

You tried your best to not sound like an asshole, but you really wanted to strike a conversation with him. He looks at you oddly, blinks a couple of times before he breaks into laughter.

“You’re asking me… where’s the bathroom?”

You were shocked to hear him speak your language fluently. You furrow your brows before smiling at him, as he keeps on laughing. You found it somewhat cute.

And ever since then, you became friends with Renjun.

He was timid, shy and overall an introvert but you liked that about him. You like that he’s not some cringy highschool boy trying to impress you or other girls. He’s just unapologetically him.

“Wait, what homework!?” You panicked as you try to backtrack your classes from yesterday, remembering if you did in fact had homework that you missed out on.

“Geometry, stupid. Here, copy some of mine,” Renjun pulls his notes out, allowing you to completely copy off of him.

You thanked him furiously as you tried to tweak some of the details off his homework, but ended up copying it as it is. Renjun didn’t complain, he finds you cute when you cram.

The class ended and both of you got a perfect score on your homework, and you got Renjun to thank for that.

So the following morning, you begged your mother for a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, and packed it carefully with a ribbon on top. This was the only thing you could think of giving him, as a thank you.

“D’you like choco-chip cookie?” You ask, as if you’re just asking a random question. You see him furrowing his brows at your sudden question, but smiles otherwise.

“Yes. I love home baked ones,” He answers, still smiling at you.

You take that chance to grab the pink container on your bag and give it to him. “Mom baked those,”

He was speechless at first, looking at the cookies, before looking back at you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “Wow. Thank you, y/n. This is like… the first time I’ve received a gift like this.”

“Well, buckle up dude. There will be a lot coming from now on.”

You and Renjun became inseparable after that day. Having Renjun by your side swiftly became a norm for you, to a point you’re comfortable in saying that Renjun’s your person. It kind of feels that he was always meant to be with you, and you’re meant to be with him.

You never really found the need to find more friends than him, he just filled that need himself.

The first bump in your friendship happened three months after that day.

Renjun quickly became the talk of the school, and the longer he settled in, students started to notice just how good looking he actually is. He barely wears his glasses now, and he styled his hair differently. But Renjun never seems to realize the attention he was getting from it.

You never thought it would affect the friendship you had, when you yourself have been making efforts to make friends other than him. However, your sole reason was to just be familiar with the school, because you’re planning to audition for cheerleading this semester. Renjun was still at the top of your priority, you still think of him as your best friend.

You were waiting at the library for him, this has been your daily routine since you’ve been friends. At first, you thought you were just early, or maybe there has been a change with his schedule so you just thought he’d be late.

But the library alerting you that they’ll close in five minutes snaps you from that thought.

You got hurt, yes, but not too much where you had to ask him to apologize. Naturally, you just gave him the benefit of a doubt and think that he just maybe forgot. He did apologize the morning after, and you just kind of forgave him after that.

However, when it happened for the second time, that’s when you question if he really just forgot or he just never really wanted to hang out with you anymore.

It sucks, sure, and you wish you didn’t attach yourself to him as much as you did, but you were never a confrontational person so again, you just let it happen. This time, you don’t make an effort in hanging out with him, and actually try to avoid him.

On the evil part of your brain, you thought that maybe, you were just a stepping stone for him to climb up the status quo, and now that he was popular, he doesn’t find any real use to be your friend anymore.

You hate to think about that, because the guilt of even thinking bad about someone as nice as Renjun eats you up inside.

You focused on your own, starting to work on your goals solely and completely stopped hanging out with him. It seems like he has found a new friend circle, and you assumed that’s just how it ends.

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria, planning to just ditch lunch for today. You look like a complete loser, and you don’t want to spend more time wallowing in your sorrows alone. Before you could stand up and leave, you saw Renjun walking in, with his friends.

He was drastically different than the first time you saw him, and it feels like he’s not the same person. But when he laughs at something his friend says, his smile stays the same, reminding you that he’s still somewhat your Renjun.

You sigh and look away, and on your second attempt at leaving the area, somebody sat across from you.

“Y/n?” He asks, with his brows lifted as if genuinely curious.

“Yeah?” You kind of recognize him, but nothing really pops up in your head.

“Hi, I’m Kim Sunwoo. I’m part of the Cheerleading squad and our captain told me to speak to you.”

You froze on the spot. That’s where you remember him from!

You’ve been watching the cheerleaders at the sidelines recently, in hopes to get hints and further knowledge about the team. You were fascinated, of course, because you feel like you’ve always belonged in that team.

You loved watching them, it’s almost like you’re almost living the life you’ve dreamed of. It feels like you’re on your own Bring It On movie.

Especially when you watch Uchinaga Eri, more known as Giselle, the flyer and the cheer captain.

She’s really great at what she does, and it motivates you to work even more harder to finally be on the same team as her.

“Y/N, right?” Giselle is now standing in front of you, looking at you like she was judging your form. You felt nervous, of course.

“Y-yeah.”

“You sent that audition tape?” She asks again, now looking at you from head to toe.

“Yes,” You say, although nervous, you managed to stand still. She reminds you of a mean girl, but that’s not always a bad thing. She just reeks of confidence, and you aspire to be that someday.

She smirks, looking back at her co-cheerleaders, and walked backwards, giving you space.

“Okay, then, y/n—” She clears her throat.

“—Front handspring, step out, back handspring, round off back handspring, step out, full twisting layout.”

Your eyes widen at her order, heart stumping off your chest. You’re wearing denim jeans! What the hell were you thinking!

You take a deep breath, before pulling your bag over your shoulder.

This is the moment that could potentially write your future, y/n.

You shake your hands, letting your body loose before walking back to gain your momentum. That routine is a lot, and you’re gonna need a lot of space.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. You’ve practiced this before. You’re just gonna have to put them all together! It’s easy!

Deep breaths.

Okay.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You walk out of the stadium overjoyed, gripping the plastic that was given to you— containing your own cheer uniform. You let yourself shriek quietly in excitement.

You made it to the team. Torrence Shipman would be proud.

Over your small celebration by yourself, you hear somebody call for your name.

“Y/n.”

You whip your head over to where it came from, standing there with a bouquet of tulips in his hand, is a face you’ve missed dearly.

“Renjun,” you softly say, not registering that he’s now walking up to you.

He hands you the flowers, and you accept them despite your state of confusion as to why he’s approaching you now. Yellow tulips.

“Do— uhm, do you need something?” You feel that darn butterflies fluttering in your stomach again, as he stands before you.

“No, no. Uhm, I don’t— ah, shit. Okay,” He inhales, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I haven’t hung out with you recently and If you ever felt that I abandoned you, I’m sorry. I was just really scared—“

“I got in,” you say to him, smiling ear to ear.

“—because I was a cow– what?”

“I got in the cheerleading team!” You yell excitedly, opening your arms to hug him tight. You didn’t care, you’re just so happy right now. What made it better is him, being here.

It takes him a full second to hug you back, burying his face on your neck. “I’m so proud of you.”

And with that, you felt like you won twice today.

You got a spot on the squad, and you got your Renjun back.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today

It has been a few weeks after the auditions, and it’s safe to say that you’re not feeling well.

Back-to-back exams, training the new members of the squad and working on side projects for school credit has been killing you these days.

Being a Cheer captain is a heavy weight to carry. You need to succeed in both cheerleading and academics, and the responsibilities sometimes get overwhelming. You never once complained tho, because you wanted this. You needed this.

Cheer is the only thing that made your life make sense. And well.. Renjun too, of course. So there will be times like this. But you’ll endure it, as you should.

Not to mention the emotional torture of having to see Renjun and Julie all the time, thanks to Julie inviting him over everytime she’s got a chance.

Just like tonight. You were exhausted from all the school activities and you just want the comfort of your bed. So when you finally enter your apartment, to your dismay, you see Haechan, Jaemin, Renjun and Julie snuggled up in the couch of your apartment, watching some movie you didn’t care to look.

Your body is sore, and so is your brain. If you have a choice, you’d take a vacation to anywhere else than your apartment right now.

And although you already accepted the fact that Renjun and Julie has got something going on between them, it’s still a stab in your chest everytime you see them together.

“Hey, uh, Birdie, I invited them over for a movie night.. I just thought you’d be over at Minnie’s. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”

You smile at them. “Oh, no. Enjoy your movie. I’m a bit tired so.. I’ll just head in.” You say, not exactly welcoming as you want to be, but you just can’t be energetic as you usually are tonight.

You see Jaemin waving at you, Haechan not acknowledging your presence as always, and Renjun sparing you half a second glance before focusing back on the movie.

You head straight to the kitchen, hoping to see anything that could fill your stomach. You just need to eat and then pass out for the night. You can’t find time to mend your broken heart, when your entire body feels like convulsing the next minute.

“It’s been two weeks since the last brownie. Finally got tired, huh?”

You look back at whoever’s speaking, and to your unpleasant surprise, it’s just Haechan walking over the kitchen.

“I just got busy, Haechan.” You say, managing to smile at him.

“You and your damn cheerful attitude. Still gonna pretend like you’re the perfect little birdie?” Even tho his voice was quiet, his tone still pierced through you.

“I’m not quite sure how I should respond to that,”

“Of course you don’t. You’re always nice. Whoever that bitch that fucked my friend over years ago is long gone, right?” His smirk splattered all over his face makes your eye twitch.

God, you know hate is a strong word to describe an emotion. You’re not one to hate on anybody. But you give yourself a pass, because you just maybe hate Lee Haechan right now.

“Haechan, please. I just want to rest.” You say, closing your eyes frustratedly.

“Sure. And just so you know, he’s very happy with Julie right now. She treats him better than you— fuck it, she cheers better than you too.”

He just had to hit you where it hurts the most, doesn’t he?

You wanted to curse at him, real bad. You wanted to yell, scream at him for pete’s sake. Your chest is heaving with animosity, to the point where you want to cry. But you kept your composure, at least until you weren’t in the safety of your own room.

“I understand Renjun is your friend, and you want to protect him. And I also do understand that you don’t know everything that went down between me and him so I’ll just try and ignore everything you say to me. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

You left Haechan in the kitchen, the growling of your stomach long forgotten. You don’t think you could still have an appetite after that.

The hunger you feel was overpowered by the tears you want to let out.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You’re awoken by pounding in your head, nose stuffed and difficulty breathing. You were convulsing. You had a hunch that you’re having a fever before you even went to bed— but chose to ignore it and just sleep on it.

Which you know to be a bad decision now that you’re drowning in your own sweat and tears.

You needed something. Advil— whatever the fuck is available to you. You need to get up.

Dragging your feet and standing up from your bed, you immediately feel like you’re going to faint. This might be the worst fever you’ve gotten so far.

You get your phone to call Minnie, she’s only in the next building. You see that it’s not even 3 hours when you went to bed. There’s clattering sounds outside your room and you’re sure they’re still out there.

Minnie didn’t pick up, meaning you’d have to fend for yourself.

You close your eyes in frustration, even your eyelids burns.

Shit, you have practice tomorrow.

You grab your oversized hoodie and ultimately decided to just go out in the kitchen, and find the medicine kit. There’s one out there, you knew it for sure because you were the one who put it there.

You really don’t want to look like a sick girl out there, so you just buried yourself with the hoodie.

You make your way to the kitchen, and to some poop luck, they’re all there in the counter enjoying two pizza boxes. You practically salivate over the sight, but there’s no way you’d ask for some.

They all turn their heads at you, each having an expression you can’t read.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s the only one who sounded concerned. You shake your head and smiled at him.

“I’m good. Just—” cough. “–need to get something.”

You see Renjun looking over at you with his brows furrowed, following your figure as you move around the counter. The medicine cabinet is exactly where he was standing, so you just muttered a weak ‘excuse me’.

“You don’t look good.” He says as soon as you stand next to him. You didn’t respond, but you just rummaged through the cabinet just to find anything.

You were stunned when you felt his hands over at yours, looking up at him with your confused eyes.

“You’re fucking burning up, y/n.”

He pulls your hood down, and then proceeds to put the backside of his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. You were baffled, at his sudden concern but you don’t dwell on it, you physically think of anything but the raging headache you’re suffering from.

You gently swat his hands away, “I’m really okay… I just– Julie, where’s the Tylenol?”

She looks at you, as if you were interrupting something. “Don’t you keep them in your room? You didn’t have to come out,”

You shake your head and you almost respond, before Renjun cuts you off.

“You should lay down, I’ll call someone,” He says strictly.

“What? Dude, she says she’s fine. She’ll live!” Haechan interjects, but Jaemin hits him on his shoulder.

“She’s literally dying, Haechan. Are you fucking blind?” Jaemin.

Haechan rolls his eyes, whispering something about ‘attention’ and Julie looking at him with a smirk.

You didn’t have the energy to be offended or anything, and you’re almost sure the world’s spinning.

Before you know it, you heard Renjun curse and that’s when your vision turns absolutely pitch black.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Probably just over fatigue, just a little bit of rest and she should be okay.”

Renjun rubs his temple as he sighed a thank you to Nurse Suh through the phone.

“I told you, she’s just really over dramatic sometimes,” Julie says, in a comforting way, massaging Renjun’s shoulder. He was sitting in a single chair beside the couch, where you were laying on.

He bit his lip, looking over at your figure sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, Jaemin and Haechan already left half an hour ago.

“Why’re you even so worried, Renjunnie?” Julie chuckles.

“She literally fainted in front of us. Why aren’t you worried? You’re her roommate,”

Julie looks to the side, straightening up. “Yeah, but we were never close,” Renjun frowned at her response, but still shrugged it off.

Honestly speaking, Renjun really did kind of snapped the moment you fainted. He was scared to death, he knew you weren’t feeling good the moment you entered the kitchen. And when you passed out, he felt the air snatched from his lungs.

He panicked, he admits. And he hates it so much, the way he acted. He wasn’t supposed to care. But what can he do when you literally faint in front of him? Every decent human being would do what he did.

Except maybe the part where he woke up a school nurse in the middle of the night in panic and sat beside you for three hours trying to monitor your temperature waiting for you to wake up.

When your temperature finally seemed to had gone down, that’s when he decided to go home. And on the walk back to his car, he silently drove back to his apartment, simmering on his own thoughts, disappointed in himself.

“I hate her so much.” He says to himself, more so convincing himself. Even his body seemed to detect his lies, every word burns in his tongue.

Among the texts you sent him, he finally texts you first.

[12:37 am] renjun: take a break.

Why can’t he just.. let you be? Why do you affect him this much? Still, after all this time?

He blames you. He blames your consistency. He blames your overconfidence, every time you look at him. He blames you for smiling at him every chance you get. He blames those stupid fucking cookies you give him everyday. He blames your entire personality, making him melt in a puddle every single time. And more importantly, he blames you for acting like you’ve never done anything wrong.

You make him feel like everything that happened in the past was a mere imagination. Like the pain he felt was a pigment of his own mind. Because no normal person would act the way you do if they’re aware of the damage they did to another person.

However, what kills him the most is the way he still wants to hold your stupid hand and kiss you in your stupid lips. He would never admit it, even to the devil himself, that after all that’s said and done, he’d still adore you with your hands around his neck.

“I told her to take a fucking break. What in the hell is she doing?!” He muttered to himself when he saw you doing stretches on the matted floor of the gymnasium. He had gone down there in disguise of visiting Julie, but in reality, he just wanted to check if your stubborn self didn’t listen to him.

“Chill out.” He hears Haechan on his side. Haechan tagged along with him, as always, under the excuse of wanting to see Jeno practice. Who’s he kidding? He’s here to check out the cheerleaders.

Jaemin was on his side too, having no classes to attend and not much better to do, he just went along.

“You’re so sweet, that’s for me?” Julie’s high pitched voice slashed through his ears, and that’s the only reason he even saw her in the first place. He caught himself staring at you and he immediately brought all his attention to Julie.

“Uh, yeah.” He lied, giving Julie the gatorade that was supposed to be for you, but he felt stupid giving it out to you. It’s embarrassing.

He watched at the sidelines, along with his two friends. His eyes were laser focused on you, and when you suddenly slipped during one of your stunts, his whole body flinched like a reflex.

“At least try to not be so obvious, Injunnie.” Jaemin laughed beside him.

“Shut up, dude. I just had a few extra cups of coffee today.” Even he, himself, cringed at his stupid excuse.

“I thought we hate her, dude? Come on, stand the fuck up! She’s playing you dude. I hate girls like that, acting all perfect and cheery when she literally fucked you over before.” Haechan complained, following it with a huff on his side.

“I still don’t like her, at all, okay? I’m here for Julie, and no one else.”

“Sure, Injunnie.” Jaemin folds his arms on his chest, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“Say it with me, Injun. We hate Birdie!” Haechan says with two clenched fists moving simultaneously up and down.

“You know what, Haechan, with the way you’re bitching all the time, why don’t you wear the cheer uniform and pompoms?” Jaemin snickers, earning a hit from Haechan.

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits.

“Sorry, honey, but I don’t swing that way. And even if I do, you wouldn’t even reach the list.” Jaemin and Haechan continued to bicker, with Renjun in between.

He’s still deep in his own thoughts, remembering that he shouldn’t even look at you right now. He has Julie, and that’s what he should be focusing on. Not you.

But when he invited Julie back to his place, and he found your lingering eyes amidst the crowd, with a hint of pain splattered on your pretty face, he almost wanted to push Julie off of him and run to you.

And at that moment, he curses at himself.

He cares.

He still cares.

He will always care.

And that’s his fucking problem.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“The game’s in two weeks, and you all should’ve nailed the routine by now. What is going on here?”

Coach Evie goes on rampage with the squad, most of the blame pointed at you.

“Y/n, I will only say this once. You’ve been chosen as the captain of this squad for a reason. Don’t make me doubt you.”

This was the first time you felt upset. Not because of the rage that was poured onto you, but because you knew Coach Evie was right. You have not been giving your all these past few days.

There’s something wrong with you. Emotionally and physically.

Ever since the incident that happened last practice, you find it hard to do all the routines because of your left knee. You didn’t want to think about it, hoping it would just go away.

It never did.

Emotionally, you felt horrible as well. Renjun was still with Julie, and from what you can see, they look like they’ll be together for a while. It hurts, yes, but there’s not much you can do about it. It’s never your forte to force yourself onto a man that’s spoken for.

So you decided to take a break. Maybe a few days without practice will do you and the squad good. You focused on your studies, your classes and other stuff.

That’s why you found yourself in the middle of a random basketball player’s party Thursday night. You came with Minnie, and in typical Minnie fashion, she disappeared with a random stranger within twenty minutes into the party.

This wasn’t what’s on your mind at all when you say that you needed a break. But Minnie was persistent, saying everybody has been waiting for you to finally show up with one of these parties. Because again, this wasn’t your scene at all.

She basically guilt tripped you into attending.

“Oh, no, I don’t like alcohol.” You politely refused, for the nth time this night. Even though some were absolutely drunk and stubborn to accept rejection, you still politely responded to every single one of them.

“Shit, Birdie’s here!” You hear someone yell, and it turns out it was Sungchan, standing tall on the other side of the room pointing at where you were.

A small commotion breaks out, some even gasps at seeing you. You didn’t expect it to be this big of a deal, you didn’t know these people at all.

After Sungchan’s announcement of your attendance, people started swarming you. You didn’t want to say it because it sounds so cringe in your head, but you were as if a celebrity attended a random student’s party. It was odd.

“Hi Bird,” You flinched a bit when somebody suddenly pressed on your side, a strong smell of weed filling up your nostrils.

“Uh, hello.” You smile a little, taking a step away from the stranger. He smirks at you, biting his lip as he looks you up and down.

You press your cup of orange juice in your mouth as you look back at him.

“Fancy seeing you here,”

You furrow your eyes trying to remember him. You don’t want to be rude and disrespectful so you did try your best but you just can’t remember.

“I’m Eric, y’know.. basketball team?” He says to spark familiarity in your head and it sure did. That’s where you knew him from!

“Yeah! Yeah that’s right!” You sounded so proud of remembering him now that you‘re sure you looked stupid.

He laughs– a bit too much actually before stepping again in your space. You didn’t know what to do, because you don’t want to confront him causing unnecessary drama. There’s too many people in here and the last thing you want to do is to bring attention to yourself.

You silently prayed that Minnie finishes up quickly. You don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? Some privacy—”

“Really, dude?”

You prayed up above, but the devil spawned from down below. It was Haechan who showed up.

Eric rolled his eyes and looked at Haechan, muttering ‘whatever’ before leaving.

You finally take a breather, and close your eyes in relief. Even tho you think Haechan is a pain in your butt, his interference just saved you. You have to be grateful with that.

“Thanks.” You say sincerely.

“I didn’t do anything. What, you got tired of chasing Renjun’s tail and now you’re trying other options?” And there he goes again. As soon as you give him the benefit of a doubt, he goes right back in with his horrible remarks.

“I’m tired of this,” You say, wearing down your guard and putting your drink down on the counter.

“Finally! What a fucking relief. We also got tired of your pathetic ass running around my friend—“

“What did Renjun tell you to hate me like this, Haechan?”

He falls silent. Suddenly not knowing what to say, completely perplexed at your sudden change of tone.

“You don’t know what happened, Haechan. And all this time I’m trying to understand all your hatred towards me because I know you’ve been told one side of the story. And I know I was in the wrong—”

“Y/n.”

Your words hang in the air, swiftly looking over your shoulder seeing Renjun standing with his arms crossed along his chest, leaning his body on the counter.

Cheeks flushed, eyes droopy. He’s intoxicated.

“Renjun,” you whisper upon looking at him.

“Haechan, please leave.” Renjun slurred a bit in his words, but strict enough for Haechan to take it seriously.

“But she—“

“Leave.”

Haechan huffs, giving you one last glare before walking away.

You wipe away any tear that might’ve escaped your eyes, before gaining back your composure. You stand there before Renjun, not knowing what to say next. Should you leave? Should you stay?

“Your oven broke or something?”

His question caught you off guard. That’s definitely not what you’re expecting him to say. You’re confused, really, really confused.

“What?” You say almost breathless.

He smirks, letting his head fall backwards, eyes closed as he whispers something to himself, one you can’t quite understand.

“It’s been weeks, no cookies, no brownies or any bullshit you used to give me. What, you give up now, Birdie?”

The way your nickname falls off his lips so smoothly makes your heart thump in excitement. This is the first time he acknowledged you by the way everybody calls you. It sparked a light in your chest that maybe, just maybe, this is a step.

“N-no, I-I’m just.. respecting your relationship with my roommate.” You don’t even know why you had to mention it. You could’ve just lied and told him you were busy, but the atmosphere of being in a party fed your courage to be reckless.

“Relation— bullshit. Me and Julie aren’t together, at least yet.”

There he goes. He brings you up just to tear you down. It’s an endless roller coaster with him, but he would always be a ride you won’t ever regret.

“I thought you don’t like them,”

“I don’t. I like the fact that you’re trying so hard.”

“I don’t understand Renjun. What are you— do you want me to keep running after you?” You state, extremely nervous about what he’d say next. Every breath you take was calculated, every second mattered.

You don’t even know why you’re having this conversation with him when he’s clearly drunk. However, there could be no other opportunity for him to give you attention other than this.

“I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t want you, period. It’s just… why the fuck do you give up on me so easily?” His disencourage tone was evident, a slight hoarse in his throat made it obvious. He’s drunk. He doesn’t mean it.

“You’re with Jul—“

“I’m not— fuck!” He sounds like he’s running out of patience, gripping the edge of the counter as if to hold himself back.

“I’m asking you one more time, Renjun. Do you want me to keep trying? Do you want me to keep chasing you?”

This time, he looks at you with an intense gaze, saying the words that won’t come out of his lips, with a hint of resentment and despair. You know him too well.

You bite your lip as you try to hold back the tears threatening to escape again. “Because I will, Renjun. Just tell me the words.”

If anyone could hear you right now, they’d be horrified at how desperate you sound. You, the cheerleading captain, down so bad for a man to the point of begging to let you chase him desperately. You’re so ridiculous that it’s not even funny anymore.

Not that you would care. When it comes to Renjun, you’d do worse.

“Go home.” He spat, turning around just before your eyes started letting go of the tears you’ve been dangerously holding on to.

A dagger through the heart, but you are to blame. You're willing the blade through your own heart.

And you won’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Ever since that party, you’ve discovered new courage— much like before.

You went back to baking sweets for Renjun, approaching him any chance you get, and smiling at him at all times. It’s like you were motivated to do things for him again.

Despite the glares Julie consistently gives you, you can’t find it in you to care. Renjun said it himself, they’re not together yet. He was practically saying you’re welcome to do anything you’d like.

Well maybe you assumed that but tomato, tomáto.

“Oh, hi Birdie. Long time no see, huh?” Jaemin’s smile was the first to greet you as you knocked in their hangout place.

“Hi, Jaemin. Renjun there?”

“No, but I’d gladly take that cookie off your hands and give it to him.” He nicely takes the box from you.

“Tell him good morning too.”

Jaemin chuckles and scratches his brow, “Sure thing, sugar.”

You don’t know what he finds funny, because you were serious. But oh well.

You happily walked back to your department, ready to take on one of your classes. A few waves to some students who greets you, stopping for some who attempt a conversation with you.

You remember what Minnie said, you’re always late because you don’t like ignoring people or saying no to a conversation, it doesn't matter who it is.

But you just really don’t like coming across rude. It feels wrong.

You were almost at your class when you stumbled upon Renjun walking in the hallway with his earphones on.

Smiling to yourself, you skip over to his side. All it takes was a soft tap on his shoulder before he takes off his earphones and turns around to look at whoever grabbed his attention.

“Hi, Renjun.” With the sweetest smile you have to offer.

“You need something?” You felt really giddy hearing his usual cold tone, his voice making you flutter.

“I brought you cookies up at your hangout place but you weren’t there. Jaeminnie took it so you can just get it from him. And oh, good morning!”

For a quick second, you see irritation across his eyes. Creasing his brows down at you.

“Since when is he ‘Jaeminnie’?”

Your smile faded, hinting something new at his demeanor. This is new. His tone was something different and the way he looks at you seemed far from what you’re used to.

Is he… no way.

“Since he..” You shook your head, “Nevermind. It’s freshly baked too so it would be good if you eat it as soon as possible. I don’t want you skipping breakfast or any meals—”

“Junnie.”

You snap your head back, only seeing Julie approaching you two. You almost scowl at her presence but you decide it’s not very nice to do. So you just kept the smile you had before and waved at Julie.

“I thought we’ll meet at the cafe?” Renjun asks, the change in the way he talks was prominent.

“I figured we should walk together..” The glance Julie gave you was short lived, obviously trying to question why you’re still here.

And to be honest, you don’t know too. You look pretty stupid standing in a conversation you don’t belong in.

You were about to walk away, when your name got called.

“Y/n!” You turn to see Sungchan, waving at you with a wide smile spread across his face.

“Hey, Sungchan.” You wave back.

He looks at the three of you, but ultimately keeps his focus on you. He seemed to read the room, and when you thought he’d sweep you away, he stood tall.

“Hey, Renjun, Julie. Uh,” he turns to you, “Mr. Hong canceled the class.”

“Oh really? Okay.” You nod, thinking where you should go. You turn to Renjun who’s looking at Sungchan, visibly irritated by the boy’s sudden appearance.

“We should go, Injunnie. The cafe could be crowded by the time we get there.” Julie clings onto his side, tugging him slightly.

“Dream cafe? I heard they’re giving out free croissants! Y/n, we should go with them!” Sungchan, way too enthusiastic as he put his arms around you. You flinch a bit, thinking about Renjun seeing it.

But when you see him and Julie, you opted to just let it be.

“I don’t—“

“Let’s go!” Sungchan pulls you with him, and you hesitantly walk with him. Renjun lets out a scoff, looking to the side before following.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper at Sungchan.

“I’m helping you, silly.” He answers quietly, and you wanted to ask for an explanation on how this is helping you, but you were greeted by a student walking by.

“What’s your order?” A lovely barista greeted Julie.

“Spanish Latte for me, Injunnie?” Iced Jasmine Tea. You silently whisper to yourself.

“Iced Jasmine Tea.” You smirk to your triumph. Little wins matter!

“Psh, simp.” You heard Sungchan on your side, you immediately elbowed him on his side. How the heck did he hear you?

“Shut up.” You growl at him, but quickly smile as you look ahead.

“How about our pastries?” You look to the side and there’s deliciously looking treats displayed. You would order one yourself, but you’d already eaten your own baked cookies.

“Cheesecake for me and.. you, Injunnie?” You note the additional pitch Julie adds in her voice whenever she talks to Renjun. She sounds cute.

“No thanks. I have cookies back at my place.”

You hitch your breath. Is he.. Is he talking about your cookies? The one you baked for him? Widening your eyes, you look at him in disbelief. Did he just acknowledge your cookies? Oh my god!

“Hi Birdie!” Your trance was cut-off by the barista’s enthusiastic approach, even waving excitedly at you.

“Jesus christ, Even outside the campus people know you?!” Sungchan asks in astonishment.

“Of course! I love her, she’s like one of the reasons I’m trying out cheerleading next year. That routine you did last summer was so perfect!” The barista gushed on and on, making your cheeks red.

“I’ll have Iced Americano and she’ll have..” Sungchan looked back at you.

“Caramel Macchiato, please.” You say sweetly, and the barista happily put your order in. You were about to pay cash, but before you could even bring out your wallet, a ping on the cashier.

You look back and see Sungchan smiling like an idiot after tapping his phone.

“I got that.” You complain.

“I got it first tho.” Sungchan smirked. You open your mouth to retort back, however, Renjun starts walking away— probably to one of the tables. You quickly follow pursuit.

“Hmm, so big game next week, huh?” Julie was the first to initiate the conversation.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, heard you guys are performing at the game?” Sungchan looked at you.

“Ye–”

“Of course. We’re already almost finished with the routine. Just kind of sucks that we had to take a break for no reason.” Julie says in the most oblivious way, as if she just said something casual.

You blink thrice, processing her words. Didn’t you need to take a break because she didn’t do her job causing you to have knee problems?

“I’m sorry about that,I just really needed to let my knee relax. But I'm alright now.” You still smiled and took a sip off your coffee.

“You hurt your knee?” Renjun’s sudden concern made the three of you look at him, but he didn’t even flinch. He’s still waiting for your response.

“Yeah uh, it’s just the usual… not that big of a deal.” You say, words stumbling upon your throat. You’re not used to him being like this.

“Didn’t I tell you to take a break?”

“I did…that’s why the practice got held back afew. But I’m fine now!” Your tone was cheerful, hopefully to convince him that you’re really doing okay now. You don’t know where this sudden concern about your well being came from but you’re not complaining either.

However, If looks could kill, Julie might’ve committed murder by now.

“She’s doing fine now… she’s Birdie, after all.” The sarcasm laced in her words are strong.

The tension was too much to handle, so you excused yourself.

As soon as you were in the bathroom, you let out a deep breath. You really don’t know how to handle confrontation. When someone’s being obviously rude towards you, you just fold.

There’s something really wrong with you. You can’t seem to be comfortable with defending yourself, or just straight up calling out people for their rude behavior. You’d rather just sit there and take it. You can’t even curse, for christ sake!

“Y/n.” You look at the mirror, only to see Julie entering the bathroom as well.

She looks upset. Like really, really upset.

“Hey Jul—”

“You know that me and Renjun are a thing, right?” You stop whatever you’re doing, and turn around to really face her. Did she have to lie straight to your face?

“According to him though, there’s nothing going on between you two.”

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart. There’s clearly something there.” She rolls her eyes.

“And unless you and him say it verbatim, there’s nothing wrong here.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Are you hearing yourself? You sound ridiculous. What’s not clicking, y/n? Renjun hates you. He finds you annoying. He probably thinks you’re a desperate bi—”

“Julie, get the fuck out of my face. I’m not gonna say it twice,”

She let out a small gasp. You were shocked as well. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. You inhale and close your eyes, exhaling when you look at her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But if you could just… just leave, please.”

“You’re gonna regret this, Birdie.” You can see that she meant the threat, and you can’t help but to feel anxious. You were about to question it but she walked out before you could do so.

When you go back to the table, Renjun and Julie are long gone. Apparently, Julie went on about feeling sick, and Renjun had to go with her.

“I really don’t get it, y/n. You really like that man? He’s clearly interested in Julie. And not to mention, he treats you like shit.” Sungchan was perplexed, to say the least.

You just gave him an apologetic smile and continued sipping your coffee. You’re tired of convincing people on why you’re into him.

They don’t need to understand. As long as it makes sense to you and Renjun, that’s enough.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Game night.

NCU vs SHU. Two universities that've been butting heads all year. Jeno leads the NCU neocats, whilst Dino leads the SCU ravens. You’re all in for NCU, of course.

The gymnasium was packed. The first game was on your campus, opening its gates for both universities for tonight’s game.

It’s always exciting, the marching band started playing, indicating that the game is about to start.

“Alright, guys! Warm up!” Coach Evie calls. You quickly sit on the grass, stretching your legs, reaching it with your fingertips.

Everybody else was stretching as well. But you can’t help but feel the daggers that've been throwing at you ever since practice.

Julie has been glaring at you. And you can’t help but feel anxious. You pull Minnie to the side.

“Switch main base with me?” You ask nicely.

“That would ruin the routine, Birdie. Why would you want to switch anyways?” She questions, kind of confused at your sudden request.

“I don’t feel secure with some of my support. It’s only for the toss, Minnie.” You didn’t want to say Julie’s name, careful not to single her out. But you also feel bad pertaining to all your main bases when they didn’t do anything at all.

“Oh, is it that bitch Julie? What happened? You want me to beat the lights out of her? Because I will—”

“You know what, nevermind. I hate that you resort to violence for anything, Minnie. That’s not very nice.”

Maybe you’re just paranoid. Julie won’t intentionally ruin your routine. She won’t.

Minnie kissed her teeth, putting her hands on her hips. “I know that you know switching main bases last minute is a horrible idea. You’re the captain, for christ sake. So that means one thing. Julie said something that would make you want to switch. I will keep an eye on her, don’t worry. If she tries shit, I will fuck her up, okay? Now go, captain. We’re about to start.” Minnie hugged you tight, stepping away after just to fix your bow.

You’re really glad you have Minnie. You wouldn’t know what to do without her.

You glance around the bleachers, finding someone that would definitely soothe your overthinking brain.

And there he was, in the midst of the busy crowd, looking graceful as always as he sat in between Haechan and Jaemin. It’s like seeing him made you calm down. The effect of his presence made you relax.

And as soon as he connects his sight to yours, he sighs. You thought he’d just look away, but he smiled. Mouthing the words, ‘Goodluck, Birdie’

You felt your chest burst, instantly nodding at him. You didn’t even think about it when you whispered the words you have always wanted to say.

‘I love you’

And then he visibly froze. But before he could react, Coach Evie called you.

You didn’t have a choice but to bring your attention back to the squad.

“Birdie, lead the squad. Alright, everybody. Finish the routine safely and perfectly. This is just the beginning. The real competition is the next game, the National Cheerleading Competition executives will be here as judges— they will pick a winner between you and Scarlet Heart. But that doesn’t mean y’all can slack on this one, alright?” Coach Evie really needs to work on her pep talk.

You sigh, shaking your entire body to loosen up. You were about to go into position when you noticed the entire squad looking at you.

“Whatchu wanna say, captain?” Minnie smiles at you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to say something.

“Oh, right, uh–” You clear your throat, “Cheer like it's your last?” You were unsure, and so as everybody, but Minnie, being the ever sweetheart that she is, she clapped and cheered.

As the announcer yelled for the NCU Squad, the familiar feeling rushed through your body. The adrenaline starts to creep in and you get high in the feeling. Everytime you perform, you get the chills that you have always craved. Like this was your calling. Like this has always been what you’re meant to do.

The music started, and you swore you had nothing on your mind. Your body moves on its own and it somehow perfect every single step. It was more of a reflex by this point, every position, every beat tatted in your brain.

But then there comes the part where you get tossed in the air. And although you memorized everything in the back of your head, this particular moment was extremely dangerous. You get tossed almost nine feet up in the air, and everything goes once it’s executed. So it’s natural to get nervous, however something’s not right.

You don’t have time to figure it out, the crowd already hyping you up. They know the climax of the routine, and that’s when the air lifts are performed. And you’re usually the person who gets thrown– so they know when it’s your turn.

“Birdie, Birdie, Birdie!”

You take a deep inhale, before starting to climb up on a couple of bases.You glance at the bleachers, finding your courage from one person but he isn’t where he’s at earlier. You didn’t have time to think about it, and on two counts, the bases started to gain momentum. And just right before you get thrown, you look at a pair of eyes that made your blood run cold.

The rage behind Julie’s eyes was evident. You performed the pose in the air, executed it perfectly, but when you’re about to land, everyone went silent.

Julie stepped back from her spot, causing you to land on your injured knee immediately the pain made you lose your balance.

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through your leg. A searing pain lanced through your knee, buckling your leg. You hold it in place as you process the entire situation.

Everybody was silent. It felt like a slow motion, most of your squad immediately running to you. You can’t breathe. The initial shock felt like a dagger through the heart. Your jaw slacks, as you look at Julie running away from the field.

Minnie immediately shook you from your trance, and that’s when you looked at her. The pain has gotten worse when you snap back to reality. You felt your entire cheerleading career crumble in your hands. The tears follow through as you look up at Minnie.

“Minnie, I’m done..” You can’t believe it. “Oh my god, I’m done.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

“Huang Renjun, you’re close with him, right?” Giselle asked.

“Yeah..” You hesitantly say. You saw her look back at Ningning, and they both smirked at each other.

“I was just asking.” Giselle shrugged, and even though you were sure that there’s underlying meaning behind her question.

It has been about three months since you got in the cheerleading squad, and to be honest, it has been underwhelming. Giselle rarely calls for practice, but she’s always in cheer uniform. She also only has very limited rotation between the team, mostly her, Ningning, and Yiren always in the center.

You? You were always at the back. Which you never complained about, because Giselle is the captain for a reason, what she says, goes. And you’re a newbie, there’s no room for complaints, especially from you.

“What happened? Why’d she call you?” Renjun’s soft voice instantly turns your mood up. He waited at the parking lot, leaning on his car as he watched you walk towards him.

As soon as you close the distance he smiles warmly, then proceeds to fix the hair that was all over your face, and tucks into your ear.

“She just asked a question,” You didn’t lie, technically. You just withhold a minor detail.

“Ready for tonight?” He smiles warmly at you. You nod excitingly at him.

Renjun promised to take you out on a ‘friendly’ date tonight. It’s one of his ways to make it up for the time he lost with you. You swear to him that he didn’t need to do all this, but he insisted that you come with this ‘date’ tonight.

You didn’t want to expect anything, but it’s hard not to when you’re literally head over heels with Renjun. A little assuming won’t hurt, sometimes.

“Are you sure I don’t need to change my clothes?” You pat down your pleated skirt, a bit conscious about your outfit. You were only wearing an oversized knitted sweater– and your everyday sneakers for this ‘date’.

Renjun is also rocking a casual outfit, but he still looks dashing. It's honestly not fair.

“No, I promise you, you look good in anything.”

There’s also a change in how Renjun talks to you. He talks to you with a bit of… flirting? You didn’t want to assume anything, again, but being delusional naturally is registered in your system.

You didn’t know where Renjun was taking you, but you didn’t care as long as you’re with him. Nothing could make this man look bad in your books.

When the car stops, your hand moves to the car door, but Renjun held your wrist.

“Come on, you don’t need to open the door for me.” You chuckle a bit, finding his chivalry cute.

“No, we don’t even need to leave the car.” You furrow your brows at him. As you turn your eyes on the front, you get suddenly blinded by a cinema sized LED screen.

You hitch your breath as the familiar movie starts.

“Bring It On!” You squeal, fascinated and somewhat perplexed as to how Renjun got this drive in cinema play a movie from the 2000s.

You turn to him with, corners of your mouth going up. He smiled back, reached at the backseat— and suddenly, a bouquet of yellow tulips separated your eyes from him.

You can’t help but blink rapidly, trying to make sense of it all. Is this an actual date? Not a friendly one? Whatever is going on right now, one thing’s for sure, you’re loving every second of it.

The movie started, and it feels like you’re straight out of a novel. However, as you try to relax, your fingers brush against his, and you swear you felt a slight spark.

At this very moment, the movie is long forgotten. All your undivided attention is on the way your skin feels hot, and your focus is on how to initiate more contact with Renjun.

“Want something to eat?” He asks softly, glancing at you with the sweetest eyes you could ever imagine.

“Not exactly that,” you let out an awkward chuckle and shifted in your seat.

“What’s the problem?” God, he’s so oblivious, you just want to jump his bones right now. You shake your head off with the dirty thoughts.

“Why– why’re we doing this? Why are you doing this, Renjun?” You gather courage to actually address the elephant in the room.

His jaw slacks but he swiftly kept his composure. “I thought you’d want to finish the movie first—”

“I’ve watched that movie 54 times. I could probably cite the next dialogue without thinking. So what is it, Renjunnie?”

He gulps one time, before he starts fidgeting with his hands. “I love you, y/n. I have loved you for a long time now and I was a coward because I had thought that a loser like me didn’t have the right to want you. So I gained my confidence, tried befriending other people to gain popularit–” Before he could even finish, you threw the bouquet on the back seat of his car and grabbed his collar. Next thing you know is you’re already making out with him on the passenger seat and you did not care about anything else.

You pulled away, breathless, “I love you too, Renjun.”

You could not take your hands off of each other as soon as you entered his apartment. He shared it with a guy named Donghyuck, but he was out tonight, which you thanked the heavens for.

“Y/n,” He whispers your name every chance he gets, which is not much since your lips are connected at every moment ever since you stepped foot in this apartment.

You didn’t want to rush things with him, but you just felt like this was the right moment. This was the perfect timing. He’s the right person to do this with.

He kissed you hard, but softly at the same time. It was like you were drowning, but you didn’t mind it.

“Shit,” curses sounded heavenly when it came from his mouth, turning you on even more.

You didn’t even realize you were already in the confinement of his bedroom, until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You let your balance loose, allowing yourself to lay back on the mattress.

He looked at you in a way that made your spine shiver, your entire body burning with desire.

“Are you sure about this?” He carefully asks as he lowers himself to tower over you. You look at him with the same passion and nod your head. “I’m always sure about you.” You take his lips once more.

You can tell he was hesitant to touch places you wanted his hands on. So you take the lead, grabbing his nervous hands and placing it on your breast. “Please touch me,”

His jaw slackens, a new sensation traveling down his body. “I’-I’m sorry, I haven’t done this before.” He stuttered, but you just bit your lip.

“I haven’t either. We’ll be each other’s first,” You smile reassuringly at him, caressing his cheek as he looks at you warily.

He started to massage your breast, whilst his lips traveled down your neck. You can feel your stomach flutter at the feeling, never expecting such a move would make you go crazy. He then looks at you again, holding the hem of your shirt, almost as if asking permission. You gazed over at him with lust that you knew he got the message.

He lifted it up, and in every skin that gets exposed, he blessed it with his lips. The wetness of it makes your breath hitch. “Renjun, please.”

He pulled your sweater up until you’re now only left with your bra. He slowly reaches at your back, which you helped by arching, and with a snap, your bra falls undone.

The cold breeze around your nipples did not last long because as soon as his eyes fell down, his lips attached to one of the peaks. You shudder, gripping his hair, gently pulling it. You’re a moaning mess.

“Touch me more,” You managed to blurt out. He seemed to understand, with the way his hands traveled down your skirt. Still making out with your exposed breast, paying attention one after another, he started playing with your panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” He felt the dampness over the cloth, directing his middle finger on the slit. You gasp in pleasure, flinching every time he explored further.

“Jun,” You whine when he starts pulling down your skirt, along with your panties. His jaw opens slowly as he looks at you with hunger behind his eyes, but the softness of adoration still present at his expression. You clench at the sudden coldness but he didn’t allow you to suffer any further as he moved fast and removed his own clothing.

“Shit, baby you’re fucking gorgeous.”

He parted your thighs and squished himself in between, his member hitting your core ever so slightly. But the thought of it drives you nuts, and it takes all of you to not do anything about it. He went back to making out with you as his hands do wonders.

“Uh, my gosh.” You inhale once his fingers start rubbing your pussy, trying to steady your hands on his body. He pulls away just to watch you fall apart in his hands.

He bites his lip as his fingers started moving down, where your hole is. “I’m.. I’m gonna finger you first, okay?” He asks ever so carefully, and it’s obvious that he’s also as nervous as you are.

“Okay, baby. I trust you.”

And just then, he applied pressure and eventually entered you, making you flinch a bit. He moans with you, a foreign feeling enveloping at his fingertips. This is the first time he had ever touched somebody, and he can already tell that you’re the best.

“R-Renjun.” You whine as he starts moving in and out. ]

“Fuck, fuck you’re dripping, oh-” He takes a glance at your wet core, where his middle finger disappears. He pushed another finger in and you swore you almost felt like you’re coming.

You see his other hand leave your breast, moving it down his own body and you just knew what he was going to do. You swiftly take his hand away and replace it with yours. You knew enough from videos, ones that were shown to you by your former friends.

He muttered out a deep groan once you made contact with his cock, immediately moving your hands in the same rhythm he does with his own fingers.

You never knew it would feel this good. The look in his face, the way his mouth slackens and the way he falls vulnerable on your touch felt dangerously addicting.

There was a strange feeling on your stomach, like a thread that’s waiting to snap. Like you were about to explode. “Renj– oh, I’m.. I think I’m coming,”

You cry at the feeling, making him work even harder. He licks his lips as he went faster, and you can just feel your body shake. Your hands can no longer move, and in the next moment, you felt euphoria. You were shaking, grabbing at his wrist, trapping it in between as you rode the wave of pleasure.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.. God I can just cum right here.” He says, now trying to calm you down. He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered ‘good job’. Your eyes are still closed when he positioned himself on top of you, the tip of his cock aligning in your entrance.

“You ready?” He asks, moving his tip up and down your slit. You nod, even when tired, you’re still filled with eagerness.

“I need to feel you now,” You say. He gave you a peck on your lips and just when you know it, he started to stretch you out.

And it hurts. It hurts so bad, but it's so good.

“It hurts,” You just couldn’t believe how painful it was. Yes, you knew it would sting a bit, but not like this. You almost wanted to stop right there but when you felt him shiver, and hear him moan, everything washed off.

“I’-I’m sorry baby, fuck you’re gonna make me cum.” He says, whining even louder than you. He cages your head with both his forearms, making you look up at him, and him only.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He says, tears on the edge of his eyes.

“I love you so much,” You whisper. Swiftly, by looking at his eyes, the pain subsided. “You can move now, baby.”

He nods and in every thrust he makes, the pain slowly turns to pleasure. Like magic, it dissipates into thin air, only replaced with the pure euphoric feeling.

Your tears were one of those tears that came from pleasure, and that pleasure not only derives from him fucking you, but also from the fact that it’s him you’re doing this with. The boy you love the most.

“I can’t, baby. I can’t last, you feel too fucking good.” He whined in your ear, embracing you so tight that you might’ve broken a rib, not that you’d care.

You hugged him back, “It’s okay, baby. Let go.”

“Ah, ah— shit, I love you. I love you, y/n. Please tell me you— fuck —love me too.”

You were there with him, both your climax approaching fast, even faster when he called your name. “I love you so much, my baby, my Huang Renjun.”

You both came, looking at each others eyes. He dived down to kiss you torridly, caressing your hair.

And with that intense state of pleasure and love, you hold him like you’ve never before.

Everything was perfectly in place for you, and you’ve never been happier.

You’re achieving your dream of becoming a cheerleader, and your dream of being with your first love, Huang Renjun. It all seemed dandy, until Giselle asked you to stay behind practice.

“You know Theo? The main base? Yeah, he likes you, y/n.” At the end of the practice, Giselle and Ningning basically cornered you. You had no idea about what they were talking about— one thing’s for sure, you’re not interested.

“I don’t like him like that.. and besides, I have a—”

“And our Ningning here likes Renjun. So I suggest giving her a chance, yeah?” Giselle crossed her arms across her chest, lifting her brows.

You were puzzled. You and Renjun just officiated your relationship last night, how can they ask you this? Your breathing quickens.

“I-I— Giselle, what are you saying? He’s my boyfriend,” Your voice started to shake.

“Don’t piss me o—” Ningning rolled her eyes at you and even attempted to lunge at you, making you flinch but Giselle blocked her.

“Nings,” Giselle reprimanded before staring back at you again.

“You know that cheerleading is all about sisterhood, right, y/n?” Her voice was ice cold, her eyes making you shiver. The Giselle you idolized was long gone, only replaced by this cold hearted person.

“I—”

“But it’s fine. However, you can’t just turn down Theo like that, right? He’s been talking about you nonstop, and to be honest, I like him as my brother. So, be kind and meet him at the back of the gym tonight. You can do that, right?” Her attitude screamed authoritative, but also soft, as if to trick you into manipulation. She didn’t let her smile fade while waiting for your answer.

You shake your head, “I will talk to him when I want to, Giselle. But I don’t think its a good idea—”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go against the cheer captain? You'll see him after this. And you better not tell Renjun. Or else, I’ll kick you out of the team.”

You were in a state of shock. You feel highly strung, why is she being like this? Threatening to kick you out because you refuse to obey her nonsense order?

You couldn’t say anything when they left. You were conflicted on so many levels.

When you become Captain, you will never be like her. You’ll be better, in every conceivable way.

But now that you’re still starting, you can’t do much. So you followed her. Convincing yourself that nothing worse will happen. You'll just have to talk with Theo, that’s it.

[6:34pm] injunnie <3: baby are u done? meet me @ the parking lot

Your fingers shake, typing out a lie. You cannot fathom lying to him, but still, you did.

[6:35pm] you: hi babyy <3 uhm, not yet. i need to practice a few stunts :(( i’ll just text u, ok?

[6:35pm] injunnie <3: ok baby. see u later! love u :*

You brush your hand across your hair. Not even a day in your relationship, and you’re already lying to him about meeting a guy. You felt horrible.

Yet, here you are, standing a few feet away from Theo.

“Hi, y/n.” He was smiling at you, but you felt uncomfortable. He started walking towards you rather aggressively, to the point that your legs started to step away backwards.

There was a measure of anxiety spread all over your face, however, you still managed to talk.

“Giselle told me–”

“She’s right, y/n. I asked her to help me. And I’m glad you decided to talk about this–”

Your brows knitted together, but you thought that maybe he had a wrong impression about you coming here to talk to him. “Actually, Theo, I have a boyfriend.”

He froze, smile fading, his expression accenting his confusion. You almost felt bad, but in a swift moment, his lips stretched into a smirk and leaned his head to the right. “Well, you could just give me a lil’ kiss then, right?”

Your lips ajar, brows furrowed as you try and process what you’ve just heard. Deeply offended, you attempt to call him out on his brazen request, but he continues.

“Giselle would be so mad to hear that you can’t even give me a single kiss, y/n. She loves me, and if I told her how selfish you are, she’d have no problem banning you from cheerleading up until college. She has connections, y/n.”

All other words suddenly fled your mind. Theo’s basically blackmailing you into cheating. Your nose wrinkled in disgust upon his words, but you can’t seem to say anything. Heart beats intensely as you weigh the choice you need to make in this situation.

“Giselle won’t–”

“Oh she will. You’re outshining her in the squad and she’d be more than happy to make up a reason to ban you. Come on, y/n. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know.”

You’d be forbidden to join up until college. You wouldn’t be able to cheer ever again.

He takes a step forward, this time, rooted in your place, you feel your stomach twist. Your eyes burned in tears. Theo’s touch burned, and you gulped as his palm laid on your cheek.

You couldn’t move. Your skin tingles, heart rapidly beating within your chest as your breathing grows tighter.

He doesn’t have to know. Renjun wouldn’t know.

At the moment his lips touched yours, you knew you made a mistake. You felt disgusted, you can’t find it in you to respond.

“Kiss me fucking properly.” He growls. You clench your fist, and tighten your eyes as you kiss him back despite the tremble of your lips due, a wave of revulsion swept through your entire body.

You’re cheating on Renjun for your dream of being a cheerleader.

Then there was a terrifying moment when you feel someone else being present in this vile affair that you’re forced to partake in. You open your tear filled eyes and right there and then, your whole world shatters.

There he was, the love of your life, standing a few feet away. Behind him was Ningning, sporting a smirk as if she’d won. Your mind tells you to step away, run to Renjun, and beg for forgiveness. But your fear overshadowed you, staying right where you were, slowly digging your own grave.

His eyes were poisonous to even look upon, so much hatred tainted in his mind. You knew he’d hate you, no, he’d despise you. And nothing breaks your heart even more than seeing him walk away.

You immediately pushed Theo, and landed a sharp slap across his face. Tears surged in uncontrollably as you slowly realize that you’d already lost the only person you loved.

Whatever it takes, huh?

You see Theo leave, and when it’s just you and the overflowing guilt alone, that’s when your legs give out. You sat there, clutching your hand on your chest as you cried, desperately wiping your lips until they hurt.

In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of guilt, regret, and shame.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Ruptured patellar tendon on your knee, Ms. Y/N. Unfortunately you’ll have to undergo physical therapy, and most likely, you'll never be able to perform in cheerleading indefinitely.”

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water was just poured all over you. You stared at nothingness, hoping all of this was just a dream.

Why should this even happen to you? Is it karma? If it is, isn’t this too much of a punishment?

You cried and cried until your eyes dried up, having to accept the fact that at the age of 22, your dream was snatched away from you.

Was it cruel? Yes, absolutely. Did you deserve it? Arguable.

Cheerleading was the only thing you know, and now it’s off the table. It was as though a veil of sadness had been draped over your eyes, distorting your perception of the world and casting everything in shades of gray. What are you supposed to do now?

A swarm of support follows you on the third day of your hospitalization, and you swear you’re grateful for all of them, however, you can’t seem to find gratitude for any of them.

Most of the cards called you Birdie, and how are you supposed to live up to the name if your wings were broken off? You’re no longer Birdie, and the only remaining sentiment that name carries is sadness and disappointment.

“I beat her up, you know?” Minnie says one time she visited you.

You look at her in shock. A laugh traveled through her, “Not ‘beat’, actually. I just landed a few on her face. Nobody in the squad snitched, because they knew she deserved it. Her boyfriend seemed mad about it tho,”

For the first time in a while, you thought about Renjun. Your mind was in a different space the entire time that you forgot about him. He wasn’t there when the incident occured and it would be possible if he didn’t know what happened.

“Does he know?” Your voice was scratched, and a glint of hope laced in your tone.

“I don’t think he knew of the severity of the injury, and I’m sure that bitch already switched up the story. He’s a dumbass.”

“He wasn’t there, he didn’t see what happened. I’m sure he’s–”

Minnie snapped, raising her voice. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Birdie. Stop defending him! You should get your mind off of him. It’s pissing me off that despite what happened, you still find a way to give people the benefit of a doubt. And I bet you don’t even blame Julie, you’d rather blame yourself,” She’s right. Not that you’re not mad about what Julie did, but you’re more so empty. You don’t know what to feel, and even debated if you deserved it or not.

You sink more on your seat in shame. “Please, learn to be mad. Learn to be angry, and hold people into accountability. Not everyone deserves a second chance.”

That made you think, not only about this entire ordeal, but also the past. Not everyone deserves a second chance.

Does that mean you too? With what you did with Renjun? Did you not deserve a second chance?

Maybe you’re too nice because you’re overcompensating for what you did to get what you had. And now you’ve had your time, it was cruelly snatched from you.

Maybe that dream wasn’t yours to begin with.

And maybe, Renjun wasn’t meant to be yours, too.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Renjun felt uneasy. There’s something weird about the atmosphere that night of the game.

Before your performance that night, he had to take a call from his mom, asking him to come home for a favor. He was conflicted, because although he masked it greatly, he did liked watching you perform.

However, he thought that you still had a final performance in the next game, which was twice as important than that night so he just opted to leave before the game.

The next morning, he was overwhelmed by Julie’s tears.

“M-Minnie, that fucking bitch beat me up!” She screams, pointing at the slight bruising at her temple.

He heard about the incident last game, and it killed him to get the news that you were injured, again. The last time that happened, he almost wanted to take you home and take care of you properly. Yet, something in him always reminds him that you chose this career.

You chose this over him.

But Renjun wouldn’t lie if he said that he didn’t feel bad about Julie right now. From what he has heard, the entire thing was an accident. Julie did not deserve to be hurt physically, at least that’s what he thought at first.

Julie had become a close friend of his, quickly forming a bond with shared interest in some things. Julie’s really pretty as well, and even though Renjun doesn’t care about that stuff, he’s sure as hell won’t deny the truth.

He tried, he really did. Julie was a perfect partner, and she seemed sweet and kind, one of the qualities Renjun liked about her. So, yes. Maybe he did plan to be with her, at least sleep with her.

But when he saw your pain stricken face in that elevator, he was suddenly unsure.

“Why did you have to put your hands on her?” He asks Minnie calmly. He had no intention confronting her, he just wanted to know the reason and she happened to walk past him.

She stared back at him with a cold grin, “That bitch deserved more.”

For some odd reason, Renjun didn’t say anything after that. Rather, he’d questioned why Minnie did it to that extent, why is she so angry that she’d resort to violence.

It wasn’t until the day before your big performance that Renjun started to worry. It has been more than a week and he still hasn’t seen you.

He snuck out from classes just to peek at the cheerleading practice and you weren’t there. Not in your usual classes, hallways or cafeteria where he’s usually seen you.

Out of sheer desperation, he asked Julie.

“What happened at the last game?”

He saw a glimpse of fear run through her eyes when it widened upon hearing his question.

“I told you, It was an accident.” Julie’s tone was defensive.

There’s a voice inside Renjun’s head, saying to not trust her.

For the reason being that you’d never not show up in your classes, even with simple injury. Sure, you’d skip practice for a few days but you’d be back on your feet the next day. Especially with an event like this.

His worry grew, now stressing on why you’re still not around. It’s the final game, and you should be here, if not to cheer, but atleast watch your squad. You’d always done that. So why are you still not around?

He curses at himself for caring about you this much. He felt like he betrayed himself, his own morals and beliefs because he should not care about you anymore. Afterall, you cheated on him. No matter how nice you are, no matter how much you claim that you’ve changed. There’s no way he could just forget the pain he went through.

So why is he standing outside the field, waiting on any of your friends to show up and ask them where you’ve been?

“Where’s your captain?” He asks the first person he saw wearing the squad uniform.

“Oh, she’s almost here, wait, there she is!” Sunghoon says pointing at the back.

A wave of relief washed over Renjun. Shit, you’re okay. You’re here.

But when he turns around, he sees Minnie. He furrows his brow, quite perplexed as to why he’s pointing at Minnie when he knows damn well she’s not the captain of cheerleading.

“If you’re here to ask where’s Julie, I kicked that bitch out. Sorry,” She sneered at him.

He almost yells that he’s not here for Julie. He couldn't care less about her. He’s here for you.

“You’re.. You’re not the captain. Where’s y/n?”

Minnie’s smirk faded, as if his question shifted the mood. “You really don’t know, huh?”

He felt the first thump in his chest. “What?”

“Better ask her yourself.”

With that, she left Renjun hanging. He couldn’t try and stop Minnie, asking her for any explanation because he felt like he was going to explode.

His lips fell ajar, as everything clicked.

You had an injury, and right after that you didn’t go to any of your practice, then Julie got kicked out and now Minnie’s replaced you as the captain.

He covers his mouth in realization, adding another layer of fear. He needs to find you.

Fortunately, Renjun doesn’t need to walk far. He had heard that you’re in the premises to watch the game, and the first place he had thought of was the gymnasium.

He finds you, sitting alone on the bleachers with a pair of pompoms on your side. You weren’t wearing your uniform.

“Y/n,” He whispers, yet the resonance of his voice echoes. He approaches you carefully, assessing the entire situation. He wants to be there for you, but he doesn’t want to force you if you want to be alone.

You look up at him, and when his eyes meet yours, he can just hear his heart break. You looked defeated. You look tired.

“Why aren’t you in uniform, Birdie?” He asks softly. Deep inside Renjun, he knew why. But he can’t accept it. Not when this is your life. Not when he knows it’ll break you to give up.

You slowly shake your head helplessly at him, on the verge of despair. Gripping both your hands on your knees, like you’re holding yourself together.

“The game’s about to start–”

“I can’t, Renjun, I can’t dance anymore.” He takes a huge breath after hearing your voice break, and he takes two huge steps to reach you. He kneels before you, grabbing your cold hands.

“There has got to be another way, baby. We’ll get you the best doctor out th–”

“I’m done with cheerleading, Renjun. I.. I can’t even fucking walk properly!” You broke down in front of him, and he swore he’d never felt so horrible in his life. His own tears betrayed him, but he doesn't care. When you, his entire world, is falling apart in his hands.

He pulls you in a tight embrace, letting you wet his shirt completely. Caressing your hair as he attempts to calm you, but in his mind, he’s also hanging by a thread– seeing you like this, completely giving up, breaks him to his core.

“What do I do now, Renjun? What–” you sobbed in between your words, and he bit his lip hearing you like this. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He closes his eyes, gently trying to soothe your shaking shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, my baby.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head repeatedly.

At this moment, Renjun swears in his grave, that he will never forgive whoever did this to you.

And if your sweet smile never comes back after this, all hell will break loose. Because he’s never afraid of his own scars, but yours? Oh, that’s his deepest, darkest fear.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Neo Culture University Newsblog

“NCU’s Top Cheerleader, the captain of NCU Squadron, the first ever cheerleader to perform the highest basket toss in NCU cheerleading history, Y/N, L/N, famously known as The Bird, announces her departure from the squad after the incident at the first game between NCU vs SHU.

Also known as Birdie, had suffered a career ending injury after falling whilst performing a routine last Thursday night. It was announced by the cheer committee that Hwang Youngmin will be replacing her as a captain of the squad.

Furthermore, investigations involving a former cheerleader who’s accused of sabotaging the Cheer Captain’s career, causing her to retire from cheerleading. Foul play is suspected, and we’ll be reporting more on it soon. So far, it has been confirmed that said cheerleader is now kicked out of the squad. Updates soon.”

Renjun is filled with nothing but rage.

That was your dream. That was your everything. And just for… a fucking bitch to ruin it all for you?

“Calm down, man. I’m sure the school will handle it.” Jeno, ever the mediator says. This was the first time his friends saw him this fuming.

“No. Fuck no. I want that bitch out of this school.” Renjun was adamant about kicking Julie out. He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t step foot on this campus ever again.

“Are we even sure about what happened—” Haechan attempts to cut in on the conversation but a sharp look from Renjun made him freeze.

“Do I look like I care? Accident or not, I’ll make sure she suffers. I’ll make up a dumb fucking reason, anything, to get her kicked out. I’ll fund the fucking investigation against her. I’ll make sure she pays for it. Whatever it takes.” His voice was dangerously calm. Every word carrying weight, every threat sounded like a promise.

It doesn’t matter to him now. He could lie and tell everybody he hates you, but nobody could ever hurt you like this. Not on his watch.

You could cheat on him a million times but he’ll never be angry enough to let this happen to you. Not when you were once his everything — not when you’re once his lifeline. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

When it comes to you, he’d do worse.

Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other, worried about what Renjun would do. They had never seen him filled with this much rage. It was horrifying, the lengths he’s willing to take for you.

And deep inside, they knew that behind the cold exterior he always treated you with, is a man who is still deeply in love with you.

Also, one common knowledge among them is never to mess with Renjun.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Thank you, Ms. Lin! See you next monday,” You waved goodbye to your therapist, as you went out for your weekly physical therapy.

After the surgery, it was really hard to adjust. You needed to use clutches for what it feels like forever, and there were restrictions that you needed to follow. The school granted you a scholarship, which was really awesome to hear. At least that was taken care of.

“Baby,”

You look up front to see Renjun waiting for you in his car. You smiled at him and waved excitedly. He runs up to you, swiftly taking your bag with him.

“Right on time, impressive.” You sneer at him. He grabs your hand and hooks it over his arm.

“I was here fifteen minutes early, baby.” He winks at you, giving you a light peck on the lips. You giggled, watching him open the car door for you. You put your injured knee first, before sitting with your entire body.

“Where are we going?” You ask. He didn’t tell you about the plans today, but you didn’t bother to ask either. You just assumed he would take you back to his apartment and you’ll just burn a hole in his couch watching netflix the rest of the day.

You can never really pinpoint on when you and Renjun decided to get back together, or at least you think you’re back together. Ever since that day at the gymnasium, Renjun never left your side. You didn’t dare ask him what’s going on, afraid to ruin whatever it is.

You sat there, a bit uncertain on why Renjun still hasn’t started the car. You turn to him, looking for any reason as to why he just sat there gripping the steering wheel.

“Giselle called today,” He exhaled.

You widen your eyes in aghast. That’s a name you’ve never heard before. Or more accurately, that’s a name you wished to never hear of ever again.

Nonetheless, you guessed this topic should be discussed sooner or later. You can’t always avoid the inevitable, hiding from the ghosts from the past. And you believe that the both of you are much more grown now to handle it maturely.

“She saw the article, apparently. And uh, she told me.. Well, everything.” You take a deep breath.

You clear your throat and nodded, calculating on how you should go about the conversation. You’ve rehearsed begging him for forgiveness a thousand times before, however, you realize that you should just tell him what you feel at the moment. Not some rehearsed bullcrap, because Renjun deserves nothing but the raw truth from you.

“How’s Giselle? I hope they’re doing good,” You start with genuine curiosity.

Renjun furrows his brows as he looks at you. “Baby, they gave you hell and you still wish them the best? I–I don’t think I can ever forgive them for ruining us, ever.” He claims, grabbing your hand, intertwining it and kissing the back of your palm.

You smile warmly at him. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll forgive them for the both of us.”

He shook his head, disagreeing. “No. You’ll have to learn how to express anger for people who deserve it. You can’t let them get away every single time. They’d just do it all over again.”

A semblance of a smile had gently flickered onto your lips as you admired him. “Alright, baby. I’ll try. But good thing you’re with me now, right? You can be the bad cop and I’d be the good cop!”

Through his serious demeanor, a small smirk threatened to sneak its way on his mouth.

“And I’m so sorry for treating you like shit. I was deep in my own hateful charade to mask the fact that I still wanted to be with you. I guess I was a puss–”

“Language, baby.” You faked an angry tone, but immediately smiled after. “Besides, I understand. I wouldn’t want to be seen with a person who cheated on–”

“You didn’t, baby. You quite literally had no choice.” He warned.

“Okay, sure but you also have to let me earn your trust. At the end of the day, I still kissed somebody else when we’re together. But at the same time, I also feel terrible because it seemed like I sacrificed our own relationship for nothing.”

Everytime you remind yourself of the decision you made when you were young, hurting the person you love, for something that was taken away from you way too soon, makes you feel so stupid. So disappointed in yourself.

“I trust you with my life, baby. You’re responsible for me now, so don’t you dare leave me again. Okay? I love you.”

Before you wallow in guilt, Renjun kissed you deeply and passionately. Your lips move in a rhythmic manner, as if it was a melody that played in the silence of your hearts, a song of tenderness and affection.

“Shit, baby we should go. We’re going to be late,” He pulled away too early, despite your pleas and looked at his wristwatch.

You turn your head in confusion. Do you have plans today? He didn’t say anything and began to drive. You were sitting in your seat demented, wondering where he’d take you. You try to familiarize the road he’s taking, but you are left clueless.

He stopped at an expensive looking hall, seemingly a restaurant, or an events place, honestly you’re not sure. There's a waitress waiting at the reception. Renjun just says his name, and the woman just nodded and smiled at you. You hesitantly smiled back, and that’s when she guided you inside.

“What is this?” Your heart is now pumping out your chest, as you try to figure out Renjun's plan.

He just turns to you and puts his index fingers on his lips. The waitress stopped at a double door, knocked five times, odd to say the least, then gestured for Renjun to open the door.

For a moment, Renjun unlinks your hands from his arms to open the door. And as soon as you took a step inside the dark room, a collective excitement shrieked as the lights turned on.

“Congratulations, Birdie!”

Your eyes widened, your mouth fell open as you saw everyone who ever mattered to you greets you with the widest smile as they held their own party prop. The confetti drowns you, but it doesn't baffle you. What touched you the most is your cheer squad, Minnie leading them as she blows the small horn.

‘Celebrating Y/N “The Bird” L/N’s legacy in NCU Squad’ it says on a banner.

You covered your mouth and immediately broke down, Minnie running to you and hugging you so tight.

“Bitch, you’re gonna make me cry!” She whines as she tries to wipe your tears off your face.

You clutch your chest, being overwhelmed in joy. Sniffing silently as you greet the other people.

“There she is!” You hear Coach Evie emerging from the crowd, embracing you.

“Thank you, Coach.”

“You’re by far the best cheerleader I’ve seen in my career. But I know you’re much better than just being a cheerleader. Please remain as hopeful as you were before, Birdie.” She says, making you sob even more. You murmured more gratitude to her.

“Uh-Uhm.” You look at someone clearing their throat beside you, and you see an awkward Haechan standing there looking at his feet. Renjun harshly nudges him forward to you, Jeno and Jaemin smirking behind him.

“I apologize for my behavior, and I regret everything I have said that’s hateful towards you. I wish we could get along and be friends. And again, I’m sorry.” He says, almost robotic, and most people would find it insincere, but you just chuckled.

“Did Renjun ask you to memorize that?”

“Renjun asked more, actually. He was supposed to kneel, Birdie. Just wait for it..” Jaemin snickers, Jeno laughing at the entire thing.

“Psh. It’s fine, Haechan. I forgive you.” You say in the middle of a laugh, finding it almost adorable how Haechan is scared of Renjun. Somehow, it just makes sense.

It was Jeno’s turn to hug you, “Congrats, Birdie.” He’s always been soft and composed. You always appreciated that about him.

“Come here! Congratulations Birdie!!” Jaemin runs to you and embraces you, spinning you around. You yelp, not expecting it but Renjun quickly holds Jaemin’s shoulder as he pulls you from him.

“Not too much on my girl, dude!” Renjun shouts, as if Jaemin just kidnapped you in broad daylight. Jaemin carefully puts you down, pointing at Renjun with a mischievous smile splattered all over his face.

“Ooh, Is our Renjun jealous?”

The three of them clowned Renjun on, “It’s just–! She’s injured!” He says in defense.

As much as you want to watch him have fun with his friends, you’re afraid what’s on your mind can’t wait any longer.

“Baby,” You gently pull at his hand. He whipped his head towards you quickly.

You caress his furrowed brows, smoothing it then caressing his cheeks. In the middle of the chaos, the noise and the sea of people, you looked at him as if you two were the only people in the room.

His eyes fill your chest with warmth, the familiarity of his touch calming your soul, and the comfort of his smile soothes your entire wellbeing. He is your solace, and you won’t ever fucking do anything to hurt him, ever again.

“I love you,” You say, silently, eliciting a smile from him. He leans down, kissing you with intensity, almost sparking a flame between the two of you. You hear the crowd cheering, as you two pull away.

“I love you, and you will never be unloved by me. I’m sorry baby but you’re stuck with me. Be my girlfriend again?” He asks loud enough for just the two of you. You nod eagerly, kissing him again.

That’s when you felt the world cheer for your happiness. It’s now clear to you that your happiness is with him. Not with cheerleading, not with anything else. Your dream could change, your future could give you the biggest plot twist ever known to man, but one thing’s for sure.

Just as long as you’re with Renjun, you’re gonna be okay.

To: My dearest Renjun,

I will love you in this lifetime, and the next, because forever doesn’t seem enough. My love, you’re worth it all. xoxo

-y/n

-end-

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