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illyrianbitch · 3 months

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Lights, Camera, Love!

Pairing: Reader x Rhysand

Summary: Rhysand, Hollywood's hottest heartthrob, has everyone smitten—everyone except you, his co-star. But when rumors of your feud begin to affect the show's ratings, your producers propose a last-ditch solution: a fake romance to salvage your public image and reignite fan interest.

Warnings: cocky Rhysand, just two snippy co-stars, ianthe, co-parent feysand, helion and amren as big hollywood peeps

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: this is a lil series ive had tucked away with some inspo....lets see if ayll fw it enough hehehe. dedicated to @milswrites and @daycourtofficial bc their love for this pushed me to pick it up again

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was unprofessional, truly.

You wanted to roll your eyes, to scoff and walk off set.

But instead, you simply shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress as Ianthe, your overly enthusiastic interviewer, fluttered around Rhysand like a lovesick butterfly. Her giggles grated on your nerves as she leaned in a little too close, her hand lingering on his arm just a second too long.

Ianthe was known for her probing questions and flirtatious demeanor— it’s what made her such a popular source for exclusive interviews. Not only did she know the right questions to ask, but she knew exactly how to ask them in order to get what she wanted: juicy gossip, something she could feed on. It wasn’t a coincidence that her last name held such a resemblance to the word parasite. She was one.

You didn’t want to do the interview to begin with. The upcoming release of your newest season meant various events and panels that left you unsettled and anxious. You loved your job— loved your character even more. But being in the public eye alongside Rhysand was hard. Suffocating, really.

It felt like hours that you sat there with a practiced smile, waiting as she conversed with Rhysand. The studio lights were warm, and the backdrop behind you— a cover of the show's logo— made you feel a bit more comfortable. But still, the unease persisted, and you counted down the seconds until this interview was over and you could return home.

"So, Rhysand," Ianthe said, her voice silky smooth. "You've become quite the heartthrob lately. How do you handle all the attention from your adoring fans?"

Your first instinct was to laugh. Your second was to roll your eyes. The third was to vomit in your mouth. You somehow resisted the urge to do all of the above, settling for biting back the rising nausea at the shameless flirting.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a charming smile spreading across his face. "It's all part of the job, I suppose. Though, I must say, the fans are incredibly supportive. It's their enthusiasm that keeps us going."

Us. This time it physically burned you to not roll your eyes, even subtly. Your lips curled into a pained smile. Ianthe didn’t seem to notice the forced gesture, her gaze locked onto Rhysand as if you weren’t even in the room.

You looked down, absently playing with a ring on your index finger. The metal felt cool and familiar, and you smiled faintly at it, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It seemed to fill your lungs with a steadying breath, one that was enough to gather yourself, to steel your resolve and endure sitting beside someone who sucked up all the oxygen in the room without even trying.

It took a few more minutes before Ianthe was turning to you with an expectant smile— perfect white teeth. Veneers, most likely. The smile was strange up close and you resisted the urge to lean in and expect them further, to search for any signs of hidden pointed teeth, sharpened to resemble that of a predator.

You blinked, tilting your head and welcoming her attention with a large smile of your own. Certainly not as perfect, but a lot less unnerving, you hoped.

“Y/n,” She started, readjusting herself in her seat. “You look beautiful. It’s always nice to see you.”

You gave a small nod in acknowledgement. You’d talked to Ianthe a few times, mostly on red carpets and press events. Never longer than a minute, never past fake pleasantries and a kiss on the cheek—- from her end.

“Thanks Ianthe,” you said, smile still plastered on your cheeks like glue. “It’s always a pleasure talking with you.”

There was a glint in her eye that told you she didn’t believe a word you said. At least you both had that in common, perhaps you could bond on your shared love of bullshit.

“Tell me, what's it like working alongside Rhysand? He seems to have quite the presence on set."

You paused for a moment, considering your response carefully before delivering it with a smile.

“Rhysand is an experience. Even after years, he still manages to keep me on my toes.”

What your statement really translated to was: Rhysand was a cocky asshole. Everything was about him. All. The. Damn. Time.

"It's truly remarkable how he commands the attention of everyone in the room. It's as if the rest of us simply fade into the background when he's around.”

Because he’s an attention whore.

You didn’t say the last thought— as much as your body screamed at you to.

Rhysand's smile tightened imperceptibly, a flicker of irritation dancing in his eyes before he masked it with practiced ease. "Well, thank you," he replied smoothly, "I suppose it's just the natural magnetism of a true star."

He delivered his words as a joke, as if you both shared a similar, endearing humor regarding one another. You fought to conceal a satisfied smirk, knowing that your veiled dig had hit its mark.

Ianthe continued to prattle on, her questions growing increasingly mundane as the minutes ticked by. There was a lull—a brief moment of respite where Ianthe paused to collect her thoughts.

It was Rhysand who broke the silence, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "I must admit, I've always admired Y/n’s dedication to her craft," he said, his tone almost earnest. "It's not easy to disappear into a role the way she does."

You bristled at the backhanded compliment, knowing all too well that beneath his seemingly benign words lay a razor-sharp edge. It was a surprise to you that Ianthe didn’t pick up on it, her dull eyes and bright smile still worn on her nauseatingly beautiful face.

"Well, Rhysand," you replied, forcing a tight smile, "I suppose we all have our strengths. I can’t coast on charisma alone.”

His smirk returned in full force, a wolfish gleam in his eyes. "Ah, but isn't that what makes us such a dynamic duo, sweetheart?" he said, "The perfect balance of substance and style."

You fought to conceal a frustrated sigh, to bite back the snarl you wanted to make at the annoying nickname he’d adopted for you recently. He knew it drove you nuts, knew it made you want to call him something less sweet.

As much as you wished to continue the conversation, to match his veiled insults with ones of your own— that were sure to be far more clever, you knew that this verbal sparring match would only serve to prolong your agony. Instead, you plastered on a diplomatic smile, nodding in agreement as Ianthe launched into yet another round of inane questions.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It felt like an eternity before you were freed from the clutches of the interview.

Ianthe stood, flashing you a smile that felt more condescending than friendly. "Thank you both for coming," she said, her eyes lingering on Rhysand. You watched as she scanned him one last time, eyes drinking him in like a fresh glass of wine.

You forced a polite nod. "Thank you, Ianthe. Always a pleasure."

She gave you a look that made you feel small, but you quickly swallowed it and turned away, heading toward the exit. As much as a nice, warm bath was calling to you, you had lunch plans with Lucien and were itching to be in the presence of someone you actually liked.

"Well, that was entertaining," Rhysand commented, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught up to you.

You glanced at him, trying to keep your irritation in check as you quickened your pace, offering a few spare smiles to the employees you passed. "If by entertaining, you mean tacky, then sure."

His smirk faded slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He raised a brow. "Tacky? I was just keeping things lively."

"Lively," you repeated with a laugh. You stopped, the movement so abrupt that Rhysand almost bumped into you. You turned to face him with a flat look. “You’re a shameless flirt."

His eyes narrowed at you— a deep blue that you swore at times was almost violet. His head cocked to the side and you shrank deeper into yourself, feeling somewhat at odds and uncomfortable in his burning gaze. The smirk tugged harder at the corner of his lips.

“Well, isn’t that the whole point?”

You scowled, opening your mouth to respond. But before any words could leave your mouth, a familiar voice filled the air. “Rhys!”

A head turn led you to catch Feyre’s eye as she walked towards you, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes lit up as her gaze landed on you and Rhys, one hand holding onto the smaller one of her son.

You watched as Nyx, quite possibly one of the prettiest kids you'd ever seen, ran up to Rhysand with a joyous laugh, opening his arms up, wide and expecting. In one swift and natural movement, Rhysand scooped him up effortlessly, his earlier annoyance instantly dissipating from his features.

“Hey, buddy,” Rhysand said, his voice softening as he kissed Nyx’s temple.

Against your better judgment, a smile tugged at your cheeks at how brightly Rhysand’s face lit up. He pulled Feyre into a quick, sweet embrace, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

If there was one thing you were willing to give Rhysand credit for, it was this.

His breakup with Feyre had been incredibly public. The divorce, the fallout—both of their reputations took a hit when it came out that she had initiated the divorce, later compounded by her being outed on a date with a woman from her past. Yet, despite everything, they both managed it with such grace.

Feyre was incredibly sweet. You never truly understood how Rhysand landed her in the first place, how they had been married for over five years, so deeply in love that they started a family. You thoroughly enjoyed her company, even though it wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked. She was still Rhysand’s family, after all, and you took every chance you could to avoid being around him when it wasn’t necessary.

But Feyre was a large reason you enjoyed your job. She eased the anxiety that came with joining a cast that was already so close, essentially taking a role that had belonged to her— even though your character was introduced after hers was written off.

It was clear that despite everything, Rhysand and Feyre had managed to maintain a bond, not just for their sake, but for Nyx’s. The love they still shared, the ease with which they navigated this new chapter of their lives—it was something you respected, even envied a little.

You averted your gaze, fingers running over the cool metal of your ring as you turned to leave, but Feyre called your name, her voice as kind as usual.

You paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

Feyre’s smile was warm. You took her in for a moment, how naturally beautiful she was— how she exuded a certain energy that you could only describe as regal. A smile fit for a queen. “How was the interview?”

You shrugged, giving a small smile. “The usual. Ianthe was...”

You pursed your lips as your voice trailed off. There were many ways you could finish off your sentence but you weren’t sure how diplomatic you could be anymore or if Feyre would be bothered by an honest review of your interviewer.

Feyre leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A bitch?”

You laughed, catching Rhysand’s glance as he looked over for a moment. His attention quickly returned to Nyx and you turned back to meet Feyre’s beautiful blue eyes. “Exactly.”

Feyre shook her head, a sympathetic look on her face. “She was always so condescending with me, too. It’s because she’s desperate to sleep with that loser.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder, jokingly but lovingly casting a glance back at Rhysand. She clicked her tongue. “Poor delusions.”

Another laugh left your lips and you nodded, suppressing a grin. “Yeah,” you drawled, “She wasn’t very subtle.”

Feyre raised a brow. “I don’t think subtly is in that limited vocabulary of hers.”

Your eyes drifted to the small interview set, where Ianthe was still standing, talking to someone and sparing regular glances over at Rhysand—a predator about to make her move. It was best for you to leave now, you thought, to avoid watching the inevitable hunt.

“I should get going,” you said, turning back to Feyre. “I have plans. But, it was so nice seeing you.”

Feyre beamed, putting a hand on your arm. You briefly took in the ink that covered her forearm, the delicate, beautiful tattoos that you always wanted to admire further. “You too,” she said, “Let’s have lunch soon.”

You nodded, a genuine and pleased motion. Your conversation with Feyre was the first one today that you didn’t have to fake any polite mannerisms. “I’d love to.”

Casting one last glance at Rhysand, you watched as Feyre approached him and put a hand out to Nyx. Rhysand smiled down at her, a soft, familiar look that made your chest tighten with an emotion you didn’t care to examine.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was 10:00 am when you were called into the production office, a room nestled in a quiet corner of the studio lot. You were tired, having only slept a few hours the night prior, and you could feel life slowly dripping back into you with each sip of coffee. The area was relatively private, shielded from the prying eyes of paparazzi, so you opted for comfort over glamor, dressed in jeans and a simple hoodie—nice, big, and comfortable.

Helion was usually meticulous about these meetings, ensuring both you and Rhysand were well-prepared and informed ahead of time. This sudden summons felt off. You didn’t know what to expect, and that uncertainty weighed heavily on your mind as you pushed open the door to the conference room.

Rhysand was already in the room when you arrived, effortlessly lounging in a chair with the kind of put-together look that only seemed to accentuate your own disheveled state. It made you hate him even more. You didn’t attempt to hide your scowl. He glanced up as you entered, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Phew, you'd think it was a Sunday and you were hungover," he remarked casually, a small smile playing on his lips.

You shot him a pointed glare, resisting the urge to snap back and opting to take the open seat next to him, sitting back to take a sip of your coffee.

Rhysand leaned over into your space, reaching a hand to tug at the strings of your hoodie with a grin on his lips. You swatted his hand away with a deepening scowl. "Cut it out."

He chuckled lightly, settling back into his chair. "So, what do you think this is about?"

“No idea,” you sighed, crossing your arms defensively. You gave him a pointed glare. “What did you do?”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And why are we automatically assuming I did something?”

“Well when are you not?” You titled your head. “Doing something, I mean.”

Rhysand caught onto the meaning of your words instantly. He narrowed his eyes at you before something crossed his features. Then, he was leaning in again, a smirk on his face as he scanned your own. “Are you feeling a bit left out? You’re always welcome to join.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a scoff of disgust as you maneuvered yourself to lean farther away from him. “You’re shameless.”

The door clicked open, and your attention snapped over as Helion entered the room. You began to offer him a smile, but the motion died on your lips as you met his gaze.

You loved Helion— as an executive producer, and the main man regarding your public relations, you’d formed a great relationship with him. It helped that you were best friends with his son, too. But today his typically buoyant air was clouded, his expression wearing the weight of serious deliberation. It was one you could only compare to that of a disappointed father about to deliver bad news. Beside him, Amren followed like a silent storm cloud.

Amren, on the other hand, was someone you didn’t have a favorable relationship with. She was Rhysand’s personal agent and she excluded the same energy he did— something that tasted a lot like pretentiousness. Her sharp gaze swept the room, and you instinctively avoided meeting it.

If Amren was here, and Helion was wearing that stern expression, it could only mean trouble. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach.

You and Rhysand shared a quick, knowing glance, a similar confusion mirrored on both your faces. You straightened yourself as Rhysand offered a disarmingly charming smile.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Helion exchanged a glance with Amren before sighing heavily. He leaned forward, slapping a piece of paper onto the table and pushing it toward both of you.

The first thing that caught your eye was the TMZ logo— something that made your stomach drop instinctively. You bit at the inside of your cheek, your eyes repeatedly running over the headline. You looked up through your lashes to meet Helion’s expecting gaze.

Rhysand's voice was incredulous as he spoke. "Did you... print these out?"

You casted a quick glance of disbelief at him. Idiot. He paid no mind.

Helion ignored the comment, taking a seat across from you as he leaned back, crossing his arms. He gave a nod towards the two copies before you. “Go ahead. Read," he instructed calmly, his expression grave. The tone alone made you shiver from its unfamiliarity.

You picked up your copy, scanning the bolded headline and the accompanying pictures.

FAILURE ON SET: HOW AN OVERBEARING CO-STAR FUED IS THREATENING THE VIEWER EXPERIENCE

Ianthe Parcite weighs in on the rumored feud between co-stars Y/N and Rhysand after exclusive interview.

As expected, the large printed image was a glamor shot of Rhysand and one of the interview set. You were nowhere to be found. Your grip on the edges of the paper tightened as you began to read the article.

In an exclusive interview with TMZ, Ianthe Parcite, known for her candid critiques, has taken a stark stance on the alleged feud between Hollywood’s famed co-stars, Y/N L/N and Rhysand Darling. Contrary to initial impressions, Ianthe now reveals that behind the scenes, tensions ran high and professionalism faltered. “I sensed an atmosphere of unease and discontent,” Ianthe remarked, reflecting on her recent encounter with the co-stars. “Y/N appeared dismissive and disengaged during our interview, which is concerning for the show’s dynamics.” Ianthe didn’t hold back in her assessment of Rhysand either, noting his apparent lack of receptiveness to her questions. “Rhysand’s demeanor was noticeably distant, almost unreceptive to any meaningful dialogue,” she disclosed. “It’s unfortunate when personal dynamics overshadow the professionalism required on set.” The revelations have sent shockwaves through the fanbase, with many expressing disappointment over the potential impact on their favorite series. As speculation swirls around the future of the show, fans are left wondering if the rift between Y/N and Rhysand will escalate and if it's worth watching a show doomed for failure.

You scoffed incredulously, pushing the paper further away from you as if its distance would minimize the anger that simmered underneath your skin. You deeply regretted holding back in the interview— regretted not tearing that pompous bitch into two.

"So she doesn't even include a picture of me and yet I'm the main one she rips into?"

You found the courage to look around the room, your gaze landing on Helion with pleading eyes. His response was a noncommittal shrug, accompanied by a slight raise of his eyebrows. It was clear he didn't have an easy answer, either.

Running your tongue along your teeth, you shifted your gaze to Rhysand. His jaw clenched as he laid the paper on the table. "It's not even a great photo of me," he remarked dryly, "I'm too pale in it."

Your mouth fell open in exasperation. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath.

Rhysand shot you a glare that lingered for a few tense seconds. You matched his gaze evenly before he redirected his attention to Helion and Amren. "This is ridiculous," he asserted, "Did they seriously publish this?

A moment passed. Helion sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Yes. Every tabloid is eating it up.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling every muscle in your body tense with the frustration prickling at your skin. “It wasn't our best interview, sure, but it definitely wasn't that bad," you insisted, tapping a finger down on the offending article.

Amren's gaze flickered toward Rhysand, and you followed it. Rhysand shifted uncomfortably, his expression briefly sheepish before he turned to you with a defensive edge. You narrowed your eyes, tuning to face him properly.

“Did you do something?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous.”

Your mouth fell agape and you let out a deep, angry breath through your nose. “Don’t use that word about me,” you hissed at him. You pointed emphatically at the paper. "That is ridiculous. And you look like a guilty dog. What did you do?"

"Nothing," he finally muttered, his eyes narrowing in irritation. He shifted in his seat, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves.

It was Amren's voice that cut through the tension, her tone cool and calculating. "It's what he didn't do, really," she remarked cryptically, her gaze still lingering on Rhysand.

He shot her a pointed glare and you frowned, your brows furrowing to a tight knit. A faint headache throbbed at your temples. Turning to Helion for clarification, you found him leaning forward, lips pursed in thought.

"It appears Ianthe was a bit... offended that Rhysand turned down her advances," Helion explained carefully, his words laden with implication.

Your eyes widened in surprise, disbelief coloring your features. "Seriously?" you blurted out, your head twisting to face Rhysand once more, moving with such swiftness that an ache pulled at the muscles of your neck. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rhysand's eyes widened in response, his expression a mix of offense and confusion. "Excuse me?" he retorted, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "So you have a problem with me when I sleep with people and when I don't?"

Annoyance flared within you. "You flirted with her the entire interview," you accused, your voice raising slightly in pitch. "The one time you decide to take a vow of celibacy and it's with the one name that can tarnish my reputation?”

Rhysand scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Your reputation, of course," he muttered sarcastically. "You're such a hypocrite."

"Your actions reflect on me too, Rhysand," you shot back, "Do you ever think about that?"

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a pinched expression. "Oh, please," he countered, "If you hadn't been sulking and throwing daggers at me the entire interview, I wouldn't have had to flirt with her to salvage it. You should be thanking me."

Your jaw tightened at his words. "Thanking you? Look what happened—"

Before you could finish your retort, Helion slammed his palm down on the table with a sharp crack. You and Rhysand both jumped at the sudden interruption, turning to face him with wide eyes.

"Enough," Helion declared firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Stop bickering like children."

You and Rhysand exchanged a reluctant glance and with a sigh, you sank back into your seat, folding your arms defensively.

"It'll blow over in a week, right? No big deal," Rhysand said casually, his tone attempting to downplay the severity of the situation. You raised your eyebrows at the suggestion, but as hopeful as it sounded, part of you knew that this was a bigger deal than you both cared to admit.

Helion regarded him with a critical eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. Feeling an itch at your skin, you unfolded your arms.

"He’s right," you said hopefully, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, rumors of us not being... the best of friends isn't something new. People know this."

Rhysand offered a nod of agreement. “Exactly. It's just tabloid fodder," he said, his gaze shifting between Amren and Helion with a hint of concern.

Leaning slightly on the table, Amren shook her head slightly, her eyes– a color so light they were almost silver— glowed with intensity as they swept over Rhysand and then fixed on you. The heat of her gaze made you swallow and you found yourself tempted to apologize for things you’d never done— confess for crimes you hadn’t committed. But against your instincts, you held her gaze for another lasting moment. Amren seemed to appreciate the stare and she raised an eyebrow of approval before she spoke.

“It's more than that now," she stated firmly, her voice cutting through the air like a finely sharpened knife. "This isn't just idle gossip anymore. It's becoming off-putting. A few small rumors are funny at first, but now people don't want to watch. It's affecting our ratings."

"We can't afford to lose viewers over this," Helion added, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency you’d never heard. He was stressed— extremely so. He picked at the gold rings that adorned his hands. "The show needs a strong, united front, not two leads sniping at each other in public."

You exchanged a glance with Rhysand. Your mind raced and you settled your gaze on Helion.

You trusted him. He always had your best interests in mind, and navigating public fallout wasn’t unfamiliar territory for you. This was fine, this was manageable.

“Okay,” you said, the words directly intended for him. “What do you want me to do?”

He threw a glance at Amren.

“Well,” he started, “We need to manage the narrative. The tension between you two is too obvious. Starting with the press tour, we'll need you both to project a good connection. No more sniping or tension in public—it needs to be all smiles and cooperation."

You nodded slowly, digesting his words. Next to you, Rhysand sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Are you saying we need to fake being friends?"

The two agents before you shared another glance. You frowned at the exchange, an unsettled feeling brewing in your gut. Helion’s face slowly shifted into one more amused— and you watched as a grin grew on his lips, something suspicious, mischievous even. His eyes gleamed.

“Not just friends," he said, his gaze shifting between you and Rhysand. He looked to Amren one last time, who gave a small nod of approval before he continued,

"We need you to fake a romance."

You choked on the air in your throat, your heart skipping a beat at his words. You blinked rapidly, gaze darting between Helion and Amren, seeking any sign that this was a joke or a misinterpretation.

They were messing with you both, surely. This was some joke to make you both apologize, some horrendously unrealistic suggestion that made the idea of you two being simply friends something straight out of paradise.

But their faces were deadly serious— set with a purposeful intent etched into their features. Helion’s grin ate at you.

Rhysand's laughter broke the tense silence, though it lacked humor as he shook his head in disbelief. His wide eyes met yours, a silent exchange of incredulity passing between you before both of you turned to Helion simultaneously. When no other words were offered to you both, the reality of the suggestion seeped in.

As if you both registered it at the same time, both you and Rhysand rose swiftly.

"Absolutely fucking not—"

"—There is no way in hell I'm—"

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

GUYS IM OBSESSED IM SORRY I CANT. reader is such a hater and i think its so funny, whatever rhys does its just *eye roll* booo he sucks

i loveee them ur honor

if youd like to be added to the LCL! taglist, lmk!! <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124

Rhysand tag list 🫶🏻:

@serrendiipty

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader fluff #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhys acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fandom #rhysand acotar #high lord rhysand

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restlessmaknae · 5 months

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red light, green light // park sunghoon

After summer break and your break-up, it seems that things finally go back to normal. At least, until the first after-match party when in an attempt to save you from your ex, Sunghoon blurts out that you're his girlfriend now, and so, your fake dating starts.

➳ Characters: college rugby player!Sunghoon x cheerleader!female reader/you

➳ Genre: fake dating au, college au, sports au, angst, fluff

➳ Words: 6.2k

➳ Warning: reader is very insecure in the beginning and healing from a toxic relationship; the toxic, manipulative ex is also in the story (named Jaehyeok but he has no connection to any real-life people or characters), mentions of cheating on ex's part, injuries

➳ A/N: This story had the most votes in my recent poll, so here it is. It's also a spin-off to my most popular story 'how to cross the line?' with Jake that takes place before this one, but this story can absolutely be read on its own. ❤️

After the summer break, you thought that everything bad - including your break-up with Jaehyeok - would be forgotten. As a cheerleader and a college rugby player who had gotten together over the spring term, and had broken up close to finals, you had been the talk of town until everyone had gone home for the break. There had been a pleasantly short amount of time between the break-up and summer break with no football matches afterwards, so no way to see him up-front when he had been the last person you had wanted to see.

With the autumn term coming, it seemed to be true, and you couldn’t have been happier. The summer months weren’t enough to pick yourself up after the break-up, but they were enough to try to pick yourself up. He had humiliated you in front of his team members, and even though they didn’t look at you any differently, you could feel the lingering gazes on you two when Jaehyeok decided to sit beside you at the first after-match party of the season.

“Oooh, are you guys getting back together?” One of the boys cooed, laughing into his hands as if he had discovered the rumour of the century.

“We’re just being friendly to each other, you know,” Jaehyeok replied with a mellifluous smile, one that you had naively fallen for last semester. Now, you could see how well-practised this was, just like so many of his lines and his whole good boy behaviour. He was perfect only on the surface, he was rotten on the inside.

You could feel the overly curious eyes on you, hungry for an answer, for some drama like hawks circling around their prey. Too bad how fitting it was for those around you to be playing for the Hybe Hawks, they were predators when it came to your love life, and it had been the same when you had been together.

You forced a smile onto your face, nodding without saying a word and looking for a way out when Jay inquired if anyone wanted more meat, and you had never been more relieved in your life. If there were guys in the rugby team who were far from the rest, it would be Jake, Jay and Sunghoon. Those three were the ones who didn’t want to mingle with the others’ drama, and for that reason, you hadn’t really interacted with them before this semester because if you had hung out with other players from the team before, they had always been Jaehyeok’s friends. Now, however, they were the only ones who didn’t want to pick you apart since the break-up.

You tried to keep it in, you tried to conceal your feelings, while the conversation moved on, but when Jaehyeok put a piece of meat onto your plate without you asking him to, the weight on your shoulders doubled. It felt like you were trying to hold up too much, and all that weight could collapse onto you any minute, so to avoid that, you haphazardly excused yourself, saying that you didn’t feel well after drinking.

You threw your bag over your shoulder and exited the BBQ restaurant, the gazes of the athletes and cheerleaders searing into your back. You held onto the strip of your bag even tighter, trying to ground yourself to something real, something that you could control. You were so naive, really. How could you even assume that they could move on from your break-up and not bring it up anymore? How could you even assume that Jaehyeok would change, and bear the consequences of his actions when he had been the one saying those nasty things about you? You had been so stupid, so naive, so…

“Y/N!”

Jaehyeok’s all too familiar voice calling your name made your knees weak for a moment before you snapped yourself back to reality, reminding yourself that it was who he was, it was how he lured people in. You couldn’t believe in his sweet words anymore.

So you picked up your pace and walked even faster, but the red lights at the pedestrian crossing forced you to stop, to look at him when he halted beside you, and to listen to his mellifluous words.

“Hey! What was that about before? I just want us to be cool with each other after you called it quits.”

That was the problem with Jaehyeok. When you looked at these - this scene, his words, the cool expression on his face - from an outsider’s point of view, everything seemed ideal, almost perfect. Yet, when you were the one inside of it, you knew how that illusion of perfection casted its shadow onto you; how you felt suffocated under it, desperately trying to hold onto it because just as he had said it about you to his friends, you had been nothing without him. If you had not gotten together with him during the first semester, no one would have taken note of your existence. Even if you had been in the cheerleading team, the girls had started talking to you only after Jaehyeok had done the same.

And this… this is what Jaehyeok had done disgustingly well: to raise you up, to make you feel special, so you wouldn’t leave his side. Too bad you had caught him telling the other guys the same once and catching him kissing some girl at an after-match party another time. You hadn’t supposed to be there at the party, that’s true, since the group work meeting you would have gone to had been cancelled last minute, but to see him shove his tongue down another girl’s throat while murmuring to her that he would break up with you soon, so she shouldn’t worry had made you frozen on the spot. You wouldn’t have it in you to confront him on the spot, so you had left the party almost as soon as you had gotten there, tears pricking your ears, and the only person who had asked you if you had been alright was Sunghoon when you had managed to bump into him while exiting the scene.

The flashbacks poured onto you one after another, and you could feel your hands shaking by your sides while you were momentarily reliving them.

“You would have broken up with me anyway, we both know that,” you pointed out rather indignantly, desperately glancing side-ways to see how much more time you needed to wait for the lights to turn green.

35 more seconds…

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should act all weird when we’re beside each other. Just because you’ve prioritised school over dates with me doesn’t make me a bad guy,” he justified all too innocently, and there it was again: turning the tables around, making you feel small, blaming you for what happened. Blaming you for not having enough time for him, so he had to kiss other girls.

20 more seconds…

“It’s not like I don’t see you talking more with Jay, Jake and Sunghoon since we broke up,” Jaehyeok spitted as if he couldn’t just let it be, and you balled your hands into fists, your nails digging into your skin.

15 more seconds….

Yeah, the only ones who were willing to speak to you after the break-up, god forbid you didn’t tell them off, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been talking to them since we broke up, not before. There’s a difference between what you did and how I've been talking to guys ever since.”

“And besides, she’s her own person, she can do what she wants,” a voice from behind meddled with the tension hanging over you and Jaehyeok, and as he stepped beside you, so he would come between you and your ex, it felt a bit like he was shielding you. Both figuratively and literally.

You would have recognised that slender build of his, the fringe in his eyes and the depth of his voice anywhere, and even though it was Park Sunghoon out of all people, you didn’t mind that he was the one who showed up. You had no idea whether it had anything to do with the fact that he had seen you exit that ominous after-match party with teary eyes, but even if it was pity, you could take it given the circumstances.

“What do you know, man?”

“I know everything,” Sunghoon stated sternly, keeping eye-contact with Jaehyeok who furrowed his eyebrows in question. Even though you clearly doubted that he knew everything, he announced it so confidently that you would have believed him all the same, and you could feel the same coming from Jaehyeok, too. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t bother her anymore. She’s my girlfriend now.”

The way Sunghoon declared it so matter-of-factly rendered you speechless, and you just stood there, frozen, and even though people started crossing the street, you totally forgot about the lights turning green. It felt as if the whole world stopped all at once, and yet, a sort of warmth peeked through the rain clouds, as if a ray of hope found its way through all the dirt.

Given that you didn’t argue with Sunghoon’s statement because you were too shocked yet numb to do so, Jaehyeok believed it. Though he clearly looked like he didn’t want to believe it.

“Sure. Congrats on getting her. It’s not like I would ever want her back,” Jaehyeok exclaimed a little too frustrated as his last words before turning around and heading back to the restaurant.

You watched him go with a mix of rage and relief, then, your eyes searched Sunghoon’s who was already looking at you. He was nibbling on his lower lip, awfully nervous for someone who had just bluffed about being your boyfriend, and the calm facade of his broke when he spoke up:

“I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t know what else to say to make him go away,” he mumbled, coy and guilty, but you could only care about the kindness lacing his words, and the genuine care in his eyes. You didn’t know him well enough to draw conclusions, but based on your previous encounters with him, you would say that it took him some courage to walk up to you two like that and to save you from the situation with a lie.

So you felt even more grateful for his interruption, and you didn't even want him to think otherwise.

“No, really, it’s… it’s fine. Thanks for that,” you blurted out, equally as uncertain what to say. Sunghoon’s eyes slipped from your face to your hands, and that’s when you realised that your hands were still shaking.

“Did he…” He breathed out, shaky and worried, before pointing at your hands. “Did he do anything to you?”

You could feel how difficult it was for him to say the words, and the weight his question carried was heavy, his question loaded. It made his earlier act less surprising for he could even assume that Jaehyeok would dare to do something like that.

“No, he didn’t do anything like that. It was just… his words as always…”

“Those matter, too,” Sunghoon whispered, somewhat to himself, before looking around. You didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was trying to do, but the lights were red for the third time you were here, so you couldn’t go on your way either way.

When Sunghoon turned back to you, he examined your expression before averting his eyes to your hands again. He could see that your hands were less shaky but you still fumbled with them to ease your nerves, and maybe that’s what prompted him to announce:

“I will go back to the dorms with you. I don’t want you to be alone after this.”

You were so shocked by his gentleness that you couldn’t form proper words, so you just nodded and crossed the street beside him when the lights turned green.

It’s safe to say that you didn’t think about the consequences of your actions - or should you say Sunghoon’s actions? - because by the next day, everyone had gotten to know that you were Sunghoon’s girlfriend (which, in fact, you weren’t) thanks to Jaehyeok gossiping. The cheerleading group chat exploded with questions and next day’s rugby practice was all about the so-called news, so you had to have an emergency meeting with Sunghoon at the end of the day.

You were in the corridor leading to the business department’s simulation labs, and since those were for societies and extra-curricular workshops, you knew that it would be rare to bump into anyone around here. So it was just the two of you, sitting on a hallway bench, the air somewhat more troubled than the day before.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would come to this,” Sunghoon broke the silence almost immediately, his voice deep and worn. He couldn’t look you in the eye, instead, he was playing with his fingers and staring far ahead.

“It’s okay, really,” you tried to reassure him as best as you could. “I’ve been through this before. It gets better after a week,” you shrugged nonchalantly, forcing yourself to avoid having flashbacks of the time you and Jaehyeok had gotten together.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath hearing that, and you could feel that he was about to say something, but when he turned towards you with his body, he didn’t say anything. Expectant, you looked at him, locking eyes with him, and for a moment, you had a feeling that you might burst into tears. He looked at you so worried, so gentle, as if he was ready to start a revolution for you, it opened a hidden locker in your heart that had never experienced such kindness coming from a boy.

“Are you really okay?” He inquired quietly, barely audible, and it didn’t slip your attention that he glanced down at your hands resting in your lap before looking into your eyes again.

“I’m as fine as I can be. If I’m not fine, it’s not because of this situation, but because of Jaehyeok, so really, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Do you want to keep this up? Our… fake relationship?” He hesitated a bit before continuing, and you found it adorable how his ears turned red when he babbled the word ‘relationship’ out loud.

“If you don’t mind,” you answered, giving him the chance to back out because you didn’t want him to tie himself to you over an attempt to save you from your douchebag ex.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, almost comically, as if it hurt him to hear such a suggestion. Then, he held up his hands in front of his chest, waving them in heavy opposition.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” you let out a little chuckle seeing his objection, and the boy still blinked at you, albeit a bit shyly now.

So you went on to discuss that you would keep up this fake relationship, but nothing was forced. If either of you wanted to put an end to it, the other one would agree immediately. There were no forced dates or social media posts or appearances, just whatever you were comfortable with. You exchanged contacts, so you would be able to keep in touch without having to wait for the other after practices or matches. Speaking of which, you told Sunghoon that you would quit the cheerleading team, and even though he was worried that it was because of him and this whole fake dating thing, you were quick to reassure him that it had nothing to do with it. You merely didn’t enjoy it anymore, and it’s not like you had any supportive friends there.

Hearing that, the boy seemed quite disheartened as if he had any say in how the girls in the team acted. Instead, when you brought up the fact that you could still join any dance-related club because it was early into the semester, and they were still recruiting members, he mentioned that Jake’s girlfriend was a member of a dance club.

“Oh really? Which one?”

“Well, that… I don’t know which one,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You let out a giggle seeing his reaction; the way his face changed from enthusiastic to confused so quickly. People might have said that he had a stern face, but you would object. He might have seemed nonchalant and icy to some, but when someone got into a conversation with him, all of these different sides of him surfaced, and you realised that you liked discovering the Sunghoon that not everyone had the chance to know.

“It’s okay, you can let me know once you get to know about it,” you pointed out with a smile as you reminded him that you now had each other’s contact. His shoulders easened and he let his lips curl upwards seeing your smile.

You talked a bit more before you suggested going back to the dorms. Sunghoon offered to walk back with you since he was also heading that way, and you didn’t want to tell him that it didn’t even cross your mind that you would go separately after last time.

You were right, the heightened attention that you got because Jaehyeok had told the others that you were dating Sunghoon died down after a week or so. You quit the cheerleading team in the meantime, so you were out of their group chat too, and that probably added to the sudden lack of questions. You had some glances from people who knew who you were, but otherwise, things went back to normal. To be precise, almost normal.

Though you had no idea what to consider fake-dating Park Sunghoon to be. It was definitely not your usual way of doing things, but Jaehyeok backed off ever since Sunghoon’s lie, and it’s not like the boy forced anything onto you. In fact, he was the most considerate soul ever. He indeed asked Jake which dance club his girlfriend went to, and you joined the same after the boys introduced you two to each other. It was nice to get to know someone who was close to the boys, and who definitely didn’t make you feel small after getting to know about your deal with Sunghoon. Ajung knew about it because Sunghoon’s friends were the only ones who knew, but she wasn’t weirded out by it.

You got to know about how they had known each other with Jake, how they had gotten together, and she also shared how it felt to date one of the rugby players. She had a different experience to yours because she wasn’t a cheerleader, but she still got stares and hateful messages. At the end of the day, what mattered to her was that Jake loved her, and she had never questioned his loyalty.

“I guess it’s because I could never imagine him meeting other girls behind my back that I don’t take those messages to heart,” Ajung admitted once, and it dawned on you that you had felt insecure in your relationship with Jaehyeok because you had been afraid he had been meeting other girls. You had been right, but still; just the fact that you could have imagined him cheating on you should have been a major red flag.

On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine the same about Sunghoon. Even if you were technically not together, the boy made sure time and time again that he was fine with it and wasn’t meeting other girls. So when he went to the after-match parties without you because you didn’t feel like going anymore, you weren’t afraid that he was kissing other girls. Which was a surprising realisation to come to, because one would think that you lost all hope in trusting guys after Jaehyeok. Maybe it would have been true had it been for someone else, but you trusted Sunghoon. Even more so because he was always on your side, even if it meant getting into a fight with Jaehyeok after his rugby practice.

You were studying in the library after classes, and you knew that Sunghoon was supposed to finish around this time, so you shot him a message, only to be left on read for half an hour. Hence, you packed up your stuff and went back to the dorms, not wanting to force anything onto the boy.

However, almost as soon as you arrived at the dorms, you got a message from Jake, saying that you should probably talk to Sunghoon because he had a rough day. He was out with Ajung, but Sunghoon would probably be in their dorm room, so you could talk to him in private.

You didn’t need to be told twice; you walked up to the boys’ dorm room (knowing all too well where they lived in the halls since walking back to the dorms together became a habit of yours), and knocked on their door. You didn’t get an answer, so you messaged the boy again. You started getting worried when Sunghoon suddenly showed up in the corridor, already changed back into his usual jeans, a tee and a cardigan thrown over it. When he caught sight of you in front of their door, his eyes widened and his lips visibly parted.

On the other hand, you had the same reaction, but not because of his presence, it was because of the bruise around his lips and on his jaw. It didn’t look like he had hurt himself during practice as you had been familiar with those kinds of injuries due to Jaehyeok. It looked like he had been in a fight.

“Oh my gosh, Sunghoon! Are you okay?” You immediately went up to him, checking on his bruises from closer, yet not touching him because you didn’t want to be invasive. So you looked up at him, waiting for him to reply, but instead of words, he closed the distance between you two and hugged you.

You were so bewildered that you just stood there, blinking rapidly, and you could neither say anything, nor do anything. Your heart, on the other hand, was beating so erratically, you were afraid that it would jump out of your ribcage.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You asked, totally confused, while you hugged the boy back. As you laced your arms around his waist, you could feel the boy tense a bit, probably unprepared for you hugging him back, but he eased into your touch a few seconds later.

“For what you had to deal with beside Jaehyeok,” he explained gently, quietly like a confession, murmuring the words into your hair. You were so used to words that cut like a knife that his words - that were like a soothing cream on a bruised heart - felt like a remedy, the boy tending to your broken heart with only a few syllables, a few breaths of words.

You hugged him back tighter, stronger, a silent response to his sentence, and soaked up this warmth, this comforting feeling for a few seconds before you took a step back and pulled yourself out of the hug. You looked up at him, heart churning at the sight but even more so when your hunch was proven right.

“Was it his doing?” You asked as you pointed at his face, and the boy didn’t need to be asked twice. He nodded, but there was no remorse in his tone when he spoke up.

“I was the one who punched him first. I couldn’t just stand what he was saying about you. He is so-”

“I know,” you cut him off, knowing all too well that whatever he was going to say was something you already knew. Instead, you asked if he had treated his bruises already (though it didn’t seem like it), and when he confirmed that he hadn’t, yet he had bought some antiseptic and plasters from the pharmacy, you offered to help him tend to his wound.

He seemed startled for a few seconds, but didn’t object. He let you inside their dorm room instead, and pushed a few things off his study desk, so he could put down his bag and get the pharmacy’s plastic bag out of it. He fumbled a bit with the bag before he reached it out to you, and just stood there as if he didn’t know what to do himself until you told him that it would probably be better if you both sat down because you know, he was quite tall…

“Oh yeah, right… sorry,” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly before taking a seat on his bed and pushing a few things onto the edge of his bed, so you could sit beside him comfortably.

You only realised how close you were when you leaned forward to put the antiseptic on the corner of his lip, and you came face-to-face with the moles dotting his face like little black stars on the galaxy of his skin. The shade of his eyes also seemed darker from up close, like the sky when it didn’t yet turn to its darkest, deepest colour, and the way he batted his eyelashes was just as elegant as the boy himself. He seemed so dream-like as he was blinking at your swiftly moving fingers, you were afraid that if you stopped, he would vanish. You wished that you could prolong these moments longer and longer…

Yet, you were finished in no time, and after you put a plaster on the bruise of his jaw, you put everything back into the plastic bag while trying to pacify the crazy beating of your heart. You appreciated that the boy let you do this for him after he had stood up for you even without you being there, and even though he didn’t regret it, you still felt bad for him. He shouldn’t have felt like this was his battle to win, but he was protective over you, more than he should have been given your fake relationship.

“Thank you,” you blurted out as such thoughts circled your mind. “From that after-match party when you asked me if I was okay after seeing Jaehyeok kiss another girl up until today, I feel like you’ve been taking care of me so well, I’m really grateful,” you confessed as you turned towards him again, searching for his eyes.

The boy’s delicate features immediately softened, and you could see it on his face, in his eyes, in the way he held himself that he would have done it again and again if it meant that he could take care of you.

“You deserve it. You really do,” he stated, not leaving room for objection, and that was when it hit you. That emotional overflow that had been building inside of you ever since you had been talking with Sunghoon, and time and time again, he proved to you that you were cared for, and that there were people looking out for you despite what Jaehyeok had been telling you, and that you were your own person, not a nobody.

“Thank you,” you choked out, trying to hold it in, but when tears started prickling your eyes, you knew that it was time to let it all out. So you did, without being ashamed, without feeling weak. This was you, a side of you that you now dared to show the world.

And Sunghoon was there to help you through it all by lending a shoulder to cry on and strong arms to hold you safe and sound, wrapping you up in warmth and comfort.

Something changed that day, and you could feel the shift in your relationship.

It’s not that you two were cold towards each other before, you were merely more tentative. You appreciated it, the fact that Sunghoon kept his distance, and he was as polite about every little touch, every little action as one could be, but after that night, you started opening up slowly, letting each other in more and more.

It was gradual, of course. With your history with Jaehyeok and Sunghoon’s generally reserved personality, it wasn’t an obvious change from one day to another, but you enjoyed it nevertheless. You enjoyed the walks back to the dorms, the times you spent messaging each other on and off campus, the times when you hang out with him and his friends after matches (instead of hanging out with the cheerleaders and Jaehyeok’s friends), the lunches you grabbed together between classes, and how throughout it all, you got to know that Sunghoon was actually far from quiet when he was around those he was comfortable with.

He was pretty talkative when a topic was brought up that interested him or when he needed to defend his opinion. He was also pretty funny, making funny faces when reacting to certain campus drama and being his extra self when walking into a place where you were waiting for him. He was also very, very caring, but it went without saying by that point; lending you his jacket when autumn arrived with violent winds and unexpected weather conditions from one day to another, buying a drink for you when he knew that you would be staying at the library to study, holding the door for you and offering to bring your books when you were working on an assignment and had to rent a bunch of books for a week, and looking out for your reactions whenever Jaehyeok was brought up in a conversation or the boy was close by.

Actually, with him by your side, it was easier to put your ex in the past; because Sunghoon showed you such a different way of being together with a boy. You were still fake dating, but the way nothing was forced for the sake of social media or the questions of his nosy team members showed you that he would be just as considerate about your feelings and your comfort as if you had been actually dating.

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t that difficult to say yes to a weekend trip to the winter sea with his friends - Jake, Ajung and Jay. It was just the five of you, renting a small apartment for two days and one night in December; two of the boys sharing a room and one of them sleeping on the couch in the living room (it goes without saying that they decided with rock-paper-scissors that it would be Sunghoon on the couch) while you were sharing a room with Ajung.

During the day, you went to the beach to take a long walk alongside the coast, the boys teasing you while splashing water around, taking pictures and having lunch nearby in a cosy little café. You went to a cliff too, Sunghoon reaching his hand out to help you move from one rock to another while walking towards it, and Jake did the same towards Ajung, so Jay was sulking that he was visibly left out. To which, both of the boys joked to offer their help, but Jay just shushed them. They were having too much fun teasing him.

At night, you went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for dinner which you prepared together. To be precise, you weren’t sure Sunghoon was much help as he was singing songs he put on the speakers into a ladle, and Jake was too busy taking pictures of Ajung with a knife (saving it for himself as possible future meme material as he said), but Jay was doing everything so professionally, it seemed like he didn’t need help either way. You tried nevertheless, cutting up the veggies and bringing him stuff from the fridge while he was by the oven, naturally finding something to talk about in the meantime.

“You know, Sunghoon seems happier since you started talking,” he brought it up suddenly while he was stirring the stew. You both glanced in the direction of the boy who was too busy finding a good song to play next, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Oh really?” You quirked an eyebrow, feeling a bit shy, because it meant that you had a positive impact on the boy.

“Yeah,” the boy nodded without thinking twice about it. “I’ve never seen him date a girl, but even if you are fake-dating, I think that’s what he would act like,” he added seriously, and there was no hint of mischief in his eyes, hence, you believed him. At least, you wanted to believe him.

However, you had no idea what to say to that, so you just nodded, and as your eyes glanced in the boy’s direction yet again, your heart did a little somersault. Truth to be told, it didn’t really feel like fake-dating at this point because you and Sunghoon actually spent a lot of time together, getting to know each other, and he even invited you for this trip, so that had to mean something. On the other hand, since you hadn’t seen Sunghoon interact with other girls before (except for smiling awkwardly when the cheerleaders had tried to hit on him), you didn’t know how he acted around them.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t keep Jay’s words out of your head for the remaining day, so when it was just the two of you left in the living room as Sunghoon was making his bed (aka his couch) and you were refilling your water bottle, you felt like you had to ask the boy the same.

“Sunghoon…” You started tentatively as you halted beside the couch which was now covered with a bedsheet, a fluffy blanket and a pillow. The boy looked up from his haphazardly made bed, finding your eyes. He tilted his head like he always did when he was confused, but there was a hint of curiosity in his midnight-black orbs.

“Hmm?”

“Jay said that you seem happier since we started talking,” you said it in one-go, fiddling with the protective layer around your water bottle. “Do you agree with him?”

Silence settled over you two after your question, and even though it was probably just a few seconds, your heartbeat felt twice as heavy as before as you were waiting for his answer. Sunghoon’s confused features easened into a more natural state, but there was a hue tinting his cheeks pinkish when he answered:

“Yeah, I’m happier.”

Your shoulders immediately dropped in ease despite the fact that you couldn’t imagine him saying something hurtful even if he might not have agreed with his friend. It’s just… you felt like you hadn’t really been paying attention to his feelings in the beginning of your fake dating since you had been buried under all the hurt from Jaehyeok. When you had managed to pick yourself up from that dark hole, Sunghoon had already been acting the way he did nowadays, so you couldn’t tell whether he was happier or not. Not to mention that you hadn’t really been looking his way in the first semester because you had been dating a different rugby player.

Now though, you couldn’t imagine not seeing him and not looking for him. His presence could always bring a sense of comfort, and he didn’t even have to say anything, you were just fine being beside him. On top of that, you could be yourself beside him, you knew that. He had seen you when you had been vulnerable and torn, and he hadn’t taken advantage of that, nor had he said anything that might have implied that you should change your ways around him.

“Well, me too,” you admitted as your thoughts kept circling back to the warmth he spread, the gratitude he made you feel, the happiness he bloomed in your chest and… to him. “I like you,” you found yourself saying as you overcame with all the emotions leading up to this point, but you immediately bit down on your lower lip when you realised what you had just said.

Sunghoon seemed shocked for a moment, then shy, then baffled again as if he didn’t want to believe his ears.

“Oh, I, well…” He blabbered coyly, not finding the right words to say. Even in this state, you found him cute because he was trying. He was just nervous like you, but you could wait for him to say what he wanted to say. Not like you could budge, you were entranced either way.

Sunghoon cleared his throat to regain his courage, then as he stepped closer to you, he finally said:

“I like you too.”

And then his arms were around you, strong yet gentle, and you inhaled his sandalwood perfume, your heart thumping against your chest, wild and free. You realised then and there that you had been secretly waiting for this moment, and you wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“So no more fake dating, I assume?” He murmured into your hair, his voice a bit raspy yet laced with joy.

“No more,” you agreed with a slight bob of your head, and let him hug you tighter, stronger as if he never wanted to let you go.

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#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst

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featherandferns · 6 months

Text

rumours (fic)

jj maybank x grumpy!fem!reader | HEAVILY inspired

content warning: mentions of drinking and smoking; absent parents

word count: 20k.

blurb: your life has been surrounded by rumours, and so has JJ Maybank's. One night, out of the blue, he strikes up a conversation with you. From there, the rumours only grow, and some rumours are far worse than others.

There was a rumour that you and your sister weren’t allowed to date until graduating high school. That one was true, until March of Junior Year.

Kildare Academy was full of spoilt assholes.

Well, in fairness, not everyone fit into that category. Some people were spoilt but bearable, and some people were assholes but not particularly spoilt. Rafe Cameron was the perfect culmination of both. He was in your junior year despite being a senior. He flunked so hard last year that the academy insisted that he retake it to graduate with a subpar diploma. At the yacht club, it had been the talk for about two months, much to the displeasure of Ward and Rose Cameron. You’d found yourself sharing nearly every class with Rafe since the year started and, man oh man, was it torture.

He found you the perfect bear to poke, never passing the opportunity to make a jab about your clothes or your face or your overall demeanour. The latter to mean that you weren’t the most approachable of people. Whilst you self-described as tempestuous, others might prefer the term ‘heinous bitch’. Rafe Cameron knew how to push your buttons it seemed, and you in turn knew how to bite back just enough to leave a mark.

“I can’t wait to get out of this town,” you complain to your friend Mia. “If I have to spend another seventeen years surrounded by these half-wits then I’ll pull a Sylvia Plath, I swear.”

“Clearly today has been a good day,” Mia chuckles. She’d known you long enough for the bitter grump of your character not to phase her. “Rafe bothering you again?”

“He’s intolerable,” you tell her, indirectly answering her question. “In music today he thought it’d be funny to put cola in the trombone. Men blow my mind with their stupidity. God knows how the patriarchy was even formed with how little brain cells they use.”

The two of you walk down the stairs of the school, heading to the parking lot amongst the herd of students. The spring weather is finally creeping in now that you're in March. The floral smell of blossoms hangs in the air, embracing the world in a warmish breeze. The briefly pleasant moment is rudely interrupted by none other but the devil-boy himself. His bright red Mercedes whips into the throughway of the parking lot. He doesn't seem to care about hitting anybody. To him, others are like bowling pins: he’d probably take delight in taking someone out.

You and Mia ignore him as you walk up to your car. At least, that was the plan, until you look up from your keys in time to see your younger sister Charlotte hopping into the back of Rafe’s pimped out ride per his offer.

“That’s an interesting development,” Mia remarks.

You watch as Rafe revs the engine - grinning like the pompous asshole he is - before jetting away. He narrowly misses knocking some poor kid off his bike in the process.

“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” you correct, promptly blinking away the surprise.

You follow Mia into your car, tossing your track bag into the backseat, and start up the engine.

Charlotte was only fifteen. She was young, innocent, carefree and (more often than not) insufferable. You couldn’t be more different. Whilst Charlotte searched for the good in people, you tried to find ways to stay as far away from them as possible. The only tell that you were related were your features. The same nose and same chin, you taking your father’s eyes and her your mother’s. At school, Charlotte enjoyed pretending that she didn’t know who you were. Your reputation didn’t pair well with hers, and at fifteen, nothing was more important to Charlotte than popularity. Those things didn’t matter to you. What someone thought of you didn’t make much difference to your mood or your future. Studying on the other hand? That was the stuff of consequence. Nevertheless, you cared for your sister. Her cushioned upbringing made her vulnerable. She had been sheltered by your family’s wealth and because of your father’s obsessive protectiveness, her experiences with boys were minimal. That to say, having her in Rafe’s line of sight certainly made you uneasy.

You drive home chatting to Mia about the plans for the weekend - planning to head to The Wreck for lunch on Saturday - but you can’t stop thinking about Charlotte sat in the back of Rafe’s car. When you pull up outside Mia’s house, she pauses just after opening the door.

“What do you think that was about? With Charlotte and Rafe?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you reply, turning down the radio. "But I’m not gonna let it go any further.”

“Amen,” Mia agrees. With that, she gives a small wave and climbs out the car. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

When you pull up outside your house, you spot your dad sitting on the porch. He’s probably reading notes about the latest case he’s taken on. As one of the best lawyers on Figure Eight, he always has plenty of work to be chipping away at. Sometimes it feels like he has a new client every week.

You make your way up the neatly kept garden path, the creaking gate giving you away.

“Afternoon sweetheart,” he says, not looking up.

“Hey dad,” you reply, walking up the steps.

“How’s your day been? Made anyone cry yet?”

“Not yet, but the day’s still young,” you return, only half joking. With that, he glances up. “How’s the case?”

“Long. Boring. Don’t let on that I said that.” he says. “Where’s your sister?”

Before you can delight in telling, as if manifested into existence, Charlotte comes floating up the pathway. Her ridiculously short white tennis skirt floats in the wind like a dove’s feathered wings taking flight. Not one hair is out of place and not one eyelash misaligned. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as she makes her way up the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?” your dad immediately quizzes.

“Nowhere daddy.”

“How come you’re later home than your sister?”

“Well, somebody wouldn’t give me ride,” Charlotte replies, shooting you a glare. Her perfect smile takes on an edge when you lock eyes.

Your dad sighs and looks up at you. “We talked about this. Until Charlotte gets her license, you drive her to and from school. Y’all are both heading to the same place anyway, so what’s the big whoop?”

“She hijacks my radio and plays fluffy pop crap.”

“Taylor Swift is not ‘fluffy pop crap’. She’s the bible itself. You’re just not used to listening to good music,” Charlotte replies.

Swallowing your anger, you correct your stance, folding your arms across your chest. Biting back a smirk, you say, “ask Charlotte which guy drove her home today.”

“Don’t change the—Guy? What guy?”

Charlotte’s face goes to drop but she recovers quickly. Taking a reproachful step towards your dad like he’s an unpredictable stray dog, she talks in a sickly-sweet voice.

“Now, daddy, don’t be angry, but there’s this boy at school and I think he—”

“Believe me, I think I know what he’ll be thinking,” your dad immediately cuts in. “And the answer is no. It is always no.”

As your little sister’s eyes flash to yours, you grin victoriously. Enjoy, you mouth to her. The angry twitch in her brow is delightful.

“Daddy, this is ridiculous! I’m the only girl in high school who isn’t dating!” Charlotte whines.

“You’re fifteen, you don’t need to be dating. And you’re not the only girl. She isn’t dating either,” your dad replies, shoving a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.

“And I don’t intend to. I got bigger fish to fry,” you say. Charlotte’s deadly stare hardens tenfold. “Besides, the boys in this town are whack jobs.”

“Like music to my ears,” your dad practically sighs. Very rarely do you seem to please him, but your stance on boys appears to be the one common ground the two of you have. “Now y’all both know the rule: no dating ‘til you graduate.”

“This is so unfair! The two of you are so unhinged!” Charlotte goes on. She seems about a minute away from stomping her feet and waving her fists like a toddler throwing a tantrum. You’re only half ashamed to say that you relish in every moment of it.

You see, Charlotte was a daddy’s girl. Pretty, pink and poised, she loved the theatrics of Kook life. At the yacht club gatherings and the monthly dinner parties, the two of them would soak up every minute whilst you’d skulk in the back, headphones in and bitch-face on. You’d never much connected with either of them. Your mom understood you well, but she wasn’t around now, so, what did it matter? All the Kook crap was just that to you: crap. Fickle people who were so rich that their nerves were deadened, leaving them to enjoy nothing more than gossiping about everyone and everything. Whilst one half of the island waited tables and sweated out in the sun day-and-night to keep the lights on, the other was complaining about their golf clubs not being shiny enough. It was all crap.

“Alright, fine. Here’s how we fix this. Old rule out, new rule in. You can date,” your dad says to Charlotte. Her smile is instantaneous. As your mouth goes to gape open in horror – the thought of Rafe Cameron snapping up your sister like a crocodile preying on a bunny – your dad makes your day. “…when your sister does.”

“What!?”

“Har har,” you grin.

Charlotte points accusingly at you. “But she’s a mutant! You couldn’t pay a guy to date her!”

Your grin only grows with the thought.

“Then I guess you’ll never date. Oh! I like the sound of that,” your dad gloats. God, you have never loved him more. “Now get out of my hair, the both of y’all. I need to get these notes done for tomorrow.”

“Thanks dad,” you chirp, promptly heading into the house. Charlotte is quick to follow.

“You’re evil,” she hisses.

You shrug, back facing her as you start up the stairs. “And you’re spoilt.”

“Urgh! Has it ever occurred to you that you’re like clinically insane!?”

“Don’t care!” you sing-song before darting into your room, closing the door behind you. Through the wood, you hear Charlotte let out a shriek.

Smiling, you dump your school bag and take up shop at your desk, hoping to get some studying done, peaceful at last with the thought of Rafe Cameron never getting near your sister.

There was a rumour that when JJ first spoke to you, you spat in his face. That one was false.

“Hiya princess.”

The rasp of a guy’s voice interrupts your conversation about the yacht club’s annual spring-ball with Mia. Slowing turning your head to your left, you come face to face with a dirty-blonde haired boy. He looks to be about seventeen. His skin is slightly glossy, presumably from sunscreen and sweat, and there’s a smirk hiding behind his smile. That’s when you know that this boy is trouble.

“You talking to me?” you ask, unimpressed.

“Who else?”

“Hopefully anyone,” you say.

Mia snorts. You look away from him to share a bemused look with your friend. This guy cannot be serious…

“You need’a hand there?”

Eyebrows pulling together, you glance at him. He seems to think you’re confused about what he’s referring to, nodding down to the Sprite bottle in your hand. The cap’s still on. The truth is, you’re confused as to why he’s even talking to you at all. Wordlessly, you lift the bottle to your mouth and secure your teeth around the cap. There’s the satisfying click-crack as it comes lose and you spit it on the floor by his feet. Then, holding his gaze, you take a drink. His eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“That’s, uh, certainly one way to get a guy’s attention,” he says, chuckling to try and regain some charm.

“My mission in life,” you return. Then, before he can cook up something else to say, you turn to Mia and loop your arm in hers, guiding the two of you to the exit of The Wreck. You’d been planning on heading out anyway, having finished your lunch earlier, and this was a sign from the universe that whatever good time you’d been having was officially over.

Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t seem so easily deterred.

“I’ll pick up at eight then?”

“Oh, yeah, eight. Uh huh,” you agree dismissively.

He falls in step with you on your left, hands casually shoved in his short pockets, combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floor.

“Well, you know, the night I take you to places you’ve never been before.”

You see his boyish grin in your peripheral, making you whip your head around to meet his stare.

“Where? The seven-eleven off main street?”

His lips part, blundering for some quick-witted reply, but you don’t give him chance.

“Do you even know my name, screw-boy?”

The smirk is back, full force. Tilting his head slightly, self-assured, he replies, “I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful,” you assure.

Finally, you and Mia seem to shake him. He doesn’t follow you to your car door and he probably made the right call, because you were moments away from using the bottle of Sprite as a weapon. As you unlock the car, Mia leans against the side of it.

“What was that all about?”

You spare a glance back to The Wreck to find him stood there, glancing inside the building as if debating heading back, scratching the back of his neck. His misplaced confidence seems to have dwindled significantly. Ah, success.

“God knows."

“You know, I think that’s JJ Maybank. One of them Pogues who hangs out with John B,” Mia says.

JJ seems a fitting name for him, you think. You vaguely recall seeing the Pogues hanging around. Kiara from the academy seemed quite close with them. You watch as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up and taking a drag. Gross.

Pulling open your car door, you look back to Mia. “Come on. Let’s hang out at the beach.”

“Yeah, and far away from that nutjob,” she snorts, walking around the car to the passenger side.

As you go to climb in, you find yourself looking one final time to the entrance of the restaurant. The messy haired boy is nowhere to be found. Good riddance, you think to yourself. Happiness restored, you swing into the driver’s seat and shut the car door.

There was a rumour that your mum was in witness protection. That one was false.

You weren’t entirely sure how it got so late but it was nearly one in the morning. Having spent the past three hours studying, you’d sort of lost track of time. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you’d checked your phone screen.

“Goddamn,” you mumble. Pushing away from your desk, you close your notebook and switch off your lamp.

Walking to the bathroom, you don’t bother closing the door. You know your dad’s asleep by now and with his own en-suite, there’d be no reason why he’d need to use this bathroom. Charlotte is probably asleep too: beauty rest and all that. You turn on the faucet and pull your hair out of your face. You wash and dry and reach for your toothbrush. That’s when Charlotte appears.

“Oh,” she startles. “Didn’t know you were still up.”

“Could say the same to you.”

You take in her pyjamas. They’re Roller Rabbit, selling at $150 a set. Pastel pink and plum purple, they sit sweetly on her dainty frame. You on the other hand are dressed in an oversized t-shirt that you got given for free at an indie film festival, and a pair of boxer-short bottoms.

“Cute pjs,” you tell her.

“Thanks. Daddy bought them for me,” she chirps.

Charlotte makes a b-line to the vanity. She opens the drawer and retrieves the tweezers. You watch her in the mirror as she tames her already perfect eyebrows. She makes eye contact with you through the reflections, taking in your own nightwear. “You could try a new look, you know? People might like you if you weren’t so hostile.”

“I’m not hostile,” you defend. You put toothpaste on your toothbrush, breaking the line of gaze. “I’m annoyed.”

“Potato potata. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if people didn’t like me.”

“You forget that I don’t care what people think,” you reply honestly. What would it matter if some thought you unwelcoming? Everyone ends up as bones in the ground anyway.

“Sure you do,” Charlotte says. “At least on some level.”

It’s too late in the night (or early in the morning) to argue. Instead, you start brushing your teeth. Charlotte goes on pimping and preening her appearance in the mirror silently. She produces a jade face roller and begins massaging her cheekbones and jawline. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. As you’re rinsing out your mouth, you see Charlotte’s extensive skincare routine continue. If someone was to walk in, you’d think she was heading to the Oscars at the crack of dawn. She unbuttons the top two fastenings of her polo pyjama top and shrugs it down enough to reveal her collarbones, taking the effort to jade-roll them too. That’s when you notice the string of pearls around her neck.

“Nice pearls,” you comment, putting your toothbrush away. They did suit her, as did most delicate jewellery.

“Thanks.”

“Dad buy them for you too?”

“No,” she says. “They’re moms.”

Your stomach twists like a viper. “Moms?”

“Yeah. Daddy found them in a drawer last week.”

“And what? Now you’re just gonna start wearing them?” you say aghast, spinning around.

She frowns, looking over her shoulders. “It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them any time soon.”

You scoff. “You’re woefully missing the point.”

“Whatever,” Charlotte mumbles. She looks back to her reflection, smiling at herself, lifting a hand to fiddle with the small beads. “I think they look good on me.”

“Well trust me, they don’t,” you lie before promptly leaving the bathroom.

There was a rumour that you wrecked Rafe Cameron’s car. That one was true.

“Morning Lucy,” you greet, walking into An Offer You Can’t Refuse.

“Morning. Early start for a Saturday, don’t you think?” Lucy replies from behind the counter.

You shrug and shift your tote bag further up your shoulder. “Wanna get first dibs, I guess.”

“Well, all the new stuff is back there, like always,” she says, gesturing with her head to the far end of the store.

You were somewhat a regular at the shop. It was the only spot in town that sold old movies. Not old movies like the nineties. Old movies like the early 20th century: the black and white classics, with extravagant sets and telephone-voices and an untouchable charm that modern things just couldn’t quite capture. You weren’t a film snob exactly. You’d sit through a Marvel movie and tag along with Mia to see the latest cheap jump-scare horror. But those weren’t as gripping, as enthralling, as captivating as the classics. Somewhere along the way, you’d made it your life mission to see every old movie on earth.

Flicking through the cases, you pick out a couple that had been sat on your list. One was a thirty’s flick and the other from the sixties. Lucy settles up with you and you slot one in your bag. You keep the other out to read the back, scanning over the summary as you walk out the door.

“Nice car.”

Stunned, you stop and look up, finding none other than JJ Maybank. He’s sitting on the bonnet of your car with such carelessness that one would assume he owned it.

“Are you following me?” you outright ask.

He looks offended by the insinuation. Gesturing across the street, he says, “I was in the fishing shop. I saw your car and I came over to say hi.”

Rolling your eyes, you put your movie in your bag and continue to your car. “Hi.”

Before you can reach for the handle for the door, JJ slides over, effectively blocking it and forcing you to meet his gaze once more. You catch a whiff of his cologne. It smells more modest than some of the fancy crap the guys at school practically drown themselves in.

“You’re not much of a talker, are ya?”

“Depends on the topic. My car doesn’t really whip me up into a verbal frenzy,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.

JJ takes a moment simply watching you. It’s annoying. First, he interrupts your pleasant weekend by wiping his grubby cargo shorts all over your car, and now he’s trapped you in the most disinteresting conversation of all time. You quirk a brow, hoping that your displeasure reads plain and clear on your face.

“Can I help you?” you prompt, annoyed.

The smile he gives you is less cocky than usual. It’s almost curious. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You frown. “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

He shrugs. “Well, most people are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you counter.

Whatever he was thinking before seems to have passed. His grin turns smug again, as quick and smooth as the moment dusk turns to flat-out night.

“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, huh?”

Oh, brother.

You gasp, feigning your fluster by lifting a hand to your sternum. “Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.”

With that stellar performance, you practically shove him out the way whilst forcing the car door open. JJ seems to take the hint and backs off, shoving his hands in his short pockets. He watches you climb in your car and he pulls out a cigarette in the process. You’re half-surprised he doesn’t keep blabbering away. JJ doesn’t seem as wounded this time by your dismissal and you’re not sure whether that ticks you off more. As you glance in the rearview to reverse out the parking spot, none other than Rafe Cameron drives up behind you. He then parks illegally in the middle of the parking lot, blocking you in.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“What is it? Asshole day?”

Rafe shuts off his engine and walks past your car with a faux swagger in his stride. It makes you sick.

“Do you mind?” you loudly ask him as he goes by.

He doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Not at all.”

Your blood is bubbling under your skin, boiling up your nerves and burning up your patience. Doing one last glance at the Rafe’s back as he walks away from you, you don’t think twice before pulling your keys out the ignition. Getting out the car and slamming the door shut, you storm over to the ugly Mercedes. With the car key positioned between two fingers, you lean down slightly and dig it through the paint and into the metal, dragging it along in a satisfying streak. The sound is as pleasing as nails on a chalk board. One cut doesn’t seem to diffuse your anger enough, so you go in for a second. You debate doing a third but better to be safe than sorry. So, you pocket your keys and start walking home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. As you go to leave, you catch JJ’s impressed expression in the reflection of Rafe’s blacked out windows.

There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up at an outdoor movie night. That was completely false.

Over the dialogue over the movie, the swell of the orchestral music, and the mumbled chatter of friends and families, you can’t hear the soothing lap of the sea waves on the sand. That didn’t take away from the beauty of the scenery. Twilight had painted the sky in the most ethereal pinks, purples, oranges and blues. The boats which had taken anchor looked like shadows with how the sun had dipped. Huge trees framed the waterline cinematically. You can’t seem to help glancing at the view every now and then. It feels like something from a coffee table book. No wonder the beach was your mother's favourite place to be.

There were few island traditions which you liked, but the movie nights were one of your favourites. From March onwards, they ran bi-weekly. A huge screen would be put up in a lawn and people would come with deckchairs and picnic blankets and take up space on the grass. Snacks and cakes and drinks would be shared in the jovially calm atmosphere of the evening. There was a snack bar over near the bathrooms selling bags of candy and pre-prepared tubs of popcorn. When you hadn’t been shooting looks to the view, you’d been looking to the snack bar, debating buying some. At the rumble of your stomach, you relent.

“I’m gonna go get some snacks. Want anything?” you ask Mia in a whisper.

She doesn’t look away from the film when she shakes her head.

“Okay. Be right back.”

Standing up, you whisper out apologies to other movie-goers as you slink away from the lawn, venturing to the snack bar. It’s only when you’re seconds away do you recognise JJ Maybank. He’s wearing longer pants this time, still of the cargo material, and an old t-shirt that says Pelican Docks on the left breast. It looks well-worn at the sleeves. His hair is tucked under a cap. The most notable thing you pick up on is the fact that he isn’t smoking. Every other time you’ve seen him outside, he’s had one of those cancer sticks stuck between his lips. It’s annoying to admit to yourself that he looks good.

Ignoring him, you head straight to the girl manning the snack bar.

“A bag of Sour Patch kids please,” you smile, holding out a couple of dollar bills. She exchanges them for a bag of sweets. Candy in hand, you walk over to JJ.

“If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with,” you tell him, already disgruntled.

He looks away from the movie screen. “You mind? You’re kinda ruining this for me.”

You frown, glancing between himself and the film. “You like ‘Singing In The Rain’?”

JJ shrugs. “Course. Don’t you?”

The guilt from assuming is overshadowed by your curiosity. Before you can think of something to quiz him with, he’s talking again, eyes fixated on the actors.

“I mean, it’s no ‘Casablanca’ or ‘Some Like It Hot’, but I’ll take it,” he says casually.

Your eyebrows must shoot up into your hairline. “You know the movie ‘Some Like It Hot’?”

“No doy. It’s a classic,” JJ says. “Jack Lemmon is a natural in roles like that. It’s kinda rogue of me to say but I gotta admit, I think he’s better in that than in The Odd Couple.”

The question ‘you know The Odd Couple?’ is on the tip of your tongue but it’s silenced by a loud crash in the movie, catching your attention. You watch the theatrics of Cosmo as he performs ‘Make Them Laugh’, and you can’t help but smile. It’s one of your favourite parts of the movie.

“You know, I saw you earlier and I was gonna come over,” JJ admits, drawing your gaze to him once more. “I’ve never seen anyone look so sexy without even trying.”

The pre-teen at the counter snorts, clearly having overheard. When you and JJ look to her at the same time, she flushes bright pink and presses her lips together in embarrassment. It makes you laugh though, and when you look back to JJ, he’s holding back too. The sunset and reflection of the screen is painting his face in a youthful glow. The smile on his lips seems more genuine than before; it’s no longer bolstered up with ostentatious flare. His self-assured demeanour remains though. You can see it in how relaxed he stands, shoulders loose and back.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

“Yeah, I quit. Turns out they’re bad for you,” JJ says.

“You think?” you mirthfully reply.

Come with me to the keggar tomorrow night,” JJ asks out of the blue.

You don’t roll your eyes this time. In fact, you’re not even annoyed. Instead, you find your smile growing. “You never give up, do you?”

“Is that a yes?”

You chuckle under breath, passing your candy bag between hands and turning to return to Mia. "No."

You begin to walk away.

“Well, is that a no then?” JJ calls. Someone shushes him abruptly.

Sniggering, you call back, “no!”

“Nine tomorrow night! I’ll pick you up!”

“Hey, shut it, man!”

“Sorry, dude. Jeez,” you hear JJ mumble.

You bite back your laugh, making your way back to the film. Mia is waiting impatiently for you. Taking your spot on the blanket again, you fight the urge to look back over your shoulder to JJ. She takes the bag of candy despite her earlier turn-down.

“What took you so long? You missed the best song,” she whispers.

You shake your head and steal a gummy, eyes fixating on the screen again. “Doesn’t matter.”

And then, you’re lost to the cinema.

There was a rumour that you threw up on JJ’s shoes at the keggar. That one was (unfortunately) true.

You know you’ve made a mistake braving going downstairs for a snack the moment your foot hits the final step.

“Daddy, it’s only for one night!”

Charlotte is there, whinging away, stood beside her friend Laura. You didn’t like Charlotte all that much but you liked Laura even less. Whilst Charlotte was losing her sense of humanity bit by bit, Laura was a hollowed-out husk dressed head to toe in Shien. Maybe if she had a stellar personality you wouldn’t care, but she didn’t. She was cruel, two-faced and you trusted her as far you could throw her. So, you were obviously thrilled to find her stood in your house.

“You know anything about a party?” you dad asks you, roping you unwillingly into the conversation.

You shrug, shaking your head no.

“Of course she doesn’t know, she’s a cave troll,” Charlotte snarls.

“That’s a new one,” you mutter under breath, starting for the kitchen.

“If she isn’t going, you’re not going,” your dad tells Charlotte.

“Urgh!” Charlotte exasperates. She rushes over to you, taking you by the shoulders and forcing you to meet her gaze. You’re a little surprised to find how genuinely desperate she is to leave the house for a dumb keggar. “Can you please forget that you’re completely wicked and just be my sister for one night. Please.”

You suck your teeth, feeling your conviction dwindle. Suddenly the half-completed page of notes about maths drops in your priorities. Charlotte seems to notice. The puppy-dog eyes come out in full effect - the ones that she used to get the new Mac book and the ones that she used to get your old pair of converse when they suddenly became trendy again.

“Please,” she begs, doubling down.

You sigh, shaking your head as if in disbelief of your own actions. “Fine, I can make an appearance.”

Charlotte looks over to Laura and they begin to squeal, hopping up and down like the floor is lava. You realise that she’s wearing the pearls still, but before you can think much more about it, you’re trapped in a hug. Everything tenses, from your head to your toes, and it isn’t over soon enough. You open the downstairs cupboard and retrieve a jacket to combat the spring breeze that’s likely going to haunt the beach at this hour. Your dad is lecturing Charlotte and Laura as you shrug it on; you pass them to the door.

It's a little frightening to open the front door and come face to face with someone who you’re not expecting to be there.

“What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you meet JJ’s eyes.

“Nine o’clock, right?” he replies.

It’s impossible to bite back the smile that’s coming to your face at the sound of his voice. When did that start to happen?

“Well, I’m little late, so,” he admits almost sheepishly.

You blink out of your stupor with that. A man who can’t even be on time for a date that he practically begged for – once again, the bar is on the floor.

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you tell him, brushing past and down the porch steps. He follows.

“Nice digs here.”

“Thanks,” you reply. You pull open the front gate and it creaks like it might snap off any moment.

“Y’all rich and can’t afford to oil that damn thing?"

“Help yourself to it,” you jokingly quip back. You pull your keys out your coat pocket and unlock the car. “Hop in.”

The drive to the keggar is mostly quiet. JJ points out the turnings you need to take and you refuse to let him turn on the radio. He goes to put one leg up on the car seat but must see your sideways glare, making him stop. Instead, he rests an arm on the window frame and taps his fingers along to a non-existent beat.

He’s dressed rather nice. Quite casual, but you supposed for a keggar, it didn’t much matter. It wasn’t like you were dressed to the nines either. A grey sweater hangs slightly big on his frame, but it sits on his broad shoulders a little too nicely. He’s wearing a pair of black cargo shorts which are muddied with dust on the thigh, probably from biking, and those damn cargo boots again. No cap this time, he lets his blonde hair sit mussed, seemingly from running his fingers through it. That’s something he seems to do. A lot.

When the two of you park up, the beach is already buzzing. It’s swarming with people from your school and his, yapping away to one another. People are passing drinks and passing out. Some are carrying coolers in and others are shot-gunning the moment their feet touch the sand. Sighing, you mentally prepare yourself for a hellish night.

JJ tries to walk beside you but you seem to be one step ahead every time. He takes to following your tail around the keggar as you survey the scene. A girl vomiting in the corn; a group passing around a bong; a group of horny dirtbags jeering and cheering as two girls make out. A brunette girl comes stumbling over, practically throwing herself at JJ.

“Kiss me,” she slurs, clearly hammered.

JJ doesn’t look too thrilled but it doesn’t keep you from rolling your eyes and continuing on.

“Not tonight, girly,” you overhear him say. You then hear his footsteps behind you once more.

His popularity among the Pogues is startling. Soon enough, someone else is coming up to him, followed by a third. You overhear good-humoured conversation kick up, spirits high, and the smacking of hands as they enact a brief handshake. It seems a good opportunity to ditch him.

The moment of freedom is over quicker than the final week of summer. Rafe Cameron, in all his knobheaded glory, saunters over.

“Didn’t peg you as a keggar girl,” he tells you. Even on the night, you can’t catch a break from him.

“You know me: full of surprises,” you return dryly.

“Surprising in that outfit too. Nice to see the puppies out today,” he says, licking his teeth as his eyes shamelessly flit down to your top.

You roll your eyes. “Eat crap creep.”

Rafe doesn’t seem to be finished. He follows after you leisurely when you walk around him. “Your little sister coming tonight?”

“Stay away from her, Rafe,” you warn.

“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll stay away,” he nods, raising his hands in mock surrender. The most wicked, twisted grin sinks into his skin. “But I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me.”

Your disgust must read plainly on your face. Rafe chuckles darkly, apparently finished with the interaction, and you watch as he makes his way over to his pack. You shiver out your repugnance and distract yourself by making another lap of the keggar, hoping to find your sister in the process.

Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to get to her before Rafe. He’s fiddling with a strand of her hair, looking down at her in a way that she might think is doting but you can only read as looming. Your stomach sinks as he notices you, jutting up his chin proudly.

“Yo. Look who found me,” he taunts.

Intestines are now in your shoes as you spot his hand looping around her waist and laying grip. Charlotte tangles her fingers into his, a red solo up in her other hand, and goes to lead the two of them away. You quickly dart after her.

“Charlotte, wait, can I talk to you?”

“Don’t address me in public,” she hisses, horrified.

You hope your expression is as pleading as hers was earlier, but it mustn’t be, because she continues to move away from you.

“Go, enjoy the night,” Charlotte says. She probably thinks she’s being nice, putting your mind at ease, but it makes you all the more concerned. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Looking around as if something or someone might tell you what to do next, your eyes fixate on the coolers. You soon find yourself taking a swig of tequila. It burns as it runs down your throat; you close your eyes with wince.

“I’ve been looking all over the place for you!”

You open them to find a very disquieted JJ.

“I’m getting trashed bro,” you reply, lifting the bottle up in proof. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

“Not with that crap,” JJ replies.

Rolling your eyes, you take another shot. “Whatever. I’ll catch you later.”

Then you’re walking away from him and weaving through the crowds. The trashy RnB music playing over a loudspeaker thumps through the sand and rattles through your bones. You find yourself collecting drinks like a pre-teen collects trading cards. With each sip, the alcohol goes down easier and easier, and your control becomes lesser and lesser. You’re only half sure of the time. Nobody here looks familiar to you and you have no idea where Charlotte has gone. The thought of her with Rafe has you reaching for another drink but it’s taken from you before the bottle can meet your lips.

“Hey!”

“How about I have this one?” JJ offers.

You snatch it back. “No way, this one’s mine.”

Was that your voice? Jeez, maybe you’re more drunk than you thought. That doesn’t keep you from necking the whole thing, some dumbass cheering you on. Dumping the bottle in the sand, you pull a face to JJ, extending out your arms as if to say ‘see – what you gonna do about it?’ .

The makeshift dancefloor becomes randomly appealing. The rhythm of the music seems to have finally crept out of the ground and into your bones, and you stagger your way to the crowd of dancing, swaying drunks and begin to move to the music. Closing your eyes, you drag your hands up your sides and into the air, hips dipping and diving to the song. It isn’t your usual thing but you find the groove to it. The reason you lose it is the elbow that suddenly jams into your back. You wince in pain and tumble forward, balance screwed from all the drinks. The ground comes to meet you surprisingly quick and you don’t have time to put your hands out to save your head from hitting a stuck-out branch from driftwood.

“You alright?”

It’s JJ.

“I’m fine,” you slur.

When you go to stand, everything is spinning. It makes you slip in the sand and nearly face plant a second time.

“You’re not fine. Alright, come on,” JJ mumbles as his hands gently take your biceps. You grumble out complaints as he helps you off the ground.

The music drifts away from you as JJ guides you somewhere. The shakiness of the world makes you feel nauseous so you opt with keeping your eyes closed. There’s a throbbing from where you hit your head.

“Can I talk to you?” someone asks. You don't open your eyes to find out who.

“Not right now, man. I’m a little busy,” you hear JJ return, patience clearly dwindling.

“Can you give me a second?”

The firm but friendly hold JJ has on you momentarily vanishes. You hear the crunch of sand as he walks away a few steps but you’re too busy fighting to keep yourself upright to see where he’s gone. Just as you’re about to lose the fight, JJ’s back, catching you and steadying you on your feet.

“Woah, woah,” he chuckles. “Come on.”

As the mayhem of the party fades, you find the pounding in your head to lessen. You’re slowly lowered to sit on a piece of driftwood.

“This is so patronising.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re smashed,” JJ says.

Braving to open your eyes, you find JJ digging around in his cargo pockets. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m worried you might got a concussion,” he tells you. He produces a small box from his pocket, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and he cracks it open.

“You wouldn’t care if I never wake up,” you snort. The scrunch of your brows has you reaching up to the stinging pain of your head wound. Before you can touch at it, JJ’s pulling your hand away by the wrist.

“Sure I would.”

“Why?”

“Cause otherwise I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

“Like you could find one.”

“See? That right there, makin’ me swoon, mama,” JJ ribs. He reaches out for your face then. “Alright, this might sting a little.”

His fingers are warm as they touch your skin. He lightly coaxes your head up and back by the edge of your jaw. You watch with half-blurred vision as he concentrates, gently dapping what must be an alcoholic wipe to your cut.

JJ has a pretty face. Dimples that are visible even when he isn’t smiling. A soft jawline that sharpens when he’s flexing, whether it be in concentration or aggravation. The long slender nose sits nicely on his face, guiding into surprisingly neat eyebrows and eyes with lashes so long Charlotte would cry with envy.

The wipe hits the deepest point of the wound. Flinching back, you hiss in pain.

“Sorry,” JJ mumbles.

“S’okay,” you quietly reply.

He finishes dabbing the blood away and sighs, pulling the wipe back. JJ seems to notice your stare at that point, flitting his eyes down to meet yours.

“What?”

“Your eyes have a little grey in them,” you observe.

His lips twitch in a smile. Maybe it’s the warmth of the booze, but you’re half sure that the boy blushes. Your eyes glance down to his lips, the one part of his face you haven’t yet analysed. JJ clears his throat and removes his hand from your head. He litters the wipe on the beach floor and shoves his hands in his short pockets, creating some distance. He doesn’t move any farther away from you though.

“How’d you know to do all that?”

“Cleaning cuts?”

“Mhm,” you say.

“Kinda have to learn, when you grow up in a house like mine,” JJ vaguely replies.

You spare a glance at his side profile to find his eyes trained ahead in an almost vacant stare. He comes back to himself, looking at you.

“So, uh, why’d you let him get to you?”

“Who? Rafe?”

“Uh huh.”

“I hate him,” you state.

JJ purses his lips and nods. “Fair ‘nough.”

Someone whoops out to another in the far distance. You try to ignore it, instead focusing on the susurrus of the wind, the sighs of the sea, and the steady inhales and exhales of the boy sitting beside you.

“So, your mom a nurse or something?” you ask.

“My ma?”

“Yeah. With the cut cleaning and all that.”

“Nah, she ain’t a nurse,” JJ replies. “Fact, I don’t know what she is. She ain’t around anymore.”

“That sucks,” you say.

He shrugs. “Happened a long time ago. She walked out on us so guess there can’t be much to miss, right?”

“I guess,” you agree, though you’re not sure if you fully do. For some reason – maybe because of the alcohol blurring your barriers – you find yourself telling him, “My mom walked out on us too.”

“Really?”

You nod, and instantly regret it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It gave the yacht club something to talk about for like a year,” you say, cracking a smile.

JJ grins. “You Kooks gotta have your gossip.”

“Oh yeah,” you whistle, nodding. “Otherwise we’d actually have to start making conversation about shit that matters. Or realise how little we all like each other.”

The two of you laugh and lock eyes. His dimples are now out in full force, teeth shining in the off-cast street lamp glow and enchanting moonlight.

“You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you’d be.”

His smile only grows. “Thanks. I think?”

The pulsating pain in your head seems to vanish for a moment. You think it’s because of JJ and his weirdly wonderful ways. You think it is, until you realise it’s because your body is distracted by a whole new problem.

Head whipping down, you aim away from your shoes and somehow directly at JJ’s.

And then bam: vomit.

There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up in the back of your car. That one was false.

It’s abnormal seeing JJ sat behind your steering wheel. His elbow is propped up on the window ledge, knuckles cracked as he grips the wheel at the top, guiding it with the other hand. You keep stealing glances. He focuses ahead on the road. It’s pitch-black asides from the glare of the headlights and the few and far between streetlamps. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this point with him, to have him driving your car and to find yourself completely okay with it.

The playlist that the radio is humming out changes to the next song. You instantly feel your body soften in the passenger seat with the swell of violins and cellos. Naturally, gradually, they find a melody. It’s solemn and serene all at once.

“I love this song,” you hear yourself say.

“What is it?”

“Love Theme, from Cinema Paradiso,” you reply.

JJ’s lips twitch with curiosity. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s my favourite piece of music of all time,” you tell him. “It makes me cry.”

“Really? Don’t know if any song’s ever made me cry.”

“Then you’re listening to the wrong things,” you're quick assert.

JJ chuckles at that, but he doesn’t disagree.

The piano chimes in now; steady waltz-like chords which complement the strings flawlessly. You sigh and watch the world pass by through the window. After throwing up, draining the alcohol from your body in the least flattering of ways, you feel more stable. There’s still a blur to the edge of the world hinting that you’re not fully sober but you no longer feel out of control. The three mints which you had the moment you got in the car helped to freshen your mouth.

“It’s a pretty song,” JJ observes. You’re surprised that he’s listening to it. “Is it meant to be happy?”

“Sort of. It’s the third version. There’s three reprises of the song throughout the film. The movie’s sort of a culmination of genres. It’s a love story about Salvatore and Elena, this girl who he’s completely infatuated with throughout his teens. But it doesn’t work out. It’s also about his relationship with Alfredo, this old man who runs the cinema. Salvatore falls in love with cinema and Alfredo is like a father figure to him. As he grows up, he’s pushed to leave the small town and live his life.”

JJ whistles lowly. “That’s a lot’a unpack.”

“Sorry,” you meekly reply. Maybe you rambled on a bit too much.

“Don’t be. It’s interesting,” JJ says.

You glance over to him and see him smiling, and you struggle to bite back your own, looking back to the road.

“You seem to have a thing for movies,” JJ notes.

“I love them,” you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. The music builds at that moment, with the wind instruments taking control of the melody and pushing the emotion to another level. You find your eyes slipping shut on reflex. It’s with them closed that you find the confidence to admit, “I want to write movies for a living. But nothing like the new crappy things. Films like the old ones. The ones with real emotion and meaning behind them. I’m so sick of the cheap rewrites and remakes. All the CGI junk that fills the cinema now and the empty scores.”

“So, why don’t you? Write movies, I mean?”

As JJ asks you this question, he pulls up outside your house.

You scoff. “Yeah, my dad would just love that. He wants me to go to school for accounting or economics. Something with ‘a future’.”

The engine shuts off but the song continues to play. JJ glances down at the radio, his eyes scanning over the song title. He seems lost in thought, or perhaps lost in the music, and you feel a small smile settle comfortably on your face. He’s so pretty in this light. He’s pretty in any light.

He seems to remember himself, coming out of his stupor in a similar manner to how he did back on the beach. Looking up to you, JJ catches your gaze. He reflexively switches off the radio, cutting the song off and enveloping the two of you in silence.

“You uh,” he begins, gesturing lamely to the house, “don’t seem the type to ask for your dad’s permission.”

“Oh what? Now you think you know me all of a sudden?” Your tone is teasing. It’s so different to the usual bite it has from your other interactions.

JJ shrugs. “I think I’m starting to.”

The honesty behind his words has your lips parting, somewhat taken aback. The bad-boy façade that he hides behind seems to have slipped tonight. You hold his gaze and he offers you a warm, tender smile. There’s a nervous yet excitable thrum in your chest. It's terrifying.

“Yeah, well, the only thing people know about me is that I’m scary,” you say dismissively.

“Well, I’m no picnic myself, so,” JJ muses.

And it’s things like that which catch you off guard. Your efforts to push him away and close him off are so easily dismissed. He seems to have a talent for peeling away your walls and it never feels intrusive. Instead, it makes you feel seen. Understood. It’s something that you haven’t really known since your mom walked out. Mia understood you to an extent, but you weren’t sure that she knew you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever let her, as awful as it sounds.

“Well, thank you. For driving me back,” you quietly say.

JJ nods. His eyes never stray from yours. He’s so beautiful it’s unfair.

“Course. Anytime.”

He takes a breath and it’s shaky, tempered with nerves, and that’s when you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours. If his stomach is full of butterflies too, bringing about the most addictive of anxieties. As his tongue darts out to dampen his lips, you find yourself taking the leap. Slowly, so slow that you’re not sure you even are, you lean forward to him, letting your eyes slip shut. In the moonlight, in your car, after the conversations of the night, you finally feel as though you have seen the real JJ, and he’s seen the real you.

A second passes.

Then another.

Then a third.

You hear the rustle of clothes and the creak of the car seat as JJ shifts. It makes you open your eyes. He’s watching his fingers trail along the leather grip of the steering wheel, knuckles uncomfortably tight and lips rubbing together.

“Maybe we should do this another time,” he eventually says.

For a moment, you just sit. You take him in. He doesn’t appear cocky or disgusted, or even amused. He seems timorous. It’s so confusing and irritating that you find yourself defaulting to anger. It’s that anger that smothers the burning hot embarrassment you feel deep in your chest. It conceals the crumbling disappointment of not having his lips on yours. Suddenly, you want to be as far away from him as possible.

You scoff and push open the car door. It slams loudly behind you as you storm back up to the house, arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as you feel your heart painfully pulling at your throat. The sting of tears is hard to fight but you manage to keep them at bay until you’re in your bedroom. It’s there that you feel safe enough to cry.

There was a rumour that JJ tracked you down in a movie shop. That one was true.

Have you ever had so much on your mind that it’s physically impossible to concentrate, even on the simplest of things? Ever since the keggar three days ago, that’s how you’ve felt. Studying was more gruelling than usual. You would start reading an exert from Romeo and Juliet and somehow, you’d find your mind drifting to the sound of JJ’s voice on the beach, telling you about his mom. Watching movies was no longer an escape because any guy on screen had you back in the passenger seat, basking in JJ’s beauty. Even now, stood in An Offer You Can’t Refuse, you find yourself staring blankly at the back of a DVD case, trying to make sense of the blurb.

Sighing, you give up and shelve it. You wander back to the main throughway of the store and look at some of the more recent releases. Tugging your cardigan tighter around you, you round the end of the shelve, heading for the exit, to instead come face to face with JJ.

It’s a shame that your stomach twists unpleasantly at the sight of him.

“Excuse me, have you seen ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’ I’ve lost my copy?”

You hold back a grunt and opt to roll your eyes instead. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a secret screening,” JJ tells you, humour lining his words.

You scoff. “You’re so…”

“Charming?” he offers.

You breeze past him.

“Wholesome!”

“Unwelcome,” you correct.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know,” JJ suddenly tells you, tone taking an edge.

Mystified, you return, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Oh, somebody’s still got their panties in a twist,” JJ quips.

Spinning around, you raise a finger threateningly. “Do not for one second think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”

JJ lightly taps your hand away. “What did I have an effect on then?”

It’s moments like these that you’re thankful your mouth is quicker than your mind. “Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing,” you lie.

JJ sighs, frustrated.

In the corner of your eye, you see the movies of the week. The universe works perfectly sometimes. Snatching up a copy, you shove Breakfast at Tiffany's in JJ’s chest before leaving the shop.

It sucks to be mad at JJ. You don’t want to be, but you don’t know how not to be. The whole night felt like an oxymoron. There was a moment when things felt so perfect and then he shattered it. It was abnormal. All that hard work to get you out on a date; the time taken caring for you and driving you back, checking you got home safe; and the conversations that felt far from empty and false…And then nothing. You knew JJ wasn’t a virgin. Not all rumours are based in truth – you knew that – but when it came to JJ Maybank, it was common knowledge that he had a way with girls. You weren’t the first girl for him to lay eyes on, and you certainly wouldn’t be the first girl he’d kiss, so why did he suddenly seem so discouraged? It didn’t make sense.

Whatever.

You close the car door and start up your engine.

You had more important things to sort out than deliberating over JJ’s intentions. Since when had a man ever interrupted your life before? There were some math notes which needed finishing back at home, and a track meet practice to prepare for tomorrow. Life was bigger than some pretty teenage boy.

Catching your eyes in the rearview mirror, you harden your gaze. “Get a grip.”

Your day doesn’t seem to improve when you get home. Whilst you’ve managed to put thoughts of JJ to bed, letting the irritation rest, your dad seems unwilling to give you peace. You walk through the door to hear himself and Charlotte talking animatedly about the Spring Ball at the yacht club.

“I’m not sure,” your dad sighs.

“But daddy, I’ve gone to them before.”

“But this one’s different. The guys there are older now. You’re older now. After last year, and our reputation, I’m just…”

The creaking floorboard before the kitchen doorway gives you away. Charlotte jumps at the chance to lasso you in.

“What if she comes?”

“She has a name,” you mutter, heading to the cupboard for a snack.

“I mean, if your sister goes then you can go, but I doubt she will.”

“She will what?” you ask. Cereal bar in hand, you tug away the wrapper and take a bite.

“Go to the Spring Ball.”

You guffaw loudly. “Yeah. No.”

“Knew it,” your dad says.

“Oh, come on! What’s wrong with the Spring Ball?” Charlotte carps.

You roll your eyes. “They’re stupid and performative and in bad taste. And old-fashioned. It just makes me feel icky. Whilst the Cut are trying to raise money to renovate the parks, we’re throwing balls for the fun of it. Plus, they’re boring. It’s just a bunch of rich morons talking about other rich morons. No offence, dad.”

“Plenty taken,” mutters your dad.

“You’re exhausting,” Charlotte tells you. “And unhinged.”

“Thanks,” you grin before taking another bite of your snack. You go to leave. “I’ll be upstairs.”

There was a rumour that JJ snuck into your school. That one was true.

You started running track following your school guidance counsellor’s advice. It was after you kneed Kelce so hard in the balls that he had to go to the nurse (you pride yourself for that achievement daily). Track was a good way to let off steam though. The world felt smaller and simpler on the circuit. You felt as though you could run away from all the things that were bothering you: Rafe, your dad, Charlotte, your mom. And now, JJ. The steady beat of your feet hitting the sand-topped track works like a metronome for your musings.

You’d heard the rumours that had been circulating about the night of the keggar. Charlotte hadn’t told you what happened between herself and Rafe, but there was a rumour that he didn’t drive her home. Apparently, someone called Louis had given her a ride back. You’d seen him at school every now and then. He’d only transferred a few months back so there wasn’t much to know about him. He seemed harmless enough though. Compared to Rafe, a rabid dog would be preferred.

“Good pace!” your coach praises loudly to you as you complete a third lap.

You’re panting in the warm sun. April was right around the corner now and the temperature was picking up, bit by bit, every day. Slowing to a jog, you direct yourself to the benches and retrieve your water bottle.

As your swallowing your third sip, you hear the loudspeaker system crackle to life. At first you don’t pay it much mind, assuming it’s one of the band members checking everything is working for a game tomorrow night or something. But then a voice is droning out of the speakers. It has a Carolina twang to it that is more common on the Cut and a youthful rasp that’s now all too familiar.

JJ.

‘Morning you wonderful Kook folks.’

You stare wide-eyed at the speaker.

‘Y’all are probably busy preparing your caviar or whatever the hell it is that you be doing out here on Figure Eight, but I’m here to read something I prepared. Brighten up your day and all that.’

Surely you have heatstroke. Surely this is not happening.

“’I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.’”

Sense and Sensibility. You glance around the field as if to check that you’re not the only one hearing this and - yep, you’re not.

“‘Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.’”

Dirty Dancing. Lips twitching into a smile, you’re in disbelief. Some people are sniggering at the cheesiness, others are completely befuddled by the whole thing. It is rather random. If you didn’t know what he was doing, you’d be confused too. Well, you still are, in fact. Did he know you'd be at the track today?

“And my personal favourite, ladies and gentlemen: ‘No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing. Badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.’”

Your perplexed smile turns more sober with that. Something trills in your chest – most probably your heart – and you nod in quiet approval.

“Alright then, Kooks and…Kooklemen. Y’all have a blessed day.”

The speaker clicks off with a crackle and some people on the field whoop and cheer, laughing and jeering. You shake your head and finish your drink, grinning like an idiot.

Maybe, just maybe, you can find some room to give JJ another chance.

There was a rumour that JJ Maybank spent his free time fishing. That one was true.

JJ Maybank was like a candy bar. He had a way of being sweet without being sickly, and he stayed on your mind the same way one gets chocolate stuck between their teeth. After asking around, you’re told that the best place to find the so-called delinquent was at a local fishing spot, down some old jetty. The floorboards creak unnervingly with every step you take. The sun is high in the sky, it only being mid-morning, and you find JJ easily. He’s perched on the end of the jetty, leaning forward against the rotting wooden railing. In one hand he’s supporting a rod, the wire of which is submerged deep in the water, waiting for a bite. There’s a small cooler by his feet alongside a bag of fishing tack. The back of his t-shirt has a large circular graphic on it. It’s well washed but you can make out the ‘sex-wax’ text.

“Yo,” you call out.

He startles then turns. There’s a strange flurry of emotions that cross over his face in a second when he lays eyes on you.

“Hey. How’d you find me?”

“I have my ways,” you reply, finishing the journey to him.

JJ moves so his back rests against the fence, body now facing you, and you pause a comfortable foot or so apart.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“I was kind’a an asshole at the movie store, the other day,” you say, uncomfortable in your confession. The proud twitch of his brow doesn't go unnoticed. “So, I figured it was only right to fess up.”

“Mhm. Anything in particular brought this on?” JJ wonders innocently.

You smile at that, rolling your eyes. Nevertheless, you play along. “You know, it’s so weird. This voice came over the speakers at school yesterday and it got me thinking.”

“Oh? You know who it was?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, scratching your hairline. “Maybe God?”

“You sure it weren’t an angel?” he checks, tongue poking through his teeth with his boyish grin.

“Nah, but he sure had the voice of one,” you play along.

The entertained lift of JJ’s brows makes your smile flatten into something more genuine.

“Did you get in trouble for it?”

“For breaking into Kook Academy and hacking your intercom?” JJ asks. His face scrunches up as he shakes his head falsely. “Nah.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. I was in and out, like an ops-mission,” he recounts, using his free hand to gesture lamely like a discount spy.

You roll your eyes once more and move to stand next to him, separated only by the cooler. Leaning your arms forward on the jetty fence, you sigh and close your eyes, basking in the sun.

“What’re you doing right now?”

“Right now?” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. He nods. “Nothing much.”

“Wanna go to the break? Hear the waves are meant to be pretty sweet today,” JJ asks.

Your lips twitch at the corners. His seem to mirror. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Sweet. Lemme just pack this stuff up,” he says. “My friend’s lent me his car for the day so we can ride there in that.”

There was a rumour that you nearly drowned when you went surfing with JJ. That one was completely made up.

The water is so blue you can almost taste it. The gradient of blues and aquamarines is mouthwatering in beauty.

Sighing, your feet sink into the sand, desensitised to the burn on the soles of your feet. On one shoulder you have your rucksack. It’s packed with snacks that the two of you picked up from a local shop: granola bars and a large back of chips, that sort of thing. JJ found some cans of soda when turfing through the cooler. Tucked under your other arm is a surfboard that JJ’s letting you borrow; there were three attached to the roof of the beat-up camper van he’s borrowing. JJ’s carrying a tattered looking picnic blanket that he dragged off the backseats and his own board. It seems JJ’s surfboard is the thing that is the best kept out of all the belongings he has.

JJ whistles. “Pretty good swell, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” you agree.

He walks in front and dumps the picnic blanket, lazily spreading it out with his foot. You put the rucksack down with it before leaning down to place your board carefully on the sand. As you go to stand, you find your eyes falling on JJ’s back. He’s tugging off his shirt, lats and triceps tensing and relaxing with the quick change. You can’t help but stare. The guy’s in good shape – nobody can disagree with that. He turns and catches your eye just before you can divert your gaze to the water, frowning as if assessing the waves. There’s an amused smirk that comes to his face, cocky like always.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks.

Your face scrunches in deliberation. You pretend that he’s referring to the sea. “Yeah; the waves look pretty strong.”

“Mhm,” he hums, entertained.

It’s then that you decide to seek some revenge. Casually, like the whole situation doesn’t make your heartbeat with elated anxiety, you pull your top off, revealing a crotchet-style bikini top. Living in Kildare meant that bikinis instead of underwear were sort of a given. Unbuttoning your shorts, you wiggle them down your body before stepping out and tossing them on the blanket. Glancing up, acting as if you’d completely forgotten JJ was there, you quirk a brow. He’s staring shamelessly at your body.

“Something up?”

“Not yet,” he mumbles.

It’s hard to bite back your smile. Hard, but not impossible. Dipping down to retrieve the board, you strain a little as you lift it.

“Come on. We’re wasting daylight,” you tell him, walking past towards the water.

“Yes ma’am,” you hear him say.

The crunch of sand behind you tells you he’s following. Then, his pace picks up and he’s rushing past, taking a moment to dab at your head jokingly.

“Hey!”

His laugh is light like buttercream frosting. You chase after him, towards the break, and soon enough you’re sliding atop of your board and paddling through the wake. JJ’s just a bit ahead. His back glistens in the sunlight with saltwater. You swallow your pride and dignity and let your eyes trail up his legs and butt. The water makes his clothes stick more than usual. He steadily rises to his feet, finding his balance on the board in such a natural manner that one would think he was born on it. The way he leans forward and back is effortless. He tames the waves like a creature of the sea, dipping on the currents and following the dives. You can’t help but sit up on your board for a moment and watch. His face is tight with concentration but the joy is as clear as the water. The sharp edge of his jawline teases you as you watch him surf. The tremble of your heart and knot in your stomach isn’t unfamiliar and yet it still catches you by surprise. To distract yourself, you paddle out some more before rising to your feet.

You know the old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’? You never much believed it until today. The two of you must have been on the water for an hour. Somehow, simultaneously, the two of you agree that it’s time to call it off. The scratchy over-washed cotton of the blanket is only slightly uncomfortable on your legs as you sit. JJ takes your rucksack and digs about for a snack. You opt for taking in the quietness of the beach; it feels as though you’re the only souls for miles.

“Who’s this?” JJ asks.

You glance over to find JJ holding up a photo he’d taken from your wallet. A part of you wants to make a jab about how he’s snooping around, but you don’t. Instead, you smile weakly.

“My mom.”

“Oh,” JJ says, looking back down at the photo with new interest. “She’s pretty. Can see where you get your looks from.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

JJ reaches back into the back and pulls a can of soda free. He tosses it to you and you crack it open.

“I go through phases of having it in there,” you say, nodding down to the photo that he continues to hold. “Sometimes I want it around and other times I don’t. I know that probably sounds dumb.”

“No, it doesn’t,” JJ responds rather easily.

He tucks the photo back away in the wallet, safe and sound, then grabs a can of sofa for himself. He reclines on his elbows. Your eyes fixate on the shark tooth necklace hung around his neck on a discoloured piece of yarn. It rises and falls with each steady breath he takes. As your eyes trail down his stomach, you notice the water droplets drying in the sunlight. In a desperate effort not to stare, you find yourself watching him crack his feet, outstretching them on the sand. Crossing your legs, you take a sip of your soda and glance back up to his face. Then, you follow JJ’s line of sight to the water. The routine of the waves pulling in and pulling back, over and over, is calming in a way few other things are. As the sky’s mosaic of colour darkens by the minute, the water reflects it back like a mirror with a pretty shimmer.

“Sometimes I wish I had a photo of my ma.”

“Don’t you?” you ask, looking to him again.

He shakes his head. “My dad went on this crazy rager when she left and burnt up all her stuff. I was too young and stupid to take a photo for myself and hide it somewhere.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’re not still those things.”

JJ snorts, shooting you a glance. “Thanks.”

You smile back but correct your manners. “Seriously though, that sucks. I’m sorry.” It’s a lame understatement for the reality of it, but it’s all you can think to say. Tenderness isn’t something that comes very naturally for you.

He shrugs, looking back to the water. You know he’s trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, and maybe if you’d only met yesterday, you’d believe it, but there’s something about his composure that tells you that it isn’t true.

“I just wish I could remember what she looks like, y’know?” he says, looking to you once more as if seeking affirmation. You give a small nod. “I mean, I can’t even remember her voice. Not that it should matter. Fuck her, right? She’s the one who left.”

He takes a hasty sip of his soda, breaking eye contact. You frown and watch him, and deliberate whether to speak your mind. I mean, of course you’re going to, but it feels good to deliberate first.

“Well, no, not ‘fuck her’,” you eventually say.

JJ looks to you, eyebrows knotted: bordering on angry.

You continue. “I think it ain’t that simple. It’s why I go through phases of having that photo of my mom in my wallet. You can be mad at someone and still miss them. At least I think you can. They’re not binary things, or mutually exclusive. So, I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘fuck her’.”

There’s a moment where JJ just looks at you, as if he’s soaking you in the same way the two of you are basking in the warmth of the sun. It’s a certain kind of stare; the kind where you don’t feel calculated under his gaze but unquestionably seen. There’s a momentary concern that you’ve offended him but then JJ gains this almost-smile that’s becoming more and more familiar to you, and he nods.

“I’ve never really talked to anyone about her before,” JJ confesses.

You smile sadly. “Me too. About my mom, I mean. Dad shuts down when I bring it up and Charlotte…She remembers things differently.”

“Well, it’s nice to talk about it.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is nice.”

The whispering of sea waves melts into the sound of songbirds and geese, singing and squawking in a weirdly melodic harmony. There’re crickets in the dunes which chime in from time to time and you take a moment to look back to the water, close your eyes, and enjoy it all.

“So, what’s your excuse for it?”

“My excuse for what?” you wonder, never opening your eyes.

“You know.” There’s a soft scrape on your skin as JJ kicks some sand off his feet and onto yours. “For acting the way we do.”

Sighing, you deliberate on how to answer. JJ has this way of opening you up. With others, you were hard-shelled and closed off, but like a pistachio, he knew where to pry just right to get you to spill. It was like he already knew the password so you never questioned letting him through the door.

“I don’t want to care what people think of me. It makes no difference, whether I impress them or not, so what should it matter? Why should I waste my time with it?”

“‘Makes no difference?’ Like makes no difference whether they stick around?” JJ wonders.

You open your eyes and look to him, a little taken aback by how easily he translated your words. “Sure. Like that.”

“Like your mom?”

It doesn’t affect you when he asks that. If someone else were to, your fury would spike suddenly and you’d snap. Say something you’d regret. But maybe because JJ might understand more than others, it doesn’t. So, you nod.

“Yeah,” you quietly reply. “Like my mom.”

“I get that,” JJ muses. It’s with that small token that you feel comfortable to elaborate.

“I think it really came clear after she left, how fake people can be,” you say. “Seeing how all our so-called friends reacted. At the Yacht Club, my dad was the laughingstock. Everyone talked about him, about mom leaving, like they didn’t know him. Like he wasn’t this great guy - which he is - and like they hadn’t been drinking cocktails and pints on his tab for years. It was so fake. That’s when I realised that people will think whatever they want to, even if they say another thing. So…why bend yourself backwards to try and change it?”

Sniffing, JJ nods in understanding as he digests your story. His toes dig into the damp sand and you find your own spare hand reaching out and playing with the grains, sifting through them soothingly.

“What about you? Why do you act the way we do?”

“I guess the same, in a way,” JJ replies. You notice that he likes to gaze ahead when he talks about himself, like eye-contact is too painful. Too vulnerable. “With my dad being who he is, people just assume the worst about me. I’m sick of trying to prove them wrong. They’re gonna think what they wanna think so what’s the point, right?”

“The ones who care enough won’t judge a book by its cover. They’ll get to know you and see through all the bullshit,” you assure him.

His head turns with that. Unblinking, he asks, “like you?”

You’re momentarily stunned by the bluntness of the question but soon enough, you’re smiling at him.

“Yeah. Like me.”

When JJ smiles, his teeth peak through in this adorably youthful way. There’re dimples that poke through his cheeks and no tension in his forehead or jaw. Just happiness. You like him like this, all tousled and sun-kissed and seawater bathed. It’s strange. Sitting here with him on the beach feels like the first time you’ve ever been to the water and truly appreciated it. It’s like you’d always thought you would sink, so you never swam. But now, with JJ looking at you the way he is, and the way the two of you seem to click in an inexplicable manner – as if you’d been the two missing parts of the other’s jigsaw puzzle – you realise that maybe you were wrong to make such an assumption.

“It’s weird. We come from such different lifestyles but I don’t think anyone understands me as good as you do.”

JJ’s voice is quiet but not small when he tells you this. It’s a private thought that you’re honoured for him to have shared. There’s only one way you can think to answer.

Leaning forward, you leave your drink abandoned on the blanket and cup his jaw, fingers damp from condensation. His lips meet yours willingly. The kiss the two of you fall into makes your feelings for him all the more obvious to you, and all the more terrifying.

There was a lot of rumours about the both of you. Some were true, and some were not.

JJ drops the campervan off at his friend John B’s house. It’s this quaint fishing shack that could definitely do with a lick of paint on the boarding, and a few fresh nails to keep the porch from caving in on itself. But it’s homely by how clearly lived-in it is. There’s no emotionless ornaments like in your house; only fishing gear, empty cans of beer by the stairs leading up to the front door, and far-from-new throw pillows. You wait on the grass at the bottom of the stairs as JJ heads up to the door, skipping one of the steps entirely. He raps with his knuckles on the door before letting himself in.

“Yo! John B, you home?”

“Back here!” you hear a guy call back. JJ vanishes into the house, car keys in hand, ready to hand them over.

Shoving your hands in your short pockets, you glance out to the backyard. There’s an impressive sized tree from which a hammock hangs, and a less than stable looking jetty. A sort-of shed stands, filled with all sorts of tools and gear, and a half-waxed board lies on a table.

“Alright, let’s bounce,” JJ says, reappearing. He hops off the porch and grabs your hand like it’s second nature, guiding the two of you away from the house.

“You known John B a long time?”

“Since kindergarten,” JJ replies.

“Damn. Don’t think I’ve ever known someone that long. Well, apart from Charlotte.”

“What’s her deal, anyway?”

“Who? Charlotte?”

“Yeah. Like, is she as conceited as everyone says she is?”

Your brows quirk up. “People say she’s conceited?”

Watching JJ fumble and stumble over his tongue is entertaining. He looks to you, mildly panicked. “Well, like, I don’t say that but—”

“I’m just messing with you,” you grin. He unconsciously gives a small sigh of relief. “I know she’s conceited. And spoilt. And bratty.”

“Hm. Sounds like you’re really fond of her,” JJ chuckles.

You laugh under breath and rock your head from side to side in deliberation. “She’s hard to love but harder to hate.”

“That’s ice cold, girl,” JJ whistles.

The moment your feet hit the tarmac of a main road, you realise that you’ve been following the blonde-haired boy blind.

“Where are we going, by the way?”

“To mine.”

“To yours?”

JJ seems to catch onto the innuendo. He looks to you and adds, “my bike’s there. I can give you a ride home.”

“Oh.” Something inside you sinks with disappointment. You don’t dwell on it though. “Thanks.”

The weight of JJ’s fingers nestled between yours is casually intimate. Usually you’d feel coddled and clammy and want to pull away, but instead you feel safe.

“What’d you think I meant? When I said we were heading to mine?” JJ asks you.

You quirk a brow and pull a face which seems to be answer enough. He cracks up. “I mean…I’m down if you’re down…”

“Slow and steady, JJ Maybank. Slow and steady,” you return with a grin.

“That’s my motto baby,” is his sultry reply, topped off with a wink.

You’d be lying if you said your body didn’t flush with that comment.

“You’ve got a reputation, JJ. I’m not gonna be another notch on your belt,” you jokingly say.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, half of my reputation is bullshit rumours.”

“Same here, amigo.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve heard some pretty batshit things about you,” JJ tunefully says.

Smirking, you turn to look at him. “Oh really? Like what?”

He takes a moment to think. The eventide light shadows his skin like a painting. “The state trooper?”

Ah. You remember that one. Bobby Cromack spread a rumour that you’d kicked a state trooper in the balls during a protest. On accounts that no protest ever existed that month in Kildare, that was a lie.

“False,” you say. You take the opportunity to debunk some of that you’d heard about JJ. One that you were certain wasn’t true was the rumour that he ate an entire turtle raw. “The turtle?”

He blows a raspberry. “Bullshit. The college guy?”

“Hearsay,” you say. Apparently, a friend of a friend of someone at Kildare Academy saw you at a frat college party in Wilmington, snorting coke off some guy’s chest. Incredible how easily fake news flies. “The hooker?”

“Lies,” he debunks. So, JJ didn’t lose his virginity to a prostitute. “The Banksy side-gig?”

You guffaw. “Complete crap.”

Yes, it appeared that people at school thought you were spending your free time running around Kildare, throwing up mediocre spray paint art as an act of rebellion. Stunning.

“Damn. You’re just full of disappointments, ain’t ya?”

JJ leads the two of you up a small dirt road and through a culmination of trees and shrubs, a house begins to emerge. It’s slightly bigger than John B’s but still small. It is somehow even more banged up, but not in an inviting way like his friend’s. No, this place looks desolate and lonely. Sad even. You feel a sympathetic tug when you notice JJ’s shoulders tense at the sight of it. You’re not even sure he realises that he’s doing it. There’s a bright red bike that you recognise; it’s sheltered under a small shack in the garden. It seems that neither of you are ready to close off the conversation yet. Instead, JJ takes you to the steps of his porch and the two of you sit. You lean against one pillar and him against the other. The wood is splintering and the paint is peeling off in strips. Facing one another, you slot your feet between his staple combat boots.

“Tell me something true.”

“Something true?” he checks, rubbing at his jaw. You nod. “I don’t like snakes.”

Laughing, you shake your head. He seems to like your laugh, smiling at the sound and sight. “No. Something real.”

JJ reaches out and plays with one of your laces.

“Something nobody else knows,” you explicate.

“Okay,” JJ nods. He retracts his fingers from your shoe, using his hand to help him keep his balance as he leans forward. You can smell the salt on the skin of his neck from the sea as he presses a kiss to your skin. There’s something sensual about the warmth of his breath on the apple of your cheek.

“You’re sweet,” he says. Your lips push together, suppressing your smile, and JJ pulls back only to move to the other cheek. “And sexy.” He pulls back so he can plant a kiss on your lips. You love how JJ kisses. “And completely hot for me.”

You guffaw, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?”

He frowns momentarily before nodding, saying, “I tell myself that everyday, actually.”

The smile that his joking response brings you quickly fades when he kisses you again. There’s something different about this kiss. Something passionate, and emotive, and sensuous. When his hand reaches up to cup at the place where your jaw fades into your neck, you find yourself leaning into his hold, deepening the kiss. The brush of his tongue on yours sends electricity shooting from your head, down your spine, straight through your toes. It’s over all too soon. When he speaks, he’s close, and he asks his question against your lips.

“Go to the Spring Ball with me.”

“What?” you dumbly ask, eyes slowly opening.

“The Yacht club spring ball. Go with me,” JJ clarifies.

Your smile doesn’t falter as you gaze into his eyes, admiring the flecks of colour. The answer is easy. “No.”

His brows gently tug together. Smiling, he repeats, “come on, go with me.”

“Is that a request or a demand?” you half-joke. The magic of the moment is dissipating as quick as vapour. He doesn’t reply but the way he holds your gaze suggests that he’s still waiting for an answer. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

You pull away now. “Because I don’t want to. Because it’s a dumb tradition for fake rich people.”

“Come on! People won’t expect you to go. Plus, it’d be a laugh seeing the look on those Kook asshole faces when you show up with me, don’t you think?” JJ prompts.

You frown. Something manifests in your gut. It weighs heavy like a stone. Cocking your head, creating more distance between the two of you, you ask, “why are you pushing this?”

JJ’s lips part. You see them try to form words but nothing comes out. It makes you prod further.

“What’s in it for you?”

He turns, sitting fully on the porch, feet side by side on the step below. You watch his side profile and notice how his jaw ticks and tightens, like he’s annoyed. Like you telling him no has annoyed him. That stone turns into a rock.

“So, you’re saying I need a motive to be with you now?” JJ asks, tone clipped.

Your anger ticks. “You tell me.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, glancing out to the unkept yard. Suddenly, he looks to you. There’s a dark, twisted look on his face that’s so scarily unfamiliar. “You need therapy, you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Like you’re actually sick in the head.”

The words hit like darts aimed straight for your heart. You swallow the pain and keep your gaze steely but your voice gives you away. It’s shrinking and holds no conviction as you say, “answer the question, JJ.”

The ugliness of him only grows as he shakes his head once more. There’s a sick smile on his face that comes and goes quick like a hurricane before he sardonically says, “nothing, alright? Just the pleasure of your company.”

The rock in your gut is a boulder; it makes you feel like you’re sinking into the ground. The shock barely has time to settle before he delivers another blow. You watch JJ dig into his short pockets and pull out a pack of cigarettes, shucking one free and propping it between his lips. He said he was quitting. Scoffing, you reach out and take it as he searches for his lighter. You toss the cigarette carelessly on the ground before getting to your feet, hastily walking away from him. It’s like you can’t get away fast enough. Your arms wrap around you in a far from comforting hug the minute you feel obscured by the foliage. When you realise that JJ isn’t following you, your head dips and lips tremble. With the call of a songbird, your mind flashes back to earlier that day, at the beach, and your tears finally start to fall.

There was a rumour that your sister wanted to go to the spring ball with Rafe. That one was (thankfully) false.

Academics don’t hurt you the way people do. Math equations can’t talk back and Shakespeare quotes don’t bite. Throwing yourself into your studies seems the best way to get your mind of JJ’s cruel words. The look on his face when he snapped at you was so different to the way he’d been with you before. It was cold and callous and downright mean. It was also befuddling, how defensive he got. JJ and Spring Ball didn’t seem like the most obvious pairing to you. You knew that JJ liked to stick-it-to-the-man and get under the Kook’s skin, but pushing the spring ball just to take the piss was so abnormal. Maybe that was what hurt the most.

You’re halfway through analysing a sonnet from Romeo and Juliet when there’s a soft rap on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

It creaks open and you glance over to find Charlotte. She softly closes it behind her. Then, she takes a seat on your bed.

“What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say, closing your notebook. Spinning around in your desk chair, you face your younger sister.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. She stands out like a sore thumb in your bedroom, amongst your old movie posters and tapestries and postcards, and the deep grey and white of your bedsheets. Her blossom pink skirt doesn’t quite fit the theme.

“Why don’t you want to go to the spring ball? Is it just to keep me from going?”

You sigh and look away, down at the floor. Shaking your head, you say, “no. I just don’t like the yacht club people. You know that.”

“You act like you’re not one of us,” Charlotte tells you.

“Because I’m not,” you reply quickly, offended. She quirks a brow.

“Look at where we live! At the car you drive! We’re in a lucky position in life and it’s stupid to act like that isn’t true!”

“I can acknowledge my privilege without leaning into it,” you say.

You weren’t stupid. You knew your socio-economic status gave you an advantage in life. Not once had you ever had to worry about money, or not having dinner on the table, or not being able to go for coffee. Your dad worked hard to get to the place where you were at now; it wasn’t handed to him. Nonetheless, spending more time with JJ, seeing his and John B’s homes, made you realise just how easy you had it. That didn’t mean that you liked the frivolities of the lifestyle, though.

“Look, I know you think the yacht club is dumb and fake and all of that stuff,” Charlotte reals off. “But I actually care about it. I really do. It means something to me.”

“But it’s so—”

“You can preach all you want, but it won’t change my opinion,” Charlotte interrupts. You slam your mouth shut. It’s a fair point (something she rarely makes). “Look, there’s a guy that I really like, and he wants to take me.”

“Rafe?”

“No.” She says it in a way that makes you think she’s almost amused at the thought. “Louis. He’s actually nice.”

“Actually?” You check.

She smiles and nods. She has a pretty smile. “Yes. Actually. But daddy won’t let me go if you don’t and I really want to go.”

You swallow. It’s clear where this conversation is going now. Sighing, you look out the window. It’s windy today. Blossoms keep getting blown from the trees and they pass by your window like fake snow.

“The thing with the yacht club isn’t just as simple as not wanting to get all dressed up for some dumb tradition,” you admit. “I don’t like how they treated dad, after mom left.”

“I know,” she says. Then, after a moment’s thought, adds, “But that wasn’t everyone. Remember how Mrs M brought us casserole for a week? And Mr Cameron invited dad out on a fishing trip? Some people are fake, that’s true, but not everyone. Not everyone has ulterior motives.”

That last sentence has your eyes snapping back to hers. She doesn’t seem to realise what she’s said. In fact, it looks like she’s waiting for you to tear into her like you usually would. But when you take her in, you see a sweet fifteen-year-old girl who’s a little tightly wrapped in cotton wool, who wants an excuse to wear a pretty dress and dance to trashy pop music and get to know a cute guy. The thought of keeping her away from that makes you feel guilty. Plus, if you’re there, at least you can keep an eye on her from the outskirts. Check that this Louis isn’t just another Rafe in disguise.

“Fine.”

She blinks at you, confused. “Fine?”

“I’ll go. We can go.”

“We can!?”

The way her whole face lights up like New York at night makes the night of horror already worthwhile. Starting to smile, you nod. The hug that Charlotte fires at you nearly sends you falling out of your chair. As much as you hate hugs, this one might be the best one you’ve ever had from her.

There was a rumour that JJ’s dad beat him. He never told you that was true, but you had a feeling.

JJ’s house seems eerily quiet. It isn’t the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though nobody’s home. It reminds you of the quiet in the movies when the hostages are hiding from the bad guys. The kind where nobody wants to step on a twig and give away their location. Something about it stops you from heading up the porch and knocking on the door. You’ve barely rounded the corner of the house, about to see what you can spot around the back, when someone is grabbing at you from behind. It’s a man, you can tell by their arms. One wraps around your middle, fastening one of your arms to your side, and the other comes to cover your mouth. It muffles your panicked yelps.

“Calm down, calm down, it’s me,” JJ’s whispering frantically in your ear.

It doesn’t stop your struggling though. He’s barely pulled you away from the house before you shake free, shoving him off you. He takes you by the wrist then, guiding you into the marshland.

“What the hell, JJ!”

“Shut up, alright? He’ll hear,” JJ shortly replies.

You do as he says begrudgingly and let him take you further from the house. Eventually, JJ lets go. He takes a second to catch his breath, bringing his arms up to clasp his hands behind his head, back facing you as he paces.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Don’t matter.”

Turning around, it seems as though his whole demeanour has reset. Well, almost. There’s a tension in his muscles that he can’t fully shake. You overlook it the same way you overlook the bruise forming near his eye. It’s brown and purple. Definitely caused by more than a tap on a doorframe.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I had to come see you,” you say. Suddenly, with the spotlight on you, the confidence that Charlotte instilled within you falters. “About the other day.”

“The other day?”

“Yeah, on your porch…” you clumsily say.

JJ raises his brows, changing his weight from one leg to the other. It seems easier to fixate on his cap rather than meet his eyes. It’s green and purposefully frayed on the edges; it compliments his skin tone well. Swallowing your pride with a sigh, you awkwardly twiddle your fingers.

“I came to apologise for how I reacted.”

“You did?”

Your eyes dart down from his hat to meet his. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have questioned your motives. It was dumb of me, and stupid, and…dumb.”

“Said that one already.”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

You sigh and rub at your forehead like this conversation is causing you a headache. It turns out pride and stubbornness are sisters.

“Anyway, I just wanted to come and say sorry and see if you still wanted to go. Maybe,” you rush out.

“You wanna go to the spring ball?” JJ frowns.

“Yeah. Charlotte wants to go and my dad—You know what, that doesn’t matter. Because you’re right,” you tell him, cutting yourself off in the process.

His eyebrows almost shoot into his hairline with that. Something tells you that he doesn’t hear that phrase a whole lot.

“It would be funny to rub it in the kook-club faces. And maybe I’d actually enjoy the night if I went with you.”

JJ purses his lips and plants his hands on his hips, looking off to the greenery. You know what he’s doing. He’s basking in this moment, with you stood, tail between your legs, and milking it for what it’s worth. It isn’t exactly amusing, but it does somehow ease your anxiety.

“So, you’re saying that I’m right and that you want me to take you to your fancy spring ball?”

“Yes,” you reply through gritted teeth.

“Huh.” JJ nods, pulling a face. “So this is what it feels like to be right…"

Silence.

"It’s oddly unsettling.”

“Look, do you wanna go or not, cause I’ve got plenty of other things I can do with—”

JJ makes it to you with two large strides. Your face is enveloped by his hands as he guides your lips to yours in a smooch-like kiss. It’s awfully annoying how all of your worries seem to melt away with that one gesture.

“Yes. I’ll go with you,” JJ says the minute he pulls back.

You want his lips on yours again already, but you practice restraint. Bringing a hand up to lay over one of his, you look up into his eyes. God, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m sorry for questioning your motives,” you repeat, more sincerely now.

JJ swallows before nodding. “You’re, uh, you’re forgiven. I’m sorry too, for saying the things that I did. I gotta pretty ugly temper sometimes and I just speak without thinking.”

You missed the smile that comes to your face. Nobody makes you smile like JJ does. Nobody gets you like JJ does either. As if trying to tell him so, you lean up and kiss him again. You can feel his smile against yours, melding and merging like you’re two of the same souls. You assume that this is JJ’s way of saying yes; he’ll join you to the spring ball.

There was a rumour that your sister punched Rafe at the spring ball. That one you weren’t sure about.

The yacht club was a cream building with pastel green shutters and doors. It stood in front of the beach, surrounded by perfectly trimmed green fields and a stone’s throw from a golf course. Several flags stuck out of the thatched roof, waving proudly in the air. For the spring ball, the porch had been decorated with ivy and flowers. Purple and blue blossoms were intertwined with foliage and string-lights, dancing up the poles as if growing. The main event was held in the back, facing the sea. The extensive decorations continued, only now with white sheer-like fabric hanging from place to place, creating somewhat of a shelter. A makeshift dancefloor was put down using wooden boards directly before a small stage for live musicians to perform throughout the night. Tables for snacks which looked as though they’d been meticulously crafted by God himself lined the back wall of the building.

“Holy crap,” you can’t help but mutter at the sight of it all.

JJ whistles lowly in wordless agreement. His fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing, and you look up to him.

“Ready for this?” he asks.

“Are you?”

He grins with that. “Baby, I was born ready to show these Kooks a good time.”

You roll your eyes, smile flowering on your features, and guide the two of you up the porch. The moment you pass Mr and Mrs Johnson, dressed in the over-the-top attire, you hear their hushed whispers. It makes your smile grow.

JJ manages to snag a couple of drinks for the two of you from the bar. You sip and lead the two of you outside, into the belly of the beast. Adults stand chatting away, gushing falsely over their lives. Did you hear the Carol got accepted into Yale? Oh, isn’t it just marvellous! You spot Charlotte fairly quickly and it brightens the night. She’s dancing with Louis, giggling like a child on Christmas morning, and he’s watching her like she hung the stars shining in the sky above.

You and JJ find a quieter spot to the side to people watch. Your leg rests against his as you perch, sipping on the champagne.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” JJ says, breaking the silence.

Looking to him, you smile. He’s the only person who can make you bashful. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I kinda forget to say earlier,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You love when he does that. It makes you giddy to know you have that kind of effect on him.

“Well, what I think you said was ‘wow’,” you correct.

You know that’s what he said. You think the look on his face, somewhat mesmerised, and the way that the words made your heart hammer like you’d run a marathon, will be permanently etched in your memory.

JJ smiles, looking down to his shoes. You have no idea where he got them from. They’re seemingly brand-new leather loafers, starkly different to his worn-down combat boots.

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Maybank,” you clumsily compliment.

He shrugs, confidence somewhat boosted. Glancing down at you, he asks, “Oh really?”

“Mhm. Kinda like you in a penguin suit,” you say.

You fix his collar just for an excuse to touch him. He seems to realise this, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to hold it steady before dipping his head down. Your lips meet his in a chaste kiss that has your toes squirming.

“You wanna walk around. Show my penguin suit off to a few more people?”

You laugh quietly, nodding. “Sure.”

The peruse of the party is probably heightened by the alcohol that JJ keeps managing to sneak for the two of you. At any opportunity, you’re whispering in his ear or his in yours with jokes and jabs about people’s outfits. Rose, looking like lady liberty. Mr Dulany, here to haunt us from his grave. As the night rumbles on, you find yourself actually enjoying it. Somehow, someway, the two of you find yourselves on the dance floor. You’re letting JJ swing you around in some makeshift jive to the mini orchestra’s upbeat rhythm. His theatrics have you practically doubling over. JJ was born with two left feet and then some. You don’t care though. It’s perfect.

When the song ends, there’s a lull as the band catches their breath and sips on some water. The crowd applauses, including yourself, and JJ nods at you as if approving of the talent. It makes you laugh even more. Just as you go to make a joke about it, an all too familiar swell of violins emerges from the stage. Your lips part, head darting over, hands pausing mid-applause, because there’s no way. There is no way that they’re playing what you think they’re playing.

The melody materialises out of the melancholic chords and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Cinema Paradiso: Love Theme.

You scoff in wonderous disbelief, extending a finger dumbly to the stage as you look to JJ, mouth agape. He’s grinning, watching you like he was waiting for your reaction. It patches your heart back together in an instant.

“They’re…” you begin to say.

He nods. Leaning forward, beside your ear, he tells you, “I called in a favour.”

You pull back suddenly, meeting his gaze, checking for some sign of a lie. But he isn’t. He’s smiling, sweet and safe, and you can’t help but step towards him and wrap your arms over his shoulders, around his neck. He accepts your embrace willingly, hands finding solace around your waist. JJ holds you against him as the two of you sway. You practically hide your face in the lapel of his blazer, smiling like a drunk. He did this for you. He remembered this specific song, this specific reprise, for you. The weight of the realisation nearly brings you to tears. Nearly.

In this cocoon of JJ, it feels as though the music coils around the two of you like a snake, trapping you in the lovingly lugubrious song. It ties in perfectly with the distant sound of the ocean. That’s when you realise that you’ll never be able to hear either of those things again without thinking of the seventeen-year-old boy who busted his ass to win you over. You have no idea what you did to deserve him, or what possessed him to pursue you, but whatever it was, you’re eternally grateful.

It takes a split-second to register the hand shoving at your shoulder. It pushes you apart from JJ, making you stumble over your heels as they catch in your dress. After untangling it, you look up to find Rafe’s back facing you. Stepping around him, about to intervene, you see JJ’s face. Something about his expression stops you. He looks anxious.

No.

He looks terrified.

“Look, I didn’t pay you to take out her psycho sister just so some little punk can take out Charlotte instead.”

In that instant, JJ looks like someone who’s just found out his whole religion is a lie, and it’s his fault.

The words parse together slowly. Each syllable as it registers feels like another vice wrapping around your lungs, robbing you of air.

Pay you…

To take out…

Her psycho sister…

JJ isn’t looking at Rafe. He’s not even acknowledging that he exists. He’s staring at you. It doesn’t feel like his usual stare; the kind that makes you feel like he can see you through smog. No. It makes you feel exploited.

That’s when you finally find enough oxygen in your body to form some words.

“Nothing in it for you, huh?”

That same God-awful feeling from the other days returns but tenfold stronger. The urge to just get as far away from JJ as humanly possible. The urge to run. You turn and rush away from the dancefloor, from the crowds, from whatever chaos is bound to follow Rafe like a shadow. From JJ. From the only person you’ve ever really trusted since your mom.

Even though you’re outside, the air feels suffocating. You’re trying to navigate your way around the building, to the carpark where you can call an Uber or just walk home. Anything, anything¸ but stay here, near him.

But JJ’s persistent. You’d known that from the moment you met him. You can hear him calling for you, his voice desperate, and it makes everything hurt even more. He’s faster than you, especially when you’re wearing heels. When he catches up to you, his fingers wrap around your upper arm.

“Please! Please, just lemme explain!” JJ pleads.

“You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate.”

You shake him off and turn to face him. He looks guilty as sin and you can’t do it. Can’t bare it. Turning again, you continue to walk away.

“I knew this was a set up.”

The gut feeling from the porch is so horrifically ironic. You should have known. You should have known.

“It wasn’t like that!” JJ insists.

“Really?” You snap. He grabs for you again and you stop, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure how you’re not sobbing. “What was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

“No, look, I didn’t care about the money, alright!?” JJ desperately insists. You can’t seem to look away. His eyes hold so much feeling but it all feels so lifeless now. “I…I cared about you.”

It all feels so fake.

“I don’t believe you,” you whisper.

Shaking your head, you swallow thickly. The tears finally come, teasing at your waterline, stinging like Rafe’s words from moments ago.

“You’re so not who I thought you were.”

JJ almost physically winces. You push his hand off your arm and go to leave but he’s relentless. He takes you by the wrist with a firm grip, his other hand taking you by the jaw. Then his lips are on yours. The kiss isn’t like the others. It’s dirty and disgusting and disingenuous and desperate, and you shove him off by the shoulders. You glance over him, wet cheeked, like he didn’t cause this. But he did. He hurt you. He hurt you.

This time, when you walk away, JJ doesn’t chase you. Maybe that’s what hurts most of all.

There was a rumour that JJ was paid to take you out. That one was horrifically, painfully true.

When your mom left you cried for a week. Endlessly, morning through to night, tear after tear. It would sometimes pass, but then it would hit again, out of the blue, like a boat colliding with an iceberg in the sea in the vast darkness of night. But after a week, you didn’t have anything left. You just felt hollow and empty. Then you promised that you wouldn’t cry about her anymore.

“You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

You sigh and try to focus on the comforting black and white picture on your laptop. George Bailey stands beside sweet little Mary, stood in the night.

“Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

“I’ll take it.”

The gentle knock on your door is almost a blessing. It’s hard to distract yourself from the awful pain in your chest.

“Come in,” you call out.

Charlotte creeps in, closing the door behind her. She leans against it and looks at you. You’re wallowing in your bed, tucked under a blanket, surrounded by comfort snacks that Mia brought for you and tissues.

“What’s up?” you ask her when she doesn’t speak.

She shakes her head and walks over, climbing onto the bed. She crawls around so she can lie on her back, and you wordlessly turn yourself over, rest your head on her stomach, and begin to cry for what feels like the millionth time. Her fingers lovingly stroke your hair, soothing you through your pain. Suddenly, you’re immensely thankful for your sister. You wouldn’t want her any other way than how she is, no matter how whiny and spoilt she can sometimes get.

“Charlotte?” you sniffle.

“Yeah?” she quietly asks.

It feels like another splinter cracks into your heart as the confession falls from your lips. “I really miss mom.”

She’s still a moment, and then she’s wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tight and close. For once, you don’t pull back. You let yourself be held by your little sister.

“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”

There was a rumour that JJ regretted what he did. You weren’t sure if that one was true, but you wanted to know.

About a week after the spring ball, you finally brave the outside world. The old movie shop is your first point of call considering you made your way through all your ‘to be watched’ films in the past seven days. It’s nice knowing that you won’t run into anyone in the shop; that you can lose yourself to the world of fiction in sepia and black and white.

The brass bell chimes as you walk through the door.

“Hiya Lucy,” you say.

She glances up from the spreadsheet she’s ticking at, smiling at the sight of you. Then, as if something dawns upon her, she’s waving out her hands for you to pause. “I have something to give you!”

“Oh?”

You didn’t put anything on hold. Wandering over to the counter, you lean against it as Lucy ducks down to rummage for something under the desk. Eventually, she heaves an old typewriter onto the counter.

“What…”

“There’s a note, too,” she says, bobbing back down to search.

Whilst she looks, you reach out a finger and trace it over the iron letters. They’re cold and a little dusty, and beautifully ornate. It’s painted black with gold accents. You’ve never seen something so beautifully vintage. Maybe your dad or Charlotte put it aside for you, as a pick-me-up. You can’t imagine it to be very cheap, not with the quality it is in and the year it was made.

“Here,” Lucy sighs. She holds out a small envelope for you. You take it with a small thanks and open it up.

For you to write your movies.

The two initials printed in black ink make you pause. You stare at it, throat constricting painfully at the sight. You look to the typewriter again and then back to the note. Just like everything else with JJ, you’re overcome by a confusing concoction of emotions.

Remembering Lucy, you flash her a hopefully unbothered smile and tuck the note in your back pocket.

“Thanks, Lucy,” you say. You brace yourself and lift the typewriter with a huff.

“You got it?”

“Yep, yep,” you strain, beginning towards the door. Some nice old lady holds it open for you as you struggle out, hollering a farewell to the storeowner as you go.

The whole drive home, the typewriter watches you. It watches you as you park and it watches you fight your way up the stairs. Finally, in the quiet of your room, you sit and digest the note. It’s funny that a one sentence message has left you so stumped. But you don’t know what it means. An apology, most likely. But is that enough? An apology for lying to your face for over a month. For letting you open up to him and for letting you believe that he was doing the same, only to find out there was a paycheck at the end.

It's so frustrating that no matter how you try to, and no matter how much easier it would be if you did, you just don’t hate him. You don’t. You can’t. You can’t believe that everything that happened between you was a front. Every little anecdote and gesture, ever look and kiss, was all an act. It just can’t be. Just like you’d said to JJ on the beach, feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. ‘You can be mad at someone and still miss them.’ Is that what this was?

Pulling open your desk drawer, you turf around for some pages of plain paper. You tuck them into the typewriter and practice a few of the keys. There’s the aesthetic clack as they mark the page and the ping when the edge of the page is met. Once you feel confident in how it works, you slot a new piece of paper in the machine and sigh. And then, you begin to type.

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you’re always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh

Even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around

And the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You reread the poem time and time again. It feels like healing, in a strange way, almost as if you’re soothing your wounds with a homemade balm. Finally, for the first time in a week, you feel yourself give a genuine smile. Gently taking the paper from the typewriter, you deliberate what to do with it. The answer comes to you clear like the water at daybreak.

There was a rumour…

Like clockwork, you find JJ on the fishing jetty. His back is to you once more, only this time he’s wearing a loose navy-blue button shirt. Those same cargo shorts and those same combat boots adorn his lower half. His long, tousled mousy-blonde hair is out free, not buried under a cap: your favourite style on him. You make your way down the jetty slowly, giving yourself time to change your mind. There’s a nervousness in your stomach and it doubles when JJ glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps. The moment he sees you, he leaves his rod propped and turns around fully.

“Hey,” he breaths.

You come to a stop in front of him, leaving a safe distance. “Hey.”

“What, uh…I didn’t know you were coming here,” he eventually says.

You shrug. “I didn’t know I was, ‘til now.”

He nods, uneasy, and pushes his fingers through his hair. His wonderful nervous fidget. You love that one almost as much as the neck scratch.

“The typewriter?”

“Hm?”

“The typewriter. What’s that for?”

He shrugs, gesturing out to you. “For your movies. So you can write those films that you wanna make.”

“But what’s it for?”

JJ catches your gaze and flounders. He shakes his head and glances off, inspecting a corner of the jetty. You take a step forward but he seems to think you’re going to leave, because suddenly he’s looking up at you again and talking. “I’m really sorry about how everything went down.”

You pause in place and watch him. In one of your hands is the poem, folded up into a tiny rectangle, withered at the seams from fiddling.

JJ shakes his head. “I’m not proud of it. At first, I was happy to. I mean, I was getting paid to take out some random chick. I don’t come from much and that amount of money can stretch a long way.”

“I know,” you quietly say.

“No, you don’t,” JJ says. He isn’t exactly angry; it seems he just wants to be clear. “My dad’s a deadbeat, alright? He gets fired from every gig he gets and I gotta help keep the lights on. It ain’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you, but you don’t know what it’s like living from paycheck to paycheck. You ain’t ever had to worry about going hungry, or not having gas or power for a week, or going without internet for a month. So, when Rafe offered me $50, course I said yes. I’m a scumbag who’s dirt-broke with no fucking morals.”

You can’t help but close your eyes. It hurts to hear him talk about himself like that. It hurts to hear him admit to taking the money.

“But then I actually got to know you,” JJ continues.

He’s watching you when you open your eyes. Gauging your reaction.

“And I meant everything I said to you. I didn’t make any of that shit up – the real stuff. And I meant it when I said nobody has ever understood me like you do,” JJ tells you. His voice is thick and weighty with emotion.

You purse your lips in a bid to keep from crying. “What about the movies?”

“Well, I didn’t like them all that much before I met you,” JJ admits. “But you’ve made me a fan. To be honest, they make me think of you.”

“And the typewriter?” you can’t help but ask.

JJ’s lips tease to smile. “Well, this asshole paid me a whole bunch of money to take this really cool chick out. But I messed up and I fell for her, so I had to do something useful with the money.”

Your thumb brushes over the paper of the poem. It feels like a safety blanket. You can’t tear your eyes from his and it seems he feels the same. He nods, gently, as if confirming whatever doubt you have.

“I don’t expect you to just forgive me. I know you don’t trust easy and I threw that in your face. But I don’t wanna lose you. I want you around forever, if you’d let me.”

The heaviness in your gut is gone. There’s a feeling of enlightenment that washes over you. Here, stood before you, honest and open, pockets empty and heart on a platter…You find yourself taking a chance. The pain from your mom leaving you without rhyme or reason fades behind one simple fact: all people are different people.

You no longer want to give JJ the poem. It doesn’t feel right to, at least not right now. Pocketing it, you dampen your lips and deliberate.

Eventually, you nod, “I’ll let you. It’ll take time for me to trust you again, like I did before…But I don’t want to lose you either.”

JJ’s smile slowly grows. It’s your smile, the one he saves just for you, and you feel the pain already passing just by seeing it. Stepping towards him, you make the first move to reconnect. He’s more than happy to accept, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, tired kiss.

“‘Sides,” you say, looking up at him, arms thrown around his shoulders. “Everyone knows the best movies are when the couple gets together at the very end.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #jj maybank fic #jj fic #outerbanks fic #10 things i hate about you

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kooktrash · 1 year

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the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

#kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung #taehyung imagine #Taehyung fic #Taehyung fanfic #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shot #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #Taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts imagines

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vinomino · 2 months

Text

r/relationship_advice

u/vinomino

I (##F) have a crush on my boss (##M) who’s seven years older than me. He’s hot and so dreamy. He doesn’t have a wife or kids btw. Last week I overheard that he doesn't have a girlfriend either. Should I go for it?

Featuring: Umemiya Hajime x f!Reader

Contents: mdni 18+, restaurant owner!Umemiya x employee!reader, older!umemiya x younger!reader, unprotected sex, reader makes Ume creampie her, breeding, baby trapping(?), public sex, pregnancy

WC: 1.5k

You started working at Umemiya’s restaurant for some quick cash. The job pays well, but what really sold you was how fine Umemiya was. You never knew you had a thing for older men until your friend introduced you to him.

Umemiya was an enigma to you. A bunch of guys would the stop by on the daily, he told you they were his friends from high-school. It had you wondering how popular he was to have this many hard looking dudes showing him respect. Umemiya seems so perfect to you, he’s attractive, kind, friendly, and knew how to cook.

“Ugh, he’s just so dreamy.” You’re daydreaming to your friends again over some barbecue. “Do you want to fuck him or be his wife.” She chuckles. “Obviously number two, if I was his wife, I would’ve gave him three kids by now.” You sigh out making them all break out laughing. “Isn’t he seven years older than you?” One of them inquires. “It’s not that bad! Seven years is like nothing. I’m a grown woman.” You say waving your hand.

You detailedly remembered when he kicked out a customer for harassing you. The way he so easily picked the guy up and threw him out into the street. It had you fantasizing that night about how little effort he would need to put in to fold you like a pretzel. Umemiya was big, a six foot two hunk, so he was probably packing too.

Sitting around a table after the restaurant closes, enjoying a drink with your coworkers and boss. You’re trying not to stare too much at Umemiya’s biceps. “Umemiya-san let me help out! After all you treated us.” You exclaim, “Huh, sure!” He grins. The rest of the team has gone home, leaving you two alone. You’re wiping down the tables, “I’ll add a bonus pay to your check, you’ve been such a help.” Umemiya thanks you while putting the chairs up. “It’s no problem.” It’s not a problem at all when you get to spend more time with him.

Finishing up with the table, you take a step back. “Woah!” Umemiya shouts out from right behind you. “Sorry I was just trying to squeeze past.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t see you—“ You squeak out and try to move away. “W-Wait— shit— don’t do that…d-don’t move.” He grips your hips to hold you in place. “U-Umemiya-San…?” Your ass is smooshed right up against his crotch.

Umemiya would be lying if you weren’t attractive. Some customers kept coming back to the place in order to see you and he had to throw out one too many douches who got too comfortable. Hell, even his juniors ogled at you sometimes. “Aren’t you gonna settle down soon?” Hiragi asks, taking another swing of his beer. “What makes you say that?”

“Just thought you would be the kind of guy who’d have kids by now.” His old friend squints his eyes. “Nope, still haven’t met the right girl.” Umemiya scratches his chin.

“Seriously? What about her? You two look kinda close.” Umemiya follows Hiragi’s finger to you, working at the register. “She single? How old is she anyways…” Umemiya feels his eye twitch as Hiragi scans you. “She’s seven years younger.”

Hiragi eyes almost bulge out his head, “Yer kidding.” He covers his stomach feeling a subtle ache. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Umemiya pats his shoulder and stands up making his way over to help you ring a customer out.

It wasn’t a secret some of the old Furin boy’s thought you were pretty. But to think you, a young sweet charming girl was working at a establishment in this part of town, left Hiragi wondering why Umemiya did something so out of character.

“Umemiya-San?” You turn your head to look at him. He lets out a low groan, scrunching up his brows. Your ass felt so plushy against his clothed dick. You feel his tent poke at you, was this really happening? “You’ve been giving me fuck-me eyes since you started working here.” He thumbs at your bottom lip. “Driving me crazy.”

The initial shock dissipated. “Really? I thought it was only me…” You smirk, grinding back into him. The friction had his mouth slightly parted. “You’re a vixen.” He hisses. “Wanna find out?” You stick your tongue out to lick his thumb.

He was going to find out. Your jeans were pooled at your ankles as he bent you over the table to ravage your insides. “U-Ume!” You squeal when he bring a hand down to your jiggling ass. You can probably imagine how red your cheeks were from the spanking. “Damn—pussy’s so tight…” He lets out a deep moan. You’re gurgling when he buries himself to the hilt and grinds against your sweet spot. “H-haah—!” You were right, Umemiya was packing. Atleast eight inches, girthy, and veiny. The biggest cock you’ve ever taken.

Shit, it felt so fucking good. Had your eyes rolling back into your sockets. He was skillfully rubbing at your clit too. You wonder if he was bad at anything. Dick game had to the best in you’ll ever have in your life.

You’re drooling on to the wooden table, “Ume! Ume! Fuck…I’m gonna cum!” He lowly chuckles from behind. “Yeah? You gonna cum?”

The lights were still on, if anyone walked past they could see him blowing your back out through the big windows. You wanted someone to see, for them to tell everyone you had him inside you. The thought make you clench down on his throbbing member.

His large hands groping your behind, pulling you back into him. Every harsh thrust had you inching on top of the table. “I— wanna see you when…I cum…” You plead.

Shit you were so cute, how could he say no to such a pretty thing. Umemiya easily flips you so your facing him, sitting on the edge of table. He’s finally able to see your adorable expressions. It has him harshly gulping when you look up at him all cockdrunk, gaze hazy, and your mouth agape. The sounds of skip slapping, your moans, and his grunts echoed throughout the empty building. The coil in your stomach makes you dig crescents into his arms. “Ume!”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back as you silently scream. A euphoric feeling fills your body. Gushing all over his length, soaking his pubes, and the tiles. His eyes crinkle when he sees how much of a mess you made. “Fuck that’s so hot—Squirting all over the place. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Heh, gotta mop the floor now.” He grunts out, struggling to plunge his dick into you at how hard you’re clenching. He captures your lips in a kiss, although it was more like a meeting of teeth. You’re looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “Ume—cum with me.”

“Shit, I’m close—“ He leans back to pull out and fist his cock over you. But you wrap your legs around his waist, “Cum in me!” You beg. “Fuck— I can’t. We can’t. Stop— if you don’t let me pull out—“ He’s clenching his jaw so hard to not spill into you. “No! Hngh—Wan’ it inside! Ume!” You’re imploring him, clenching down to try to milk him. “Your killing me here— if you don’t let me pull out..I’m gonna fucking cum.”

You want it so bad. You want his sperm in your womb. You want him to knock you up. Your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit—fuck. No— ah— fuck I’m cumming—!” Unable to hold himself back, he’s creaming into you, painting your walls white with his cum. His head is thrown back as he bites back a whimper. Tightening your legs even further, you’re milking him dry.

The both of you panting, trying to catch your breathes after the vigorous activity.

。・゜・゜・。

“Papa! How did you meet mama!” Your five year old questions with a mouthful of carrots. “Chew your food before talking.” You’re scolding her, wiping her mouth. “Hmm? She appeared in-front of me like a fairy!” Umemiya laughs. “Really? Really?! Mama is a fairy?”

“Don’t say such nonsense.” You smile and pinch his hand. “Am I a fairy too?” Your daughter claps her hands together. “The cutest fairy.” He reaches over to ruffle her hair. “What about my brother? What is he?” Umemiya’s eyes soften at his bubbly she is. “A fairy knight.” He grins making her giggle. The scene has your heart fluttering. Umemiya places a hand over your large stomach, “Isn’t he, honey?” Your daughter’s eyes sparkle as she looks at you. “Yes, he is. You’re all my fairies.”

Update: Thanks for all your responses. Yes, I went for it. We have a daughter and a son on the way. Happy mom and wife now, peace!

#tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker smut #umemiya smut #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya #mino.writes

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ellecdc · 7 months

Note

hello!!! i love love love ur dating regulus headcanons and i was wondering if ur down to make one with sirius 🥹🩷 maybe with a lil sprinkling of sworn enemies to reluctant friends to lovers 👀 bc reader is in slytherin and we all know how that goes……….

you just write these characters with so much love and care and so close to how they’d be and act irl!! 🩷

Oof we love some inter-house enemies to lovers - thanks so much for your sweet words and for your request! 🫶

Dating Sirius Black Headcanons: Slytherin Edition

To know Sirius Black is to know his deep distain for Slytherins.

It began as a kid when he finally took a look around at his family and thought “huh….I really don’t like any of you.” And he decided he’d like to be as different from his family as possible

Now, when you’re eleven, the options of being different than your family are limited.

One thing you can do, however? Is make sure you’re at least not a Slytherin like the rest of them.

If being ambitious, resourceful, determined, and clever … GREEN… meant being like the Black’s? No friggen thank you.

Now, again, when you’re eleven, your vision of the world is skewed. So, this meant that he believed everyone in green and silver robes were just as bad as the green and silver robes that raised him.

Including you.

Your relationship (if it can even be called that) started with Sirius Black as you were often the unfortunate victim of many Marauder pranks.

Some were relatively harmless…glitter bombs, stink bombs, charming the furniture of your common room to the ceiling, etc

Some were a little more distressing…charming your hair green, jinxing your textbooks to run away screaming every time you opened them, hexing you in the hallways

You came to accept that part of being a Slytherin was being the victim of some torment…it also meant hating the marauders

And it was so annoying because most of your house did actually deserve to be brought down a peg??? But you were literally just trying to get by so wtf.

You tried to keep your head down while also doing what you could to get back at the Marauders in your own little way

You just tried to be better than them at everything

It became a little bit of a competition between you and Sirius during shared classes

Better grades (usually you)

Who could raise their hand to answer first (Sirius)

Who could get the correct answer first (you)

Who brewed the better potions (roughly 50/50)

You weren’t about to put yourself on a broom and agree to have balls thrown at you – but you learned everything you could about quidditch through reading and became an avid cheerleader for your house team

This slowly morphed into always cheering for the competitors of whatever team Sirius was cheering for in the Quidditch World Cup

Now, Sirius is popular…especially in the dating field…he’s well aware of this, and he can’t help but admit it does beautiful things for his ego

But Sirius is not the kind of guy to appreciate a partner who is a ‘yes-man’

He doesn’t want a partner who is following at his heels all of the time

He’s not interested in a partner who thinks he’s always right and just takes his word for it

I truly believe Sirius would crave someone who would challenge him, push him to be better, someone who would teach him things instead of letting him be the smartest guy in the room

I also think he’d like someone who was kind of mean to him

“Hey L/N, couldn’t help but notice my name was above yours on the grades for last week’s assignments. Better luck next time, huh?”

“Sod off you stupid fucking wanker.”

He’d swoon a little I think

This turned into a little competition on his end to see if he could fluster you

“I didn’t know she-devils could be beautiful too, Y/N. You’re blowing my mind a little.”

“One too many bludgers to the head, Black?”

“Marauders are throwing a party in the room of requirement tonight. I usually don’t invite snakes but I’m sure we could make an exception for a pretty girl like you.”

“I’d rather choke on my own vomit.”

He’d try winking at you from across the room – he would only be spared an eyeroll.

He started making other comments, hoping to elicit at least a slight blush.

“You know, I hear you screaming at every Quidditch game. I can’t help but wonder how you’d sound screaming in my bed.”

You threw your pumpkin juice at him and left the Great Hall with a blank face.

It was infuriating - he loved it.

Unfortunately for you, because you two were matched in terms of grades for class, you were partnered up for a project

He seemed a little too joyed at the extra opportunity to try to rile you up

“Look, Black, I know you like to coast through life, but do not mess with my grades because of whatever little infatuation you have going on with me.”

He wanted to be offended that you accused him of a) coasting through life and b) being infatuated with you, but you just looked so cute glaring up at him with your little nose all crinkled.

“Yes ma’am” he said simply

You were surprised by his agreeableness, but chose not to think about it too hard lest he change his mind

You kept your eye on him though

He actually didn’t make that bad a project partner – he was relatively clever, generally knew what he was talking about, and while he couldn’t go more than twenty minutes without teasing you or hitting on you, you got your work done, and done well.

You’d been having a bad day – put simply. You woke up at four am to the Slytherin dungeons being flooded (a prank you were sure was courtesy of the Marauders).

Your entire house had to vacate the dorms whilst the professors and Filch found the leak and dried everything up

It wasn’t until nearly six o’clock that you were allowed back in the dorms – and even then, everything was damp. Then, you slept through your alarm making you miss breakfast – your uniform still felt damp no matter how many drying charms you cast on yourself throughout the day, you had bags the size of a hippogriff under your eyes, and you were exhausted

Thankfully, Sirius had the good graces not to make any comments when you rushed to the library late to meet him, and you were sure you looked like you were in a proper state

Unfortunately, Mulciber and Snape weren’t as eager to let it go

Without warning, the inkpots on your table exploded covering you and Sirius and your work in ink

“Stay out of the dungeons, Black” Mulciber sneered.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” you screeched.

Snape almost looked apologetic when he took in the state of you.

“Sorry, L/N,” Mulciber offered whilst sounding very unapologetic, “collateral damage”

“Fuck that!” you said as you stood from the table. “I’m so fucking sick of being everyone’s collateral damage. I had my room flooded this morning too, you wankers. I’ve had my hair charmed green. I’ve had my textbooks jinxed to bite me. I’ve been hexed walking down the halls. I’ve been given detention for being out of uniform because my robes and tie were charmed red and gold. All of this even though I’ve never done a thing to the Gryffindors, but I choose to ignore it because I know it’s really only meant to piss you sods off, and I’m supposed to be some proud Slytherin who doesn’t concern herself with such childish play. So, you don’t get to show up here and expect me to be understanding when you’ve just made an already shitty day 700 times shittier!”

You ignored the librarian’s shouts about detention, house points and the like as you stormed out of the library

You also missed the guilty expression that adorned Sirius’ face.

You ignored and avoided Sirius and his stupid puppy dog eyes for a week after that. You redid all of your work that had been ruined that day in the library, handed it to Sirius and said “proofread it and edit it if you want, otherwise, hand it in and we’re done” before walking away again.

He tried sending you notes in class which you crumbled and threw back at him

You stopped trying to best him – no more grade comparisons, no more races to answer questions first, no more challenges to brew the best potion. None of it

If he thought of you as a heartless, emotionless Slytherin, then that’s what you’d be.

He stopped trying to get your attention after a while

You noticed that the Marauder’s stopped targeting Slytherin as a whole

You couldn’t really bring yourself to be thankful for it

They still pranked Mulciber, Snape, Malfoy, and the likes, however, which you were thankful for

Until…

“L/N throws a fit and suddenly, Slytherins are left alone except for us. Tell me, did you tell your little blood-traitor boyfriend to lay off your friends?” Avery sneered condescendingly as you sat near the fountain in the transfiguration courtyard

You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore the lot of them

“pfft, hanging out with the likes of blood-traitors, next thing you know she’ll be whoring herself out to the likes of a filthy mudblood”

That you couldn’t ignore.

You saw red and, without thinking, launched yourself at Mulciber, both of you ending up in the water

Your fists seemed to have a mind of their own as they met the boy’s face over and over and over again

You felt your jaw click as his elbow met the side of your face and then the back of his hand struck you from the other side as he fought to get up from underneath you

You were both hauled out of the fountain by Hagrid, who was accompanied by Filch, and brought to detention

Unfortunately for you, Professor McGonagall was already hosting detention in the Transfiguration classroom – a few students plus the Marauders were sat quietly with quills and parchment in front of them when the squib caretaker pushed the door open, and the half-giant walked in with a sopping wet and bloody student in each hand.

“Caught these two fight’n, miss” he told her

“Oh, for goodness-” she started as she stood and came to inspect the two new arrivals.

“Mulciber, to the infirmary. Miss L/N-”

“I’m fine.” You spat, cutting the matron off.

“You should have your wounds seen to, young lady.” She admonished.

“I’m fine. Are you going to give me detention or not?”

The professor grimaced but pointed you to an empty desk where a quill and parchment materialized. “you’re to write a foot worth of parchment about why what you did was wrong. Once you’re done, you’re to sit quietly until I dismiss you.”

You took your seat but made no motion to grab your quill or parchment

“Miss. L/N, start your parchment.”

“I can’t, professor.”

Every detentionee turned to look at you – save Sirius who already had his eyes glued to you from the second you had walked in – as the professor “begged her pardon”

“The way I see it, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You said simply.

“You didn’t do anything wrong?” She repeated incredulously

“Nope. I think people who call women whore’s or use the term mudblood ought to have their teeth punched in.”

Sirius bit back a surprised snort at your response as he tried to ignore the warm feeling erupting in his chest

“Fine, Miss. L/N. You will sit their quietly until I dismiss you. Are you sure you don’t need to see Madame Pomfrey?”

You wiped at the blood from the corner of your lip with your equally bloodied hands. “positive”

Sirius was smitten

All of a sudden, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were? How lovely your voice sounded? And were you always so brilliant at everything you do?

He was even astounded by how gracefully you buttered your toast

Get a fucking grip, Black

I believe, to everyone’s absolutely shock, the cocky, playboy, Casanova Sirius became so unbelievably enamoured with you, he was so afraid to say anything to upset you/scare you away

But he wasn’t going to let you go

You still weren’t speaking to him, but you were no longer glaring at him – so this was a start

Every night you’d go to bed and there’d be a little tear-drop shaped chocolate on your pillow. You have no idea how it got there, who put it there, or even what a Hershey’s was.

And you knew better than to trust suspicious things found around the castle

So, you placed it in a jar on your bedside table and went about your life

A tear shaped chocolate was on your pillow every night for the rest of the week (until the end of school, quite frankly)

None of your dorm mates had any clue where they were coming from

Flowers were delivered to you every morning with the owl post. Not bouquets – but singular flowers

By the time you had a jar full of those Hershey thingies and a full vase of flowers, a note was delivered with a familiar scrawl: meet me in the Astronomy tower tonight at 8

Now, Black had been on his best behaviour lately – but you knew better than to show up with your guard down

Sirius waited on the astronomy tower lookout, chain smoking, taking on and off his leather jacket as he was concerned he looked “too much like a tool” as Remus put it, hoping by all the gods you would actually show

“Alright, what’s the deal, Black? Gonna throw me off the lookout? Put a spider down my shirt? Is there a bucket of slime somewhere?”

Sirius’ heart nearly stopped at the sound of your voice, and then he barked a laugh when he saw you standing there in dueling stance with your wand aimed at him

“First of all, why would I throw you off the tower? Second of all, those are amateur pranks, I think I’ve earned a better reputation than that.”

You seemed to consider that as you lowered your wand but continued to look around skeptically “We’ll see…”

“Did you like the kisses?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Sirius laughed

“The chocolates? They’re called Hershey’s kisses”

“That was you?”

“Uh huh, and the flowers”

“Why?”

Sirius smirked at you “for being so smart, you’re kind of dumb.”

“Sod off.”

“I fancy you, L/N.”

You stared at him in bewilderment “why?”

“Why?

“Why.”

“Let’s see. You’re the smartest witch I know. You put in me in my place every second sentence you speak. You’re talented, you’re stunning, I found out you attacked a man almost twice your size and won because he was a misogynistic racist and then refused to apologize for it, and because…you’re right.”

“I’m right about a lot of things, Black; you’re gonna have to be more specific”

“I was prejudiced too. My family was hateful and Slytherin, so I spent my life assuming all Slytherin’s were hateful; I know now that those words are not synonymous. And I took that out on the lot of you – you didn’t deserve that.”

Was Sirius Black admitting that he was 1) wrong, 2) taking responsibility and 3) declaring his feelings for you?

“You’re brilliant. I just thought you should know.” he said at your silence

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want, I suppose. Preferably give me a chance.”

“A chance to what?”

“To be yours.”

You said you’d “think about it” but to Sirius, you may as well have given him a resounding yes. He whooped and swept you up in a hug. He placed you back onto your feet and looked between your eyes and your mouth – a silent question.

In for a penny, in for a pound – am I right?

That was followed by a lot more kisses – chocolate and affectionate in kind

Sirius absolutely made some grand announcement in the Great Hall to establish that you were officially “thinking about” being his girlfriend so…. everyone can just do with that information what they will

You were horrified

You sent a stinging jinx at him for it

Definitely following around like a puppy who’s just so damn excited to see it’s owner

“What shops are we hitting at Hogsmeade first?”

“I didn’t realize we were going to Hogsmeade together?” you asked incredulously

Sirius scoffed as if you said something ridiculous. “’Course we are babe.” Which he accentuated by smacking a kiss on your cheek

The kind to buy you everything you even look at in the store

“Come on babe, I saw you eyeing that book; of course I bought it for you!”

You started going to Quidditch games even when Slytherin wasn’t playing

You refused to show up wearing a red scarf

Your green scarf was charmed red once you were stuck in the stands

How your relationship first began with Sirius Black back in your first year became a foundation of your relationship going forward

You spent the rest of your lives pranking, jinxing, and charming each other

#sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #dating Sirius black headcanons #sirius black headcanon #marauders au #marauders era #ask elle #reader insert #self insert #slytherin #gryffindor #inter-house rivalry #enemies to lovers #ellecdc fics

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vinamari · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝚂𝚈𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚂𝙸𝚂: You had no regrets as a jujutsu sorcerer, so why should you now?

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂: Unrequited love, pure angst, hurt/no comfort, character death, slight spoilers, Various!JJK x Reader, Gojo Satoru x Reader

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 3,377

“Shoko”, your voice hoarsely called out.

You felt your chest rise and fall as you drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep your breathing steady. She looked at your body which had been leaning against the rubbles of broken down buildings, far from where you currently were had been two special grade curses which had burned away. You were just holding on as she did everything she could to prevent you from leaving. Her eyes still hadn’t moved, staring at the ground beneath her feet like she was hypnotized.

You watched her for a few more seconds before calling her name out again.

“Hey, could just sit with me?”, watching as she bit her lip before walking towards you and taking a seat on the firm ground next to you. You knew she needed to get up and do something. But then again, what else could she possibly do? Your mind was just starting to function and become aware of the impact your body had taken, it didn’t matter now. You couldn’t feel anything waist down, Shoko knew that.

“Be here with me in my last moments, yeah?”, the words left your lips in a whisper, but they were loud enough to carry. You smiled slightly at her, knowing she couldn’t bear to look at you. “Don’t say that, you’ll be fine”, she said suddenly, she was clutching onto your hand.

She was lying to herself, she was lying to you. She knew very well the injuries you sustained would kill you, the blood loss was heavy and no one was around to help. Not even her. And neither of you deserved this, nor would those who find out. You weren’t supposed to end up like this, which is what she wanted to say. “Ieiri, it’s okay it isn’t your fault”.

It took her a few minutes before she could muster up some words, her shaking grip became tighter on yours, almost painfully so. “I know...I don’t want to leave you...”. Tears started to form in her eyes, but you knew she wouldn’t cry. You knew that if you cried then you might lose control of yourself too, and neither of you needed that right now. You tried hard not to cry too. Taking in a deep breath, “How are the kids?”, you asked her softly, hoping her mind wouldn’t go to the idea of you eventually passing away. She gave you a shaky smile. “They’re good, they all are safe”. You nodded, smiling a little.

“Instead my shirt is a pocket, it has something in there”, understand that you wanted her to take it out. She carefully undid the front of your shirt, you were wearing another shirt beneath it, looking for what you wanted she reached for the pocket, her fingers felt a photographic film. Pulling it out, she sees that the objects in her hand were two photographs. “I wanted too look at it for the last time”, your smile slightly wavering into a sad one.

The first photo had been from the time of when you all had been in the Jujutsu Highschool, it was a image inside an arcade area at a popular mall on Tokyo. The image depicted Gojo losing to Geto in a fighting game, with Geto high-fiving Shoko while you had comforted Gojo all while trying to hide your laugh. Shoko smiled dryly at the image, she wasn’t the one to reminisce in the past only to talk about it if you or someone else from back then had brought it up.

She heard a snicker beside her, despite the situation you were still laughing. “I still remember when Geto milked out all the money Gojo had for the week”, you said while looking fondly at the photo. Shoko looked at you with her tired eyes, unable to fight the small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, and then Gojo begged us for some money even though he’s rich”. Shoko looked fondly back at the picture, her eyes shining with memories. She shifted her hand so it would be between the both of you.

“Do you still remember when Gojo forgot to cast the veil?”, you ask with a chuckle. “Gojo was doing everything he could to try distract Yaga Sensei from it”, Shoko said thinking back on the memory before laughing. “Especially since we all just pointed at him”. You both couldn’t help but snicker at his misfortune.

“Geto wouldn’t stop teasing him about right after”, you said. “Geto..”, said the brown eyed girl. You glance upwards, “You ever wonder what it would have been like if things didn’t turn out the way they did?”, you said curiously. Half of your face had been covered in blood, you could feel it dripping down from your chin onto your clothes.

There was a long pause, Shoko thought for a moment. “Yeah”, she finally answered. She turned to face you, a faltering smile on her lips. “We all would have been happier, you would have been really happy”.

“Really what makes you think that?”, asking her in genuine tone. “Because you would have finally had what you wanted”.

A cough left your mouth, you knew what she was implying. It was the one thing you didn’t want to think about. “You can’t lie Y/N”, Shoko said. You closed your eyes, sighing. You opened them again, facing her directly. You shook your head, “No”, you admitted. “But, I really hoped to say it one day”, you said looking her dead in the eye, making sure she knew that you meant what you said. “However now, I can never say it personally”. Shoko was confused, what did you mean?

“What?”, urging you to continue you with your words. “In my apartment, when you enter my room go to my desk”, you paused before continuing. “The drawer which needs a key has two albums inside”. “The photographs of our time inside and out of Jujutsu High”.

Quickly taking in a breath, “There’s an envelope in which I confess, give it to him”. You looked at her with pleading eyes. “You kept all the photos?”, Shoko asked wide-eyed. “Of course I did, I thought it would be nice to think back”, you said thinking back to when you first had the idea. “However this picture is the last one I hadn’t put in yet”. Shoko didn’t dare say a word, she couldn’t believe you were going never to be able to confess, only through a little over a decade ago.

“He’ll love it”, she whispered, her throat closing up as she realized what you were planning on doing. “Just promise me one thing”. Shoko looked at you waiting for you to continue. “Tell them I loved all of them”. She could only nod at what you said.

“The second photograph”, you groaned out. Shoko brought forth the second picture putting the first one behind it. This one being of the new first and second years. “I’m glad I got to see these one last time”, you let out short breaths.

Shoko noticed your breaths become regular by the minutes, your chest was falling slightly faster all while your organs were slowly shutting themselves down. Shoko shifts so you could rest your head on her, the blood was now soaking up the white material of her coat, becoming damp in your blood.

“When I first met Yuuji, I felt terrible for the kid being put for execution”, grimacing at the statements the higher ups had made. “He’s bright and still has room to grow”, you smiled. “Nobara, despite her direct and indirect insults she is bright and determined”. “Lastly Megumi, comparing himself with Yuuji although they both are different”. Shoko continued listening to your rants about them all. “They were all like my kids you know”, you expressed fondly. Shoko knew you loved all of them equally and they loved you. You were there to help them, protect them, and keep them safe. “Although Megumi believed I would replace his mom which was his reasoning to avoid me, I always thought he was my son even if he didn’t think so mom or not”, remembering how he would do anything to avoid talking to you or even meeting you.

The dark haired boy had eventually grown to love you months after meeting him. He relied on you for more things then he ever would with Gojo. It felt as if you had made your own family with Gojo and Megumi, Tsumiki eventually came into the family as well. Making the entire family complete. However Gojo just simply thought you both were their guardians and nothing more. It hurt at first, considering that you liked him instead you brushed it off. In your own world inside your mind you all were a family. Delusional.

Shoko sighed, “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, hasn’t it?”. You nodded. “It’s almost impossible not to, especially now that I’m dying”. Shoko stared at you in disbelief. “You’re not dying!”. But you just laughed. “You think I’m immortal? You think I won’t die? What about those Special Grade curses who came here?”. You motioned to the now burned away curses. You were right, at this point you’re beyond the point from making a return. The only way you’d even live is if they had hooked you onto life support to keep you going, but you’d be bedridden your entire life. You wouldn’t want to live like that, you’d only suffer.

“Ieiri”, grabbing Shoko’s attention. “The day when Gojo said that Geto was his best friend, his one and only”

“I want you to know that you’re my best friend, you’re my one and only”. Shoko couldn’t help but cry, the day when those words left Gojo’s mouth it had made her feel as if she was never their friend, yet here you were comforting her when you’re getting closer to kissing death.

You pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks too. “I don’t have much time left”. Shoko sniffled and buried herself deeper into your embrace as the words left your mouth. You held her close and kissed her forehead. “I love you”, you said softly. “I love all of you, maybe in another world we all are happy”.

You rested your head against hers, your breaths were becoming shallower and your conscious was slowly leaving. Shoko didn’t know when your hand dropped to your side, the blood staining your shirt now darkening her white coat. She just stayed quiet watching the scene, knowing that you needed your peace and quiet as your breathing steadily slowed soon gone, your body losing strength and all feelings, finally your heart beating slower and harder than ever before before it came down completely with no pulse. You were gone.

Your body had gone limp against her, the warmth leaving your skin and being replaced by the chill of death. Your blood soaked through your clothes, the stench thick in the air. You had died in her arms, she couldn't bring herself to move your body.

The world was silent around you; all she heard was ruffling noises of her settling you on the ground. She wanted to cry, but nothing came. All that remained was grief for your loss of life. The two photographs that had been in her hand, she would make sure were in the albums. Taking the photographs, she put them away in the pockets of her white crimson stained coat.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she did so and a sharp pain shot through her body like an arrow of ice through her heart, freezing her where she stood. The sensation didn't last long however, it disappeared after seconds as the reality of what had just happened hit her. You died, you’re not here anymore.

Days have passed since your death, she had your body be brought to her lab while preparing for your funeral. The news of your death spread like wildfire among other jujutsu sorcerers as well as the council. The first years and second years had taken your death the worst, believing you’d come back just as Yuuji did. Denial was something shoko was unfamiliar with, she was usually straightforward when it came to stuff like this. Except this time. What else could she say, you were like a parental figure to them. Who wouldn’t be in denial if they lost someone they loved, especially if they died trying to just protect and keep you away from the very thing that would have killed them. But now she couldn’t lie to them anymore, so she tried her best to comfort them and assure them it would be alright.

It had been a complete mess for everyone, having to get used to you not being there to help them with certain things or training with them. Megumi, the raven haired boy had been in his dorm the entire day reflecting. He wishes he had opened up more to you, he wishes he hadn’t been as cold as he was to you when all you did was trying to take care of him. Here was crying at all the memories he had of you knowing there won’t be any new ones. Yuuji and Nobara hadn’t been as ecstatic, knowing that the one person that treated them like their kid who would treat their injuries wasn’t there anymore. It was hard waking up every day realizing you weren’t going to be there to help them in face of danger. Your funeral was couple days away. They still haven’t talked about you being dead. They don’t think Nobara has spoken in hours. Unusual for the girl since has a lot of things to say. Yuuji didn’t know what to do, he lost a lot of people such Nanami, grandfather, Junpei, and you were added onto that list.

No one knew where Gojo had been, when he did show up he still acted the same as if your death hadn’t taken any toll on him. When asked why he hadn’t shown up earlier or said anything at all he simply replied that he didn’t want to. Not even Megumi believed him. Although his response was infuriating they could only bite their tongues and hold it back.

“How could you just say that?!”, a voice yelled. It was Maki, she looked up to you due to your fighting abilities and had even asked you to train her from time to time. Inumaki and Panda could only look away at the scene. “Listen, jujutsu sorcerers die having to do this, Y/N just met the fate of it”. Before anyone could retaliate he simply warped away with the excuse of needing to meet the council.

The white haired male was deceiving himself with that response. The days he hadn’t been at the school he was helping Shoko plan the funeral and the days he wasn’t planning the funeral he would be thinking for hours about all your time back at the Jujutsu Highschool. The Gojo Satoru grieving for someone that hadn’t been so close to him like Geto Suguru who he himself had killed, it truly had left a scar on everyone. Even if it hurt him physically. He didn’t tell anyone though, he wasn’t ready to talk about the feelings he felt he never would be. He had thought they were long gone but apparently not. He wished you could be here to hear the words coming out of his mouth, the words that would explain everything. He wishes that you both could have at least been in love. Or at least been happy together, that he would have seen that in you sooner.

Now you were gone and he couldn’t change that. There was no way you’d ever come back. He should have listened to Megumi and told you. Maybe things could have turned out differently, you would have been able to call him for help. He hoped so anyway. He just wished that you two would have talked about how you felt, instead of pretending that the feelings weren’t there. Every jujutsu sorcerer has regrets, this just happened to be a major one for him.

It was the day of the funeral, many had been gathered around your body which was neatly placed in a casket. The inside of it had been filled with flowers and red roses. Your attire was completely changed from the previously ripped up one in which you died in. Everyone had said their condolences with faces either filled with smiles feeling nothing but sadness and grief, other which were still in denial. Gojo had simply looked at you with indifference not noticing the way his fist clenched when it had been announced to lower you into the ground. They all watched as the casket had been sealed shut and was slowly being lowered into the ground. Tears were silently streaming down their faces, the now cloudy sky had started to share it’s own grief. The droplets simply pouring onto the casket before dripping down. Heads were hung low refusing to watch as the dirt hit the coffin.

The sound of weeping became deafening, no one dared speak above a whisper. The silence was killing everyone, it was as if the weight of your absence was pressing down on their chest. No one dared to leave, they were terrified, it was too soon to see you buried, it would feel too real. This was a dream that they all wanted to wake up from. The wind picked up and carried the scent of rain and flowers away. People took this as their cue to start dispersing until only Gojo remained near your grave. He had been the last to leave, setting down a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

A day had passed since your funeral, Shoko knew you wouldn’t want them to grieve. She had been inches away from your apartment, opening the door and turning the lights on. She trudged towards your room before finally reaching your desk. She had taken out the two albums going through all the memories you had collected. The first album, being from when you guys were sorcerers the second one being of the new first years mixed with the second years. She realized there had been the same space in both albums to fit the photographs, taking them out she carefully place them in to their rightful spot. Before closing the album first album, an envelope was sticking out.

To Gojo, signed off by your name. She quickly retrieved both the albums and the note before driving off to the dorms calling all first and second years as well as Gojo. They were reluctant until it was mentioned that you wanted them to have something.

They had all surrounded Shoko in anticipation, until she presented the second album to them titled “My Kids”. They took it as they all looked over the photographs you had taken of them through the time you had been with them, it was a parting gift from you to them. They all couldn’t stop the tears which had started streaming down their faces as they all relived their moments with you. The first album Shoko had decided to show Gojo personally as well as handing him the letter you had written which confessed your feelings. Shoko stepped out of the room leaving Gojo by himself.

He decided to go through the album looking at the pictures longer in order to feel as if he was there. One by one he remembered every moment with you and the others. After closing the album, he read the letter which had sitting neatly to his side waiting to be opened almost a decade ago. Mentions about you not wanting to ruin your friendship yet wanting to if it meant you having a chance with him. His hands were creasing the edges of the paper, he only wished you had told him sooner and maybe just maybe he could have loved you before you died. To know what it meant to love. To know that it could be possible to do so, it made him smile sadly to himself.

You hadn’t died with regrets, however it left others with a regret of their own.

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dawnisatotalqueen · 7 months

Text

PROMISE

title: promise

character: steven hyde x reader

warnings: alcohol use, marijuana use, mentions of virginity, mentions of assault, cursing, semi frequent use of l/n (last name), zen masters (jackie x hyde) if u squint

summary: when you met the boys, you made a promise to never date any of them. though this gets harder and harder to follow as you all get older and more attractive.

disclaimer: i do not support danny masterson in any way, shape, or form. i just have an attachment to hyde </3

word count: 2972

part two

You were a maneater. At least, that’s what your friends said and you didn’t necessarily disagree. In your mere 17 years of life, you had accumulated nearly 30 boyfriends. In a town like Pointplace, there weren’t very many eligible bachelors, and it didn’t help that you swore off dating the hottest one.

Years prior, at the very beginning of middle school, when you had met Kelso, Foreman, and Hyde, you made a promise. You promised to yourself, and to them, that you would never date them. You enjoyed their company a lot, which is exactly why you didn’t want to risk dating any of them.

Naturally, as time progressed and Fez joined the group, he was included in the group of boys you wouldn’t date, though in all honesty, you probably never would have dated him regardless.

As you got older, you had started to ever so slightly regret your promise because as you got older, so did the boys, and oh boy, was one of them hot.

Hyde was gorgeous and exactly your type. But did you think Hyde was hot because he was your type, or did you think he was hot because he set the standard for your type? The world may never know.

To put those feelings aside, you upped the ante on your dating game. You were the most “desirable” out of your friend group except for maybe Donna or Jackie. You dated jocks, nerds, stoners, and basically any other clique in your high school.

That led you to now, walking into Eric Foreman’s basement, which is where you usually were, waiting for a guy to show up for a date.

You wore a pretty black dress and your signature green bomber jacket.

Donna was the first to look over, whistling with a grin. “Damn! You look great.”

Jackie looked over, gasping a little and pushing up off of Kelso to rush over to you. “That dress is gorgeous!! Much better than what you usually wear.” She looked over the dress.

You giggled at the backhanded compliment. It was something you were used to with Jackie, and you found it endearing. “Thanks! Got it just for the date. Definitely keeping it, though.”

Hyde raised a brow. “You don’t usually dress up for dates. Must really like the guy, huh?” You didn’t notice it then, but he shifted uncomfortably, his posture tensing.

“Damn it!! Stupid lucky guy, getting (L/N) to dress up all nice for him..” Kelso crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

“At least we get to be blessed with the sight.” Fez sighed happily.

“I don’t know, I don’t really like him.” You shrugged. “He’s just takin’ me somewhere fancy, figured it was the least I could do.”

“Well, you look great. Hope you have fun.” Donna got up, patting you on the back.

“Thanks!! I’ll swing by after, yeah?”

“We’ll leave the door unlocked.” Eric commented, smiling.

“Great!” You heard a honk outside. “That’s my queue. Cya!” You grinned, heading out the door.

Hyde rolled his eyes, or, that’s what everyone assumed. It was a little hard to tell with the glasses. “Doesn’t even have the decency to knock, and she’s giving this guy a shot?” He scoffed.

“Someone sounds jeaaalouusss!!” Kelso snickered.

“I’m not jealous. I just think (L/N) could do better than some dude who can’t even knock on the door.”

“It’s okay if you’re jealous, Hyde! I mean, she’s going out with a popular jock. It makes sense you’d feel insecure.” Jackie returned to her spot next to Kelso.

“Why would I care?”

“It’s obvious you guys have a little back and forth thing.” Jackie giggled.

Donna hummed, leaning against the couch. “I figured you guys would’ve at least made out by now.”

Hyde scoffed. “Never gonna happen. She literally swore off ever dating me, Foreman, and Kelso.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” Eric raised a brow.

“No.” Hyde was almost too quick to answer. What he didn’t say was that he thought you were out of his league. He was a teenage dirtbag, and while you were their friend, you also were more of a social floater than anything. You dated jocks and the most popular guys in school. He’d be stupid to think you could ever be interested in dating him..

Right?

It had been a couple of hours since you left, and everyone had sort of faded out. Eric retreated upstairs to his room, heading to bed, and everyone else had returned to their respective houses.. Everyone except for Hyde, that is, as he had found himself recently staying in the Foreman’s basement after an incident with his Mom.

He lounged on the couch, taking a puff from a blunt that he had rolled when he heard the door open.

You stumbled in, reeking of cheap booze. More importantly, though, you had visibly been crying. Your mascara left streaks down your face, and your nose was red and puffy.

“What happened?” Hyde sat up straight, stiffening. Did that guy hurt you? He would kick his ass if he hurt you–

“That guy was a douche.” You huffed. “Got me drunk, then tried to get laid.” You wobbled over to the couch, sitting next to him. You held out your hand, and Hyde got the message, passing you the blunt.

“Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Pushed him off.” You deeply inhaled the smoke before blowing it out, sighing. “Sucks. Used to it, but it sucks.”

“You’re used to it?” He stared at you, a little bewildered.

“Most guys get pissy when I won’t sleep with them.” You kicked off your heels, leaning back. “Don’t wanna lose my virginity to some guy I don’t even like.. Is that bad?” You looked at him, frowning.

“That’s not a bad thing.” He pushed a piece of your hair out of your face. “Plenty of people wanna save it for someone special. Like the whole til marriage shit.” He shrugged.

“Guess so..” You looked down before smiling, nudging him. “Why can’t every guy be as nice as you?”

He raised a brow. “You think I’m nice?”

“Yeahh!” You grinned, your slurring words the evidence of the alcohol still in your system. “In your own way. Liike, you may not act like it, but I think you care about everyone. At least a little. Like when you took Jackie to prom! Or now, you’re comforting me after a shitty date.”

“If you keep goin’ you’re gonna make my ego big.” He snickered.

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Shut upp.. Point iss, you’re super sweet in your own way, and that’s what mattersss..”

He wrapped his arm around you. “You flatter me too much.”

After you didn’t respond, he looked over and realized you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He sighed a little, propping you up and then picking you up. He took you to his room, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

He sat down next to you, watching you for a second. You looked so completely and utterly peaceful. He let out a breath before standing up.

Was your promise all that was stopping him from pursuing you?

He stood still for a second before heading to the door and flipping off the light. “Night, doll.”

You were very confused when you woke up the next morning, and you were in Hyde’s bed. You were still in the same clothes from the night before, and there was no evidence that anyone else had been in bed with you, so you felt pretty confident that you didn’t sleep together.

You scooted off of the mattress, getting up and peeking your head out the door. You didn’t see anyone in the basement, so you figured it must’ve been earlier in the day. You walked around, spotting a blanket on the couch, and you figured Hyde must’ve slept on it. But, he was nowhere to be found.

You decided to head upstairs and hopefully wash your face, maybe even get a change of clothes that Laurie left behind.

When you opened the door to the basement, you hissed a little upon seeing that the Foreman family were all sitting around the table, eating breakfast like the classic sitcom family.

You turned around, trying to tiptoe down the hallway when the floor board underneath you squeaked. You hissed, turning around when you heard Kitty’s voice behind you. “Y/N? Is that you? This early in the morning?”

You turned around, smiling awkwardly. “Ah.. Yeah, sorry. I um– I let myself in.”

Kitty gasped a little, getting up from her chair. “Goodness! You look awful!”

You assumed she was referencing your tear smudged makeup. “Yyyeah.. Rough night.”

“Let me get you cleaned up.” She put a hand on your shoulder, ushering you through the hall.

That left the boys in the kitchen. Red looked at Hyde, raising a brow. “You slept on the couch last night.

Hyde paused. “Yup.” He shoved a bite of his food in his mouth.

“Did she stay over?” Red leaned back in his chair, eyeing the curly haired boy.

Eric whistled lowly. “Dang, Hyde. Maybe Jackie was right about you being jealous.”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. She had a crappy date and passed out. I didn’t wanna wake her up just to make her leave.”

Red looked at him for a second before raising his brows. “Well, that was nice. But you two really need to stop letting random kids crash here.” He cringed.

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom with Kitty. You washed your face, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were a little swollen, but it was nothing major. You sighed a little before Kitty spoke. “I’ll get some clothes from Laurie’s room for you to change into. I can wash your clothes for you.”

You smiled at her, nodding. “That’d be appreciated, thank you.” You took off your jacket, handing it to her.

She smiled at you, taking your jacket before freezing when she saw your wrists.

You hadn’t realized it, but the jackass that you went on a date with had left bruises on you when he was trying to get handsy.

“Did.. Someone..” Kitty trailed off.

“No! No, no. Nothing like that. I, uh, I pushed him off of me.” You reassured her.

She frowned. “Oh, dear.. That had to have been hard.”

You looked to the side, frowning a little. “...Yeah.”

She put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Well, you’re safe now. And you’ll have clean clothes soon enough.” She smiled, heading out the door and getting you some clothes.

Laurie’s clothes were comfortable. Kitty got you a pretty simple tank top and some pajama pants, which you didn’t mind. She told you she’d let you know when your clothes were clean, so you made your way down to the basement. It had been about an hour since you had seen Hyde and Eric since you took a shower during that time.

The usual group had gathered in the basement during that time, watching something stupid on TV. You made your way down the stairs, running a hand through your hair.

You casually walked over, sitting on the arm of the couch, putting you next to Kelso and Jackie. Only then did everyone realize you were there.

“Hey (L/N)!” Donna grinned, raising a teasing eyebrow. “How was your hot date–” She paused when she saw your appearance. Slightly swollen eyes and bruised wrists were the first thing to stand out.

“Jeez! You look awful!” Jackie looked over at you, and you couldn’t help the giggle that came out. She sounded just like Kitty.

You hummed. “The date was shit, but it’s cool. Didn’t really like the guy anyway, and I got free food.” You shrugged it off.

Hyde watched you, his eyes drifting down your body before they landed on your wrists. He didn’t see that the night before. You really did have to fight off that douche-bag.

Donna got up from where she was next to Eric, going to the back of the couch and hugging you. “Aw.. I’m sorry, babe. You can do better anyway.”

“Like Hyde said yesterday, you could do way better than a guy who honks!” Fez hummed, nodding to himself.

You blinked, looking in Hyde’s direction, seeing him shrug. “It’s true.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up, and your eyes soften, but before you could dwell on the butterflies in your stomach, you heard a honk from outside. You all paused, and Eric looked in your direction. “Do you have another date?”

You shook your head, getting up off the couch. “Who could that be?” You went to the door, opening it and going up the outside stairs, spotting a familiar car. “..Oh god.”

The guy you had gone out with the day before got out of his car, spotting you. “(Y/N)-- Can we talk?”

You grimaced, crossing your arms. “Why?”

You could hear your friends gathering up behind you as you walked up the driveway.

“Listen, I get kind of weird when I’m drunk, I didn’t mean to be so pushy.” The boy frowned, looking down at you.

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “And I suppose you didn’t mean to ditch me and make me walk home too then?”

“You had to walk here?” Before you knew it, Hyde was by your side, looking at you.

You looked at him, frowning a little before shrugging. “Yeah. It’s–”

“Please, just– just give me another chance.” The boy stepped closer to you, trying to grab your shoulders.

Hyde stepped between you, pushing the guy away by his chest. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“And who do you think you are?” The guy stood up straight, getting in Hyde’s face.

“I’m her friend. And I don’t appreciate how you treated her.”

“Well, frankly, I think it’s none of your business how I treat her.”

“It kind of is when she busts into my basement crying.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I was just trying to have some fun.” The guy rolled his eyes. “And the bitch was basically asking for it with that dress–”

Hyde punched him, and he held his bleeding nose. The guy growled, throwing a punch at Hyde, and before you knew it, they were fighting. You squeaked, reaching your hand out. “H– hey there’s no need to fight it’s fine–”

The guy elbowed you. Right in the eye.

You hissed, holding your face. “Fuck–”

Hyde looked between you and the guy for a split second before he nailed his knee into his stomach. “You’d seriously fucking hit a chick?! What is wrong with you?!”

The guy coughed, holding his stomach and backing up toward his car, hurrying in.

“Yeah, screw off!” Hyde called after him, looking over to you.

Donna and Jackie rushed over to you, Donna, holding your shoulders. “O– ow shit– How bad is it?” You moved your hand off of your eye.

Jackie hissed. “Yikes. That’s gonna bruise. But it’s okay!! I have some absolutely great makeup that’ll cover it up, no problem!”

You giggled a little through the pain. “Ah, I don’t think that’s my biggest concern–” You looked in Hyde’s direction. “Are you okay?”

You and Hyde were left alone in the basement as the others were grabbing some stuff to help with your current conditions. Donna and Eric were getting an ice pack, Jackie was getting her makeup, and Kelso and Fez… Well, they were doing something.

You held a warm washcloth, dabbing at the little cuts and bruises on Hyde’s face. It was one of the few times you had seen him without his glasses for such a long period of time.

Once you were done, you sighed, smiling at him. “Y’know, you don’t need to get into fights for me.”

Hyde leaned back. “What? For you? Nah, the guy just had a very punchable face.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Right, right, my bad.”

He straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Well, uh, are you good? I mean, that guy said some pretty nasty things..”

You shrugged a little, looking down. “I’m all good. He’s not the first guy to react like that to me rejecting them. He is the first guy to give me a black eye though.”

At the mention of your black eye, Hyde leaned forward, pushing your hair out of your face and oh so carefully touching your cheek. “Does it hurt?”

You stared at him, your breath hitching. “A little.”

He seemed to take in the fact that the two of you were mere inches away. He swallowed, looking down at you. “(L/N).. I uh.. I didn’t like that you went out with that guy.”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “Why? Because he was like– a douche?”

“I mean, yeah, but I think it was ‘cause I uh…” He licked his lips. “I might, uh..”

Before he could say what he had on his mind, Donna and Eric made their way down the stairs, and you and Hyde quickly scooted away from each other.

Donna handed you the ice pack, and you pressed it to your eye, hissing a little.

“Jackie will be back with her makeup pretty soon, but I’d suggest not putting it on at least until the swelling goes a little down.” Donna hummed.

“Yeah, she–” Eric had started to go on a ramble about something, but you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were on Hyde, who had casually gone back to his chair, acting as if your moment didn’t happen.

Was he going to say he liked you? What would that mean for your relationship? You were attracted to him, you had to admit, but did you like him?

Should you break your promise?

#x reader #fem reader #friends to lovers #hyde x reader #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #maneater!reader #playgirl!reader

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dentos-wife · 2 years

Text

Let’s talk how about Chrom and Robin’s bond evolved over time

With everyone clamoring over the new emblem I wanted to take a look back how we got here with their relationship and why I think at this point Chrobin is the intended or inferred Chrom pairing when it didn’t used to be.

In 2012 we got Fire Emblem Awakening, and as Chrom was related to Marth, his inferred pairing was Sumia a pegasus knight as a nod to Caeda, Marth’s canon wife. Granted because part of Awakening’s charm is you could pair anyone up, you didn’t have to pair Chrom up with Sumia if you didn’t wish to. But to IS she was the intended choice.

She had special scenes with Chrom and was the most likely to end up paired with him if you weren’t gunning for a specific wife for him

And you see her here in the opening with Lucina

Robin is you, the avatar, they don’t even have official art, just them with a hood

They had a canon design what we all know now but it wasn’t really used. And that should have been it as far as IS was concerned. Awakening was their last hurrah. And then FE blew up.

Robin’s canon design is now getting used, both the male and female version are now in Smash Bros. Then we have Warriors and Heroes and the Awakening cast shows up more. But not Sumia. Perhaps it’s because she’s not popular or the people flocked to Cordelia instead but she is the pegusus knight everyone loves. Sumia isn’t even in Warriors or the base FEH she gets added much later to FEH only with other less popular Awakening characters.

It’s here when FE became more maintstream I believe that IS changed their tune on Sumia being the intended wife and retconed it. I fully think Sumia was dropped and they no longer had an intended pairing for him all because she just wasn’t popular. Him and Robin were close of course they always were, obviously some would see it as friendship others would see it as something more the usual nothing really changed there.

And then 2022 ten full years after Awakening’s release...this happened

Couple things here. I fully believe the reason Chrom was paired with MRobin here instead of FRobin is for two big reasons reasons.

1) If they paired him with FRobin it canonizes a pairing so MRobin is the safer option, FEH doesn’t usually pair men and women unless they’re already a pairing. So MRobin got paired with Chrom and FRobin was on her own but she still has lines about how much Chrom meant to her.

2) MRobin is the more popular Robin as has been shown every year in CYL and he’d even win next year

So Chrom and Robin were always close it was a no brainer to make them a duo unit, they picked the male version on a very family oriented banner.

That said some of these lines...well let’s just say if a man and a woman were saying that to each other there would be no doubt here. Imagine if this Robin was the female version

Robin: There's Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, Frederick... I think we've got gifts for everyone. Don't we? Chrom: Well, all but one. What would you like your gift to be, Robin? Robin: What? Me? You can't just come out and ask like that, you know. There are rules! Chrom: You know I don't care about that. Just tell me what you want. Robin: Truthfully...I can't think of anything. Chrom: You don't want anything? Aw, come on. Think of the bind that puts me in. Robin: You gave my life meaning when I had nothing—not even my memory. The sense of purpose I've found at your side, working for peace in the world, is all I could ever ask for. Chrom: You're not alone in that, you know. I feel the same way. That's why I wanted to give you something nice. To show you how I feel. Robin: All right, all right. In that case, why don't you give me one of those flowers you're wearing? Chrom: It's only going to wilt. Robin: I'll press it into one of my books. That way I'll never forget this Day of Devotion.

Snippet from their duo convo. Usually when someone gives flowers it’s considered a pretty romantic gesture I’ve heard plenty of people call this alt playfully the gays and yeah this is very strong.

FRobin even comments on them in one of her lines.

“That man with Chrom is a Robin from another world, right? They get along so well, I'm almost jealous...“

There was no need for that line at all, we can tell from their lines how flipping close they are but they felt the need to have another character comment on it in base lines

I do believe MRobin was used not to canonize a pairing...at first. And then they gave up because it looked like people really liked it going even further in the next year.

In Awakening Chrom and Robin refer to themselves as two halves of the same whole which is already a loaded term. But it’s never been used after and was just part of the game

Enter the next time they pair up as the Emblem of Bonds which brought that back for the first time since 2012, in full force

Correct me if I’m wrong but no one besides them have referred to each other as their other half in Awakening

Lucina does it in Engage. For reference other half means husband, wife or partner (romantic). I think after the Valentine’s alt they decided sure why not and now they’re really going in with Robin being Chrom’s other half when they only touched the term once past Awakening in a FRobin cipher card. Other half in Engage is Robin and he pops up when engaged with Chrom to mix magic with the attack. I don’t doubt you can mean a friend with this term but when paired with everything else they say to each other, it’s pretty strong evidence it’s further than friendship.

Okay now for the the ultimate Robin is now Chrom’s intended partner view, Legendary Robin also released this year

“Tactician of Ylisse. Celebrated as Exalt Chrom's other half in the legends that followed their exploits. Appears in Fire Emblem Awakening. “

I saw some people argue exalt could mean Lucina too but no it doesn’t, it clearly means Chorm it says so and if you didn’t believe that, we got a map that was the two called Chrom and his other half. Which is Robin.

His art also references his other half status, he now wears blueish green jewelry which stands for Chrom and the brand of the exalt is on his chest plate

Finally in his damage art he once again has the symbol of the exalt formed in magic.

And a ring, some have argued it’s his clothes but usually the magic gauntlets he wears are on his middle finger and not under his gloves; pretty sure it’s a ring, it’s even on the ring finger of his left hand, where you generally put a wedding ring.

All this together is some very strong evidence, but put it with everything else they’ve done since last year and it’s clear to me, IS now is pushing Chrom and Robin as the intended pairing. Not canon like Marth and Caeda or Alm and Celica, but intended like they do with Eliwood and Ninian and some others I’m probably forgetting. And because MRobin is who they use and their “canon” sort of like FCorrin is the “canon” Corrin, IS is strongly hinting at MChrobin

Which fascinates me, we went from Chrom with a intended implied wife to scrapping it and pretended it never happened to this, Chrom with an intended husband. Him and his best friend, both two guys, very much in love. In ten years IS changed it’s mind on the intended canon pairing that isn’t even possible in the base game. They are a fate defying duo, the emblem of bonds, the exalt and his other half, two halves of the same whole and they are showing that in symbolism harder than ever. I think that’s really cool

To end this I’m aroace and see romance a little differently from the amatonormic norm Chrom and Robin could just be really good friends lord knows I also think friendship should be just as important as romance BUT if they were, it’s very clear they are each others most important person over any wife they might separately have. But even that doesn’t follow a typical heteronormative relationship no? Chrom and Robin’s bonds are so strong they transcend the concept of romance and friendship as we know it, there is no name for the type of love they share it’s beyond us.

But what about Lucina? (and Morgan) In a world with magic, dragons, people dying and coming back to life, time travel and more the idea of two guys somehow having a child is no longer far fetched at all really, or even surrogates exist.

Also they act like kind of like dads with her and it’s really cute

Now granted IS could remake Awakening and MRobin will still not be able to marry Chrom and this whole analysis would have been for naught but I think if they do remake it they’ll add it. Look at how many people have been introduced to them just through Heroes and Engage you don’t think people are going to want to pair up the exalt and his other half in their game?

To sum it up, yes there literally is no heterosexual explanation for where IS has taken this. It wasn’t originally the intended pairing but it sure is now, I don’t think there is any room for denial anymore until we see what they do with a remake.

#chrobin #fire emblem #MChrobin #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem engage #analysis #like at this point if you don't like it you can ignore it but it's VERY clear to me IS is going with it now #if Sumia was more popular would we still have ended up here? Dunno #this all is still the same for FRobin btw but she's not who IS is pushing as the canon Robin but it still stands #anything she gets with Chrom? Take the same way Chrom loves all Robins #if you read all this I love you

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lainiespicewrites · 1 year

Text

Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

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I was locked in a trance, typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student. The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his.

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher!

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately.

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress.

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it.

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded.

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly.

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk.

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now.

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear.

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue. “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off.

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second.

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled.

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no.

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,”

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath.

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him.

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned,

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled

“You don’t!” I scoffed

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked.

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush.

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far.

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile.

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him.

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder.

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled.

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled.

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway.

“Don’t start!” I warned her.

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated.

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her.

“Get back to work!” She laughed.

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work.

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again.

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond.

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer.

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her.

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged.

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass.

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it.

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said.

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look.

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said.

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned.

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!” She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine.

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said.

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second.

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing.

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table.

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier.

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional.

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face.

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked.

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.” I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me. I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!” She bounced in her seat.

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine.

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked.

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left.

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked.

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed.

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to object but Hayley cut me off.

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated.

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed.

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends.

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled.

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard.

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment.

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile.

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second.

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk.

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin.

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway.

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be.

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze.

“It was one time!” He stressed.

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded.

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking.

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed.

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked.

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it. He slid in next to me and started the engine.

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly.

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin. I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk.

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest.

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.

“Ow!” He pouted.

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted.

“We’re not married Sy!”

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.”

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break.

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!”

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile.

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again.

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled.

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo.

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly.

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy.

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled.

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress.

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something.

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now.

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head.

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back.

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye.

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked.

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned.

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound.

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face.

“How?” It was my turn to be confused.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly.

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!”

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted.

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively.

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said.

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled.

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip.

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked.

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded.

“Yeah, we better get going.”

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velocesainz · 5 months

Text

Pining turned jealousy

Percy Jackson masterlist | Main masterlist| Taglist |

Summary: Leo likes you and has liked you ever since he came to camp. He hasn’t had the guts to say anything but an incident with a close friend of yours changes everything

Warnings: smut, degradation, characters are 18-19

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Poseidon!fem!reader; Luke Castellan x reader (platonic)

Leo pov:

I had just finished a project I was working on for a whole week.

I felt accomplished and went out for a walk and to get some fresh air

As I walked along I saw y/n with Luke

They seemed to be having a lot of fun laughing and talking

I’ve like y/n ever since I joined camp but I’ve never even been able to talk to her

I’m sure she doesn’t even know I exist

She’s the daughter of the big three and an absolute hero

She’s so cool and popular and I’m just me.

Both of them sat down by the lake and I sat down a little far away from them Sk they wouldn’t notice me

Luke pov:

I could see Leo watching and following me and y/n to our usual hangout spot next to the lake. Y/n and Leo have liked each other for so long yet they are oblivious of the others feeling for them.

I came up with a plan to finally get these two idiots together at last. The whole camp has been waiting for this moment to come.

I scooted closer to y/n and placed my hand on her waist pulling her close to me. Making sure Leo could see everything

I saw rage fill his eyes as I whispered dumb stuff about her brother to her and watched her laugh her lungs out

Noticing he still hadn’t made any moves yet I decided to go for my last resort.

I pecked her on the cheek and she stopped talking and stared at me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Leo stomping his way over grabbing u/n who was now completely red and dragged her away.

My mission was complete and now they would finally stop looking like sad little idiotic puppies in love

Leo pov:

I don’t know what happened to me but when I saw Luke kiss y/n I saw red.

Rage consumed me and I walked over to both of them grabbing y/n and dragging her with me to her cabin

When we got there I threw her onto her bed, climbing over her and pinning her down “You’re such a bad little whore you know that? Spending intimate moments and time with other men when you clearly belong with me” I whispered into her ear

“You know if this weren’t the circumstance I would’ve taken my time with you. But you’ve been a very bad girl so don’t expect me to be gentle” I warned her as I started to take her clothing as well as mine off

I slowly shoved my cock inside her tight wet little pussy earning a loud moan from y/n

I started thrusting in and out almost immediately not giving her time to adjust

“Yea you like that you cock slut? Like when I’m fucking you’re like this baby? All hard and Roth with no mercy” I asked

She responded with a loud moan which told me she couldn’t be more happy

We both approached our climax as I could feel her walls clenching around me

“Cum whore, cum for me”

After we both caught our breaths I cleaned her up and we both went to sleep cuddling not caring about what anyone had to say

Grateful to be in each others arms at last

A/n: Sorry if it was short hope you all enjoyed this fic, as always leave me feedback and recommendations. I’m sorry for being so slow with writing fics but uni has been kicking my ass, I’ll try and update more let’s see kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson smut #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan

154 notes · View notes

calypsocolada · 6 months

Text

VIGILANTE | denji <3

synopsis: you're just the vigilante denji has been searching for... request: "yo! was watching birds of prey and got a thought. sfw, preferably, harley quinn! fem! reader x denji. like denji's out on patrol or something idrk and she's out there causing trouble and fighting and basically like the scene where harley was getting chased by the cop and then throws garbage and a truck driver gets shot and she jumps onto a ladder and stuff. lol ik that's a lot sorry. i dont rlly know where to continue on what else sorry 😭😭" authors note: HI! thanks for the request... this may not be exactly what you requested but I still was inspired by your request to write this. this one goes out to you!! <3 i might write a part two, this one was fun :) cw: nsfw but no smut, potential assault/drink spiking, slightly unhinged reader, blood, gore, severing of body parts, characters aged up to 20's, angst, fluff, touch starved denji, lonely denji, not proofread, (let me know if I missed any!) wc: 4.6k

click here for my masterlist

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You’d been looking to cause trouble. A lot of things led you to this very moment and to say you were ashamed was just plain wrong. You liked the trouble. You liked making people nervous, you liked that power you could hold over someone's head. After going so long without any power of your own it was nice to finally make someone else feel weak once in a while. No it wasn’t healthy and no you didn’t care. Because it felt good. It felt good to terrorize people. To hear their pleads of mercy.

You never went after actually innocent people. You hunted devils. And you killed a lot of devils that disguised themselves as humans. The news called you the Night killer, they called you a serial murderer. It wasn’t fair… they didn’t know the true personality of the people you ended. Night was the easiest for you to move around in without being detected. You had things to do in the daylight, boring day to day things. But when the night set it was time to let loose a bit.

You had to be a bit more careful recently though. Some celebrity hero had been patrolling the streets recently. Doing good and all. You knew he was looking for you. And you weren’t sure how well you’d fare against chainsaws.

It was your birthday weekend so your friends decided to take you out. It was some popular club downtown that you all ended up at after dinner. Sweaty bodies and strobing lights you knew only terrible things could come out of unattended drinks and loud music so you kept an eye on all your friends. That’s when you saw him, some guy with a predatory look in his eyes as he stared down your friend. You could tell his intentions right away. You had a knack for it. You could also tell he’d been just the one you were hunting for. The devil that had killed a woman just last week. You’d watch him for a bit and sure enough, after touching and getting slapped away by multiple women, he walked and chatted up your friend for a bit before slipping away to buy her a drink. You watched him non stealthily slip something into it, a grin spreading across his lips, an even bigger one spreading across yours. He really thought he could get away from destiny? You didn’t think this night could get any better but here was a perfect excuse to spill blood on your birthday. You downed your drink and slinked your way through the crowd and when he turned to make his way back to your friend you purposefully bumped into him, spilling the drink all over the front of his tacky white and gold shirt.

“Oh… shit, I’m so sorry!” You faked an apologetic look and scrambled for some napkins and pressed it to his wet chest.

“Come on-- watch where you're-” The moment he saw you it was like lights filled his eyes. His eyes widened as he looked from your eyes to your cleavage than back up. “No… excuse me, pretty lady.” You giggled, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“Can I buy you another drink?” You asked innocently, keeping your hands against his chest.

“Don’t you worry about that, dear.” He crooned and it took everything in you not to cringe. Instead you pushed closer to him, talking into his ear so he could hear you over the loud music. “You sure, baby?” You ask, a rasp sliding into your voice. The man nodded his head, his hand sliding against your waist.

“Wanna dance?” He asks, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver in disgust but he doesn’t see it that way.

“Lead the way.” You say and he sure does, his hand sliding just above your ass as he pulls you on the dance floor, turning you around so he can press himself against your behind. The dance was fueling the fire. You couldn’t wait to lure him outside. You wondered how many girls he’d drugged, wondered how many girls he’d touched without permission. The way he touched you now was telling you everything you needed to know, this man took what he wanted.

And so would you.

After all you could handle of this man, you pushed him back a bit.

“Wanna get some air?” You asked and he agreed almost instantly. He slid his arms around your waist and hips as you led the way out of the club. There were a few people loitering outside so you led him to the side alleyway. The moment you two were alone he grabbed you rather forcefully and pushed you against the wall, he leaned in to kiss you but your hand shot up and you grabbed him tightly by the chin. He froze, a look forming in his eyes. He was enjoying this.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” You rasped, he nodded his head, trying to lean forwards but unable to, his eyes growing slightly wide.

“You’re strong for a woman.” He says and a devilish smirk grows on your pink lips as you slowly nod your head. You slowly tighten your hold on his chin and watch as his lips part in surprise. “I want to fuck you so bad.” He whispers, obviously liking your rough treatment.

“How would you do that?’ You asked, your free hand sliding to the knife concealed on your thigh. A trusty weapon you acquired after some idiot tried to mug you on your way home from work. It was a trophy you liked to use on your victims.

“I’d yank that little skirt up, rip those tights open and take you right here.” He growled, disgusted chills ran down your spine but your face was as cool as ever. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever heard but it was up there.

“Mhm…” You hummed. “Let me see what you’d take me with.” You whispered and the excitement that man felt was on full display as his hands flew to unzip his pants. You waited patiently and the moment you spotted it the smile that fitted to your lips was downright evil. “Small.” You remarked seconds before that trophy knife of yours sliced his member clean off. There was a split second where it didn’t register with him. He inhaled and then his eyes went wide as pain finally made its way to his brain. When he opened his mouth to scream you clamped over his lips hard with your hand and spun him to press him forcefully against the wall. You wiped the blood from your knife on his shirt and pressed it against his neck.

“Mhm wha tha fu,” He grumbled beneath your fingers.

“What? It’s okay for you to take what you want? To spike women's drinks and touch them without consent? To kill them? I thought you’d probably like being treated the way you treat others.” You growl. He tried to squirm away from you but you were too strong. You held him against that wall like he weighed nothing and the fear that formed in his eyes at the revelation was delicious.

“Plea-- please.” He pleaded and the sound was like music to your ears.

“No sense in pleading.” You growled.

“That’s enough.” The voice to your right halted your thoughts. You turned just slightly to see the celebrity himself. Chainsaw Man.

Fuuuccckkk.

“Let ‘em go.” He directed. Your mouth dried, your knife sweaty in your hands. But you didn’t move back.

“You caught me.” You rasped, it was dark so you knew, unless Chainsaw Man had night vision, that he couldn’t see you very well. He paused at the sound of your voice, slightly tilting his head to try and get a good look at you but they didn’t call you Night Killer for no reason, the night was being very friendly to you right now.

“You sound… hot.” Chainsaw Man said. Everything halted for a moment. You stared at him quizzically. He’d caught you off guard with that. Even the scumbag beneath your blade seemed surprised before he started squirming again and you had to press your blade harder. “I’ve been tailing your kills for months now… Are you-- blonde? It’s hard to tell.”

“You’ll be tailing another kill if you don’t keep it in your pants,” You growled. “Aren’t you supposed to be a hero?”

“I am a hero. But I’m also a man who has great taste. Now let that man go and step into the light.” Chainsaw Man directed. Something about him made you laugh. This terrifying looking devil had layers. Chainsaw Man cocked his head at your laughter.

“And what would you do if I slit this piece of shit devil's throat?” You ask and the man you pinned squirmed and whimpered pathetically. Chainsaw Man stepped closer, trying hard to get a look at you. One track mind it seemed.

“What’d he do?” He asks. It gives you pause.

“You care?”

“Did he try to hurt you? I’ve noticed most of your victims all had charges placed against them for hurting women. Is he just like the others?” Chainsaw Man asked. You wondered if he actually cared or if he was biding time for the police.

“Uh huh.” You answered, trailing your attention back to the dirt bag. You trailed your knife up his neck to the side of his face. “He touches who he wants and slips things into drinks. Naughty…” You tease, the anger inside you coming out as though it meant nothing. You heard Chainsaw Man walk closer and you shot him a warning look. “Any closer and I’ll spill his blood.”

“Do it.” You hear the hero say. “Kill him. He deserves it.” You stare at him, lips parted. He’d surprised you.

“What?” You asked before you were able to mask that surprise.

“Kill him.” Chainsaw Man shrugs. “I could do it if you want.”

“What kind of hero are you?”

“A hero to those who deserve saving. If this man did as you say then I’ll look the other way.” Chainsaw Man says. You were so shocked that your grip on the man loosened. The dirt bag, sensing your attention elsewhere, shoved hard against you. The hard shove sends your hand with the knife back towards you. He gives another shove and the blade plunged into you just above your chest below your shoulder blade. You land hard, dazed a bit. The dirt bag dives towards the knife, straddling you on the ground.

“You dumb slut!” He growls. “I’m gonna kill-” You heard the revving of chainsaws before you felt the warm splash of blood against your face. You watched in object horror as the man’s head slowly fell off his shoulders and tumbled to the pavement. The body above you slackened and fell to the side in a bloody heap. You wiped at the blood, trying to push away from the body but your shoulder screamed in pain. You’d forgotten the damn knife that had lodged itself in you. You hissed in pain as the Chainsaw’s slowly came to a stop and silence was restored. The commotion had gained the attention of bystanders outside the club as people started poking their heads at the other end of the alleyway.

“Can you walk?” Chainsaw Man asked but when you looked up you saw a regular man, blood on his white button up shirt. When you both saw each other in the dim light of the alleyway you both blushed. You furrowed your brow, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

“Chainsaw Man?” You said, stunned. The man before you nodded his head, glancing down the alley towards the people. “Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe before they get a good look at us.” You let him wrap his arms around you and pull you to your feet, you’d hurt your leg when you fell so you relied on him heavily to take you somewhere safe.

“Is this okay?” He asked and for the first time in years you didn’t feel disgusted by a man’s touch. It was strange. You nodded your head.

“This way,” You directed once you go to a street you recognized. You led Chainsaw Man towards your house, his hand gently holding you against him. Once there you handed him your keys and he unlocked the door and helped you inside. You grunted in pain as he got you to a chair by the kitchen table. “There’s uh-- supplies in the top drawer… grab everything. And grab the jack from the fridge.” You direct. Chainsaw Man works quickly as you lean your head back, cursing yourself for letting your attention wander. You’d never gotten hurt this bad, just some scrapes and bruises. He was back rather quickly, falling to his knees beside you.

“How can I help?” He asks as you tilt up, reaching for the jack. You take a big swig of it taking a deep breath.

“Fuck me.” You sighed at the impending pain. You watched his face go through five different emotions before his cheeks blushed.

“What? Now?” He asks as you furrow your brow before realizing he thought you were giving him an order with those two little words you sighed. You laughed surprisingly, shaking your head.

“No, not what I meant.”

“Oh… yeah of course.” He blushes, turning away slightly.

“What’s your name?” You ask. He turns back to you, looking up at you from his knees.

“Denji.”

“Denji,” You say and watch his cheeks go even redder. “I need you to pull this knife out of my shoulder.” You say. His lips part in surprise as he blinks.

“No medicine to dull the pain?”

“I drank jack, no come on before I chicken out.” You say and Denji nods his head. You both lean towards each other and he reaches for the handle. Pain jolts through you at just a small bit of contact. Luckily for you it wasn’t super deep but it would still hurt like a bitch to remove. Denji looks up in your eyes.

“You sure?” He asks as you nod your head, taking another swig. He nods his head and a second later the blade is yanked from your shoulder. You cry out in pain as the blad clangs against the tilt flooring. Denji reaches for your shoulder, pressing his hand against the blood to stop it as he grabs a towel with his other. “It’s okay,” He says soothingly. “It’s out.” He presses the towel against the wound as you catch your breath.

“Thank you,” You breathe out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You share a moment before you know that the wound needs to be stitched. You walk Denji through the steps and he listens well and takes gentle care of stitching you up and wrapping the wound. Once it’s nice and secure you feel your breath slowly coming back to you. You offer Denji a drink as he’s washing his hands. He grabs two cups and sits beside you at the table. You pour two drinks and slide one over to him.

“I’ve been hunting you for a few months,” He starts, taking a sip before making a face as though he didn’t like it but then takes another sip. “You put yourself in danger a lot.”

“Someone has to.” You say, leaning back in your chair.

“You’re skilled, killing those devils can’t have been easy.” He says as you shrug.

“They don’t put up much of a fight if you trick them early on.” You say. Denji looks at you over his cup.

“What’s your name? I think you're a little too pretty for Night Killer.” You can’t help but smile at that.

“Am I now?” You ask, cocking your head slightly as Denji nods his head.

“You’re probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.” He says truthfully. You find yourself blushing at his honesty.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Y/n…” He echoes, looking at you dreamily. “That’s better, a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Alright, Chainsaw Man, relax.” You jest, taking a sip of your drink. Denji grins at that.

“Can I take you out? Maybe after you’re feeling better?”

“What? Don’t like girls with scars?” You tease as Denji immediately shakes his head.

“I love scars. If you have any more I’d like to see them.” He implored, gaining another laugh from you.

“Such a flirt.” You wave off.

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself, that’s all.” He says as you nod your head.

“Why? Do you have something really physical planned?” You tease and watch his cheeks and ears go red.

“What? N-no!”

“I’m teasing you, Chainsaw Man.” You say.

“Denji,” He says.

“Hmm?”

“I-- I’d like it better if you called me Denji.” He says, barely able to look you in the eye. You’d never seen a man blush this much in your presence. It was adorable.

“Denji…” You say, leaning on your hand. His eyes widen just slightly and you can tell he really likes hearing his name from your lips.

“So… Can I take you out?”

“Why? You just met me?” You ask amused.

“So? I’d be a fool not to ask a pretty girl like you out.” He says and you laugh.

“I might be pretty but I kill devils for fun, aren’t you part devil?” You ask teasingly.

“I am… but I’m not like the ones you kill.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Those scumbags deserved what you gave them.”

“So why were you tracking me down?” You ask curiously.

“Well… If I’m being honest I… saw you on CCTV. Saw how you protected those women a few months ago. I also saw you were finding bigger devils and got worried that you might get hurt.”

“You were worried for me and you didn’t even know me?”

“I lost sleep. I was lucky to find you tonight.”

“You’re the reason I got stabbed, you know. That devil was weak.” You say, leaning back as Denji’s eyes widen.

“What? I-- I’m sorry, Y/n.” He implores as you laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, Denji, I’m partly kidding.”

“But it was my fault… I distracted you.”

“It’s fine.” You smile warmly. He sees that smile and the drink in his hand slips from his grasp, spilling all over the table. He jumps up.

“Shit! Shit… sorry.” He runs to grab a rag and wipe it up. You watch him curiously. He’s nothing like what you expected Chainsaw Man to be like. He was sort of uncool but… not in a bad way. He was like a dork. It was endearing. It had you smiling in a way you forgot how to do. There was a reason you killed dirty devils for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. There was a time where you weren’t strong enough to defend yourself. That was the same day you had forgotten what it was like to let someone in. Yet here was Denji, who you’d met mere hours ago, worming his way into your iron shackled heart. Each lock he seemingly had the key too. It was slightly alarming but for some reason it wasn’t scaring you away.

“I’ll go out with you.” You say when Denji had just finished cleaning up only for the shock of your statement causing him to knock over the rest of his drink. You dissolve in a fit of giggles as Denji profusely apologizes, cleaning it all back up.

“You’re serious? You’ll go out with me?”

“Are you gonna spill anything if I say yes?” You tease as Denji sits the things in his hands down. You smile. “Then yes. I’d like to go out with you.” He can’t fight the smile that graces his lips. It’s like looking at the sun. “Come here,” You say. Denji is quick to be at your side as you grab a pen, clicking it. You gently grab his arm and write your number on his palm. “My number, I should be healed up within a few weeks.”

“Can I call you before… just to talk?” He asks and you blush at his innocence. He didn’t seem to want just the one thing most guys wanted.

“I’m a late sleeper and I get off work around five, you can call anytime after that.” You say and watch Denji’s face light up.

“Can you… promise me something?” Denji asked after a moment. You look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Please let yourself heal. Don’t go devil hunting alone… in fact if you ever find someone you want to hurt please call me and I’ll be there.”

“You want to be my accomplice?” You joke but Denji’s face is dead serious. How could someone care this much in such little time? It almost seems too good to be true.

“I’ll kill for you. Anyone you want dead.” The absolute honesty and pure sincereness made your heart race. This man wore his heart on his sleeve.

“You mean it?”

“I am deadly serious.” He affirms. For a moment you just look at him, your eyes drinking in his soft features. He was quite handsome, a sort of boyish roundness of the face with mature eyes and lips you could tell might not have smiled a lot. But something about him was sad, like the profound loneliness in you had found that same loneliness in him. Like a reflection on yourself. You reached for him but your hand paused before you could touch him.

“Can I touch you?” You asked.

“Please.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You gently ran your fingers across his cheek, settling just below his jaw. His eyes drifted closed at your touch as he moved into your touch like he was starved of it and wanted as much as you’d give him. “Please,” he pleaded again, slowly falling to his knees in front of you.

“Please what?” You whispered, blushing from his reaction to your touch.

“Will you kiss me? Just once?” He whimpered softly. You swallowed, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. You’d do just that. Honestly if he asked you anything on his knees you might just give it to him. You slide your other hand against his cheek and gently tilt his face up by his chin. His eyes opened into yours and the intensity building between you two was thick in the air. You answered his question with the gentle press of your lips against his. He must’ve been extremely touch starved because the noises he made from just a simple kiss were downright filthy. He surged up slightly, wanting to be as close as possible. “May I-- touch you?” He whimpered against your lips.

“Yes.” You answered as his hands flew up to either side of your face, one hand slotting just below your jaw and the other sliding into your hair. The tension builds, the nervous excitement and eager kisses. The slow rise of heat within yours and his body. The quick, shallow breaths Denji was making. The way your and his hearts beat even faster now. Finally, the hesitation is gone, the urge to go through with it so great that it seems like a natural force acting upon Denji’s body itself. HIs hand slides around your hip as he pulls you off the chair and sits back, placing you on his lap like you weighed nothing. Your chests meeting, heartbeats sounding in unison. Your mouths finding each other, and lips coming together in a long, fulfilling kiss. The shyness is all completely and utterly gone. The heat within their bodies rises even further, breaths becoming more erratic. Lips separating for just a moment, just long enough to take a breath. Then they come back together, meeting just as passionately and lovingly. You’d never been kissed like this, never felt the weight of lips against yours that made your heart flutter like this. You felt like a teenager all over again. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way. It was dangerous and so so alluring. You’d forgotten about your stab wound up until you raised your other arm to tangle your hand in his hair and the pain was strong enough to pull you back to your senses. You inhaled sharply, a gasp of pain that had Denji pulling back, eyes full of concern.

“Y/n?” He mumbled as a question, lips kissed pink. “Are you okay?”

“My arm,” You said through searing pain. That seemed to bring him back to the present.

“Fuck, sorry!” He mumbled, hand flying up to check the bandage and make sure you hadn’t torn your stitches.

“It’s fine.” You breathe out. Denji reaches to tuck your hair away from your face.

“We should call it a night,” He says but you can tell it’s something he doesn’t really want but wants for you to heal. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” He asks. You’re still sitting in his lap, still wanting much more that he could give you but your arm was aching. You silently cursed that devil for stabbing you and sighed, nodding your head. Denji stands, taking you with him gently. You two are still so close and you almost just want to grab him and ask him not to go. You felt cold when you thought of Denji leaving but you knew you two would need space otherwise your arm would never heal.

“I’ll be waiting.” You smile up at him and he returns that smile.

“I-- I almost don’t want to leave.”

“I almost want you to stay.” You return. The gaping loneliness seemed to be reaching out between you both. But you had to be smart, you had to think rationally. You’d just met him hours ago… you barely knew him. In fact you didn’t know him at all. But… that really didn’t seem to matter because your hands had barely gripped Denji’s shirt, your body making a conscious decision before your mind could think better of it. “What if you stayed the night? Would that be so crazy?” You’d had one night stands before… it wasn’t crazy…

“I’ll stay with you.” He says. You don’t let your mind talk you out of it, you just gently pull him towards your bedroom. You have no thoughts of furthering your prior make out sesh… you’d rather just sleep with him beside you. You gave Denji some clothes to change into and he helped you change into something comfortable. Once you got into bed, Denji following you inched close to him under the covers. Craving the warmth he provided. You’d never known how cold you were until this very moment. Denji turned to face you and in the dark you saw him flush red. “Can I hold you?” He asked and you didn’t even bother speaking because you were moving closer the moment he ended his sentence as his arms slotted around your hips, your face pressing against his chest. In his arms you felt more safe and secure than you’d ever felt. You closed your eyes against the thoughts that swam around in your mind. You were thinking too heavily. You just needed to shut it off. Denji’s steady heartbeat gave you something to focus on, that and his soft snoring that sounded moments later. Sleep hadn’t evaded you tonight where it had so many other nights. Denji’s arms gently tensed around you as he drew you slightly closer in his sleep. After a few moments your mind had shut off and you were slowly and finally lulled to a peaceful sleep. One of many with Denji in the years to come.

#chainsaw man #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #denji x you #fem reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man smut #denji smut #chainsaw devil

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top.

The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood.

Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week.

After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear.

And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery.

You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash.

The water works started again.

Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

You missed him so much.

“But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself.

..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

Do you have to let it linger?

And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn.

Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor.

(1987)

The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

It happened again.

And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry.

He hit you with a closed fist.

You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too.

When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them.

But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight.

Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds.

Explaining yourself only made it worse.

He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye.

And that’s when you left.

His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up.

Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks.

Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer.

You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks.

A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side.

Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too.

It would explain how he was there now.

Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue.

The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears.

Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

“Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?”

An eternity wouldn’t have been enough.

Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings, “Told you I’d see you soon.”

His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

“Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.”

The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing.

Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take.

Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck.

Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory.

When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip.

It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it.

A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room.

The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled.

“BITCH! You can’t hide from me!”

Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window.

Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house.

Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin.

The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound.

Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin.

But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

“Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.

Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids.

“Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers.

His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl.

“Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.”

Aaron…Sean.

You rack your brain for any recollection of those names. and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family.

The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry.

“No.”

“Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!”

His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain.

“Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!”

His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left.

“You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

“Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh.

“Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.”

He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat.

“Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

“Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down.

Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

A raging shock of fury paints his face.

“What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat.

All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow. Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut.

It feels like home.

-1987-

The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead.

“Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind.

Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles.

The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months.

He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull.

He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies.

Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back, “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?”

You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse.

“I’m.. I uh..”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?”

Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks.

Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold.

“Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.”

He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone.

When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater he lets out an exaggerated groan.

He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth.

“Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.”

The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

Who was that baby?

Nobody.

And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody.

And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on.

One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you.

The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.

Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door.

The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop.

You never drank wine.

Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense.

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized.

Blood.

The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too.

And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held.

His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again.

Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him.

Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

“I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body.

Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket.

Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.”

The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house.

“Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air.

“Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact.

The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew.

This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair.

“Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

“Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips.

He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure.

Always.

A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way.

The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning.

He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen.

But he’s alive. And so are you.

Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

But that is short lived.

And it happens fast.

The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground.

Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip.

Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids.

If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face.

You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.

Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles.

Should have told him sooner.

Should have said it every day.

Should have kissed him more.

Should have let him love you.

The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

Hand in hand.

Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates.

You are his and he is yours.

Lovers together finally at last.

The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him.

I love you, Eddie.

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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