#been talking again recently to someone who was once my best friend/girlfriend(?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quirrrky · 1 year ago

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—•✦ 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙀𝙓𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐

KUROO, your business partner and bestfriend, had one birthday wish and that's for you to attend a party as his fiancee, his fake fiancee

3k+ f!reader, friends to lovers, fake dating

ꨄ︎ happy birthday to the male lead of my life! wishing you'd finally show up for real now lmao

“So Kuroo, you’re turning thirty this weekend, right?”

“No, sir, just twenty-nine.” Kuroo gave a stiff and stony grin. Mr. Onitsuka, the CEO of the sportswear company he was trying to get as a sponsor, happened to be a rigid family man.

“Just twenty-nine...” There’s certainly some hint of disappointment with how it sounded from the older man.

Kuroo gulped and bit the inside of his cheeks. This deal was his most important thus far. We’re dealing with one of Japan’s prestigious brands. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass, especially that he just recently got promoted as the Sports Ambassador for the Japan Volleyball Association.

“Well, we can feature our players-”

“You mean athletes.” Mr. Onitsuka corrected.

Kuroo gulped and almost banged his head against the nearest wall. Of course, athletes! Not players.

Not a “player” like...him.

Who would’ve thought that his singleness was not a good credential for the strictly traditional man in front of him? Everyone who’d see the specimen of a man Kuroo was could tell that he had a high market value among the ladies, which screamed one thing. He must be a player!

“Yes, that’s right. Athletes...”

“Look, Kuroo, it’s clear that you had everything well-planned out.” Mr. Onitsuka closed the folder. “But I’m sure you can’t do all this by yourself...”

“I know someone who could cover this partnership.” Kuroo beamed, excitedly. His face lit up like he had the most brilliant plan out of his pocket. “We’ve been together and conquered a lot by now. I would even bet my life to guarantee you that she is the best!” He pronounced, loud and proud.

“I never heard about her before.” Mr. Onitsuka's expression changed into something a bit lighter. “So when did the both of you start together?”

At last! He’s passing the test. Kuroo thought.

“Oh, me and Y/N? We began working on a project about a year ago and we really hit it off so well. Our chemistry’s just...out of this world.”

Kuroo’s phone rang with the Star Wars’ Imperial March, a ringtone you personally assigned for yourself. Mr. Onitsuka saw your name and said, signaling for Kuroo to answer the phone, “Your girlfriend.”

In a slight panic, Kuroo almost juggled the phone in his hand. For a short while, he thought that he was now accepted by Mr. Onitsuka, however there seemed to be a misunderstanding. He wanted to clear it up, but he had to answer you first...

“H-Hello...” Kuroo gulped. “How’s my girl?” He saw a tinge of disappointment on Mr. Onitsuka's face, and he got agitated, mindlessly spouting things off. “How’s my beautiful...” Of course, he couldn’t say girlfriend. “Bride...” Shit! That's too sudden, so he added. “...to-be.” Bride to-be?

Oh crap. He ran his mouth without thinking.

You laughed. “Wait...Are you drunk?”

“Mhm hmmm...so drunk on you, only on you, babe.” Kuroo winked at Mr. Onitsuka, who was obviously enjoying the show he was putting on.

“What have you gotten yourself again, Tetsu?” You cracked up and followed, “Hey...listen, I already reserved the bar for your birthday party. It’s all good now.”

“You’re the best! Wait, love. Just hold on a sec, okay? I’m in the middle of a meeting, but I’ll be there in a heartbeat once this is done.”

You scrunched your face, laughing. “What’s wrong with you? Are you being hit on by an old lady again?”

Kuroo chuckled, genuinely. Oh...that smartmouth of yours...

“Let’s talk about it in a few, alright? See you the soonest, sweetheart. Bye bye, love you.” He hung up and sighed apologetically at Mr. Onitsuka. “Sorry about that. My woman needs me.”

“Then I suggest you go to her right away. You musn’t keep her waiting.” Mr. Onitsuka said, sounding more relieved to have found out that JVA Sports Ambassador Kuroo Tetsurou was a “committed” man. “If that’d be my wife, I’ll be having an earful by now.” The older man oddly broke his rigid exterior and laughed.

“I’ll take that advice to heart,” Kuroo affirmed.

“I’ll be sending the documents with my signature within the week.” Mr. Onitsuka extended his hand and Kuroo shook it. “It was nice meeting you, Kuroo. I’ll see you and your fiancee on your birthday party.”

Kuroo chuckled, nervously. “Can’t wait, sir.”

Now, he’s left with convincing you to be his future wife even just for a night.

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

As the new sports ambassador for JVA, Kuroo now carries the image of the sport, well, including its athletes. As much as it’s great to recognize that Volleyball athletes were good-looking, values such as commitment must be reflected as well. Kuroo knew that.

Though he admittedly had a past of dating around and exploring his options, it wasn’t the deal now. Kuroo wanted to commit but...he wanted to be slow and careful...

Opening up the door to the restaurant, he immediately spotted you browsing on your phone. He didn’t miss the look of the man seated beside you on one of the bar stools. He sighed. Another one of those bastards...

Approaching you, Kuroo wrapped an arm around your shoulders and planted a kiss on your forehead. “So, how’s the check-up? Is our little peanut okay? I’m sorry I missed it.” He said, making sure that the man heard.

You subtly rolled your eyes and answered back, “He just kicked inside me now like he wanted to kick you instead.”

Kuroo acted animatedly amused. “Sounds like his mother. That’s too early.” Taking the other seat beside you, he swiveled your chair so you’re facing him.

��Last week you put a ring on me and now it’s a baby.” You snickered. “What’s next, Tetsu? Retirement plan?”

“Come on. I’m just being the best bestfriend there is. Plus, you have saved my ass a million of times too.”

Indeed, you didn’t know when it started but you and Kuroo played as each other’s fake partner whenever you’re both being hit on by strangers you didn’t like.

“Yeah, remind me to pose as your lovesick wife next time.” You joked and Kuroo rubbed his chin.

“Maybe at my birthday party?” He suggested.

You took a sip of your juice. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, seriously, though.” He took your hand and held it firmly. “Mr. Onitsuka...”

“Oh, Family Guy...”

“Exactly! I...” He’s now starting to take out his greatest weapon, his sad boy pout and unfortunate doe eyes.

Oh. “How did you mess up this time?”

His hold on your hand tightened. “I might’ve made it seem like we’re getting married.”

That explained the cheesy lovey-dovey petnames a while ago.

You were speechless. Kuroo’s not the one to lie. He’s always the straightforward guy, so... “How the hell did that...”

“I don’t know. Man, he’s been grilling me with my life plan, my age and all, that I had a slip-up.”

Well, you’ve done this countless times before, but his birthday party was a different thing. His friends and some colleagues will be there. You looked at your joined hands and then back at his troubled expression.

“Y/N, just for my birthday, please...” Kuroo pleaded, “Be my lovesick wife even just for that day.”

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

Kuroo leaned on his car as he marveled at you so breathtakingly beautiful in a red dress. Playfully, he whistled. “It might be hard for me to think this is all pretend when you’re doing some serious damage on me with that dress.”

Equally, you admired how handsome he was in that black sweater, and got lost at the sight of him that you almost trip on your wat to his side. Almost.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you in check.” Lightheartedly, you set an alarm in your smartwatch. “You got me until midnight, love.”

The two of you laughed.

Today’s the big day. Tetsu’s birthday. And yes, the birthday part did get you to agree to his "proposal".

In no time, you reached the little bar you rented. It was cozy and had a little dancefloor and disco lights that could make the activities later on at night extra special.

You assisted in arranging a party for him, inviting his close friends and some colleagues. No lies, you’re a little nervous. This was different from the strangers you’d been fooling.

This is it...

Kuroo pulled you closer to him, grabbing you by the waist. “You got this, sweetheart.” He brought your hand to his lips. You gave him a prim smile and he opened the door for you.

You were welcomed by familiar faces which put you at ease, while he had a hand at the small of your back. All the worries you had earlier dissipated. Having Kuroo right next to you like this made you feel more confident.

Though everyone had their eyes on the two of you, everything about this situation felt natural. The electricity that surrounded you...It was so strong. The chemistry you had the first time you met was glowing in front of everyone right now. You could tell that they looked at you and Kuroo like you’re made for each other.

“Here comes the future Mr. and Mrs. Kuroo,” Kenma welcomed, mischievously knowing fully well what the both of you were up to.

Lev greeted, “Happy Birthday and Congratulations!”

“What? I thought you two are already married!” Bokuto remarked, which shocked the both of you. “I mean... ever since you two got along, Kuroo talked about nothing but you. I even got a little sad because I thought I wasn’t invited.”

Kuroo was just pretending not to be affected by all this, but he’s definitely dying on the inside as Bokuto ratted him out. Slowly, you tilted your head to sneak a glance at your “fiance”.

“W-What?” he asked.

You giggled and teased, “I didn’t know I’ve been on your mind a lot.”

Kuroo just simply scoffed. This was totally not how he planned things to work out.

Mr. and Mrs. Onitsuka finally arrived at the scene. Kuroo squeezed your hand as if you were going to face the biggest challenge of your life.

“Kuroo,” The old man called as he patted Kuroo’s shoulder, “Happy Birthday, boy!”

This was shocking. Mr. Onitsuka went from a scary strict dad to a friendly goofy one. It must be the effect of being with you.

“Thank you, sir. Ma’am,” Kuroo acknowledged Mrs. Onitsuka’s presence, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Hmm...You sure know your way with the ladies.” The older woman complimented.

“Gives me headache every now and then,” you said, playfully, which made the old couple laugh.

“You must be Y/N,” Mr. Onitsuka shook your hand. “Now, I know why you got this boy to settle down.” He patted Kuroo’s chest twice. “You’re such a lucky man to have someone like Y/N right here beside you.”

“See, even you could tell how bad she got me.” Kuroo glanced at you with an unexplainable softness in his gaze. “So damn bad.”

The way he looked at you, his smile, his eyes, almost stopped your heartbeat. You felt so little...small? Cute? Weak in the knees? Excuse me. You’re probably smiling like a preschooler having a crush right now, but this felt like a fairytale. Someone must stop you.

“You both looked so good together I wonder how you fell in love with each other.” Mrs. Onitsuka mused.

Kuroo confidently replied, “It was love at first sight...”

You choked up a laughter at his statement. Love at first sight? Crazy....

He raised a brow at you with a vexed and hurt expression on his face.

“Hey, now! It sounds like a Hallmark movie. You can’t blame me,” you reasoned out.

“But it was the truth!”

Kuroo took a long and deep inhale. His eyes refused to look back at you as he explained, “When we met for the first time to finalize our partnership for the Volleyball video game project, I really thought you’re beautiful, and as lucky as I am, you’re also smart, funny and someone whom I found comfortable to be myself with.”

Smiling, you recalled that moment. It wasn’t only him who felt that way that day. “Yeah...that’s...” ...what you felt too. You almost forgot this was all just a pact.

The two couples found your bickering very amusing, which roused their curiosity even more. “Well...let’s go to the proposal. How did our lady’s man right here propose?”

“I first asked her to marry me during the successful launch of our first project.” Kuroo shared to spark a memory in you, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?”

“You really can’t remember?” He complained.

You explained, “I thought you’re just talking about our next projects to come.”

He gave you a stare of disbelief like you’re the stupidest, silliest girl alive.

You paused for a moment, trying to grasp what happened in the past when Mr. Onitsuka cut your musing with a laugh.

“Those were the days...” Mrs. Onitsuka admiringly commented.

Mr. Onitsuka sighed. “I guess we’ll leave you two alone then.”

You and Kuroo bowed your heads as gesture, watching the older couple take their seats.

A sigh of relief escaped the both of you and you looked at each other chuckling.

“Let’s go?” Kuroo invited, taking your hand to pull you close to him until he had an arm around your waist.

You nodded your head, giggling. For the rest of the night, you did nothing but that. He was greeted from time to time, but he’d always return his attention to you. He pulled your chair close to him and playfully fed you with spoonfuls that had your mouth full—ridiculously full that you were swatting his arm almost non-stop.

You didn’t drink anything alcoholic, but it felt like you were tipsy. You didn’t know where this endless happiness was coming from. It’s that free bubbly feeling that just fizzled out inside you. You were always playful and childlike around Kuroo, but there’s something in this moment that was just different. It was like you were set free–free to express whatever it was you wanted to for a long time.

Kuroo rubbed your belly, “Looks like our little peanut is getting bigger now.”

You both laughed at his teasing. “It’s ‘cause you’re feeding me a lot, dummy!”

“What can I say? I’m just simply being a good provider. Making sure that the love of my life is well-fed and happy.” He boasted and you rolled your eyes.

Kuroo was so close to you, the warmth of his body surrounding you in full as he had you caged all to himself. Your body moved on its own and you laced your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. All of a sudden, you didn’t want to let go.

You didn’t know why, but your heart was about to burst at any moment now. He’s right. You’re... “Happy...” You said with a muted voice. “Birthday, Tetsu.”

Kuroo embraced you back and even tighter, closing his eyes firmly while he was holding you so close like you’re something that could melt away in his arms at any moment. “I’m happy. I’m very very happy right now, Y/N.”

He parted a bit, cupping your face with both hands. You searched for his eyes, and he probed yours. Your gaze shifted to his lips while his did the same thing, lingering a little on yours. You swallowed.

What is this?

Kuroo bit his lip. His eyelids were getting heavy as he was reaching forward. You had your lips parting a bit, just enough so you’re breathing from the space between.

What’s happening? What’re you anticipating?

Slowly, your noses touched.

Just a little bit more...

But the speaker close to you started blaring, shocking you both from your little moment and made you laugh instead.

Kuroo stood up and extended a hand, “Care for a dance?”

You accepted, taking the dance floor with him. He had his hands on the sides of your waist as you both swayed to the music. Your eyes were not leaving each other’s as you both got lost in the moment, cheeks hurting from the smile that won’t just fade away.

“Screaming, I testify that we'll survive the test of time they can't deny our love.” The lyrics blazed all over and you let yourselves loose, singing the song together. “They can’t divide us. We’ll survive the test of time. I swear that I’ll be right hereeee!”

You both burst out laughing at each other with how your voices cracked, failing to hit the high note.

“I don’t know why it feels like I’m drunk right now,” Kuroo pondered fondly.

“Drunk on me?” You teased, recalling what he said on the phone last time.

“Most likely,” he smirked and returned, “You know I didn’t have any alcohol.”

You laughed. “Yes, because that mouth of yours may run some BS again.”

“Oh...” He scoffed and rebutted, “You speak as if my mouth is only good at talking.”

Your quirked a brow up. “What else would it ever be good at?”

You’re really getting him so bad like this, huh.

The look in his eyes turned dark and he bit his lip. He stopped dancing, pulled you closer and whispered, “A lot of things.”

His gaze slickly traveled down your lips thirstily taking in how he wanted them so bad. He grazed back to pin your eyes with a serious stare that showed how he’s already at his limit. You gulped, air got stuck in your chest. You were lost at the sight of his handsome face being accentuated by the colorful lights that you failed to ready yourself when he placed a hand behind your head and brought your lips together. Your eyes automatically closed, arms snaked around his body as he had a hand at the small of your back. Your lips danced, gobbling each other passionately, intensely. You’re taking one another’s breath.

At that moment, only the two of you existed, intoxicated by each other’s taste and fully consumed by the fire inside you that finally came blazing after a long time being kept hidden.

Miya Atsumu whistled. ��Man, this got me frustrated.”

“Ugh, get a room.” Oikawa chided, bitterly.

“Just admit you’re jealous nobody wants to kiss you that way,” Iwaizumi rebutted while Kenma had his phone up, streaming the entire show.

Your smart watch started alarming, cutting off your kiss. You glanced. It’s already 12 o’clock, which brought you back to reality. This...This was all just an agreement. An odd stabbing pain hit your chest. You looked around and the Onitsukas were nowhere to be found. They must’ve gotten home already. Your heart was knocking loudly in your ear, and you just looked at Kuroo painfully confused.

All these emotions...

“Excuse me,” you said, and briskly walked outside the hall.

Your hands were cold and trembling as you placed them over your lips. It’s done now. You couldn’t run away from it anymore. For so long, you’d been telling yourself it was all just friendship even if you knew that all this time, the person you wanted to be next to you was just him.

With this heavy feeling in your heart, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle denying anymore. You love Tetsurou more than just a friend.

“Y/N!” You heard him called out, and you shut your eyes firm.

You’d just end up broken if you’d keep on pretending.

Kuroo held your elbow, and you were swept away when he spun you around so you were facing him. He had you in his arms, with his hands clasped at the small of your back.

“Tetsu...” You placed a hand on his chest, putting up a boundary. “Mr. and Mrs. Onitsuka went home already.”

“And so?” He answered, noting that you’re not pushing him away.

“I-It’s already past 12,” you reasoned out with a shaky voice.

He bumped his head into yours. “We can have it extended, you know?” His tone was almost begging.

You chewed on your bottom lip. “What do you mean?” Your heart stammered so hard against your ribcage.

“The love at first sight, the proposal...they’re all real for me, Y/N.” His voice was staggering that you could feel how nervous and scared he was. Scared of losing you and letting this moment slip away. He might not get another chance. “I slipped up that you’re my bride-to-be because that’s what I’ve been wanting to happen all this time.” He ran the tips of his fingers across your cheek. “I love you, Y/N and should’ve shown you how much a lot earlier”

“Oh, Tetsu...” you smiled at the brink of tears. “You’re such an idiot!” You lightly smacked his shoulder and scolded, “I thought I’m gonna be single forever because of you, dummy!”

You both laughed, finally feeling the freedom of having things all let out in the open.

Leaning close to your face, he teased you with his lips lightly grazing against yours as he spoke. “You’re still not answering me...” he muttered under his breath. “It’s past midnight now. Are we extending?”

You smiled against his lips and asked, “For how long?”

Kuroo grinned, pressing your noses together. “Indefinitely.”

And you answered him with a kiss, knowing that you both won’t have anyone standing next to you aside from each other, indefinitely.

𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 w/ my fellow kuroo babes @mayarii-darling @sookisaurus @tetzoro @shidouryusm @kuroosexuall @jotatetsuken @boosyboo9206 💋

#hubby birthday kuroo ❤️🖤#kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #haikyuu x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff

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chavezwhore · 1 month ago

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The Singer (Chapter 1)

A/N: here is my first attempt at a fanfic with Nicholas Chavez, this is going to be a slowburn type of deal. Y/N will be an up and coming singer, who is best friends with Cooper. I’m kind of modeling her singing style after Sabrina Carpenter. Nicholas will be Nicholas obviously. Let me know what you think please! I’ll try to make a second part tomorrow!

The female was nervous, actually, nervous was an understatement, she was absolutely terrified. She took a deep breath as she exited her car, her long hair swaying as she walked into the soundstage where her best friend since forever Cooper was filming his brand new show. It wasn’t seeing Cooper that made her nervous.

It was seeing him. The man that had been invading her thoughts since Cooper sent her the promo picture. Nicholas Alexander Chavez. Lord, she could go on and on about that man, but she wasn’t going to do that. Hell, she hadn’t even told Cooper.

The female took another deep breath as she approached the door to the soundstage for Cooper’s show and walked in. Looking around, trying to find her best friend. He wasn’t hard to miss, with his sunny disposition and telltale laugh. She made her way over to him quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, “Hey Coop,” she said with a wide grin. The male, confused about who was touching him, broke into a bright smile when he heard her voice, “Y/N! You made it!” The female nodded, smiling widely at his excitement, “Of course I made it you big movie star, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she rested her head on his chest as he pulled her into a hug, “this place is insane, you’re lucky I even found you!”

Cooper laughed, “Come, I’ll give you the grand tour!” Y/N smiled, her nerves easing, Cooper’s excitement rubbing off on her. She followed him through the set, looking as he pointed people and places out. The female thought she was in the clear, and then there he was, in all his glory. She bit back sigh at the sight of him.

Unfortunately, Cooper noticed him too, “Nic! Get over here, I want you to meet my best friend!” Y/N internally groaned, why was this happening, she wasn’t even sure she could talk to him like a normal person. Plus, didn’t he have a girlfriend? Or was she thinking of someone else. Cooper was still smiling so wide, she was amazed his face didn’t fall off as Nicholas walked over to join them. Cooper looked between the two of them, “Nic, this is Y/N, Y/N this is Nic.” Y/N smiled politely, “Nice to meet you,” she said.

Nicholas greeted her in return, noticing that she seemed a bit anxious and eager to keep moving through the set. Y/N then looked at Cooper again, “Was that the end of the tour or was there more to see?” Cooper glanced at the female, sensing something was off with his best friend but he didn’t let his smile falter, “there’s one more thing I wanted to show you, we’ll catch up with you later Nic!”

Once they were out of earshot, Cooper looked to the female, “alright, what was that?” Y/N’s face flushed slightly, “I just think he’s really attractive, and I wasn’t sure what to say. He has a girlfriend doesn’t he? I didn’t want to be weird…” Cooper chuckled softly, “Of course you do, but no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he HAD a girlfriend but they recently broke up.” Y/N’s mouth dropped open, “I am SUCH an idiot.” Cooper smirked, “always time to redeem yourself, let’s go.”

He grabbed the female’s hand, walking with her over to the group of actors in the middle. Cooper cleared his throat, “Hey everyone, this is my best friend Y/N, she’s going to be hanging around a lot, she’s actually in town recording her new album.”

The female found her eyes falling to Nicholas again and again, the butterflies in her stomach told her one thing for certain. She absolutely had the biggest crush on him already. And that could only mean one thing. She was screwed.

Nicholas happened to be in the group of actors standing around, looked up and met the female’s gaze. He wasn’t going to lie, she was pretty. She may or may not have been the reason he broke up with his girlfriend, but he would never say that out loud. He was broken out of his trance when Y/N laughed at something that Cooper said. Yeah, the male thought, he was screwed.

#nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #fanfiction #fanfic

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wosoragebaiter69 · 10 months ago

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you’re ok, you’re enough

lena oberdorf x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: all feedback on my writing is appreciated, and hope you enjoy :) [even tho imo this is one of the worse fics i’ve written]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’m not a footballer by any means, but I do know the difference whether someone is just physically exhausted from training and games. And, when they’re also exhausted in other senses.

I can immediately feel the tension when Lena walks in, her muscles are tense and her lips are quipped tightly.

“Lena?” She stops her movements and looks at me inquisitively. “I’m ordering in, anything in mind?” She shrugs walking off, not saying a word. I need to get something out of her. Get her to talk to me. We can’t continue like this.

I end up ordering our shared favourite food and she comes back in from her shower. I look up and it looks like she’s been crying. I furrow my eyebrows in concern but she just shakes her head dismissing it.

The food arrives and I plate it before giving it to my girlfriend who’s sitting on the couch, lost in thought. She looks up and smiles slightly, taking the plate of food, starting to eat. That’s one good sign at least.

During the meal, I make sure to keep an eye on her. She can probably tell, I don’t care though. She needs to know she’s not alone. No matter how stubborn she can be.

Dinner is done, I put the plates in the dishwasher.

No matter what, I am going to make sure she tells me what’s going on. I can’t sit by and watch as she shuts down completely.

“Lena.” I say softly sitting next to her, placing my hand on her thigh. She stares at me with an unreadable expression.

“I’m not sure exactly what you’re going through right now, but please. Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t sit back and watch as you tear yourself up. I won’t do allow you to do this to yourself.” I see she has tears in her eyes. She bites her lip looking away shaking her head.

“Baby, you and I both know how this ends. I won’t watch you shut everyone out. I know you’re scared, I know you’re collapsing. But I will try my best ok?” I watch as her body starts to shake, a sign she’s going to breakdown. Immediately, I pull her into my chest and allow her to sob into my shirt. I whisper words of affirmation hoping that she believes me, or even hears me.

You’re enough.

You’re ok.

I’ve got you.

I love you.

I’m here for you.

You’ll be ok.

After around 15 minutes of her crying, while I try my best to comfort her in anyway I can, her breathing starts to even out as the crying slows down. Soon enough she pulls herself up and looks into my eyes. I wipe the remaining tears off of her face and wait for her to say something.

“I…” She starts to speak but stops. I don’t say anything, just waiting to see what will be said.

“The pressure.” She begins. “Usually, I’m ok with everything, I’m ok with different titles but recently things have gotten harder and harder and I just… I don’t know how long I can keep going. People keep saying I’m the next best but I don’t feel like it and I don’t want it. I just want to play football without all of this. It’s so tiring.” She says with a shaky breath as I give her a small smile.

“Lena, I can’t tell you I understand because I don’t. You have so many people here, so many friends. You may not feel like you’re one of the best and you don’t need to be. Just be you, forget about everyone else’s expectations. Ignore what they have to say as hard as it may seem. Talk to people who might understand, maybe they can help take the burden. Make it easier for you. I know everything is wearing you out. Take a break, no matter how small. Do something you love. Hang out with Jule, hang out with me I don’t mind. Just try, not to let yourself get this low again. Please.” I say tilting my head.

She nods, allowing the words to sink in fully.

“Now, how about we get you to bed? I can imagine you’re tired.” Lena nods and we walk into the bedroom, only heading for the bed.

Once we’re laid down and her head is on my chest I whisper.

“You know how much I love you, right?” I can feel her smile.

“Ich liebe dich auch.” Then we both succumb to the sleep that awaits us after such an exhausting day.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen #wlw #gxg

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bordysbae · 1 year ago

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hii!!! congrats on 500, i love your work so much!

could i request a blurb with 1. "you're the only one who can calm him down" from the fluff list and 5. "i got in a fight because of you" from the angst / sad list with trevor zegras?

thank you!! congrats once again, your writing is amazing! <3

“not even dating”

trevor zegras x f!reader

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY!

ahh tysm! i’m glad you enjoy my writing it means so so much!

— ୨୧ —

although you two aren’t official, anyone who knows boston university’s hockey player, fraternity brother, and student, trevor zegras, knows who you are. if there’s a party, best believe you’re there and under his arm. if there’s a hockey game, you’re wearing one of his boston hoodies. it’s a ritual at this point. neither of you are seeing anyone else, and everyone knows that.

you two are practically the it couple of boston university, but it’s ironic since you two aren’t even dating. this has been going on for at least three and half months now, but you don’t mind. you kind of like being unlabeled and so does trevor, but what he doesn’t like is other guys talking about you.

“yo trevor, you see y/ns recent insta post? if you won’t cuff her up i will,” trevor’s teammate dominic says. one of trevor’s eyebrows raises, “what’d you just say to me?” he chuckles angrily, hoping dom is just messing around.

“look man, she’s a nice girl and she’s hot too. you better cuff her up soon before someone else does,” dom shrugs. trevor rises from his spot on the chair and makes his way towards dom. suddenly he throws a punch right at doms left eye, and gasps can be heard. trevor attempts to throw more punches but not before he’s held back by his other teammates.

as he’s being taken outside of the dorm room he states, “and for the record dom, i have cuffed her before,” with a smirk. he can’t control his anger as he paces the dorm hallway, and his teammates can only think of calling you. they take his phone and dial your number, only praying you’ll come over and help.

“hello? trev? aren’t you with your friends?” you question.

“hey y/n, can you come over? trevor got in a fight, and you’re the only one who can calm him down. we’re at doms dorm.”

those words make you let out a huff before you grab your things and head out the door. dominics dorm is only a block away, so you walk your way there. you climb the stairs to the third story, and see trevor sat in the stairwell with his head in his lap. “you okay?” you ask as you sit next to him.

he looks up at you with a soft smile, “i’m sorry,” he states. your brows furrow, “why are you sorry?”

“because y/n, i got in that fight because of you. dom was talking about how i’m gonna lose you if i don’t ask you out soon and i just got scared and angry. what if he’s right?” trevor mutters quietly.

“well he’s wrong. i’m not going anywhere, i’m ready for anything whenever you want it. you know that, trev,” you say quietly, matching trevor’s tone. you rest your head on his shoulder and take his hand in yours.

“so, you’re okay with being my official girlfriend?” he nervously asks, making your cheeks heat up. “you know i am, so yes trevor. i’ll be your official girlfriend,” you smile while taking your head off of his shoulder. you look into each others eyes before leaning in and meeting halfway. kissing as an official couple for the very first time.

#bordysbae’s 500 celly #trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras fluff #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

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fortheloveofwonderland · 10 months ago

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 18 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer try to cope in the aftermath of running into each other. Spencer makes a series of stupid decisions which lead him back to you and then away from you once more.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - drinking, slightly tipsy reader, swearing, AA meetings, talk of therapy, tears, Spencer falls off the wagon, arguing, slightly aggressive and intimidating Spencer, mention of erectile dysfunction, making out, use of “good girl”, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial(?), Spencer goes from 0-100 and back again, Spencer is incredibly mean.

WC - 7.9k

Chapter 18 - Sandcastles

We built sandcastles that washed away,

I made you cry when I walked away.

Oh, and although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby,

Every promise don't work out that way, oh, babe.

Every promise don't work out that way.

“How much further is this place? I said we should have gotten a cab.” Tara groaned, her feet howling from the high heels she was wearing.

“Just a little further.” Penelope insisted.

Tara glanced at Emily and JJ who seemed to be struggling just as much as she was. Garcia was the only one of the four who wore heels on a regular basis and as such the walk wasn’t bothering her like it was them.

“You said that five blocks ago.” Emily moaned, clinging to Tara’s arm to help keep her balanced.

“A little walk never hurt anyone.” Garcia clucked.

“Tell that to my feet.” JJ rolled her eyes.

They continued for another two blocks before Penelope picked up her pace and started pointing down the street towards a blue neon sign proclaiming the name Trouble Bird.

According to Penelope it was the best cocktail bar in the district and she’d insisted they go there for girls' night.

The four of them had already polished off a couple of bottles of wine at Garcia’s apartment and the blonde had assured them the bar was just around the corner.

“I don’t care what you say, next time we are getting a cab.” Tara huffed as they closed in on the bar.

All that walking had seriously sobered her up, making the pre-drinks pointless. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cocktail or two. Maybe even five.

As they neared the entrance, someone heading in their direction clearly caught Penelope’s eye and she slowed until she came to a stop.

The others did the same, a collective groan leaving their lips.

“Please god don’t tell me it’s closed.” Emily threw her head back in frustration.

But Garcia wasn’t listening. She took a few steps closer to the woman wearing a long, black evening dress, heels hanging limply from her fingers.

“Y/N?” She spoke and your eyes shot up from where you’d been looking at the pavement.

You blinked a few times, eyes darting between the four women and recognising two of them. You wiped your face where your mascara was probably staining your cheeks from crying.

“Penelope, right? Spencer’s friend. And JJ.” You looked between the two blondes.

“Y/N?” Tara frowned. “The Y/N?”

“Uh…yes?” You frowned.

“This is Tara and Emily, we all worked with Spencer at the BAU.” Penelope informed you. “Are you ok? Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “It was nice to see you and meet you. I should be going.”

You started past the women, meanwhile Penelope was giving them all wide eyed glances.

“Look at her,” she whispered. “We can’t let her leave.”

“Are you proposing we ask Reid’s ex-girlfriend to hang out with us?” Emily hissed under her breath.

“I feel bad for her.” JJ replied in equally hushed tones.

“Me too.” Tara agreed.

“For the record,” you spun back to face them. “You’re not being as quiet as you think you are. I’m fine, really. I’m getting used to being broken up with recently. Growing a pretty thick skin.”

Penelope’s face fell, her heart bleeding for you. She hated seeing anyone upset, even people she barely knew. She moved past JJ, Emily and Tara closer to you.

“I insist you join us for a drink. This bar is supposed to be great.” She pointed over her shoulder at the Trouble Bird.

“I think that sounds super weird.” You pulled a face. “No offence, I’m sure you’re all really lovely but as Emily said, I’m your friend's ex-girlfriend. I’m sure Spencer would not love the idea of me drinking with you.”

“Can I ask you one thing?” Emily stepped forward now, eyebrow raised.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“You being upset, does it have anything to do with Reid?”

“Uh…” you inhaled. “In a roundabout way, kind of.”

“In that case, you will drink with us. If he’s upset you, screw him.” Emily smiled at you, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“But you’re his friend?” You pulled a face.

“Guess what, girly?” Garcia clapped her hands together. “We’re your friends now too.”

And with that she took you by the hand and the five of you continued on inside of the bar.

***

Two shots of a tequila and an exuberantly large glass of wine later, you’d eased up a little, spilling your guts to four women you barely knew.

“It’s not even like I care that much, you know?” You sighed. “Sam and I didn’t have a future, I wasn’t in love with him. But bumping into Spencer like that was…fuck it was the worst.”

“What was Spence doing at an art gallery? I am struggling to picture that.” JJ shook her head.

“Blair,” you spat her name out of your mouth like a bad taste. “Beautiful, sweet Blair. She works at the gallery.”

“I’m lost.” Tara looked at the others.

“Yeah, who’s Blair?” Emily added.

“Spencer’s new girlfriend.” You whined.

“Spence has a new girlfriend?” JJ pulled a face.

“Oh!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “The mom! The mom of the boy Daisy likes.”

“You knew?” JJ glared at Penelope.

“I knew he had a date a while ago. Luke and I watched the girls and…” she trailed off as the three BAU ladies smirked.

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Tara nudged Emily. “I told you Alvez and Garcia were dating.”

“Oh boy,” Penelope blushed. “Uh…surprise?”

“I really didn’t think it was true.” Emily shook her head, slapping a bill in Tara’s hand.

“Oh please, Alvez gets all heart eyes every time she walks into a room.” Tara laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. Reid really has a new girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you pouted. “And Sam broke up with me because I got all heart eyes over Spencer without even realising.”

“What is up with him lately?” Emily scoffed. “I’ve never known him date like this.”

“He was married for a really long time.” JJ shrugged.

“He's going through some stuff. Cut him some slack.” Tara sighed and suddenly all eyes were on her.

“What do you know?” Penelope asked her.

“What? I don’t know anything.” Tara tried to shake her off.

“Liar! You know something!” Penelope gasped again. “Spill!”

“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” Tara pulled a face. “He’s trying to get sober, I went to a meeting with him a while ago. And he’s seeing a therapist.”

All four of you looked at Tara, letting her words sink in. Tara looked painfully guilty, feeling terrible for breaking her promise to Spencer. But the girls were worried about him, she wanted to try and stem their fears.

“So he’s got himself all shiny and new for Blair.” You huffed. “Fabulous. So I was just the rebound after his wife and now this woman gets the new and improved Spencer? Fucking super.”

Out of nowhere you started to cry. And it wasn’t just a few tears, you started sobbing. You doubled over in your chair, resting your head on the table and wrapping your arms around yourself while you wept.

Penelope was next to you and she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her.

“Oh Y/N,” She cooed, rubbing your back. “Oh dear, sweet Y/N.”

“Spencer is not himself lately,” Emily reached across the table and stroked your hair. “He’s not always like this.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” You sat up, tears still falling rapidly. “I should not be crying about Spencer in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ tried to placate you. “Honestly, it's ok.”

“No it’s not.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave, not like this.” Tara tried to insist but you were already on your feet.

“Thanks for this, and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You sniffed.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to go.” Penelope looked up at you sadly.

“It’s best that I do. Enjoy the rest of your night, please don’t worry about me.” You turned on your heels and fled the bar, the four BAU ladies watching you go.

“Goddamn Reid.” Emily grunted. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.” Penelope was pouting. “When Luke and I ran into them at Barkhaus they seemed so happy.”

“I have so many questions about that sentence, that I am going to put a pin in for now.” JJ shook her head. “Clearly Spence is going through a lot.”

“How long has he been going to therapy, Tara?” Emily asked her, turning to her left.

But Tara wasn’t listening.

She was looking down at her phone and the seven missed calls she’d had in the time they had been sitting here. As she stared at it, it started to ring again, the same number as all the others.

“Who is it? Do you need to get that?” Emily nudged her arm.

With a sign, Tara looked up at her friends, nodding her head stiffly.

“Yeah I probably should,” she exhaled. “It’s Reid.”

***

Spencer sat on the steps of the building with his head between his knees and his eyes closed. He listened to the passing cars, counted them in his head. He also kept count of every set of shoes he heard walk by.

He estimated he sat there for twenty four minutes before he heard another set of footsteps getting closer. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, her image coming into view.

“How many?” Tara asked softly although her body language was somewhat defensive.

“Three.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I stopped at three scotch’s.”

Tara exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she did so. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“You should have called me sooner.”

“Most likely.” He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess it's some kind of relief you stopped at three.” She guided him back towards the building steps he’d been sitting on.

“Any more than that and I wouldn’t have made it back.” He confessed.

He let Tara lead him inside to the meeting he so sorely needed. Afterwards she took him for coffee, despite the late hour.

“Did I drag you out of bed?” He asked over his mug.

“No, I was at a bar a few blocks away with the girls.” She rolled her lip guiltily between her teeth.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I had to.” She replied. “And uh, Y/N too.”

Spencer almost dropped his mug. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he glared at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

“Excuse me?” He spat a little angrier than he’d meant to.

“We bumped into her outside the bar. Garcia and JJ recognised her. She’d been crying and we felt bad for her.” Tara shrugged meekly.

“She’d been crying?” His face fell and his bottom lip pouted at the thought.

“Yeah, she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“She did?” He sat up straight suddenly, like he’d been juiced with an electric current.

“Don’t get too excited,” Tara rolled her eyes. “She’s heartbroken, Reid. You did a real number on her. She thinks she was nothing more than a rebound from Maeve.”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head frantically. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You moved on pretty fast.” Tara sighed, picking up her coffee.

“Only because she did.” He whined a little. “If anything, Blair is a rebound from Y/N. I love her Tara, I love her so much.”

“I am not the one you should be telling this to.” She shrugged.

“You’re right.” He nodded, slipping out of the booth and throwing some bills on the table.

“Where are you going?” Tara frowned up at him.

“To talk to Y/N.”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!”

“Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t care. I need to see her.” He sounded like he’d made up his mind.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tara focused back on her coffee.

“Thanks for coming to the meeting with me.”

“You’re welcome. See you soon, Reid.” She sighed, watching him flee the diner.

She hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. But she feared this would only end in disaster.

***

You were still awake, in bed and staring at the wall unblinking. The alcohol you’d consumed tonight seemed like a long distant memory and you felt horribly sober.

Every muscle in your body hurt but you weren’t sure why. It was as though the heartache was spreading through your extremities, encompassing every pore.

You’d missed Spencer every single second of every single day since you broke up. But after tonight you missed him with a renewed intensity.

To see him with another woman, holding her hand, thinking about what they got up to behind closed doors tore your heart apart all over again.

You’d meant nothing to him, it was as simple as that. You’d just been a notch on his bedpost, a rebound from his wife.

You’d cried so many tears you physically couldn’t cry anymore. So you continued to stare at the wall and hope at some point sleep would wash over you.

After a while there was a knock on your bedroom door but you ignored it. It came again twice more but both times you remained quiet.

Then the door opened and your eyes flicked from the wall to the figure in the doorway.

Your roommate Travis tentatively stepped inside, hands in his pockets.

“Uh, you have a visitor.” He shrugged.

“Don’t care.” You croaked.

“I don’t think he’s going away.” Travis shrugged again.

You frowned and shifted a little on the bed.

“He? He who?” You grumbled, rubbing your sore eyes.

Travis didn’t reply, instead he stepped aside so your visitor could enter the room.

Spencer looked about as bad as you probably did as he shuffled in your room. Travis slipped out behind him and closed the door.

His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone under his jacket.

You sat up in bed, glaring at him angrily whilst hugging the sheets around your body like some kind of protective armour.

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here.” You tried to sound angry but your voice was no more than a pathetic croak.

“I drank tonight.” He seemingly ignored you, stepping further into your room. “For the first time in weeks, I caved and I drank. Because I saw you.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for that? You’re a grown man Spencer, if you can’t handle your alcohol then that’s on you.” You managed to sound angrier this time.

“It’s called an addiction, Y/N! I don’t have any control of it! I don’t have a healthy, normal attitude towards alcohol. I’m not the kind of person that can just have a drink, I have to drink to excess, get wasted to forget my pathetic fucking life!” He yelled at you and you flinched a little.

“If you just came here to yell at me then leave. I am in no mood to listen to your bullshit, Spencer. Go back to your girlfriend. I don’t want you here.” You shook your head at him.

“No,” he stepped even further into the room. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“And what did you come here to say?” You got out of bed as he got closer, hating the way he was looming over you.

You only wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and you tried to ignore how exposed you felt.

“I quit drinking, or at least it tried, I’m trying. I started therapy, I’m trying to be a better version of myself.”

“Yeah, for your new girlfriend.” You scoffed.

“Seriously? That’s what you think? You think I’m doing all of this for her?” He sounded incredulous.

“Who did you do it for then? Enlighten me.” You growled, throwing your hands up in the air.

“For a start, I’m doing it for my daughters because they deserve more from me.”

“Agreed.” You rolled your eyes.

“But I’m also doing it for you! I’m doing it because I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of your love.” He lowered his voice a little but the anger still shone through.

“Oh please,” you shook your head. “You didn’t love me, Spencer. You love your ex-wife. Or maybe you love Blair, who knows? I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I do love my ex-wife, ok?” He grabbed you by the biceps suddenly, making you whimper. “Of course I do! It’s normal for me to feel that way. Her hurting me doesn’t change the fact that we had a lot of good years together. It doesn’t erase the fact she’s the mother of my kids. But it also doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t also love you.”

“I think you’re just scared to be alone.” You shook your head. “You can’t stand to be lonely. You don’t love me Spencer, you just want someone to play happy families with. Well it won’t be me.”

Spencer hissed and suddenly, using his grip on your arms he spun you around and shoved you up against the wall.

You whined as your back slammed into it, his grip on your biceps tightening.

“You think I’m lying? You think I would stand here and lie to you?” He spat right in your face.

“I didn’t say that. You might think you love me, but you only want me until the next pretty face walks by.”

“What the fuck do you think of me?” He shook you a little. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole who uses women and throws them aside once he’s done with them?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrugged.

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were brimming with his rage.

“I didn’t throw you aside, Y/N, you walked away.”

“Because I heard you telling your ex you were still in love with her!” You yelled again, fighting against his hold on you but he was stronger. “And then suddenly you’re dating someone else entirely. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“I thought she was what I needed. She knows what I’ve been through, she understands because she’s been there too. But she’s not you, she’ll never be you. And you aren’t exactly innocent in all of this, you moved on from me pretty fast if I remember correctly.” He was caging you into the wall, trapping you in your own room.

“I was trying to get over you.” You scoffed.

“By fucking some frat boy looking behemoth?” He raised his voice again.

“Don’t turn this around on me. It was your fault we broke up, not mine. If you’re allowed to sleep with every single mom who looks your way then I’m allowed to sleep with the decent guy who has had feelings for me since college!” You yelled back but you noticed his expression falter. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, finally letting go of you and taking a step back.

“What is it? I touched a nerve.”

“I didn’t sleep with her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“You expect me to believe that? You couldn’t get me into bed fast enough when we met!” You shook your head.

“You want to know the truth?” He suddenly grabbed you again and you found yourself quickly being pinned to the wall once more. “The truth is I couldn’t get it up for her. And I thought it was because of my goddamn antidepressants but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my meds, it couldn’t have been.”

“Why couldn’t it have been?” You swallowed thickly.

“Because,” he clenched his jaw again. “From the second you got out of bed and I saw what you were wearing…I got hard without so much as touching you and I have been ever since.”

You felt the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t stop from glancing down between your bodies, as if you needed proof. But low and behold you saw it, the obvious tenting in his slacks.

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and he was staring intently at you.

“So while you might have been spreading your legs for someone else, I couldn’t physically bring myself to sleep with her. I couldn’t even fucking masturbate because my hand isn’t you!” He spat.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You scowled at him. “Am I supposed to fall to my knees and thank you? You think you can come here and tell me you can’t get it up for another woman and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“You got in my head, don’t you understand? You got in my head and into my heart. You’re under my skin, in my veins like a drug. Maeve, Blair; they have nothing on you. I thought Maeve was the love of my life because I didn’t know any better. She’s not the love of my life, you are!” He pushed you more firmly against the wall, his hips now pressing into yours and you could feel just how hard he was.

Did it make you a complete idiot for thinking you may fall back into bed with him? He made it so easy to hate him, but he also made it impossible not to love him.

You didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to give in and relent to him but it felt inevitable. The way he was looking at you coupled with his firm hold on your arms and his hard cock pressing against you was making you weak.

It was only a matter of time.

“I’m not even sure you know what love is.” You scoffed.

Were you deliberately baiting him? Were you purposefully trying to anger him further? Was there a part of you that liked seeing him like this, pushed to his limits?

As expected he tightened his grip on you and you could feel the bruises starting to form.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me, sweetheart?” He spoke, practically reading your mind.

“Whether I am or not, clearly it’s working.” You shrugged. “But if I really wanted to get a rise out of you I suppose I could tell you that while you couldn’t get it up for your girlfriend, I was having some incredibly mind blowing sex with Sam.”

Why were you doing this? What the fuck was wrong with you?

Perhaps it was the anger still flooding your veins, the hurt Spencer had caused you lingered like a rain cloud. Maybe you wanted him to know how it felt, you wanted him to feel your pain.

His eyes darkened as he stared at you and a menacing kind of smirk spread across his lips.

“Oh darling,” he chuckled deeply, angrily. “You and I both know he has nothing on me.”

“Wow, big headed much?”

“It’s not big headed if it’s a fact.” He laughed darkly again. “I put my all into everything I do, research and study so I am the very best at anything I set my mind to. And that is how I know I am good in bed. Better than that oversized asshat you spent your time with.”

You swallowed again, subconsciously pressing your thighs together. You hoped he didn’t notice but of course he did.

“How wet are you right now, Y/N?” He smirked, his eyes practically black.

“I’m…not.” You lied and he saw right through you.

“Oh ok,” he laughed again with a roll of his eyes. “So if I was to do this…”

He trailed off and removed one hand from your bicep. You watched it move between your bodies and suddenly it was between your legs, ghosting over the fabric of your shorts.

The soaking wet fabric of your shorts.

You hissed involuntarily and Spencer moved his hand back up to your bicep looking incredibly smug.

“I thought so.” He grinned dangerously. “You know you only need to say the word and I’m yours.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You hurt me, you broke my fucking heart!”

“Let me make it better, princess. I can make it up to you.” He softened, looking at you with something akin to love in his eyes.

“No.” You whimpered. “You can’t make up for what you’ve done.”

The darkness quickly returned to his eyes and in one swift move his lips were slamming into yours. You whined and the second your lips were parted his tongue plunged into your mouth.

You allowed him to kiss you, his hips grinding against yours. You were putty in his hands, a complete and utter idiot. But you didn’t care.

The kiss didn’t last very long before he was pulling back and staring deep into your eyes.

“You don’t want me?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “You want me to leave?”

You swallowed, trying to muster the strength to tell him to go, to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t.

Instead you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him back in for another kiss. And if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was smirking into your lips.

Soon enough he was manoeuvring you away from the wall and over to your bed. His lips remained on yours, deepening the kiss as he went. You felt the back of your calves hit the bed but Spencer kept you upright with his hold still on your arms.

He moved his hands now, fingertips grazing down the sides of your rib cage, lower and lower until they reached the hem of your tank top. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and started raking it up your body.

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips puffy and swollen, and you raised your arms for him to lift the top the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside quickly and your hands found the ends of his tie, still hanging around his neck.

You used it to pull him back in for another kiss and then started on the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his jacket off in the meantime and let it hit the floor.

You got him out of his shirt and it joined the other clothes on the floor. And then he pushed you back to the bed until your back collided with the mattress.

He regarded you with his dark eyes and a sinful smirk before crawling on the bed, kneeling either side of your hips. He laid on top of you, hissing at the contact from your bare chests.

He stroked your hair lovingly back off of your face in a stark contrast to his previous roughness. But it only lasted a moment as soon he was kissing you again with renewed fervour.

He grinded his hips against yours, relishing in the feeling of being able to get hard again. He should have known it wasn’t his meds. He should have known you’d be the cure.

His lips left yours and peppered kisses along your jawline. Your head rolled back to allow him access to your neck. In kind he moved lower, lips sucking against the skin on the front of your throat.

Your hands wandered to his shoulder blades, nails kneading the muscles while he moved on to place kisses all along your collarbones.

Soon they ebbed lower, lips leaving their trail over the tops of your breasts and then down your sternum.

He circled back to place a deep kiss on the swell of your breast before you felt his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple.

You moaned as he took the bud in his mouth, teeth grazing your peak, teasingly nibbling it. You arched your back, toes curling.

He sucked and nipped for a few moments before offering the same treatment to your other nipple. You were writhing beneath him on the bed, wanton moans and breathy pants leaving your parted lips.

A few more strategically placed kisses between your breasts and he was continuing his journey down your stomach, around your belly button and then across each hip.

You were rolling your hips up to meet him, desperate for more. He smirked against your skin, knowing he was driving you crazy but that was part of the fun.

He looked up at you through his hair which had now fallen into his face, while he placed kisses along the waistband of your cotton shorts.

You’d moved to grip his shoulders and were not so subtly trying to push him lower.

“Use your words, princess.” He spoke against your shorts. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” You whined.

“Do I?” He teased. “I think you might have to spell it out for me.”

He sat back a few inches, his large hands now on your thighs and parting them so he could kneel between them.

Your pupils were blown out as you looked up at him, face flushed red with your arousal.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much.

“Please go down on me. Please, Spencer? God I missed your mouth between my legs.”

He made the most animalistic sound, closing his eyes and feeling his cock throb painfully. When he opened his eyes again you were staring right at him, begging him with your gaze.

“Oh how I have missed being between your legs.” He lowered himself again, kissing along your stomach once more whilst tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You arched your back again to aid him pulling them down your legs, the wet patch left behind in the fabric making Spencer feral.

He balled up the garment and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply and moaning as the scent of your arousal encompassed him.

“Is this all for me, angel?” He smirked, dropping the shorts on the floor.

“Of course,” you nodded, hooking your legs over his shoulders. “Only ever for you, Spence.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He rewarded you by placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you.” You stuttered, desperate for him.

“Good girl.” He repeated and kissed the inside of your other thigh. “Who’s better in bed, angel? Me or that pumped up frat boy?”

“You are!” You whined. “No one’s better than you.”

“You really are such a good girl for me, Y/N.” He smiled, kissing slightly higher on your thigh.

“So g-good.” You agreed. “P-please?”

“Well, since you did ask so nicely.” He bowed his head, blowing air between your legs and making you squirm.

He lifted one arm and pressed his forearm over your hips, holding you in place. And then his tongue cautiously swiped through your silken folds.

He collected your arousal on his tongue, moaning at how good you tasted. You whimpered and your eyes fell shut, blindly reaching out until you found his head and threaded your fingers into his locks.

You dug your nails into his roots when he found purchase on your clit. He swiped his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud a couple of times before wrapping his lips around it.

He suckled on you, tongue jutting out every so often to add to the pleasure. You tugged at his hair, grinding against his face, needing more.

He smiled against you, his free hand edging up your thigh. You felt two long, nimble fingers press against you.

He glanced up at you through his lashes and he saw your eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears forcing their way out.

He continued to lap over your clit while he pushed his two digits inside of you. He growled against you, he’d almost forgotten how good you felt. The way you stretched around his fingers was heaven, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again.

He’d had every intention of bringing you to orgasm like this and he knew it wouldn’t take a lot. But as he fingered you, his digits moving deftly in and out of your throbbing cunt, he simply couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his mouth away from you, causing your eyes to suddenly open. He kept his fingers inside of you, stretching you as much as he could in preparation.

“Why’d you stop?” You whimpered, tears staining your face.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” His fingers brushed against your cervix and you shuddered and moaned. “I’m sorry, I need to be inside of you so badly.”

“Ok.” You nodded. “Please?”

He kissed your hip bones whilst scissoring his fingers inside of you a few more times. His other hand worked on the button of his slacks.

When he removed his fingers you whined again, feeling horribly empty. Spencer sat back so he could shimmy off his pants and underwear before laying back down on top of you.

His hard member found its way between your legs and he moved back and forth through your slick a few times. He bowed his head to kiss you, cupping your jaw tenderly.

“You’re not on birth control are you?” He spoke against your lips.

“I am now, I started on the pill.” You replied.

What you didn't say was that you’d gone on it because of his own paranoia. He’d somehow transferred his obsession with birth control onto you. He’d told you condoms were ninety eight percent effective, eighty five when factoring in human error. The pill, as you’d researched, was over ninety nine percent effective when taken at the same time every day, which you did religiously.

“Great.” He swallowed thickly, sitting back between your parted legs.

He held the base of his shaft and lined himself up with your desperate hole.

“I have condoms though.” You frowned up at him.

“I want to do this. I want to feel you, really feel you.” He insisted.

“You’re sure?”

“Did you use protection with him?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Then I’m sure.” He nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

He did want this, more than anything, but that didn’t take away his fear of getting you pregnant. Realistically he knew the pill was incredibly safe, and the likelihood of you getting pregnant was very low. He couldn’t help but be paranoid.

But he wanted this, needed this. He wanted to take your relationship to a level he never thought he’d experience again. He wanted to be sheathed inside of you with no barrier, nothing between his cock and your throbbing walls.

“I will warn you I have not had unprotected sex in a very long time and I’m already dangerously close so if this doesn’t last long…”

“I don’t care.” You rolled your hips against him. “Please, Spencer?”

He nodded, taking a breath to stem his nerves. Keeping hold of the base of his cock he slowly pushed his way inside of you, his eyes rolling back in his head the second he inched passed your entrance.

The sounds emanating from his lips could only be described as sinful. He was careful in his movements, disappearing inside of you inch by painful inch.

It felt like coming up for air. Being inside of you like this was the most incredible feeling of his whole life. He could feel every tiny movement of you stretching around his heavy length, the smallest fluttering of your walls.

He bottomed out inside of you and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face against your neck and breathing heavily.

“There are no words in any human language to describe what that feels like.” He spoke into your skin. “You're definitely on the pill?”

“One hundred percent.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around him.

“Good,” he lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Because I want nothing more than to come inside of you.”

You moaned deeply and he felt you clench around him. His hips bucked involuntarily.

“P-please,” you nodded. “Please I want you to come inside me.”

He pushed himself back up, his hands either side of your face. You wrapped your own hands around his biceps, squeezing him to encourage him to move.

He started slowly, not wanting this feeling to end too soon. He pulled back almost all the way before leisurely sinking back inside of you.

He stared down on you, not breaking eye contact as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he didn’t want this to end so soon so he continued his slow thrusts.

With each one his blunt head nudged against your bundle of nerves, and elicited a deep moan from your lungs. He was panting and grunting, closing his eyes briefly every time you clenched around his bare dick.

At that moment he had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone. He felt like he’d become a part of you and you him. Your body was simply an extension of his own.

He could feel so much, he’d forgotten what it was like to be like this, it was a feeling he wanted to last forever.

He’d never been so raw and exposed with another person and for a while that was the most wonderful feeling. But as he felt his orgasm start to build in the pit of his stomach, another unwelcome sensation joined it.

What the fuck am I doing?

He closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions erupted inside of him. The voice of a woman he’d had a one night stand with telling him she was pregnant. Falling in love with a woman who could so easily tear apart the life they’d built together like it was a house of cards.

Spencer I’m keeping this baby whether you want to be a part of its life or not.

Spencer I’ve been having an affair.

Spencer, this is Bobby, my boyfriend.

Why is mommy leaving?

Why doesn’t she want to live with us anymore?

“Can’t do this.” He mumbled, his movements slowing ever further.

“Huh?” You panted squeezing his biceps. “I’m close Spence, don’t stop.”

“Can’t do this.” He repeated, his eyes snapping open.

He stared down at you again, stilling his movements completely. A look of remorse washed over him and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He withdrew you, physically and mentally.

You whined when he pulled out, sitting up and frowning at him.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, head hazy with your impending orgasm of which you’d been denied.

“I can’t do it.” He moved off the bed, getting to his feet, ignoring the fact his cock was still standing at attention.

“So we’ll use a condom.” You stared at his back.

“No, it’s not just that.” He turned back to you, eyes full of sorrow. “I should go.”

“What? Why?” You pulled the sheet around your body feeling exposed although Spencer didn’t seem to notice he was still naked.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I can’t do this Y/N.”

“Do what?”

“This. Us. It’s not going to work is it? We know that.”

“How do we know that?” You frowned at him.

“Have you just completely forgotten that we want different things? That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on now as his dick started to soften with his overwhelming emotions.

“You came to me. You came to me, not the other way around. You come here and tell me you love me and sleep with me and now you’re saying this?” You were incredulous.

You jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your clothes back on while Spencer did the same. He didn’t button his shirt properly but he didn’t care or notice.

“I can’t do this, I can’t bring someone into my girls lives when it’s not going to work out. They’ve already been hurt by one woman, I can’t have them be hurt by another.” He raised his voice a little, stuffing his tie in his pocket.

“They have or you have?” You scoffed. “Let’s be honest here, Spencer. This isn’t about your kids, it’s about you.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No it’s not.”

“Maeve hurt you, I get it. But not everyone is like that.” You tried to reason with him but he kept shaking his head.

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes Y/N, I knew her for thirteen years. If someone can hurt another person that way after over a decade of marriage and two children then who’s to say you couldn’t do the same?” He spat, pushing his hair back from his face.

“So this is about you.”

“No,” he frowned. “What is meant is, if someone can hurt their own daughters that way, who’s to say a stranger couldn’t do it too.”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re scared Spencer and I understand that. What Maeve did to you was horrible, I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you. But you have to have faith that not everyone is out to hurt you.”

“Faith?” He scoffed, his expression indignant. “I have to have faith? Faith in another human being not to hurt my girls the way their own mother hurt them?”

“Spencer, come on. This isn’t just about them and you know it!” You yelled, getting frustrated by his deflection.

“You don’t get it.” He growled. “You don’t get it because you don’t have kids.”

“Kids are tough. They bounce back quicker. It’s adults that are the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones that hang onto those losses, that feel the pain longer. I’m not doubting for a second that your wife hurt them when she left and I am not saying they probably aren’t still harbouring some kind of feelings about it. But they are buoyant and you’ve let yourself drown.” You folded your arms over your chest, shaking a head a little in disappointment.

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes darkened again and it didn’t at all take you by surprise when he stepped forward and grabbed you roughly by the arm.

“You don’t know anything,” he was really close to you, spitting his words right in your face. “You don’t have kids, you don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what my kids are going through. You don’t get to tell me what I’m going through. You don’t know my girls, and you don’t know me.” He shook you by the arm but you wouldn’t show him your fear.

“You think I don’t know you? Oh please.” You scoffed, his grip on you getting firmer, blunt fingernails pressing into the previous marks he’d left behind.

“You know the things I’ve actively shown you. You know the side of me I am willing for you to see. You don’t know me. Not the real me.” He growled, spittal flying from his lips.

“I know you.” You spat back. “I know you’re scared of being vulnerable, terrified of letting someone close to you because you were hurt in a way no one should ever have to be hurt by someone they love. You built up walls to protect your heart from another beating. You use your kids as an excuse not to let anyone in. Because deep down you are petrified of getting your heart broken again. So you’re pushing me away because you think it’ll be easier than giving me a chance to hurt you.”

His eyes were practically black now, his pupils and irises bleeding together in his anger. His grip on you was so tight it was starting to hurt but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him as much.

“You don’t know shit. You think because you're getting your doctorate in psychology that you can read me? If that’s the best you’ve got you’ve got a lot to learn.” He let go of you now, turning away from you. “This isn’t up for debate Y/N. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here and now I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” you spat. “Fucking coward.”

He spun back to you, eyes somehow even darker than before.

“Fuck you.” He replied childishly.

“You’d rather be alone and miserable than be with someone you love on the off chance you might get hurt? That’s pretty cowardly Spencer.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I only told you I loved you to get you into bed?” A menacing smirk blossomed on his lips. “You said it yourself, I couldn’t get you into bed fast enough when we met. I was touch starved, I needed to get laid. I would have said just about anything to get in your pants.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head meekly.

“It most certainly is true, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re lying.” You whimpered.

“Am I?” He clucked. “Do you really believe that?”

“If that’s true you are exceptionally cruel.” Your eyes misted over with tears.

“Like I said, you don’t know me. Maybe I’m just a cruel person.” He shrugged, taking a few steps backwards.

“I hope one day you wake up and realise you made a huge mistake.” You snarled at him. “I hope you wake up and it hurts, it hurts everywhere. It hurts because you threw away a chance at real happiness. I hope that day comes and I hope you track me down to tell me how much it fucking hurts. Just so I can say, respectfully Doctor Reid, go burn in hell.”

You stormed past him, flinging the door open and glaring at him angrily. His expression faltered a little, the darkness in his eyes fading.

“Y/N I…”

“Leave.” You motioned to the open door. “Get out of my apartment you asshole.”

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tightness spread to chest. It was as though he had been possessed for a moment, like something else had taken over his body. Now he looked at you, the pain behind your eyes, he wanted to take back every single word he hadn’t meant to say.

“I don’t think that I-”

“Don’t care.” You cut him off. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. I am done listening to you now. Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t even think about coming back here. You might have saved yourself and your kids the pain but you have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces Spencer Reid. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

“Y/N…”

“Go!” You yelled. “Now! Or I’ll call the cops.”

Spencer clenched his jaw again, rhythmically grinding his rear molars together to try and stem any tears that might threaten to fall. He gave you one last look before he nodded and headed past you through the open door.

Seconds later, before he even made it to your front door, he heard the bedroom one slam, so loudly the walls shook.

And he knew before he even got to the door that he was going to leave here, find a bar and get so drunk he may never wake up.

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24

@pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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alphajocklover · 9 months ago

Text

Unmoved

**beta read by my friend J-bro. Had to post on mobile cause tumblr was being weird. Hope it still looks good**

For the 11th time in his life, Maxwell Hawthorn was moving.

It was his senior year of highschool, shortly after Maxwell’s 18th birthday, and once again Maxwell was moving. The Hawthorns, which consisted of Maxwell, his parents, and his younger brother Chase, were a military family, Maxwell's father being a low level General. Even for military families, the Hawthorns moved a lot. Where most military families moved every two to four years, the Hawthorns moved almost annually, much to Maxwell's frustration. Since he was 5 years old he had moved nearly every year, each time moving to a different state and a different school with a different house. When he was younger Maxwell had been a friendly, adventurous kid who easily made friends, but after making friends just to lose them over and over again Maxwell had formed an anti-social, almost jaded personality. He never got close to anyone anymore, almost always keeping to himself. He kept his room almost completely bare, since he knew he’d probably need to move eventually, and avoided connections. Even his hobbies, mainly sketching and writing, were done alone. Until recently Maxwell had been resigned to the fact that he would probably not make any meaningful friendships till college. But there was something different about this move. He wasn’t just moving, he was moving back.

Willistown was where Maxwell had spent his final 2 years of middle school, and despite only having stayed there 2 years it was the place Maxwell had been most reluctant to leave. It had been before highschool started, so his spirit hadn’t been completely crushed yet, and unlike many of his other schools he had actually been able to make friends. Hell, he had been almost popular. He had actually connected with people and gotten out of his shell. Maxwell had been crushed when he had to leave. He tried to keep in touch with his friends, but he hadn’t heard from Leon or Marigold, his two best friends from Willistown Middle school but he hadn’t heard from either of them in years. Leon had been like a brother to Maxwell, one who shared his love of art and his social awkwardness, well Marigold had been his first crush and girlfriend (though, as it was a middle school relationship, all they did was hold hands). Despite losing touch, Maxwell hoped his old friends would make the final year of highschool more bearable, or maybe even enjoyable.

As Maxwell entered his second class at Willistown high he was worried he had been too hopeful. So far no one had recognized him, or even seemed to remember him. It had probably been too much to expect everyone to welcome him warmly or act like he was an old friend. It had been 3 years after all, and he didn’t remember everyone either. Still he was starting to worry that maybe he had gotten his hopes up too high. Homeroom had been boring as hell, and the school seemed pretty obsessed with sports. The upcoming football season for the Willistown Wolves was all anyone could talk about. Still he hoped he could find someone who remembered him.

“Max?”

Maxwell looked up from his sketchbook to see a truly impressive sight. The jock in front of him was over 6 feet tall, with long dark black hair and piercing sapphire blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline, a charming smile, and bulging muscles that were hidden by his letterman jacket. Maxwell could immediately tell that this was the big man on campus, the stereotypical golden boy, the prom king. This was-

“Leon?” Maxwell realized in shock, almost dropping his sketchbook

“Hell yeah bro! It’s been years dude, how the fuck are you?” The large jock said as he took Maxwell into a bro-hug that Maxwell, in his shock, responded to in kind. “The hell are you doing here man, I haven’t seen you in years!”

“I, I moved back. Today's my first day. I tried to tell you but I guess you changed your phone number or something.” Maxwell sheepishly said “Leon, what… happened to you?” Maxwell asked in shock

Leon cockily flexed one of his biceps, letting it strain the fabric of his jacket “Hehe, yeah, I guess I have changed over the years. Joined the football team in freshman year. Turned out I was a natural athlete.” Leon said. “But look at you man, you haven’t changed a bit. Still got your head stuck in your sketchbook and shit.” Leon said with a deep, slightly dull chuckle.

Maxwell was in shock. The nervous, artistic kid he had been best friends with had been replaced by a huge, cocky, arrogant jock. He didn’t expect Leon to be the same guy he was 3 years ago, but he hadn’t expected him to change that much. He was unrecognizable, and looked like he’d probably have more in common with the jocks who usually made Maxwell’s life hell than he would with Maxwell.

“Bro, we need to hang out after school sometime. Catch up and shit. I got football practice afterschool today but we can meet up after that.” Leon said with a charming smile, playfully punching Maxwell’s shoulder in a way that really hurt. Maxwell scowled at the punch, but held his tongue. This was Leon. He had been his best friend. Even if he was a dumb jock now, Maxwell had to give him a chance.

“Uh, sure. I’ll see you then…” Maxwell said quietly. Leon grinned a charming grin and strut over to his own desk.

Art class had been… interesting. Maxwell had spent most of the class watching Leon chat with his fellow jocks, thinking about how much his old friend had changed. It was clear that 3 years hadn’t just changed Leon physically, but mentally as well. Leon seemed to have lost all interest in art, and was only taking art for an easy A. As Maxwell made his way to the cafeteria for lunch he wondered how his friend had changed so much. 3 years was a long time, but it still seemed like a drastic change in personality. Maxwell was so lost in thought he almost walked straight into… one of the most attractive girls he ever met. Long blonde hair, beautiful green eyes, pouty red lips, d cup tits and a juicy ass, she looked like she had walked right out of a teenage boy's wet dream. Maxwell was so flustered he nearly didn’t recognize her

“Oh my god, Marigold?” Maxwell asked in shock. The blonde in front of him gave a haughty sneer as she looked over Maxwell. Thoroughly unimpressed “Uh, it’s Marie. And who exactly are you?” Maxwell, shocked by her entitled tone, looked at her in shock for a moment. Before he could answer another familiar voice interrupted

“Marie, babe! There you are.” Leon said, strutting over to the blonde without acknowledging Maxwell. He grabbed her by the hips, his manly fingers sinking into her juicy ass, and kissed her deeply and dominantly. Marie almost moaned into the kiss, a submissive, lust filled look coming over her

“Hey baby…” she said, slightly breathless as, after what seemed like forever, the kiss ended. Leon grinned cockily, and finally noticed the shocked Maxwell

“Oh hey Max! Didn’t see you there bro!” Leon said with a charming grin as he put his arm around Maries waist

“Max?” Marie asked, sudden recognition shining in her eyes. She grinned, a happy unrestrained grin that made her look completely different from before and reminded Maxwell of the nerdy girl he had dated “Oh my god, it’s been years! What are you doing here Max?” She asked kindly

Leon answered before Maxwell could “Max just moved back babe! We’re going to be spending senior year with him!” He said excitedly.

“It’s Maxwell.” Maxwell corrected, his voice slightly shy. “And… yeah, I’m spending my senior year as a Willistown Wolf.” Marie lit up at this.

“That's totally awesome Max! I mean, Maxwell.” The blonde said perkily

“You too Marigold. Or should I say Marie?” Maxwell asked, a questioning look on his face. Marie blushed slightly, as if being reminded of an embarrassing old memory

“Yeah. I decided to start going by Marie about 2 years back. Marigold was a little… frumpy, you know?” She said with a bashful smile. Maxwell nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t really agree. What was wrong with Marigold? He always thought that name was pretty. He changed the subject, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were.

“... So… Since I’m new here, and I don’t have many friends… would you guys mind if I sat with you?” Maxwell asked. Leon and Marie’s faces fell almost in unison, and an awkward feeling came over the trio. Leon was the first to speak.

“Uh, sorry bro. The people we hang out with these days can be kind of… picky, about who sits with them. You gotta prove yourself to them before they let you in. Marie and I have a reputation and shit now and…”

Maxwell didn’t need to hear anymore. Each word was like a dagger to his heart. He tried to keep his emotions in check as he answered, but failed to stop the crack in his voice. “Oh. It’s ok. I understand. I’ll just… go.” Maxwell said, turning and running off, tears rolling down his face as he did. He could hear Leon and Marie yelling for him, but he didn’t stop till he got to the bathroom.

Maxwell's first day as a senior officially sucked. Not only had he been rejected by his two former best friends, but everyone in the cafeteria had seen him running away from them crying. Rumors about what was going on between the two most popular people and school and the geeky new kid were already circling, and none of them showed Maxwell in a good light. Some people said he was a stalker who had been confronted by the couple, others said he was a pervert who had propositioned them. He heard one rumor that he was an old ex, which was technically true but not the reason he had run away. The details changed but the general consensus was that Maxwell was a loser who had deserved whatever he got. His social life was dead in the water.

As soon as Maxwell got home he headed up to his bedroom without a word to his family and went to sleep. The day had been exhausting and he had lost all hope that this year was going to be any better than the one before. He needed to just… be unconscious for a while. By the time Maxwell woke up it was late at night, if the night sky he could see through his bedroom window was any clue. Maxwell sighed. He couldn’t believe how fucked everything had gotten. His eyes locked on a particularly bright star. Without thinking, Maxwell made a wish “... I wish I had never moved away from Willistown…” As he spoke the star got brighter and brighter…

And in a flash, everything was different.

Maxwell woke up slowly, his eyes not yet open. Something was… different. His head felt funny, his body felt heavy, but what was really bothering Maxwell was… the warm feeling surrounding his cock. Maxwell’s eyes slowly opened at first, but shot open as he took in the sight in front of him. Sleeping soundly next to him, completely naked, with her pussy surrounding his cock, was Marie. In shock Maxwell tried to pull out, moving backwards, but found a shiver of pleasure go through him as he felt something inside his ass rub against his sweet spot. Did someone have a cock in his ass? Before Maxwell could panic he felt the muscular arm of whoever was inside him reach over his side and grab at one of his pecs as that someone also kissed his neck. The man spoke, his familiar voice sending shivers of pleasure down Maxwell’s spine.

“Hey babe. You ok? You seem tense.” Leon said, his voice so sensual and erotic that Maxwell almost moaned. He answered without thinking, his voice deeper than he remembered

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just excited for today. First day of senior year only happens once. I mean, hopefully.” Maxwell said, before he and Leon both let out an identical dumb chuckle.

What was happening?! Why was Maxwell having sex with Leon and Marie? As Maxwell internally panicked, memories suddenly flooded his mind.

Maxwell, or Max as most people called him, never moved away after middle school. He went into highschool with his best bro Leon and his girlfriend Marigold by his side. Maxwell’s friendly, adventurous personality made him just as popular in highschool as he had been in middle school, but it was when he and Leon joined the football team together that their popularity really took off. Leon’s story, about joining the football team and turning out to be a natural athlete, was true, but now it included Max joining the team right alongside him. Leon was the quarterback, and Max was his left tackle. Together they were the perfect team. As they got more and more into football their bodies changed, packing on muscle, they became even more popular. It didn’t take long until Max and Leon were the two most popular jocks in school. Marigold had gone through a similar glow up and was the school's head cheerleader. By the end of sophomore year the three ruled the school, and Max was the king.

It had been halfway through junior year that Max got together with Leon. He and Marigold had been dating for years now, and they had long come to the agreement that Max’s massive cock couldn’t be handled by one person. Leon, Max’s best bro, seemed like the only rational choice and quickly proved to be a natural cock sucker. Soon the three were a power throuple, and now, at the start of their senior year, they were ready to take on the world.

Max smirked as he remembered this, and looked down at his new body. Bulging muscles, gigantic pecs and biceps, an 8 pack of abs and a footlong cock that was currently fucking his girlfriend. He looked around his room, seeing his weight set, his football gear, his football trophies, and his multiple naked sketches of Leon and Marigold. Slowly Marigold came too, kisses Max deeply as Leon teasingly kissed his neck

“Are you ready for senior year?” Marigold asked.

Max smirked, looking at his partners “... fuck yeah I am.” High in the sky, invisible in the daylight, a supernova blazed, another wish having been granted.

#nerd to jock #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #supernova tf #muscle growth tf #reality change #retcon

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shurislover · 1 year ago

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Private But Not A Secret

Letitia x Black Reader

a lil soft launch , been in my drafts forever

warnings : none just Tish talking bout her baby 🥺

“ Alright so now we have the Wakanda Forever questions out the way. Let’s talk about your personal life, what do you enjoy doing on your free time ?”- The interviewer questioned

“ Aw man I really enjoy being out with my friends , I used to be such a homebody and now i’m trying to go out and have some fun. “

“ A night out with friends is always fun. I recently seen you were out in Jamaica. How was that ?”

“ Jamaica is so nice , I absolutely love being there. I definitely will be making plans to go there again this year. Have you been to Jamaica? “ - Letitia questioned

“ I’m actually going in 2 weeks , i’ve never been so i’m very excited to go“

“ You’re going to absolutely love it, and make sure try the KFC there , it’s so much better “- Letitia smiled

“ Definitely will be trying that . Now you know you have some very nosy fans as soon as they heard they could leave me questions to ask you they blew up my comments. I’m gonna ask you the main three I kept seeing. Is Ms Letitia Wright in a relationship?”

Letitia laughed and shook her head

“ Y’all so nosy “ - She laughed. Letitia felt her cheeks get hot as she started thinking about you.

“ Hmm. Should I tell you guys ? You know what, I’m gonna spill the beans, it’s been long enough I’ve been with my beautiful girlfriend for 2 years and she’s my everything. Crazy because our anniversary is today “- Letitia nodded

“For starters happy anniversary you two. Could you tell us more about her? What is she like ? Will we get to see her any time soon ?”

“ She’s the love of my life. I honestly cant imagine life without her. That woman is everything to me. We actually were childhood best friends, I lost contact with her once I moved to the UK. Then at the first Black Panther Premiere we ran into each other and honestly the rest is history. Two years ago today I asked her to be my girlfriend. It was such a nice set up, took her to Paris and asked her to be my girlfriend under the Eiffel Tower. And to answer the last question I will be keeping my baby private.

“ How come ?”-

“ I’m a very private person when it comes to my personal life. I want my baby to have a normal life. I want to make sure she’s safe when she’s not around me. I don’t want my nosy fans in her DMs or making her comments all about me since she does her little thing with TikTok , Youtube & Instagram. It was a mutual decision to keep it private and honestly keeping it private has been so nice, nobody bothering us or tagging us in each others posts and what not. I really love it. “

“ I get that 100 % , sometimes fans take it too far and it just ruins everything. I’m so glad you found someone who truly makes you happy. Where do you guys see yourselves in 5 years ?”

“ Married for sure , I can’t wait to marry her . Everyday she gives me a reason why I need to put a ring on her finger now. Hmm in 5 years maybe a baby. I believe she’d be a good mom, she’s amazing with my little sister, everytime I see them interact my heart jumps. Besides that I would love more roles in movies “

“ So what i’m hearing is the next time I interview you , Ms. Letitia Wright will be married with a baby on the way ?”

“ Depends on when you interview me but yes married and a baby on the way. “

“ Cant wait to see that and I’m wishing you and your girlfriend the best. Next question , did you ever expect to blow up on tiktok ?”

“ Honestly no , it was a shock to me. The whole world is crushing on me, you got everyone calling me their girlfriend or wife I think it’s cute. I don’t mind them at all, i really appreciate them. So many fans take so much time making edits and things like that I love them “

“ These fans really love you , okay so last question , can we expect anything new for you after Wakanda Forever ?”

“ Yes of course I can’t really tell you guys much I have two movies dropping soon and I’m very excited for everyone to watch. One movie i filmed a while back and this new movie is something new and I think you’ll love it.”

“ Cant wait to see your new projects , thank you so much for being here today and sharing everything with us. Hope to see you soon and enjoy your anniversary.

“ Thank you and I will be seeing you soon showing you wedding pictures and sonograms” - Letitia laughed

—-

babyboo 💍

you did amazing in your interview baby, come home soon i got dinner planned. i love you and travel safely

mi amor 🤭

love u so much baby, i’m in the uber on the way home. I picked you up a surprise. see you when I get home

letitiawright posted a video !

liked by dominiquethorne and 18,765 others

letitiawright my first love 😮‍💨

dreyamac finally !! been waiting for this

ayrastarr happy for you tish , cant wait to meet her

im.angelabassett miss you both

lupitanyongo oh ? so this is who you were blushing about on facetime ?

michaelbjordan happy for you lil sis

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#letitia wright #letitia x reader #shuri x reader #shuri x you #shuri imagine #vees recs #shuri udaku

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bizaar · 1 year ago

Text

Endless Summer ✧

Part 1: Our Lips Are Sealed

Cruel Summer Masterlist

- Next

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader

warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), virgin!reader, mentions of drug usage, swearing, bullying, self-deprecation, masturbation (f)

word count: 10k

a/n: so I may or may not have been writing a few chapters of a semi-raunchy little prequel to Cruel Summer, this is the same babysitter!reader at the beginning of her relationship w/ Eddie - reader is hopelessly obsessed in a totally uncool, sweaty palms sort of way and Carol Perkins is the meanest girl in school.

Carol Perkins has been talking endlessly about … something, for the better part of the ten minutes it’s been since you sat down with your lunch tray.

You aren’t exactly sure what about, because you’re not listening. You’re just sitting there watching her lips flap.

You might have felt bad about that even as recently as last week, but somehow you can’t seem to muster the feeling today.

Maybe it's because you didn't get any sleep last night and your brain feels like its made of television static.

Maybe it has to do with the recent events that have more or less completely soured your opinion of your so-called best friend.

Maybe it’s just that her conversations these days are not exactly the stuff of edge-of-your-seat intrigue.

You're not listening to what she's saying, but a decent part of you is fairly certain in the knowledge that whatever she is saying is bound to have something to do with her stupid boyfriend.

Tommy Hagan has been Carol’s singular topic of regular conversation for going on two years now, and you have been bored to tears for just as long.

Tommy said this, Tommy did that, oh my god Tommy is so funny, Tommy Tommy Tommy.

Tommy is fine, you guess, if you like snot-nosed bullies who never matured past age twelve.

If you like a guy whose idea of trying to divert attention away from the fact that he’s more into Steve Harrington than he is his own girlfriend is by stirring up drama, and feigning some kind of bullshit interest in you.

If you like a guy who calls you Princess like it's a slur and gives you a hard shove in the back like it's a sign of affection.

Yeah… Tommy is so not your type.

Then again, you never would have thought he was Carol’s type, considering her interests have always swayed more Han Solo than anything else — (see: The Empire Strikes Back poster she secretly has taped to the inside of her closet door) — but you know she would go to her grave denying it if you dared to remind her of it.

She'd probably try to take you with her if you did, so you don't, especially not today when you've left more than half your faculties at home in bed.

All you can manage right now is keeping your mouth shut and moving watery canned green beans around your lunch tray with a plastic spork.

Meanwhile, Carol talks and talks and endlessly talks.

You’re on probation with Carol after last week’s debacle in the quad, anyway, so you are not invited to chime in, even if you were listening.

You’re supposed to just sit there and listen to whatever it is she has to say and nod along dutifully without interrupting.

That’s your whole job here, nothing more, nothing less.

That's fine, you don't currently have the brain capacity for anything else.

Still, a bigger part of you than you are willing to acknowledge has started desperately wishing that Tina Burton or Nicole would show up and implore her to shut the fuck up.

Once upon a time, you might have done so yourself, but you haven’t been brave enough to speak so directly to Carol since the eighth grade.

One too many times getting your head bitten off has conditioned you to wire your jaw shut and tune it out, for self-preservation's sake, which is exactly why you’d just stood there and took every bit of vitriol Carol had to give you that morning last week, like the good dog you are.

Apparently, someone said something about hearing Tommy talking big in homeroom about some other thing that happened over the weekend at a party you didn’t attend.

Logic would tell you that Carol knows you weren't at this party because she gave you such a heinous amount of shit over it when you told her you weren't going, but logic almost never comes into account when it comes to things like this.

Carol doesn't care about the facts, she only cares about the rumor.

It was suggested that you’d tried to cop a feel or something. Worse than that was how it was suggested that Tommy was into it, and she went nuclear.

Not at him, of course.

Never mind that Tommy was the one spreading the rumor in homeroom, all that mattered to Carol was who he was trying so desperately to incriminate.

Literally anyone else, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. If somebody had said that it was Vicki Carmichael or Tammy Thompson or Tina, Carol wouldn’t give a shit.

She’d throw her weight around, make a show of girlie dominance, there would be a very public spat, and that would be that.

But no, it had to be you.

Why oh why did it have to be you? You imagine she’s asking herself the same question, and you’re not sure if your ears are ever going to stop ringing after the way she’d shouted at you, in front of God and Tommy and practically everyone in school.

He just stood there watching it happen with that smug little smirk you hate so much plastered across his stupid face.

Everyone just stood there, even you stood there, staring helplessly at your sneakers, waiting for it to end. You were an island unto your own shame... until you noticed a pair of dingy Reeboks appear beside your own.

“Good God!” A voice as familiar as childhood rang out, loud enough to slice through the air and silence Carol mid-stream.

Like so many meerkats, the whole school shifted and turned toward the intrusion, and like a knight in leather and patchy denim, there stood Eddie Munson.

At first, you couldn't believe it was him, or that this was even really happening.

He was just standing there, like it was the most natural thing in the world to butt in like this. Like this wasn’t the first time something like this had ever happened in the history of cool kids and losers interacting at Hawkins High.

Exactly where you fall on that spectrum was yet to be determined, but what was perfectly understood was that Eddie Munson had come riding in to rescue you from the dynamic duo that is Tommy and Carol.

They were speechless — Eddie was not.

“What on God’s green Earth is making that awful racket?” He said loudly – theatrically – and then he turned his blinding attention to you, “Sounds like someone’s skinning a cat out here,”

Then, he gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow, like you were old friends and it was some kind of an inside joke, as if you were supposed to have any idea what that meant.

You stared back at him, wide-eyed and still too stunned to speak, and he winked at you.

You have no idea what you said following that, if you even said anything at all. You're pretty sure you blacked out.

You don’t even remember what Carol said. You know there was some kind of vicious back and forth that occurred between them before a staff member eventually arrived to break up the huddle and cart Eddie off, and you know that Carol was pissed that you didn’t defend her.

Most of all, you know you’re still paying for that imagined slight with a concentrated cold shoulder from most everyone you know a full week later, but you can hardly make yourself care about being so summarily iced out like that.

Because Eddie Munson stood up for you.

You still can’t wrap your head around that. Nobody’s ever stood up for you like that before, nobody over the age of twelve, anyway.

But Eddie did, and you haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. You haven't been able to stop thinking about him.

You really can’t afford to be thinking about him right now, not while you're so sleep deprived and not while Carol is sitting right there. If she could read your mind she'd claw your eyes out.

Thankfully, she hasn't noticed the way your attention has begun to stray. She’s too busy talking, and it's starting to give you a headache.

Deep down, somewhere in your subconscious, you know you ought to try and smooth things over, because for as nasty as she can be (all the time, every day) she’s still your best friend. Even though she regularly puts you on probation like this for imagined slights.

Even though your friendship has conditions and stipulations that only seem to apply to you.

Even though you have nothing in common anymore except for the fact that you’ve been best friends since you were eight years old.

So, perhaps the better phrasing is you know you ought to try a little harder because you used to be best friends.

Nostalgia is the ancient, flaking paste keeping the walls of your friendship standing, but the paper there has long since begun to peel to reveal the rot beneath.

Carol is still going on about who said what and who is dating who and all the latest gossip, talking at you more than talking to you. Talking just to fill the air because there's nothing Carol hates more than an awkward silence, and any silence with you is awkward.

You’re doing your best to at least try to pretend to look interested – really, you are – but with your lack of sleep and your headache, and everything else happening in the room, there’s not much you can do to stop the way your gaze has begun to wander…

Because Eddie Munson has entered your periphery, Eddie Munson is standing on his lunch table – Eddie Munson stood up for you.

Good God, indeed.

You couldn't have listened to what Carol was saying in that moment if you tried, not with Eddie standing there, larger than life and violently demanding your undivided attention.

Well, okay... not yours specifically, rather the attention of anyone who just so happens to be bored enough to tune in to his frenetic display … which is to say, you.

You’re happy enough to let him have your attention, and you tell yourself it's because whatever he’s up to is bound to be vastly more enticing than anything Carol has to say.

No other reason, absolutely not.

You’re not sure you’d be able to resist giving it to him even if you didn’t feel that way, because if you were being honest, you would admit that you’ve been painfully aware of him from the moment you’d stepped into the lunchroom.

Not because you’re minorly obsessed with him or anything as uncool as that. Certainly not because you’re harboring a bizarre gargantuan little crush on him, or that when you tune everything else out and let your brain switch tracks, it’s him your mind shifts to.

No, nothing so embarrassing as that.

He’s a rebel with entirely too much cause, standing tall on the flattop, talking big and proselytizing to his minions about something with all the fire and charisma of a bible belt preacher. You’re hopelessly lost on the context of his sermon, but you’re nothing if not convinced and entirely prepared to convert to the church of Eddie Munson.

Quietly, and so, so carefully, so as not to alert the predators lurking in your circle. Stranded in the lion's den as you are, you're stuck having to worship your false idol from afar, and you're almost content to keep doing so.

Still, your cautious reverence does nothing to ease the shock of chills that wracks your body as Eddie raises his voice.

You can feel it vibrating in the pit of your stomach and you know you must be gawping stupidly at him as the passion of whatever it is that’s got him going today takes him to the edge of euphoria.

It’s absolutely captivating to watch, and almost enough to break Carol’s concentration... almost.

This is not exactly new behavior for Eddie, so most people have learned to tune him out.

Normally you would count yourself in among that group — you know, like a liar — if for nothing more than that good ol' self preservation.

Then again, you aren't normally dead on your feet after spending a night tossing and turning, restlessly caught in the throes of a decidedly raunchy REM cycle, the subject of which just so happens to be standing on a table across the room.

He's the reason you didn't get any sleep last night, and despite your bone tiredness, you're suddenly wide awake.

So what if you had a sex dream about Eddie last night? So what if your skin is buzzing where you can still feel his hands pulling at you, the gentle fanning of his breath on the nape of your neck where it had felt so real...

“Sweet Girl,” he’d whispered on heady exhale in your dreams, voice thick and shot full of holes in the way you can only imagine he might sound in the throes of ecstasy.

Just the thought of it sends a bolt of heat lancing through your core and forces you to shift in your seat and, tragically, avert your gaze.

It's just a little bit too much show for you with tell out of the question, and Eddie, or at least the version of him in your dreams, is driving you nuts.

You are an island to your own fantasies, feeling your heart throbbing between your legs and trying to be as subtle as humanly possible about the way you’re pinching your thighs together for the faintest glimmer of relief.

You stop that right this instant you dirty slut. A snarling voice in your head warns you, and you immediately obey as cooler heads prevail.

The absolute last thing you need is to go to pieces at the lunch table in front of all your peers. In front of Eddie.

Carol would never let you live it down.

Someone shouts something at him from across the room, and you have to fight not to look for his response.

You're just a little too hot under the collar right now to watch Eddie give someone the finger, especially while you're sitting there wishing he would give it to you instead.

Jesus Christ you are so pathetic.

You force yourself to look at Carol and watch her lips move. You don't hear a word she says, but you're grateful for the distraction and the sudden pang of longing in your heart, if only for entirely selfish reasons.

You hate having to suffer in silence like this.

Once upon a time, you might have been free to share the specificities of your dream in bowed heads and hushed tones, but you are entirely certain that were you to try that now, to lean across the table and whisper conspiratorially:

“Oh my God, you’ll never guess who I had the filthiest dream about last night,” you’d be instantly crucified, socially speaking.

Carol doesn’t care about the yearnings of your most secret self. Not anymore. Now she only cares about Tommy and who did what at Tina’s party and how embarrassing it was, and quietly sidling up to Steve Harrington.

She doesn’t care about you, and your secrets are absolutely not safe with her, no matter what the pathetic lingering sense of nostalgia keeps telling you.

You would cut ties if you had a little more self-respect, but high school is hard enough with bad friends, you know for certain it would be next to impossible with no friends.

The concept of starting fresh and trying to make new ones halfway through your sophomore year is a Sisyphean Hurdle you have no idea how to even begin to tackle. So you grin and bear it, and swallow any biblical yearnings you happen to harbor for the town pariah for later.

Besides, if you told her, all she would do is ask you what it is you think you know about anything raunchy before dutifully reminding you that you’re a virgin.

Actually, the technical term would be “still a virgin” and would be followed up with the demand to know “when you’re going to do something about it” — like somehow the untouched state of your being is so embarrassing.

You suppose in the eternal tide pool of the high school diaspora, it’s just one more patently uncool thing about you hampering her.

Carol Perkins and her loser best friend who doesn’t put out, has never had a boyfriend, never even been kissed.

You would remind her that it’s hard to put out when nobody knows you exist.

Who are you but her excessively boring shadow? You don't put out because half the time nobody even notices you're there. But that would feel too much like whining and would only become an agonizing exercise in her rattling off a list of names you’d so much rather eat glass than accompany anywhere socially.

But you tell yourself it's not all bad, because if you're invisible, then at least you don't have to worry about how poor a job you're doing masking the way you're staring at Eddie.

You can't be embarrassed if nobody perceives you right? You're not so sure.

You don’t really know when your stupid little crush began.

He's always been there if you really think about it, a fixture in the background of the swirling miasma that is your social circle, suddenly much larger than it has ever been since High School has became your habitat.

Hawkins is a small town, and Eddie’s lived here his whole life, same as you. He’s a year older, but that wouldn’t be enough distance to remove someone from your orbit under normal circumstances, let alone someone like him in a town like this.

Some part of you has always been mildly obsessed with him from a purely academic standpoint — forbidden knowledge is perhaps the most tantalizing thing to a young mind, and the likes of Eddie Munson has always been completely off-limits to the likes of you.

Eddie's father was always something closer to a Universal Movie Monster than a real person in your mind.

More like Dracula or the Wolfman than a human man with a substance abuse problem.

When you were growing up, the most you knew about it was that Al Munson was the local boogeyman, and was to be feared by school children and good Americans alike.

Eddie didn't even feature in that conversation until much later, not until the notorious Munson patriarch finally went to prison and everyone could breathe a weighted sigh of relief.

With the streets safe again, life went on, and the good people of Hawkins very quickly realized their mistake.

People start to get nervous when there are no local pariahs to blame all their problems on. Hawkins is cursed, after all, but with Al gone, that narrative quickly began to crumble.

Luckily, they had a Munson to spare, and as soon as he was old enough, everyone was happy to force the son into the void the father left in the cultural zeitgeist.

Eddie became bad news over night, "just like his father", your parents still used to say and you were are strictly forbidden from socializing with him.

You remember a time when it wasn’t like that.

You remember when your parents spoke about Eddie with a heavy dose of sympathy, because back then it wasn't his fault his father was a monster.

When you were little, it was “that poor kid,” but as you got older and he started getting into more and more trouble, it became “stay away from that boy – he’s no good,”

Still, there’s nothing so tempting as forbidden fruit – you’ve known that since you were old enough to recognize there was a difference between boys and girls.

And he is nothing if not strictly forbidden to you.

Even now, sitting in the lunchroom so publicly yearning, you can still hear your father’s lecturing voice warning you that if you so much as spoke to Eddie Munson you’d get instantly hooked on drugs, knocked up, and end up living out of a cardboard box by the time you were twenty.

Which is stupid, of course, because you’ve gone to school with Eddie since first grade and you’d seen him talk to plenty of people over the course of that time, none of whom had gone on to suffer such a dismal fate.

Anyway, it's not like he's banging down the door for your attention. You’re fairly certain he doesn’t even know you exist.

There wasn’t much danger in becoming corrupted by someone like Eddie Munson before Carol got popular and dragged you along with her, and that hasn’t changed just because you won a golden ticket to the cool kid’s table… by proxy — you're more of an unwanted plus-one than anything else.

Not Charlie Bucket so much as Grandpa Joe.

But of course, you’ve never personally subscribed to the generalization that Eddie is evil or something.

He isn’t the boogeyman or Dracula or any of those things that go bump in the night, no matter how badly your raunchy little dreams wish he'd come bumping through your night.

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie isn’t even all that mean or scary, and maybe that’s just because he’d treated you so sweetly last autumn at Tina Burton’s Not-Quite-Halloween party….

Except you’re not supposed to be thinking about that, remember? Because last week's dressing down in the quad wasn't actually the first time Eddie came to your rescue.

That memory is not safe within Carol’s proximity, but it is the ambrosia that has been singularly sustaining you for the better part of a year now – a year next week on Halloween, but who’s counting?

It is a shining jewel that you keep tucked safely in the spot behind your lungs, and you just can’t help but pull the curtain back to take a peek at it.

It was your first high school party.

You’d never partaken in anything before that night, never even been offered, but suddenly and unceremoniously finding yourself shoved up against Eddie in a game of puff-puff-pass, you let yourself be pressured into playing.

He must have realized you were nervous — maybe your fingers were trembling when he passed you the blunt, but suddenly, and for perhaps the first time in your life, he was speaking directly to you.

“Have you ever done this before?” Eddie asked you quietly, a heavy dose of concern shadowing the wry quirk of his brow.

It was startling, to realize the curse of your invisibility had so unceremoniously been lifted, leaving you suddenly exposed to the one person you were never meant to speak to.

You had to resist the urge to whip your head around and ask, “Who me?”

Yes, you.

Eddie Munson was looking at you and asking you if you knew what you were doing.

Like something out of one of those anti-drug campaigns, you suddenly felt the unbearable pressure to perform in a situation you’d been preparing for your whole life: if Eddie Munson offers you drugs at a party, just say no kids.

Only you could not help but notice how genuinely concerned he looked, how soft and approachable and incredibly fucking normal.

Not nearly as scary or dangerous as McGruff the Crime Dog had led you to believe. In fact, he was entirely too enticing, and you were suddenly desperate to make a good impression.

You opened your mouth in the fanatical hope of saying something cool and casual — yeah, of course. You’ve done all kinds of shit — and were naturally horrified to hear the truth squeak out.

“No.”

Eddie’s brows crept toward one another forming a deep crease of concern between them, and in a bright burst of suddenly onset clairvoyance, you could read his mind - yeah, that’s what I thought, he seemed to say.

You watched as he stole a quick glance over his shoulder, before leaning in, invading your space almost conspiratorially as the moist pink tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke.

Your heart was beating so aggressively in your chest that you were convinced he must have been able to hear it.

“You don’t have to breathe it in if you don’t want to.” He said, “Just puff it and pass — you’ll be fine.”

You still remember the way his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he whispered to you, how the fanning of his breath made you shiver with the tantalizing suggestion of nicotine and spearmint secrets.

But it was the last little bit that really did you in.

Not the overwhelming pressure of your peers insisting that just one hit won’t kill you, but the kind assurance from the person who provided the contraband that you didn’t have to partake if you didn’t want to.

It was the suggestion of having a choice in your fate that ultimately lured you out of your field and into the underworld — sickly sweet pomegranate promises, dripping from his tongue to yours.

You’ll be fine.

Just like your father and McGruff the Crime Dog and all those insufferable after-school specials had promised, Eddie Munson turned his gaze upon you, and you were instantly hooked.

He passed you the blunt, and you tried not to get too caught up on the way his fingers brushed yours when you took it.

You curled your lips inward as you brought it to your mouth, and you puff puff puffed, doing your best to hold your throat closed against any swirling wisps of smoke that might slip through and poison you.

You hoped it would give the subtle impression that you knew what you were doing in order to escape the humiliation of inexperience before you handed the joint off to the next person.

It still burned in a funny sort of way, but nothing really happened.

You didn’t slip down the rabbit hole, you didn’t burst into flames, and perhaps most importantly no one seemed to notice the wool being pulled over their eyes as you dared to steal another cautious glance at Eddie.

His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a satisfied smile, and you bloomed under the approval of someone whose attention you never realized you so desperately craved.

You couldn’t believe you’d pulled it off, and you were so pleased to have evidently made Eddie proud that is physically hurt to watch him turn away from you and take the shining warmth of his attention away, leaving you shrouded in darkness.

Tragically, invisible again, just like that.

If only you could have been so lucky.

Trust Carol to catch you faking when you — a virgin in so many aspects — continued to remain clear eyed and level headed after three rounds of puffing and passing.

“You’re supposed to inhale, Dummy!” She shrieked, causing everyone in the circle to laugh at your blatant inexperience.

Everyone but Eddie, you would have noticed had you been able to look, but shame-faced as you were, you kept your gaze fixed firmly to the floor.

When your next turn came around, you inhaled deeply and felt your lungs ignite.

You coughed, of course, and choked on the musky smoke as it filled your lungs and seared them medium rare.

It only took a handful of minutes before you quickly faded into oblivion, backed by the soundtrack of everyone laughing at you again.

The rest of that night remains a mystery to you to this day.

You don’t remember what happened after the game or how much longer the party lasted or even how you got home, but there are some things that stand out clear as day.

Somewhere, hidden back in the furthest reaches of your subconscious, you swear you can still feel the press of his body as Eddie held you caged in the crook of his arm, with your head resting on his collarbone and tucked neatly beneath his chin.

You don’t know how, but you swear you know what his lips feel like, brushing the highest point of your cheekbone, and the long line of his nose pressed flat against your temple with his breath gently fanning the side of your face.

You’re sure you can feel the deep rumble of his voice filling you with warmth, a low timber in his chest calling you Sweet Girl as he smoothes your hair back.

You don’t know how you know all that, only that you do.

You feel it with every fiber of your being in a way that is so goddamn real it can’t just be an effect of your stupid little crush and unchecked libido.

How else could your dreams be so inexorably vivid?

In a moment of weakness, Eddie promised you everything was going to be okay, and you believe him to this day.

That night at Tina’s party, academic fascination bloomed into something new, fueled entirely by teenage hormones and the need to be seen.

Like a door that, once opened, cannot be shut again, you are always thinking about Eddie, one way or another.

Attention is the high you crave like nothing else, and you desperately want Eddie’s attention, his undivided, unfiltered, unwavering attention, fixed solely on you.

Selfishly, you want him to be as obsessed with you as you are with him, and it makes you feel like at any moment you’re going to implode in on yourself like a dying star.

Your parents would be appalled.

Carol would be appalled.

But Carol hasn’t noticed, because she’s still talking, and you’re still not listening, because Eddie is still going. And going. And going.

Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Eddie is suddenly so much closer than he was a moment before.

At some point, when you weren’t looking, while you were too busy thinking about him to notice the direction his tirade had taken him, he picked his was across the lunch tables and crossed the room.

Your stomach does a cartoon flip-flop, and you hold a wheezy breath in your lungs when he vaults down from the end of his table, furthest from his seat and closest to yours.

Suddenly he's right fucking there, and you forget how to breathe.

Your eyes meet briefly as he straightens up, and you immediately avert your gaze — self preservation, remember? — feeling your face flush hot enough that you’re half surprised it doesn’t melt right off of your skull as you shift your focus back over to Carol.

Carol... what's Carol talking about again? Oh, that's right. Tommy Hagan. Tommy Tommy Tommy.

Tommy is so goddamn boring, but in this instant, with Eddie Munson lurking within enough proximity to feel the pull of his orbit, Tommy is the most interesting person in the world.

You desperately want to know everything about Tommy and Tina and who said what about you and how embarrassing it was.

Because you’ve changed your mind. You don't want Eddie's attention. Eddie’s attention is blinding, like looking into the sun.

It makes you feel exposed, like he’s a spotlight shining straight through to your innermost self — your secret self.

The one that thinks about him in the wee hours of the morning when sleep eludes you and deft fingers creep their way down your body, edging toward the wanting apex of your spread thighs and slipping past creamy slick barriers to pull soft, lilting breaths and his name — his blessed, cursed name — from your parted lips until you’re going hot and cold clamping your jaw shut to stop the sordid cries of your orgasm from escaping your lips…

Jesus Christ –

No, actually, you’re much more comfortable remaining a wallflower and letting someone else get wrapped up in that undivided, unwavering, fixed-solely-on-you attention.

Better to stand aside and make room for somebody built to withstand that kind of heat from someone like Eddie. Someone edgy and cool, who gives the middle finger to the world and dresses the part — not some midwestern babysitter from a town no one has ever heard of.

Yeah... but he’s from that town that no one has ever heard of, too, you think watching Carol’s lips move and hearing nothing but your own heartbeat.

You gaze wanders without your permission, and before you know it, you're looking at him again – your insides seize and cramp, because this time, he’s looking too.

Your heart spasms in your chest and scrambles up into your throat, punching an airy breath out of you and flattening your lungs.

Fuck.

There’s that blinding light, that feeling of indecent exposure — it’s not the sun, it's a solar eclipse burning your retinas out of your skull, and somehow you can’t bring yourself to look away.

You’re painfully aware of how you’re staring again, though this time it is because he has your eyes and he absolutely refuses to let go.

Somehow it doesn’t feel even the slightest bit aggressive, more like an understanding – he sees you.

He sees you.

You’re blushing, you know you’ve got to be bright crimson — beet red even — you can feel it.

You're sweating.

Sweet Girl — hands pulling, lips brushing, wandering fingers, gasping, gasping —Sweet Girl Sweet Girl Sweet—

“Hello? Ground control to Major Tom.”

Carol snaps her perfectly manicured fingers in your face, breaking the spell and bringing the quiet din of the lunchroom rushing back in on you.

It feels like getting swamped at the beach, swept off of your feet by the tide, and rolled in the undercurrent. You crack your head on the reef and your brains come tumbling out as you're washed away into oblivion.

You have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Are you even listening to me?” She snipes, scrunching her nose in aggravation and flattening her bubble gum pink lips into a thin, ugly line.

You blink stupidly at her as she comes back into focus, but you don’t answer, because you very clearly hadn't and your mind is not working well enough to drudge up an excuse.

It feels foolish to try and lie about it because Carol loves to remind you that she always knows when you’re lying, and yet the truth is entirely too dangerous.

Your secrets are not safe with her, and your biggest secret is still standing right there.

You can see him in your peripheral vision, poking and prodding you and just begging to be noticed.

And you can't stop yourself from looking. Of course you can't, who can resist the sun?

When you do, Eddie rewards you with a brief, goofy smile. All crooked lips twisted up to one side, the faintest suggestion of teeth poking out.

It's a startling contrast to the vitriolic injustice of whatever it was that had previously gripped him in such a chokehold, and it’s contagious, that smile.

You can suddenly feel the corners of your mouth twitching in response, threatening to expose you and just daring you to try to resist.

It makes your insides go tight and squirmy, and you have to clench your teeth to keep anything remotely similar to a straight face.

The change in your demeanor is unfortunately not lost on Carol.

She narrows her eyes at you, and you are powerless to stop your own from darting back and forth.

Carol - Eddie - Carol - Eddie - Carol... Eddie always wins.

You feel your heart seize and begin to palpitate as she begins to twist to see what could possibly be so important to hold your rapt attention, and you have to grip the edges of your seat to stop yourself from reaching out across the table.

You could scream stop! and make a scene, but that would only make you look even crazier than you are sure you already do.

There's nothing you can do to stop the collision, and all you can do is brace yourself for the sky to come crashing down on your head.

Unstoppable force? Meet immovable object.

Round two. Fight.

Carol physically recoils when she sees Eddie. Dramatically so - like he'd been waiting there to douse her in a bucket of ice water.

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does, she has nothing but spitting, poisonous vitriol for him, much to your unbearable dismay.

“Take a picture, Freak, it’ll last longer.” She snaps.

Something indiscernible crosses Eddie’s features as his gaze flicks over to her from you, then back again.

You watch his brows marry in the middle as he pulls a face that is tinged ever so slightly with something that looks a little too much like hurt than you're comfortable with.

The flash of vulnerability makes your stomach go tight, and you’re suddenly possessed with a violent and desperate need to make him understand that you are not with her, despite how stridently untrue that is.

You are Carol's friend, after all, even if lately you've started to feel like little more than an out-of-trend accessory.

With her, is all that you are.

The hurt look is gone before it has time to settle, and Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust.

For a long moment, they stand staring poisonous daggers at each other and daring the other to be the first to die.

She hates him and he hates her right back — cool kids and losers. Circle of life.

All you can do is desperately hope beyond hope that you’re not lumped into that circle by association. Golden ticket by proxy.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you looking at?” Carol snaps, and strangely, Eddie's features relax.

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his shoulders, “Just wondering how Bulimia Barbie got out of her box.”

Your insides clench and had she been facing you, you’re certain you would have seen Carol turn white as a sheet.

Eddie turns to make the stilted victory lap back to his seat at the head of his table, electing to take the floor this time rather than the tabletop.

You watch him go, because at this point, you're Pavloved — if Eddie is moving, you're watching — and when he gets to his seat, he gives you one last parting glance.

This time, you muster your courage and hold his gaze, pulling a face that you hope looks at least halfway as apologetic as it feels.

That went exactly the way it was meant to, according to the strict social hierarchy of Hawkins High, and you feel terrible about it.

Not nearly as bad as you ought to feel for Carol, however.

There are a lot of ways to get under her skin — she’s never been exactly easygoing, but even you think bringing up the eating disorder she’s been less-than-privately struggling with since the eighth grade is a low blow.

She’d been devastated when word of it got out, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her it was Tommy who’d let that information slip, because they'd only just started dating when that rumor was making the rounds.

Tommy's mean, Carol's mean too, but despite the words still hanging in the air between you, you don't believe that Eddie is mean, not truly.

Carol makes a harsh sound of indignation in the back of her throat.

“Asshole!” She shouts unevenly, then, “—can you believe that guy?”

You don't answer, you're still too busy trying very hard to muster those latent psychic abilities you're still waiting on to tell Eddie you're sorry.

Carol hisses your name and you snap to attention.

"— what the hell are you looking at?"

“Nothing.” You say quickly, doing your best to curl in on yourself so she can't reach across the table to bite your head off.

Only Carol has not believed a word that has come out of your mouth since the summer between eighth and ninth grade. She twists in her seat again just in time to see Eddie looking away, much to your patent dismay,

“…Oh, gross!” she scoffs, whipping back around to face you, “What, are you swapping eyes with the Freak?”

The adrenaline of being caught bursts in your midsection like a firework and sends lightning rocketing down to the tips of your fingers.

"No," You lie.

"Liar," she says.

You turn your attention back to moving the bits of your lunch tray back and forth, but you have completely lost your appetite, especially as she admonishes you with a disappointed utterance of your name.

Your cheeks burn with shame.

“I was just being friendly.” You stress, pressing the plastic tines of your spork into the bottom of the tray until they bend and snap off.

“With Eddie Munson? Ugh — gag me!”

The unchecked disdain in her tone doesn’t sit right with you, because it’s not like she’s ever even said two words to Eddie that weren’t hurled as insults, and you can’t help yourself clicking your tongue.

“...he’s not that bad,” you say, immediately regretting the statement as the mean nickname comes roaring back to slap you upside the head.

Bulemia Barbie snorts out an undainty sound of disgust, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from apologizing.

“He’s a freak.” She snarls — so you keep saying, you think — “He worships the Devil or whatever — everybody knows that.”

Horrifically, there is nothing you can do to stifle the bitter snort of laughter that comes bubbling up out of you.

It is a harsh, sardonic snot of a sound that escapes before you can reign it in.

A brief flash of hatred colors her features, and you can’t help but feel that the curtain has been pulled back and you’re suddenly looking at her true self.

"Everybody knows that." She repeats, slowly, forcefully, giving you a hard, cold look as if daring you to disagree.

Evidently, you dare, which is a shock to you.

“How do you know?” you say, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose in a quiet defiance.

She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, because she doesn't know. That's just what everybody says, but as far as you're concerned, no one has any actual proof that Eddie Munson worships the Devil.

Your stance gives you the upper hand in this verbal joust, and your reluctance to concede is like throwing gas on a fire.

Suddenly, Carol is all but shouting at you as her eyes go bright and her skin flushes a blotchy crimson.

“Oh please, like you know any better, Little Miss Babysitter!”

She hurls it at you like a slur and you flinch as the violent intention strikes you.

You don’t know precisely when Carol became so mean, only that it happened sometime between the transition from seventh to eighth grade, right around the time she’d gotten her first training bra and started to notice how boys were noticing her — right around the time Tommy showed up.

Since that day, everything between the two of you has been a competition that she is determined to win, despite how clearly uninterested you are in participating.

You don't want to fight, and yet you feel the strangest sense of righteous indignation rising in you because she doesn’t know Eddie. She's never even tried to get to know him, and here she is condemning him right alongside everyone else just because it’s what’s currently on trend.

You want to ask her how that’s fair, how she would feel if the shoe were on the other foot, and suddenly she became bad news overnight.

You don't, because you don't want to get your head bitten off as much as you don't want to parrot the condescending tone of your mother asking you if you’d jump off of a cliff the same as everyone.

Mostly though, you don't ask because she's right.

You don’t know Eddie any better than she does, not with all your wishing and hoping and fantasizing, and certainly not after the way he’d looked at you at Tina’s party – Sweet Girl…

“Yeah okay, whatever,” You mumble, because there’s no point in arguing with Carol when she gets like this.

Your submission doesn’t apparently sit any better with Carol than your challenge did. Her face twists into a displeased scowl as she snatches up the can of coke that is the entirety of her lunch and begins to raise it to her bubblegum pink lips before thinking better of it and setting it back down with a harsh sigh.

You don’t know what’s got her so flustered, or what you did to embarrass her so badly. All you did was smile at Eddie, it’s not like you invited him to come and sit at the table with you.

“Why do you care anyway?” She demands then, clearly not done fighting.

“I don’t,” You say flatly, sitting up a little straighter.

“Then how come you’re defending him?”

You cross your arms.

“I’m not.”

“You are though.” She insists, like she’s caught the scent of something she can weild against you, and is trying her best to sniff it out. “You’ve got that stupid look on your face like you’re about to get all self-righteous about something. What’s the deal? Do you like him or something?”

Your heart seizes and suddenly you can feel color bleeding into your cheeks as your armor creaks under the stress of her accusation.

How could she possibly know that?

Because she’s your best friend, she knows everything about you…

“No…” you say, though even you are not convinced by the quavering tone of your voice.

Carol stares at you, briefly uncomprehending before it dawns on her, and suddenly her eyes are blazing with malicious delight.

Shit.

“Oh, nasty!” She shouts, then gasps, mouth falling open in scandal, “You do! You totally do!”

“I don’t – I mean, I don’t even know him.” You stammer, kicking yourself for how your resolve has begun to waver.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not into him! Oh, that’s so gross!” Carol sneers, she is loving this all too much, “Oh, my God, look at you – you’re blushing!”

Your hands fly up reflexively to bracket your face, and you hate yourself for the heat you can feel billowing off you, betraying you.

Carol squeals with malevolent glee and you know you must be sweating again for the way she is looking at you, eyes bright, teeth bared, wet, and shining in a hungry grin like a predator getting ready to make a meal out of you.

“O-okay, that’s enough.” You say unevenly, trying and failing to be firm as you are suddenly unable to keep your voice from shaking as you speak.

She doesn’t hear you – that or she just plain ignores you because she is getting too much of a rise out of your misery.

“What are you, like, in love with him?”

“Carol – stop.”

“You are! Holy shit, you totally are!” She cackles, “You want to marry him and have a hundred of his freak babies!”

She is practically screaming and you are this close to panicking about it, glancing anxiously across the room to the table where Eddie is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, talking and laughing with his friends about something.

You have to force yourself to believe that they aren’t laughing at you because there’s no way they could possibly be clued into your conversation with Carol … who has started play-acting that she is you, moaning loud and wantonly as you are fucked by what you can only imagine is supposed to be Eddie.

It's shockingly apropos in the worst possible way, almost as if somehow she’d found the time to steal away and read the mad scribblings you’d left smeared across the pages of your diary that morning.

“Oh, God–!” She moans, hands flying up to tangle in her hair and igniting a burst of cold anxiety in the pit of your stomach like a Roman candle, “Oh, Eddie! Don’t stop! Right there – Yes! YES! YES!”

You could die. You could literally die.

People have started to look over at you, stare at you, and all of that would almost be fine if it weren’t for the fact that you are currently imploding like that dying star.

You can’t be certain if its a result of your friend’s whorish display or just the screaming sensation of someone staring at him (because if you weren't watching him like a hawk before, you certainly are now) but Eddie’s attention snaps back over to your table in an instantly, to you, and you nearly pass out.

You’re on your feet with a loud squeak of chair legs on linoleum – much louder than anything Carol had just kicked up. If people weren’t staring before, they’re certainly staring now, watching you frantically attempt to gather your things and make a break for it before your brain can catch up with you.

Carol has started to come down by now, and she's leaning back casually in her chair, watching you panic.

"Seriously?" She snickers, like she didn't just publicly humiliate you, again, "You're leaving?"

“I gotta go,” you say quickly.

“Oh, come on, I was just kidding.” Carol sighs, “Don't be so sensitive. Where are you going?”

You can hardly hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. Your heart is hammering so violently against your ribcage that you can barely catch your breath to try and stammer out an excuse.

“I just remembered,” You begin, your voice hitches and threatens to break, “I have this… thing I have to do for class. Totally forgot. I gotta go work on it.”

You shove the last of your belongings haphazardly into your backpack and slide your lunch tray into the nearest trashcan – the entire tray hits the bottom of the bin with a loud thump that has the lunch lady shouting indignantly at you from the other side of the room.

You don’t linger to rectify your mistake or apologize or do anything of the sort, because your frantic attempts to escape the lunchroom have drawn only more attention.

One cursory glance reveals to you that, devastatingly, Eddie’s entire lunch table has turned to watch you go.

You nearly go stumbling to the ground as you trip over your feet in your frantic attempt to get as far from there as you possibly can, as fast as you can.

“Liar!” Carol shouts after you, “Where are you really going?”

“I’ll see you later!”

You twist at the waist and wave when she calls your name again, and, because you're Pavloved, you can’t help look to see Eddie leaning back dangerously in his chair, craning his neck to watch you go in a way that makes your heart seize against your ribs.

His eyes go wide when he sees you looking, and he lurches forward to right himself again, briefly losing his balance and just about toppling out of the chair as he does.

He saw everything, which means he probably heard everything which means you should probably just go find a corner to curl up and die in.

Like, right now.

You turn and pick up your pace and blow through the double doors before anyone can get the bright idea to follow you.

You move through the halls without really knowing where you intend to go, but before you realize it, you’re in the gymnasium, stalking across the empty floor to tuck yourself back beneath the bleachers.

It’s not the most covert hiding spot, and you're almost surprised to find it empty considering how many people tend toward coming down here to hide and make out.

The braver, hornier couples around campus have even been known to engage in the odd session of heavy petting or dry humping back here where they can get their rocks off more or less removed from prying eyes.

More, being the keyword there. It feels like someone is being busted for that kind of under the bleachers indecency every other week.

You’ve got no such plans to follow suit, despite the ruined state of your panties, as you scramble to slip out of sight with a gentle squeak of Chucks on clear coat.

Your heart is pounding as you pull your knees up to your chest, face absolutely burning over the way Carol’s stupid play acting has left you slick and throbbing with the memory of your stupid, stupid dream.

You bite the inside of your cheek until it hurts and violently will yourself to get a grip, because what are you going to do about it? Nothing, you're gonna wallow in shame and that will be that.

You pull your bag into your lap and begin rifling through its haphazard contents, desperately searching for some kind of a distraction – something to take your mind off of the lingering sensation of full lips and calloused fingertips and hot fanning breath – Jesus motherfucking Christ! Get a hold of yourself.

You need your book. You need to lose yourself in thick text, hard science fiction, and worlds and histories and glossaries of outlandish names… only your book is not here.

Your well-loved, annotated copy of Dune, whose cover is hanging on by a thread with how many times it has been bent backward as you pour over the familiar text. Whose pages are creased and dog-eared and littered with notes and doodles and all the little lines and themes you never want to forget.

It’s not here. Even after you dig and dig and dig, even after you dump your bag on the gymnasium floor and spread all your things out in a neat fan in front of you.

Your book is still missing.

You hardly get the time to stress about it much further than the singular thought before the school bell rings with a shrill, metallic clanging cry. It startles your brain back into an approximation of working action and sends you scrambling to shove all your things back into your bag.

You’re almost relieved.

Without your book, you’d just been sitting there biding your time until Carol eventually sniffed you out and you would have to brace yourself for round two, but your schedules are thankfully far removed from one another.

She’s got Mrs. O’Donnell for fifth period, whose classroom lies mercifully on the other side of the school from your fifth-period chemistry class, and the ringing of the end of lunch bell is a Godsend, solidifying your escape and requisite safety from another bout of humiliation.

Your lab partner is a freshman, Gareth Emerson, who just so happens to be a newer addition to Eddie’s roving gang of minions.

Somehow, that is much less terrifying than you’d half expected it to be when you first noticed him in the lunchroom, sitting tucked neatly into the chair at Eddie’s side and hanging on his every word.

It had just been nice to know that you’re not the only one so affected by his gravitational pull

Still, you’d often wondered how Gareth was lucky enough to win such a coveted spot so early on in his tenure, considering Eddie Munson tends to be a particularly terrifying entity to the newest additions to the Hawkins High student body.

As you’d gotten to know him, you stopped wondering about that.

Gareth’s a sweetheart. He’s nice, funny, and reminds you a lot of your neighbor, Dustin, if he were a little older and just a little bit cooler, that is.

It’s no wonder he’s so quickly found himself at a place of honor at Eddie’s side, how could anyone resist him?

You wish you could hang out with Gareth instead of Carol.

You wish you could sit comfortably at lunch and talk about the things that actually held your interest. That you could make afterschool and weekend plans without a hint of dread, and be safe in the knowledge that a trip to the movies or to the arcade was simply that. No ulterior motives or hidden agendas, no fear of being humiliated or abused for the amusement of the people who were supposed to be your friends.

You wish you could be real friends with Gareth, but Gareth hangs out with Eddie, and the thought of joining them at their lunch table is enough to send your heart into palpitations, so you just have to settle with the friendship you have, limited to the confines of the classroom.

“Hey,” Gareth says, frowning quizzically at you as you unpack your things and hop up onto the metal stool beside him, “What happened to you at lunch? You looked like you were about to pop.”

Your insides clench with shame and for a very brief moment, you're afraid you're about to empty them all over the tabletop.

“You saw that, huh?” You mumble, swallowing hard.

“Everybody saw that.” He scoffs, pulling a face.

Everybody. The word clangs around your ribs and you have to blink back the image of Eddie leaning so far back in his chair, watching you run from the lunchroom.

Literally run. Like some kind of scared little kid fleeing the monster that lives under their bed.

Great.

“What does she think you did this time? Sell her firstborn child for concert tickets or something?”

You sigh, slumping forward to prop your head up on your elbow and level Gareth with an unimpressed look.

“Nothing – I don’t want to talk about it.”

He takes the hint and offers you his hands in a show of surrender before turning back to the blackboard, where Mr. Kapz has stepped up and begun scribbling formulas with a hard squeak of chalk.

You watch without really seeing, trying to keep your mind from drifting too far with all your classmates sitting around you.

There is a cold lump in the pit of your stomach as a hundred different things whisk around your mind, all fighting tooth and nail for the limited real estate left in your brain with so much of Eddie stuffed up in there.

It’s always like that though, and it leaves you feeling particularly pathetic, thinking about yourself, sitting beneath the bleachers on your own, like the loser you are, hiding from your friends, wishing things were different, wishing you could be the person they wanted you to be, wishing you could be free of them.

You suck greedily on a sharp intake of air and shake your head to dislodge that line of thinking before it can take root and pivot to a much more pressing matter, for the sake of your own self-preservation.

“Hey, weird question,” You start, tilting your head down toward your shoulder and speaking in a loud whisper, “But have you seen my book?”

Gareth’s brows are pulled tight over his eyes when you glance at him, and you are quick to elaborate,

“Dune." You clarify, "It’s all beat up and annotated…?”

“Yeah, no— I mean, sure I’ve seen it—”

"Recently?" You posit, hoping he understands that you've lost it and not just trying to small talk about the sorry state of a mass-market paperback.

"Yeah."

You hardly let him finish.

“Really? That’s great! Where?”

“...Eddie’s got it.”

It hits you like a fist to the gut, punching your lungs flat and forcing the air out. Your heart thumps a heavy beat like it always does when someone mentions Eddie and you feel your tongue go fat in your mouth.

“Ed-Eddie Munson?” You splutter, voice an embarrassing octave higher than normal, and barely manage to get the sound out over the way your throat is closing up.

You can feel your cheeks heating just from the sordid act of speaking his name aloud.

If Gareth takes any sort of hint from your bizarre reaction, he doesn’t let on.

“Yeah.” He says again.

You blink back at him, waiting for him to elaborate and feeling your chest go tight when he doesn’t.

“…Why does he have my book?”

“He said you left it in the parking lot after you dumped your stuff last week—”

Oh, for the love of God…

In the wake of everything else that happened that day, you’d almost completely forgotten about that…

You’d been running late for school, having spectacularly slept through your alarm and been so rudely awakened by the thunderous hammering of two little fists, doing their best to bang down your bedroom door – Dustin, shouting at you to get your ass up out of bed.

You’d forgotten you were supposed to be carpooling that morning, and you're sure you must have broken some kind of a land speed record with how you burnt rubber to get the both of you to school on time.

Gas pedal to the floor, music cranked up to eleven, you made the distance in five minutes flat.

After, you’d been too caught up in your sudden prospective future as a Formula One driver to notice how you were headed for disaster. Jogging across the parking lot and trying to stuff your Walkman into your backpack, you weren't prepared for the wall of denim, patches, and studs to come stumbling haphazardly out of the open door of a semi-shitty beat-up panel van and directly into your path.

You barely had time to look up, let alone pivot to try and avoid the sudden six-foot obstacle before you, so naturally you collided.

You managed to keep your feet and even catch your Walkman with an incredible feat of feline grace, but it came at the expense of your bookbag, which went tumbling topsy turvy and upchucked its contents all over the pavement at your feet.

Fantastic.

They stepped into your path, whoever they were. They crashed into you, but still you stammered out an apology, because how could they have been expected to look out for you when you’re running around under a cloak of invisibility?

Then, you dropped to your knees in an attempt to catch your pens and pencils before they could roll away. You fully expected to be ignored, to watch whoever it was that had just knocked your shit into the dirt skip off to class like you didn’t even exist, but when you looked up, there was Eddie Munson, crouched on the asphalt right alongside you with his head bowed toward yours, stacking your books and muttering his own apology.

It just about damn near knocked the wind out of you, suddenly finding yourself so close to him again after spending so long quietly yearning for his proximity.

Once you got your lungs working and inflated again, you couldn’t help but breathe deep, trying to get a sense of him and refresh the waning memory you still clung to. He smelled just the way you remembered, like camels and spearmint gum standing out over the notes of whatever cheap cologne he’d obviously dusted himself in and Old Spice.

It made your mouth water, and then go completely dry when he looked up at you, turning that honey-warm gaze on you and bathing you in his spotlight.

You weren’t invisible anymore, you were blushing, and you’d missed whatever it was he’d said to you – fuck.

You weren’t listening, you were staring into his eyes, at the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, at the plush spread of his lips, and the pink tip of his tongue darting out to swipe a slick sheen of moisture across them.

Somewhere, distantly, you could hear your Walkman still playing, Ann Wilson imploring you to get a little more lost in him than is rightly wise…

Oh, he’s a magic man, Mama…

And he was waiting for you to answer him.

Fuck. What the fuck did he just say?

“My fault…" Eddie mumbled thickly, "Didn’t see you there,”

Oh, thank God for that.

“Oh – God, are you kidding? It happens all the time.” You scoffed, dismissing the notion with a flippant wave.

It was almost a cool, collected thing to say, but then you just kept talking,

“Like. Way more than you would think,”

And talking.

“It’s actually kind of ridiculous how often people bump into me like that–”

And talking,

“Honestly, at this point, I feel like I should start wearing a bell.”

Shut up shut up shut up already! You screamed, but before you could well and truly condemn yourself for being such a goddamn awkward weirdo, Eddie’s face twisted up in amusement and he laughed out loud.

A little too loud for something that wasn’t even halfway to being a joke – he was obviously high, the whites of his eyes were tinged an angry swollen pink, hooded and nearly closed as he peered over at you with his face split up in that crooked smile of his, but it was still so wildly endearing you couldn’t help but giggle yourself.

You can’t believe you’d nearly forgotten that, that wonderful almost perfect moment of brushing fingers and traded looks and semi-meaningful silences.

If you really think about it, it makes perfect sense that he has your book. You haven’t seen your it since that day, haven’t even thought about it. It had been all but washed away under the bell-clanging effect of what happened later that morning between classes, with Carol jumping down your throat and Eddie riding in to pull you out of her line of fire.

Good God! He shouts in your memory, and you can’t help but agree with him.

“Didn’t he give it back to you?” Gareth asks, brows marrying over his eyes.

You give your lab partner an incredulous look because never mind how this new information is ever so subtly breaking your brain, but why on Earth would you be asking after your copy of Dune if Eddie had already given it back to you?

Why would you even be talking about this?

The lack of logic there seems to dawn on Gareth just a tad too late to save face.

“Guess not, never mind,” he hums, twisting back in his seat to face the blackboard.

You sit, staring at nothing in particular as you try and fail to wrap your head around the concept of Eddie Munson carrying around your book.

There’s something incredibly personal about an annotated book, and you can’t decide if you ought to be embarrassed about that, hoping that he didn��t stop to take the time to read any of the inane things you’d written there.

Suddenly you’re wracking your brain to try and remember if you’d gone and scribbled anything too incriminating in the margins, whether you’d absently scribbled out a dopey “Mrs. – Munson” alongside all your annotations about doomed heroes.

You imagine it written out in loopy script, replete with doodles of hearts and clouds and all the stupid cupid bullshit that is typically kept strictly within the pages of your diary.

You’re suddenly burning with hot, whorish shame as you think back to the pages you’d frantically scribbled on in the aftermath of the wet dream you’d woken from that morning. Your fingers were trembling as you fought to get it down on paper before the vivid images and sensations slipped from your grasp and left you with nothing more than faint memories of calloused hands and full lips, burning your skin with the suggestion of phantom touches.

Yeah, you’re going to have to go back and revisit that when you get home this afternoon, thank God you’re not babysitting tonight.

You realize after a moment that in staring off into space, trying simultaneously to banish the feeling and relieve it, that you’ve actually been sitting, staring at Gareth, watching him wrestle with something like he’s trying to decide whether or not to let more information slip.

Truly, you’re not sure how much more truth you can stomach here in fifth period chemistry, sitting perched on your metal stool and trying oh-so-subtly to shift over to the edge and give yourself a little relief from the way that your heart is throbbing in your panties again.

Your guts seize like you’ve been caught red handed when Gareth twists back around to face you and ducks his head conspiratorially.

For lack of anything better to do, you mirror his movements and hope beyond hope that, if you’re blushing, he doesn’t notice.

“Okay, so…” he begins softly, “You didn’t hear it from me, but... he likes you,”

You do your best not to react as your heart leaps into your throat – you don’t dare to hope to know who he means.

“Who does?” You ask, playing dumb for the sake of your poor, nervous heart, because what if you’re wrong?

You’re probably wrong.

“Eddie does.”

Then again, maybe not… oh, shit.

Gareth continues.

“Like… a lot.”

OH SHIT.

Oh shit oh fuck oh sHIT be cool be cool be fucking cool!

It takes every fiber of your limited willpower not to react, because honestly, you could scream. This is what it feels like to have your wildest dreams come true.

Eddie Munson likes you, Gareth said, like a lot, he said.

Maybe it’s just the wrecked state you’ve been existing in from the moment you snapped into consciousness that morning, but suddenly you’re desperate, giddy, feeling the hard push of the urge to run and go find Eddie.

Find him and seize him by the shoulders and shake him and scream and shout and cheer and... and and and... and do what?

Confess your feelings?

Make some sort of grand declaration then drag him off somewhere to hop on his dick?

That’s what your ovaries are currently imploring you to do. Finally do something about that goddamn virginity of yours so Carol will climb down out of your ass.

But that’s ridiculous, right? And not at all practical, fantasizing about running off and trying to consummate what, as far as you can tell, is only a rumor before it can slip from your grasp.

Where would you even go?

Under the bleachers, where the braver, hornier couples go to rub up against each other and get their rocks off.

No, no that’s stupid… and yet?

You’ve heard the talk about Eddie, how he’s supposed to be easy or something — some part of you is pretty sure he’d be game to take you out to the back of his van if you went over and asked him nicely... just ask him nicely to lift your skirt and help you out with that pesky little virginal problem of yours, Christ, how embarrassing.

He’d probably laugh in your face if you did. How do you know for sure that he even really likes you? What makes you think that there’s even the slightest chance that your stupid crush on him could ever be reciprocated?

You’re not a real person, remember? You don’t put out because you don’t exist.

No, Eddie doesn’t like you, you decide in an instant, how could he? He doesn’t even know you.

Gareth is wrong, and worse still, he’s teasing you – he has to be. It is, after all, the opening line to the oldest joke in the Hawkins High popular kid book: so, Eddie Munson wants to take you to prom…what do you do?

It makes your chest hurt, and you have to pull your lips into a tight line to keep them from wobbling.

Ha-ha, real funny joke, tease the loser virgin for the big stupid crush she has on the local Freak.

“That’s mean, Gareth.” You say quietly.

“What is?”

You shake your head because you almost can’t bear to say it.

“Teasing like that. That’s not nice...”

He gives you a horrified look, like you’ve suddenly got bugs crawling out of your ears.

“What? No, Dude, it’s not like that at all!” Gareth stresses, “I promise I’m being so serious right now. Eddie likes you. He really likes you.”

It feels risky, but you can’t help yourself. Gareth’s a sweetheart, why would he lie to you?

“…Really?” You ask, ever so slightly embarrassed at how small and hopeful your voice suddenly sounds and trying so, so hard to play it cool.

“Yes… and it’s super goddamn annoying — no offense,”

You shake your head, because in the absence of the ability to form rational thought you rely on deep-seeded pleasantries.

“Oh, no, of course.” You say, “None taken … I think.”

You suddenly can’t make your brain work, it just sits there like a fat grey lumpy pile of worms in your skull. Part of you is suddenly so sure that you can smell the smoke wafting up off of it as it overheats in your attempt to jumpstart it again.

Eddie likes you. This is all really happening.

It takes you a moment too long to realize that Gareth is still talking, and a moment even longer to clue yourself back in to what he’s saying.

“— he’s been going around in circles trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but he’s chicken shit, so he won’t do it unless he has some bullshit excuse to make it all casual — giving you your book back was supposed to be his excuse, but that was clearly a bust,”

And then, “Also, he basically threatened to kill me if I said anything so just do me a favor and be cool, alright? Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“…So why tell me?” you ask, almost startled by the sound of your own voice and how far away it sounds.

You’re having an out-of-body experience, that’s what this has got to be, sitting there, floating, watching yourself have this conversation with Gareth.

Eddie Munson has your book, Eddie Munson stood up for you, Eddie Munson likes you...

“Because he freaked when he found out we were lab partners and he’s being a huge creep pressing me for information about you, like he expects me to spy on you or something... Anyway, I figured with how fucking weird he always acts around you that you probably already knew.”

You shake your head and hope to God the movement doesn’t cause your eyeballs to fall out of your sockets. You can’t remember if you’ve blinked over the course of the last five minutes.

“I didn’t.” You squeak.

His eyes go wide and you watch the color drain from his face.

“Oh. Shit,” He says, “— well, like I said, you didn’t hear it from me.”

You didn’t hear it from anybody. As far as you’re concerned, this conversation isn’t actually happening. Any moment now you’re going to snap out of whatever fugue state you’ve obviously just slipped into, and you’re going to find that this is all a dream – only your thigh is going raw from where you’ve been subtly pinching yourself.

Still, you still don’t completely believe Gareth isn’t teasing you – this feels like dangerous ground and suddenly your guts are churning because you don’t know what to do with this information.

You don’t know how to make yourself understand that the one person who has always been wholly off-limits to you could suddenly be within your grasp.

Possibility makes you ravenous and you have to fight to resist the urge to seize Gareth by the front of his torn flannel shirt and shake him, demanding more more more, that he tell you everything there is to know about Eddie and everything he’s ever said about you among the safety of friends.

With a sharp pang, you realize that you’re suddenly violently jealous about the confidence he has to freely speak about the objects of his affections – evidently, you.

The thought has warmth bleeding through your abdomen and filling up your chest cavity. You’re floating again, and you’re suddenly so, wickedly pleased.

Carol would shit her pants if she found out.

The rest of class comes and goes without incident, and you don’t hear a word of the lesson.

You’re far too busy fantasizing about all your wildest dreams coming true, planning your future with Eddie, picturing your wedding and your first home together, growing old together, and all the road trips and holidays and milestones you’ll hit in between.

By the last twenty minutes of the lesson, you’re even toying with naming your children.

You’re disgusting and pathetic and so far gone for him in such a stupid, irresponsible way. Only there’s one tiny little obstacle standing in the way of all of that.

Gareth says he’s not brave enough to talk to you, not without good reason, which is so painfully endearing, but a real problem because that makes two of you – you can barely even look at Eddie, let alone fathom trying to strike up a conversation.

So, therein lies the problem. How on Earth are you supposed to marry him and have a hundred of his babies, as Carol had so eloquently put it, if neither of you can manage to buck up the courage to have a normal conversation?

The bell is ringing before you can decide how to become a human being again, you’re still more cloud than girl when you catch Gareth as he begins packing up.

“Listen, tell Eddie…” You start, feeling suddenly too shy to have his name in your mouth – it feels heavy on your tongue, forbidden, and you chicken out, “Tell him… that I don’t bite. If he wants to talk to me … then he should just come talk to me, right?”

Gareth rolls his eyes,

“I told him that, like, a hundred times… but I’ll tell him again. I’ll say you said so this time.”

The promise pleases you immensely, only there is one glaring issue with that plan. He was never meant to tell you how Eddie supposedly feels about you. You’re not supposed to know he likes you.

You bite your lip and feel your brows creep toward one another, forming a deep crease of worry between them.

“Is that gonna get you in trouble?” You ask.

Gareth opens his mouth to speak, then snaps it shut again as the words fail to come, like he too had very conveniently forgotten that the information he’d just passed to you was decidedly not for you.

He hums thoughtfully, brows furrowed, and face pulled tight into a mask of displeased concentration.

What to do, what to do.

Finally, after a moment that feels like eternity, one you spend fidgeting with your fingers twisting them to the point of pain, holding a breath in your lungs almost like you’re afraid if you breathe he’ll take it all back.

Gareth shrugs.

“...well, I don’t see why he needs to know that I’m the one who told you… people talk.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

A hundred years and a short lifetime ago, you and Carol spent an evening trading secrets and the deepest desires of your heart, and you jumped up and down on her springy mattress, screaming along to the Go-Go's and promising one another that, just like the song said, your lips were sealed.

You can’t help but wonder if she ever really meant it, if she would have laughed and recoiled and teased you mercilessly if you trusted her with your secret feelings about Eddie Munson. Only you had made the same decision and elected not to tell her even back then, even when your secrets were still safe with her.

Can you hear them? They talk about us, telling lies, well, that’s no surprise.

People talk, Gareth said.

“They certainly do.” You hum, shouldering your bag and following him out the door.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn eddie munson #stranger things fic #endless summer fic #cruel summer prequel

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sluttywonwoo · 2 years ago

Text

instead of you [part three] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni), menstruation

word count: 4.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“How do I look?” you asked the boys as you pulled your hair from the collar of your shirt and settled back into your seat.

“You looked fine before,” Jisung mumbled to himself before catching your glare. “But you look lovely, as always, baby.”

You cocked your head to the side and grinned. “Thanks, Ji.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you look great,” Minho chimed in.

For someone who had seemed wholly uninterested in your existence fifteen minutes ago, Minho was being pretty friendly as of now. Maybe he liked fucking with Jisung just as much as you did.

“Thank you, Minho,” you said, not missing the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. You ignored it. “Babe,” when Jisung didn’t react you reached for his shoulder to get his attention. “How much further?”

“Oh, uh…” he leaned over the console to glance at Minho’s GPS. “Like fifteen minutes, why? Everything okay?” He knit his eyebrows together in concern and gave you a once over.

“Yeah, everything’s fine- I was just curious.”

“Am I that bad of a driver?” Minho joked as he jerked the car around a turn at full speed, sending his brother flying into the passenger’s side door.

“I don’t know, maybe let your four failed driver’s tests speak for themselves,” Minho scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Four?” you gasped.

“One of those was in America!” Minho protested defensively.

“That still means you failed three of them here,” you pointed out.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, did the curb jump out at you?”

“That’s exactly what happened,” he insisted, “and something about automatic failure for hitting cones?”

“Jesus, should you even have a license?”

“One more speeding ticket and he won’t.”

“Jisung, do you want to walk the rest of the way home?” Your best friend seemed to consider it, but rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat instead. “That’s what I thought.”

Even though Minho wasn’t the best driver, the car handled on the road pretty well. You wondered to yourself how much the Audi must’ve cost. You knew they were expensive to begin with, but from what you could tell this was a recent model and had at least a couple upgrades from standard. It was a stark contrast from Jisung’s 2009 Prius back at school and made you curious as to what his brother did for a living. Your mind automatically went to dealing. Jisung never talked about his older brother… maybe that was why? But as hard as you tried you couldn’t imagine the clean-cut wonder bread boy in the driver’s seat traversing the underground world of drugs, even with that smug smirk of his. No, that couldn’t be it. But what?

Before you could explore any other options Minho was pulling onto a residential street and actually slowing for the first time since getting in the car. He braked in front of a gated split-level and turned to his brother.

“I have to take care of something before dinner, but I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he explained and unlocked the doors.

Take care of something? Had you been right about-

“What do you have to do?” Jisung asked, verbalizing your inner monologue.

“Feed the cats,” Minho replied simply.

You perked up. “You have cats?”

Minho gave you a weird look like somehow you should have already known that, but nodded anyway. “They’re technically family cats, but they stay at our place. I have to feed them her before going over to mom and dad’s, but tell them I’ll be there soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung mumbled as he got out of the car and signaled for you to do the same. “Leave your car unlocked so we can get our bags out later, yeah?”

“Fine, but if my car gets stolen, it’s on you.”

“No one is going to break into your car stop being so dramatic!”

Minho said something else before driving away, but you were jolted by the feeling of a hand on the small of your back and missed it.

“Sorry,” Jisung said low enough for only you to hear, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered back. “I’m just a little jittery.”

He gave a sort of half-chuckle and took your hand in his, nodding toward the house. “C’mon, they’re waiting.”

You made your way through the front gate and up the stone steps to the front door. The pathway was lined with planted flowers and little ceramic tiles and pots that looked like they had been made by a child. You paused when you saw a mold of baby hand-prints with Jisung + Felix scrawled underneath.

“Did you guys make this?” you asked.

Jisung leaned in closer to see what you were looking at and grinned. “Oh my god yeah, like ages ago. Mum made all of us do them when we turned one.”

“Where’s Minho’s?”

“In pieces in the attic.”

“What happened to it?”

“Baseball accident,” he explained with a shrug. “My mom said she’d glue it back together, but it never happened. Now it’s just the two best Hans in the garden.”

You straightened back up and gave him a shove. “Stop it.”

“Hey, am I wrong?”

“I don’t know, I only just met your older brother,” you reminded him. “So I guess the jury’s still out on that one.”

“You could just take my word for it,” Jisung offered.

“Nice try, Han.”

Jisung held his hand back out for you to take and tugged you the rest of the way to the door, not letting you stop to look at any more old art projects despite your protests. Once you were on the front stoop he took a deep breath and glanced over to you. His hand was familiar, but sweaty in yours.

“Ready?”

“What would you do if I said no?” you asked, a smirk playing at your lips. “Just walked down the steps and got a cab back to the airport?”

He visibly relaxed and shook his head at you. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that,” he said and rung the bell without further hesitation.

“Jisung!”

“Y/n!”

You pretended to panic. “If I run away now, they’ll see me stranding their heartbroken son on his own front doorstep! That would not make a good first impression.”

“Pity. I guess you’d better stick around then.”

“If I have to.”

Just then, the door swung open and you were being ushered inside by several people at once. While Jisung exchanged hellos with his family you took a head count of everyone inside, making mental notes of who was who, finally putting faces to the names you’d studied on the plane hours earlier.

“This is my girlfriend, y/n,” Jisung said and stepped aside to introduce you. This time you didn’t cringe when he called you his girlfriend.

You braced yourself for all of the attention, feeling your heart plunge into your stomach when all eyes turned to you. Felix went in for a hug while his parents shook your hand politely.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, y/n!” his mother, Nikki, exclaimed, beaming. “I wish we could say we’ve heard so much about you, but,” she stared pointedly at her son, “it’s like pulling teeth to get Jisung to tell us anything about his life.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” you said and chuckled. “I didn’t even know how many brothers he had until like a few months ago, and we’ve been dating for how long?”

“Well, either way, we’re thrilled to get to know you in person!”

“Likewise,” you agreed. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along with you guys!”

“Of course,” his father piped up, “we’re happy to have you.”

“You two must be exhausted after that flight. We won’t keep you long. Dinner’s on the table in the dining room, but where’s your brother?” Nikki turned to Sam expectantly.

“He went to feed the cats, but he said he’d be right over.”

Jisung's dad checked his watch and sighed. “Does he expect us to wait for him?”

Jisung shrugged. “I dunno.”

Felix opened his mouth to interject, but the sound of the front door opening and closing behind you stopped the conversation in its tracks. You watched as Minho leaned an arm against the door frame and kicked off his shoes, noticing the way his t-shirt rode up to show his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Kleins.

“Were your ears burning?” Nikki asked, snapping you out of your staring, as she went to hug Minho.

“Should they have been?”

“We were just talking about your excellent punctuality,” his dad remarked.

Minho smirked. “Yeah, anything else? What about my charm? Good looks?”

“Just your enormous ego,” Jisung said through a cough.

“Play nice, boys,” Nikki warned, pointing a finger at all three of her sons.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Felix protested.

“You were thinking it.”

Once around the dinner table you finally began to relax, feeling more comfortable with Jisung’s family as time passed. As the tension eased from your body, the fatigue began to set in. Your muscles were starting to feel stiff and your social energy was fading fast. You let them do most of the talking, only speaking up when questions were directed at you. Answers from your flashcards rolled off your tongue without a second thought. You knew all of the dates and facts like the back of your hand and Jisung was doing surprisingly well too.

“You know,” Felix started in the middle of Jisung recounting one of your dates, “I always knew you two would get together.”

You and Jisung both whipped your heads towards him simultaneously.

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was obvious you liked each other,” he continued, “neither of you were very good at hiding it so it was only a matter of time.” This was news to you. You had thought Felix was one of the few people who had seen what your relationship with Jisung really was, yet here he was saying what everyone else already thought. “I mean, you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other-”

Your eyes went wide at the same time Jisung choked on his drink in shock. You heard Minho chuckle under his breath from across the table.

“Okay, you can spare us the details, Lix,” their dad said.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Jisung clarified, glaring at his twin. “We’ve just always been close is all.”

“It’s so nice that you were such good friends before you started dating,” Nikki added. “It removes some of that new relationship awkwardness since you already know each other so well.”

Jisung cleared his throat. “Well as nice as it’s been talking about my dating life, I think y/n and I are going to head back over to the flat. We’re both pretty tired.”

“Wait,” you whispered at him, “shouldn’t we help with the dishes?”

“Oh you don’t need to do that, you’re our guest!” Nikki insisted.

“Are you sure? You all made us this lovely meal, it would be the least we could do-”

“No, no, we’ll have Minho and Felix help us. You two go and get some rest. You’ve had a long day and we have another big day tomorrow.”

“Okay, well thank you so much again for dinner.”

“Thanks, mom, it was really good,” Jisung said and gave his mother a hug before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and waving goodbye to the rest of his family members.

A wave of relief washed over you as soon as you stepped outside and it took all of your strength not to jump and cheer in celebration.

“Dude, that was so good!” Jisung hissed to you as you hurried down the garden path together.

“I know!” you squeezed his hand in excitement. “We crushed it.”

“We totally did. Thanks to you.”

“No, thanks to you,” you argued back.

“It was a team effort,” he decided.

Your bags were still in the trunk of Minho’s car right where you’d left them a couple of hours earlier and Jisung insisted on carrying them both up the stairs to his room.

“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend!”

“Okay and? What fucking year is this, 1956?”

He gave you a look. “Just let me carry your fucking bag up to our room. I’m trying to be chivalrous, okay?”

“Fine, knock yourself out, Prince Charming.”

“Thank you.”

You rolled your eyes and slammed the trunk closed behind him after grabbing the backpacks. You followed Jisung up the steps to the flat and watched him punch in a code that unlocked the front door.

Inside, two boys you didn’t recognize sat on the couch playing something on their xbox. They looked up when they heard the click of the lock and nodded in hello, not offering any other introduction.

“Hey guys,” Jisung said as if they were an afterthought and took the stairs two at a time. He led you down a hallway to a room tucked away in the corner of the house. “This is my room.”

It was small, but full of pieces of furniture, none of which looked like they belonged to Jisung. A queen-sized bed sat pushed up against the back wall of the room underneath the slanted ceiling fitted with a thick white comforter and matching pillows. A full length ornate mirror leaned against the same wall and was adjacent to a dresser and another chest of drawers. Why a room that seemed to be devoid of all personal articles needed so much storage you weren’t sure, but none of the furniture matched which only added to the mystery.

“They use it for storage when I’m gone,” he explained and dropped the suitcases on top of the chest.

“What?”

“My roommates. They put all the shit they don’t need in my room since I don’t technically live here anymore.”

“That’s kind of shitty.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I never had to pay rent for living here, and I still have a place to stay when I do come to visit, so this is a small price to pay.”

“I guess that’s fair.” You walked over to the bed and tossed the backpacks on top of it. “So those guys downstairs…”

“Are my roommates, minus Minho and Felix of course.”

“Yeah, the tall one-”

“Hyunjin?”

“Is he single?”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Yes, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck, right.”

“Rule number eleven, y/n.”

“He’s not your brother!”

“He might as well be!” he argued.

You groaned and unzipped your suitcase, digging through it to find your pajamas. You landed on a pair of boxers you had stolen from a guy your sophomore year and a white tank top. Jisung was already taking off his shirt at that point so you just turned around and changed right there. No big deal. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this in the back of his brother’s car a few hours ago, and you changed in front of each other all the time. So then, why did it feel different now?

When you were finished getting dressed you shoved your airport clothes back into your suitcase and traded them for your toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Where are you going?” Jisung asked.

“To brush my teeth before I forget.”

“Don’t get lost.”

You brushed the joke off, but quickly realized that you actually had no idea where you were going. Each door in the hallway looked exactly the same and they were all completely shut so you couldn’t peek inside to see if the room it was attached to was a bathroom.

Eventually, you resolved to just open the door directly across the hall. There seemed to be light coming from underneath it. That was a promising sign, right? You braced yourself, turned the knob on the door, and pushed it open. You knew immediately that you had not found the bathroom.

Minho was lying propped up on his bed in nothing other than a pair of grey sweatpants with a manilla folder lying on his chest. He looked up at you standing in his doorway and quirked an eyebrow.

“Can I help you?”

“Uhhhh…” you trailed off, cheeks burning as you stared at the boy laying on his bed.

Minho tilted his head to the side, his cocky expectant expression falling into one of concern. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Sorry, it’s just… this isn’t the bathroom…”

He looked around the room like he was double-checking it wasn’t, making you roll your eyes. “No, it’s not. Do you need help finding it?” He moved like he was going to get up from the bed and you put a hand out to stop him.

“No, no it’s okay. I’ll find it eventually,” you assured him.

“You sure? There are a lot of doors in that hallway. Wouldn’t want you accidentally walking in on another poor, unsuspecting boy in their bedroom.”

You narrowed your eyes, but let the comment slide. You didn’t know him like that, and as badly as you wanted to quip back, you were still trying to make a decent impression on Jisung’s family. “About that, how many people live here?”

Minho chuckled. “There are four of us. Five when Jisung is home from school.”

“Jesus. That sounds like-“

“Fun?”

“A nightmare.”

“Depends on how you look at it,” he said and shrugged. “I’m living with my best friends, but you’re staying with four random dudes like you’re on an episode of New Girl.”

“I know Felix. He’s not a random dude,” you pointed out.

“Details.” Minho glanced down at your boxer shorts, then back up at you. You realized he had probably clocked them as his brother’s. He cleared his throat. “As nice as it is chatting here with you, my brother is probably wondering where his girlfriend wandered off to.”

You remembered the toothbrush in your hand at that moment and clutched it to your chest. “Right. Sorry.” You stood unmoving in his doorway and rocked back on your heels awkwardly, knowing you had to ask the question you were too stubborn to ask.

“Was there something else?” Minho asked.

“Um, which way is the bathroom?”

He grinned. “Turn left, it’s the door right next to mine.”

Fuck. So close.

You squeezed your eyes shut and cursed to yourself. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You turned to leave but stopped short when he spoke up from behind you again. “Goodnight, y/n,”

“Goodnight, Minho.”

In the bathroom, you brushed your teeth as fast as humanly possible, admittedly not for the dentist-recommended full two minutes, and then splashed some cold water on your face to try and tone down your flushed embarrassment.

“You okay?” Jisung asked when you finally found your way back to his room. “You were gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I just, uh…”

“You actually got lost didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe.”

Jisung just shook his head then grabbed his own toothbrush. “I’ll be right back.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him and you took that as your cue to fall back onto the bed and take up as much room as possible. You sprawled out in the starfish position, stretching your stiff muscles. You sighed and let your eyelids flutter shut, thinking you would just rest them for a bit before Jisung came back. It felt like no time had passed when you woke back up to him nudging your limp body with his knee.

“Roll over,” he grunted.

“Nooo,” you groaned. “Can’t. Move.”

“Y/n, I swear to God-“

“I didn’t know you believed in God.”

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re so annoying,” he huffed as he shoved you over so he could get in the bed.

“If you keep taking the Lord’s name in vain I’ll have no choice but to go to the Priest.”

“In that case, wait until he hears about all of the premarital eye contact you’ve been having.”

“Touché.”

You sat up and shimmied under the covers next to him. The bed was small enough that your shoulders brushed against each other as you lay there on your backs underneath the thin sheets. His skin was warm to the touch and you had the sudden urge to curl up next to him and fall asleep with your body pressed against his. You resisted it. It struck you as odd, the longing feeling that sat uncomfortably in your chest. You tried your best to ignore it.

“For the record I’m agnostic,” Jisung said.

“Of course you are,” you scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just, it seems like the easy choice. Ya know, like ‘maybe there’s something out there that’s bigger than us, but also maybe not’ so you get to be right either way? That’s bullshit, you gotta pick one.”

“To me, it seems kind of… hubristic for us as humans to be the ones to decide which gods to believe in. Or to decide if deities even exist for that matter.”

You hummed, too tired to truly process any of what he had just said. “Never thought about it that way. That semester of Philosophy 101 really did a number on you, didn’t it? ”

“Dr. Levi might be an asshole, but he made a lot of interesting points.”

“Who knew a gen-ed would be the thing to broaden your horizons.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he huffed, shoving your shoulder lightly, “and don’t tell my parents because I still go to church with them on Sundays.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Your dirty philosophical secret is safe with me.”

Even in the dark you could tell Jisung was rolling his eyes. “Well what about you? What do you believe in?”

“Mm, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I knew it. You’re a scientologist, aren’t you?”

“I’m Tom Cruise’s closest confidante,” you whispered back.

“When you see him next can you ask him about Mission Impossible Nineteen or whatever the fuck number they’re on?”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” you mumbled through a yawn.

Jisung reciprocated your yawn and shifted onto his side. “Tell him I want Rebecca Ferguson’s number.”

“I’ll relay the message, but I’m telling you now she’s out of your league.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s also like sixteen years older than you.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you agreed. “I do want to be a MILF someday.”

“That’s… not what I meant.”

In the morning you were able to find your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face without any accidental detours only to realize you’d started your period.

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t catch a damn break.

“Hey, you hungry?” Jisung asked once you’d returned back to his room.

“I could eat,” you said and nodded, “but, uh, do you guys have any pads… or tampons?”

“Shit, I don’t think so. My mom always tells us we should keep them around for friends or girls we have over, but none of us ever remember to pick them up when we go out to the shops.”

“Because you never have girls over?”

“You’re here aren’t you?”

“Not voluntarily.”

Jisung pursed his lips. “Well is it, uh, a pressing matter?”

“Um, it can wait until after breakfast. I made do with some toilet paper for now.”

He seemed jostled by that comment but didn’t press any further. “O-okay, we usually have cereal and stuff in the cupboards downstairs, but I can make you an omelet or some French toast if you’d like.” You mulled over the options in your mind and smiled to yourself as you slipped on a pair of socks. “What?”

“It’s nice having a fake-boyfriend that can cook.”

“It’s nice to have someone to cook for,” he added with a hint of a smile. “My roommates back at school are never home to try my cooking, and they don’t give a fuck about food anyway. They could eat ramen for every meal of the day for a month and not think twice about it.”

“I mean, I gotta give them some credit. Ramen is the breakfast of champions,”

“The breakfast?” Jisung gagged. “I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“Yeah, pop one of those bad boys in the microwave before your lecture in the morning, eat it on the way and you’re good to go.”

“You’re not supposed to microwave them,” he sighed.

“You think I have the time to boil water? I wake up ten minutes before class starts, you’re lucky I’m even having breakfast.”

“Your lifestyle stresses me out.”

“So you’ve told me.”

You perched yourself on the bed as Jisung pulled on a pair of sweatpants and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to tame his curls.

“Ready to go downstairs?”

You nodded. “I think I’ll take you up on that omelet.”

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ambrossart · 1 year ago

Text

Out of the Loop (Preview #2)

⏪ Preview #1 | FULL RELEASE NOV. 10TH

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: -- warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand.

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would.

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy.

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said.

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

His jaw clenched in irritation. “Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought.

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends.

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again.

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen.

Two suspects down. Eight more to go.

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over! Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner.

Coincidence?

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed up for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view.

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…?

While hanging up her backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.”

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you.

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward.

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.”

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks.

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too.

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you.

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin here, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…”

You spotted a familiar face down the hall.

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.”

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.”

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression.

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said.

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother.

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand.

“Hey, give that back!”

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?”

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh… you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.”

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway.

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms.

“Just ignore them,” she told you.

“I already am,” you said.

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he wore when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile.

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note.

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall.

Eight-nineteen…

You sighed.

… and now eight-twenty.

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started furiously spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again.

“Kind of,” you admitted shyly. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.”

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.”

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming.

“Nope.” You slipped off your backpack and hung it on the hook.

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?”

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.”

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.”

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least.

“That’s how it starts, you know,” Chrissy said. “Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.”

“You’re still like that.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling.

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…”

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again.

Eight twenty-three.

Where the hell was Eddie?

SERIES MASTERPOST

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