#she can just pretend that her lover is long gone and close her eyes when she sees a glimpse of humanity in theirs

[kawareo]

Bad ending Durge whos body mutates into the Slayer, but not all the way. Half person who they used to be, half the perfect form Bhaal would've given them if they were good, all the way abomination that forever locks then away from any delusion that they could ever be anything more than Bhaal's.

Not free, not rewarded, feral, except for the small flashes of clarity where Bhaal lets them be themselves again, locked in a body that can no longer speak, and they can't ever apologize to Father, or even beg to be put out of their misery.

Anyway AA or Gortash or DJ Shart or Minthara could keep them as a pet, feed them innocents and ignore their occassional pleas to be killed already

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

seven | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The whiplash of last night's dinner seems rectified at breakfast. Marlene arrives an hour after you wake up with a basket of farmer’s market produce, glass bottles of fresh juice, a dozen eggs still dirty with a baby feather nestled between shells. She brings cuts of bacon so fat it’s practically pork belly, and all manner of greens for the omelettes. “Gotta keep these working men fed,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’d quite like to know why Sirius Black can’t make his own breakfast.” 

Sirius falls in barely half an hour later, all hardness gone, dressed in slacks and a brown leather jacket, his loose curls pinned away from his face. “I’m thinking of growing a moustache,” he says when he spots you on the sofa. “What do you think? I don’t have much space for one, really, but it would look rather refined.”

James shows up soon enough. You worry he’s angry with you after his quick departure last night, but he says, “Princess, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Mum said she saw a photo of us together in the paper. She’s having it framed.” 

Things between James and Sirius are frosty for all of half a day. 

So for a while everyone pretends the conversation about Baron Riddle never happened. Things go back to normal, driving lessons, self defence, clothes shopping. You keep attending your university classes at the local college upon Remus’ assistance —Sirius will find a way to have them transfer your credits, he says, so long as you finish this year. Two more terms and you can take a break. 

You pretend that everything is okay, and permanent. 

“It’ll be Christmas soon,” James says.

You tilt your head to him but keep your eyes on the burning white of the computer screen, scribbling the last words of a sentence down for your next assignment. Researching isn’t fun, and getting James special permission to enter the college building hadn’t been easy, but he makes your long afternoons bearable. “Do you celebrate?” you ask. 

“I do.” 

“Your mum will be happy to have you home.”

“I’m not going home this year.” 

Your beginning smile is stopped, fading fast. “‘Cos of me?” 

“Because this is the job,” he says easily. “It’s alright. I’ll still speak to her. She’s used to not seeing me. I’ve spent more time away from her than with her, for years.” 

You close your textbook, tracing its softening edges in an avoidance of his gaze. “Well. Well, I don’t really need you, James.” 

“No?” 

You meet his eyes. Careful not to spook yourself. He’s looking at you with little emotion, impossible to infer his mood from expression alone. You don’t know what he means to ask you here. 

“Missing out on time with your family for me, when nobody even knows who I am–”

“That’s not true, is it? You get a fair few stares.” 

“Not because they really know who I am,” you whisper. “It’s like seeing someone you’re sure you’ve met before, but really you’ve seen them on TV. I’m like an odd memory or something.” 

“An odd memory.” 

You turn back to your computer and flick through the journal you’re reading for want of something to do. James twists in his chair with a hand fallen between your shoulders. Your skin tingles under his touch. “I just don’t think it’s good of me to have you when I’m fine.” 

“Do you have me, Princess?” James says, his voice turning soft slow as a taffy pull. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Yes, I do.” James’ hand comes to rest on the desk beside yours, not touching you, not moving a millimetre. He can be so still, but it’s a stillness that came with practice. He’s as at ease here as he would be at home, trusting his abilities. Nothing that can get you here scares him, not for a second. “I’m afraid I’m yours for the foreseeable future.” 

You fight down a shiver. “It’s not fair for you to miss out on Christmas. I’ll be fine by myself. I would stay home, I promise, you could lock me in and set me free a week later.” 

“I won’t do that,” he says. 

“But you could, and then you won’t miss Christmas or your mum, and–” You realise you’re talking too loudly and tone it down. “And I’ll be fine on my own.” 

“You said, yeah…” 

You stare at the cover of your textbook. “Right.” 

James checks his watch. In his ‘bum bag’ as he calls it, the radio he’d been carrying around on his shoulder when you met makes a concealed crackle. He pulls it out and brings it to his mouth. “Say again?” he orders. 

“We’re waiting outside,” Sirius says, to your surprise. 

“Pads, you’ve actually done something I asked,” James says in amazement. 

“Not really. It’s Remus’ radio, you know I won’t carry them around. It’s ridiculous. I would’ve liked to have called you but you never answer, even if it’s life or death!” 

“It’s never life or death with you.” 

“Cruel. Tell the Princess to hurry her work, she promised we’d go to the cinema and it’s getting on.” 

“She’s done when she’s done,” James says. 

“I’m finished,” you say. 

“She’s finished,” James says. 

“Oh, good. Has she picked what movie she wants to see?” 

“Sirius, can’t we have this conversation in two minutes, when we’re in the same car.” 

“What’s the fun in that?” 

You pack away your things and log out of your account on the library computer. James offers to take your bag, grumbling when you insist on carrying it yourself, and rebelling against you as you descend the stairs into the college’s entrance atrium by holding open every stairwell door. 

“What movie does he want to see?” you ask James. 

“Never mind him,” James says, stilling at the shock of cold that ebbs from the main doors. “Button your coat, lovely.” 

You thought perhaps James would get to know you more and he’d stop using ‘lovely’. There isn’t all that much about you worth such a nice word, but he still says it. He calls Marlene gorgeous practically every morning when she makes his coffee, Lily sweetness or angel or ��really, he’s quite fond of Lily. You don’t see her too often; she’s here to take care of diplomatic matters directly involving you, and so she pops in every now and then to gather your signatures or ask an opinion, busy at the embassy. You get this uncomfortable feeling when you see them together, too complicated to name, like fingers curled tight around your heart, squeezing until you’re squeamish and pounding behind the ears. And Sirius makes these jokes you’re too afraid to ask about, little snippy things aimed to make fun of James in a brotherly manner. Our Prongs likes a redhead. I considered going ginger for a bit, but I don’t have the complexion for it. You have no choice but to sit there still and silent until they change the subject. It must be the not knowing them well that makes it hard. 

Just outside of the college, Remus and Sirius wait in the front seats of a rather nice car. 

“Where did you get this?” James asks, stopped too far in the road. 

“Bought it.” 

“Why?” James asks. 

“You said I couldn’t get a bike.” 

“I said you couldn’t get a bike,” Remus corrects. “James said he wouldn’t get on the bike, or sit by your bedside if you drove it into a wall.” 

“You like it?” Sirius asks. 

James gives you a smug, fond smile. “Do we?” he asks. 

“It’s pretty,” you say. 

“She’s gorgeous, Princess! Don’t downplay it like that! Now, are you getting in? Remus has picked tonight’s movie–”

“Get out,” James says. 

“You are not driving my baby,” Sirius says, “I’ve only had her an hour.” 

“I don’t care how long you’ve had the car, if the Princess is riding in it, I’ll be the one driving it. You know the rules.”

“Yes, but you’re the one who makes the rules, and they’re stupid rules, so I suppose this time you’ll be letting me drive, won’t you?” Sirius asks. 

—

“My own car,” Sirius mutters to himself beside you, “can’t even drive my own bloody car. This is worse than the summer I saved for an electric guitar and my mother smashed it into smithereens in the foyer. At least Walburga let me play a couple of songs first.” 

“Walburga?” you ask, grinning. 

“Patron Saint of hydrophones,” Sirius says offhandedly. ”And cunts. It’s why I hate water so much, see, I’m worried mum’s going to deprive me of protection.” 

“Sorry, Princess, Sirius is having one of his days,” Remus says from the passenger seat. 

“I’m being serious,” Sirius says. “Unsurprisingly.” 

“Don’t let me tell Effy who you’ve just called mum,” James quips. 

“Euphemia,” Sirius says quickly, “name of a well-spoken woman. And she is well-spoken, James’ mum, she’s well everything. Well dressed, well kind,” —he puts his hand on your arm and rubs gently, enough affection for the woman in question running through him that it pours into you instead— “she would just love you to death, Your Gorgeousness.” 

“You are having one of those days,” you say. 

“Not sure I know what you mean.” Sirius grins at you, dark hair in his eyes, his irises a pale grey that catches you. “Alright there?” he asks. 

“Your eyes are grey.” 

“If you fancy me–”

“I thought they were brown, is all, like James’,” you say, voice taking a sharp turn into loudness in a poor attempt to move away from what you’ve said. 

“We can’t all have that dreamy mocha brown,” Sirius says. His grin has changed, morphed into a mischief you aren’t yet familiar with. “We all have grey eyes, the Black’s. My mother and father too. Makes sense they would, what with their… similar heritage.” 

Sirius doesn’t volunteer information about his family often, and as he does he squirms. You wonder if he’d tripped into saying it on automatic. You know intimately how that feels. “Don’t worry about it,” you say, “I spent the last twenty years thinking my mum was a drunk and my father an idea. Of course, I know more about my dad now.” 

“Not about your mum?” 

“Oh, no. She’s dead, I think,” you say. 

“You don’t know?” 

Your turn to squirm. “Not really, no.” 

Sirius frowns. His lips part, a concerned platitude no doubt on his lips, but James’ strong voice cuts in, “You can share mine,” he says, “god knows she’s always trying to find another of my friends to parent. She even tried to baby Regulus when they first met.”

“Your brother?” you ask Sirius, remembering some tidbit of conversation. 

“He isn’t exactly versed in accepting affection,” Sirius says. 

“Neither were you!” James doesn’t look away from the road ahead as his arm reaches back. He points ineffectually. “And now look at you!” 

“Get me out of this car,” Sirius says. 

Remus, grey at the gills, murmurs, “I was just thinking the same thing.” 

Remus wars with migraine–motion sickness nausea on the corner of the street. James, having parked and locked the car once you all emerged, stands straight beside you, worry flashing across his face. Sirius has it all covered, patting the space between Remus’ shoulders slowly as Remus says, “Stop smothering me, or I’ll be sick on your shoes.” 

“Finally return the favour, then,” Sirius says. 

Remus groans, bending further toward the ground. 

“Is he okay?” you ask. 

James doesn’t answer for a while. He sweeps his gaze around the streets, cataloguing people and squinting against the lowering sun as it shuttles behind buildings. The evening cold is setting in, lights of the cinema blue-bright white and buzzing just ahead. “Remus will be alright,” he says, sounding like he believes it wholeheartedly. “Just gets sick sometimes ‘cos of the headaches.” 

It really bothers him, all the same. He doesn’t hide it well, the twitch of his fingers to go help, his furtive glances. He looks up and down the road, behind the cars, around you, and always back at Remus and Sirius. 

“How old were you when you first went away to boarding school?” you ask. 

“We were eleven. Why?” 

“I’m just wondering. You’ve been friends for a really long time, then.” 

“Not too long, now, Princess. I’m only in my twenties.” 

“Right,” you laugh, “of course.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing! It didn’t mean anything.” 

He gets a Sirius brand of smile, then. No, not Sirius at all, just a James you haven’t met before, cheeky and funny at once. “Sure it didn’t,” he teases. “You think I’m old. Do I look old to you? I’ll have you know I’m in perfect athletic shape. My mile time is six minutes on the dot.”

“Very impressive,” you say. 

He rolls his shoulders. “Yes, it is.” 

A couple of feet away, Remus has stood tall, a hand covering his eyes. Sirius covers that hand with his own, his laugh carrying across the street. “You’re a mess, Lupin, but you’re nothing I can’t handle, obviously. Get over yourself.” 

“All I said was ‘fuck’s sake’,” Remus says.

“It was teeming with self loathing.” 

“It‘s like I’m stuck together with shit PVA or something, I feel ridiculous.” 

“You’re fine. You are. You’ve never looked so fine, Moony old chap.” 

“Can you stop?” Remus asks, sounding like he doesn’t mind it either way. 

“Sure,” Sirius says anyways, softer now by a thread. “I’m done.” 

“James, should we–”

James goes down with a quiet thump. Your hearing flats out, no sound of him as his arms curl outward and his back rolls —he’s too smart to let his head smack the pavement. 

You aren’t smart enough to move out of the line of fire. 

A weight like a log forced itself into your stomach, slamming your back to a chest. You thrust your head back hard and cry out as a stab of pain rushes through your head, stumbling as best you can away from it, but the arm doesn’t let you go. 

Sudden, there’s another cry of pain, male this time, and the arm is letting you go. You bound two steps forward and spin in time to see James in a fist fight with a masked assailant, punches popped faster than you can track: you see clearly only points of contact, James taking a hit to the chest, to the head, his face snapped sideways as his knee comes up. He puts all of his weight into the motion and kicks, putting some much needed space between the two of them. 

You glance back for Sirius and Remus in a tizzy and come face to face with another black mask. 

You aren’t sure why you do it. Perhaps James’ sense of urgency rubs off on you, all his echoes of why you don’t want to let an attacker take you away from the public eye if you can help it, or maybe it’s knowing James is locked into his own fight and he might not win against another, caught off guard like that. You can’t confess to thinking, only swinging, the power of your entire upper body thrust into a punch that shatters you with pain. 

Before you can see if the punch had any effect, someone is stepping in front of you and hitting him again. Twice, a third time, James hits the masked man until he’s incapacitated on the ground. 

He swings back to you with a harsh breath. Your ears pop. “What the fuck!” someone’s saying, not James, his lips unmoving as he looks you over. 

“…You okay?” he says finally, stepping into your space to hold you by the arms. “You’re not hurt?” 

You flinch as his hand slips down to yours. 

“My hand!” you yelp, pressing it to your chest.

“What about your hand?” 

“I punched that guy!” 

“Did you tuck your thumb into your hand?” 

“Yes!”

“I told you not to do that!” James exclaims, breathless and vaguely pained as he puts his hands out again to take your injured one. “You tuck your thumbnail against the curl of your index finger!” 

“Is it broken?” Sirius asks seriously, stepping over one of your attackers in his rush to be next to you. “Are you okay? Fuck, it looked like a good one, though!” 

“I didn’t think properly,” you say, biting back a whimper as James rolls down your sleeve, your hand shaking terribly in his grasp, “I was just scared–”

“No, I know, it’s not your fault,” James says in a run on, sounding far outside the realm of a professional as he pokes near your pinky fingers knuckle. Your whine of pain makes it worse. “Sorry, lovely. I think you have a fracture. Fuck, you didn’t have to do that, I had it handled.”

“He was gonna grab me!” 

“I know.” He rubs his brow. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” James raises his gaze to Sirius as though he’s going to ask for something, but he pauses. “Where’s Remus?” 

“Turned into a migraine pretty much the second before those guys turned up, I had to sit him down.” 

James holds your arm with both hands. His eyes are browner than anything as he levels your gaze. “I’m gonna fix this, okay? I just need to make sure they aren’t getting up.” 

“Okay.” The pain in your hand gets worse by the second.  

“Okay?” he asks. 

It hurts so badly that tears form, one dribbling hot and fat down your cheek. “Okay,” you say again, wobbling. 

His lips go flat, but he turns away to start cleaning up. Sirius takes his place, wrapping an arm behind your back with a comforting murmur that you don’t quite hear. 

—

James is gone for hours. Sirius and Mikkelson take you home, and waiting for you is a team of doctors and nurses that seem unperturbed to be treating a princess in her rinky dink living room. The craziest part about it all isn’t that you’ve been attacked, or that the two doctors and three nurses are smiley, unhurried but not uncaring, and it’s not that you wish James was there so sorely it has you unsettled despite the rapid pain relief, no. The craziest part is the portable x-ray machine. 

“We could’ve gone to the hospital,” you tell Sirius, leaning back in your kitchen chair as a sweet-faced nurse slips a brace carefully over your injured hand. 

“No, we couldn’t have.” 

“I don’t understand why not.” 

“Yes, you do.” Sirius points at the plate of biscuits by your cup insistently. “Go on.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Just something quick for your blood sugar. Or pressure? One of them. Would you rather have a sandwich?” 

“No.” 

“Princess, please,” he says, giving you a frown you're unused to, like you’re pissing him off and he expects it. 

You grab a biscuit to appease him. 

Remus is wrapped in a throw blanket in your bed, likely sleeping, or perhaps still furious that Sirius had asked one of the nurses to give him a good look. Her diagnosis wasn’t anything new; Remus is suffering in the third stage of a migraine. It’s best he be left alone for a little while to rest. He’s going to be very tired when he comes out of it. 

James hasn’t returned yet. When they first stuffed you to the brim with painkillers, you’d thought morosely that you‘d needed him there, but now you just wonder what’s taking him so long. Who were those men? One of them had grabbed you tightly with intent to drag you away, so where were you going? 

Your flat is growing more crowded by the second. Marlene is in the living room trying to take dinner orders from extremely happy doctors and bodyguards alike, and with her is a stranger, a woman with dark skin and darker hair, black curls piled away from her face. You haven’t asked about her yet. Perhaps Marlene needs help catering for the sheer amount of people. 

“This isn’t exactly incognito,” you say, “all these people.” 

“Yes, well, James wants you to move anyways. And maybe that’s for the best. It’s rather cramped in here.” 

“It wasn’t,” you say. 

He assesses you quietly. 

“What?” 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to move, but you must know you’re a sitting duck here.” 

“I must?” 

“You are not a normal person, and you never will be. James won’t tell you about the things you should be scared of even if he’s honest about the risk, and I was at the mercy of his wrath last time, but I don’t care,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I need you to know that you’re not safe and it’s not because of some invisible maybe, there are real forces at play here. The sooner you move, the better. I know,” —he lowers his voice— “it’s a massive change, and you haven’t had time to catch your breath, but you can’t get comfortable now. And hey, you can keep the flat, yeah? You don’t have to give it away, but things aren’t safe here.” 

“But why not?” 

“It’s the Baron,” Sirius says, serious, quick, glancing at the door, “he’s not just cruel, he’s evil. He’s done things you’d never think he’d get away with, not now. It’s like the dark ages in his courts, the pure bloods–”

“Sirius, what the fuck?” Marlene says, pushing the door until it hits the wall. “Enough. She fucking broke her hand.” 

“And I’m telling her why.” 

“She broke it because she punched someone the wrong way,” the unknown woman says, warm but disapproving at once. “Who taught you to fight?” 

“Uh, it’s self defense,” you say uselessly. 

“James,” she tuts. 

Marlene appraises the nurse where she’s lingering at the counter, putting away her things. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, which is mostly sincere, just a tad pushy. 

The nurse says, “No, thank you,” and makes herself scarce. 

“This is Dorcas,” Marlene introduces as the door closes. No explanation to who she is follows as they settle against the counter tops. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

“Hello.” Dorcas smiles, all signs of her disapproval wiped clean. “How’s the hand?” 

“Hurting.” 

“It’s nothing some rigatoni arrabbiata won’t fix, I’m sure.” 

“Sorry, Dorcas, but why the fuck are you here?” Sirius asks pleasantly. 

“Why do you think?” she asks sweetly back. 

“Usually to fuck me off.” 

“Enough,” Marlene says. “If you’re going to argue, you have two options. You can do it while pulling the tendons from these chicken fillets, or you can do it outside.” 

“Pass,” Sirius says. “I’ll go on as usual, as long as the snake stays quiet.” 

“You’re as bad as.” Dorcas crosses her arms over her chest. 

Sirius doesn’t rise to the bait, despite himself, and Marlene opens your fridge to begin cooking. He doesn’t mention the evil forces in play again, leaving you in your agony to brush it away. You’ll think of it later, or never, whichever comes first. 

“You can go to bed, if you like.” 

“Remus is in there.” 

“He won’t care. Pretty sure he had one of us in bed with him from first year to last,” Sirius says, taking one of your biscuits and eating it in two quick bites. 

You remember your own and put it down next to your cup of tea. Tea is fine, but these boys are constantly plying you with it and you’ve had enough to last a while. And the biscuits —who thought you could ever be sick of biscuits? 

“I’m not tired,” you say. “Maybe I’ll… finish some school work.” 

“Sure. Gonna be okay typing without your hand?” 

You wince. “Fuck. It’s my dominant hand, too.” 

“You’ll be out of commission for a while. Sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” You look down at your twinging hand, a slice of shadow banding across it under the table. “I’d rather have a broken hand than be dead.” 

“No one was going to kill you. Is that what Sirius has been telling you?” Marlene asks, glaring at Sirius from over her shoulder, her eyes like blue fire. 

“No,” you say. “He didn’t have to say anything about it to me for me to know I was in danger.” 

Marlene isn’t chastened. “You’re okay. James protected you, and he will again. You don’t need to worry about it, about any of that stuff.” 

“That’s willfully ignorant,” Dorcas says. 

Sirius takes another biscuit. “I actually agree.” 

They’re friendly from then on. You don’t have it in you to be surprised. 

—

James cannot stand London much longer. The police officers are knobs, the roads are shit, and now you’re getting attacked by freaks outside of the loneliest cinema he could find. He’s spent three hours in an interrogation room with a prick and one of the guys who tried to attack you, asking their intentions, who they work for, who they are, and it hasn’t mattered, when he could’ve been making sure you were alright. He gave strict instructions on how you were supposed to be treated and by who, but Sirius doesn’t always listen. What James realised somewhere between leaving you on the side of the road and the police station, is that he has sorely underestimated what needs to be done here to keep you safe. Dorcas might go a ways of helping that along, but he needs advice. 

He needs Mary. Maybe Lily and Emmeline full time. He needs anyone willing to help him. Dearborn, the twins. Reinforcements are necessary. 

He needs to breathe. He can’t believe you broke your hand doing something he should’ve done first. 

“Fucking winded me,” he says to himself, rolling his sore shoulder as he takes the stairs to your flat two at a time. “Wanker.” 

“Kiss your mum with that mouth?” Remus asks lightly. 

He’s sitting at the end of the hallway away from your flat with the window wide open, a cigarette wobbling between his lips. It’s not lit yet. 

“You should stay in bed,” James says, crossing the hall to stand by him. He finds a zippo lighter in Remus’ pocket and flicks it open, holding the flame to the cig, letting the end smoulder. “How is it?” 

“It’s not that bad. Didn’t make me sick.” 

“Wobbly?” James asks, closing the zippo to tuck away in his own pocket. 

Remus takes a deep inhale, hand on the window ledge to steady himself. “Only when I breathe,” he says on the exhale. 

They stand together for a bit. James sort of wants to smoke, it’s not like he didn’t do his fair share in school, but he was lucky it never caught him like Remus and Sirius, who both consider themselves casual smokers. I smoke to celebrate, Sirius said once, and to commiserate. So that’s a few a day, at least. 

Remus is less inclined. James can’t blame him either way. Isn’t he owed a vice while his head rears to implode? 

“How is the princess?” James asks eventually. 

“I can’t confess to seeing much of her,” Remus says, voice light enough to imply that you’re fine. “But she’s spent the afternoon with a fracture and Sirius. I dare say she’s miserable.” 

“Her hand is broken?” 

“Yep. But it’s a boxer’s fracture, it’ll heal in a month.” Remus gets about halfway down his cigarette before he squints at James with suspicion. “You were in a rush.” 

“Just checking you’re okay.” 

“Mm.” He takes another drag before pulling the cigarette from his mouth, flicking a tall line of ash out of the window. “She’s not upset with you.” 

“She should be.” 

“James, you’re such a martyr.”  

He shrugs. “I’m here to protect her and at the very first hurdle I’ve let her down. Actually, the second hurdle, because I’ve already hit her once, so hard she could barely keep her eyes open.” 

“You didn’t hit her, don’t say that.” 

“I did hit her.” 

“With a door.” 

“Yes, with a heavy object.” 

“By accident!” Remus laughs and snuffs his cigarette on the wall outside the window, drawing the butt inside a curled fist. It makes James wince. “You’re alright. Truthfully I think she just wants to see you ‘cos you’re nice to her.” 

“You’re nice to her.” 

“Yes, but I’m not in the best working order right now.” He smiles. “And I’m not like you, I won’t put my arm around her.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“I won’t. I would if she was upset, but she doesn’t seem upset. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

“Don’t say it like that!” 

Remus laughs again. “Like what? Stop making me laugh, my head is throbbing.”  

Sirius once made Remus laugh so hard it prompted a migraine, or at least it was conveniently timed. He swore off jokes and being witty for a good two weeks. “Shall I never joke again?” James asks. 

He sounds tired, even to himself. 

“It’s a start,” Remus says. 

“Time is it?” 

“Time to stop being a coward, I think. Little after seven. You’re done?” 

“Done. Too tired to make better decisions.” 

“You know that song by the Rolling Stones, Miss You?” Remus presses his hand to an eye. “Stuck in my head.” 

James loves how much Remus loves to talk to him. It’s stupid. “Guess I’m lying to myself, it’s just you and no one else,” James sing-songs quietly, with an eyebrow wiggle.

“I like your voice more than his.” 

“Charmer.”

They follow one another down the hall to your door, where Mikkelson couldn’t look more bored keeping guard. Poor Mickey with the shit jobs and no company. At least he’s well paid. In the living room, there’s little evidence of the work he’s thought would be done here. No medical waste or mess, each pillow cleanly placed and each trinket of yours where you left it. There’s not much sound, but James cocks a trained ear and listens for everything. A rustle in the bathroom. A breath taken in the kitchen, then another. There’s definitely kissing, he thinks, heaving a horrendous sigh to let the lovebirds know they have company. 

Could’ve been you and Sirius, but he can’t see it happening. 

Marlene appears around the kitchen doorway, ever so slightly pink. “Hullo. Dinner?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

“Sure. Remus, you want something? Chicken soup?” 

Marlene will make chicken soup as most Genovian would, with pastina or acini de pepe, fresh rosemary, thyme, and Parmesan rind shredded over the top. It’s no less delicious than any other dish in her arsenal, but it’s so, so homely that Remus sighs wistfully and James can’t not ask, “Soup for me, too?” 

“Sure. It’s what I made for the princess, poor girl.” 

“She’s in the bathroom?” 

“For a while.” Marlene has the decency to smile apologetically. “You boys like red pepper, yeah?” 

“And Sirius?”

“I don’t know, James, I’m not a psychic.” 

“Right. Hi, Dorcas, how are you?” 

Dorcas appears in the door. James might think she was reluctant if he didn’t know better; Dorcas doesn’t ever do anything she doesn’t want to do. Her smile says something unreadable. “Fine,” she says concisely. 

James trudges away. In the bedroom, Sirius is curled up on your bed asleep. He shakes his head in wonderment and carries on to the bathroom. There’s water running behind the door, accompanied by the soft sounds of under-the-breath cursing. 

“Angel,” he says before he can stop himself, “are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

“James?” 

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“James, I… have a long sleeve top on, and it’s hurting more than I thought with the cast. Can you… do you think Marlene would come help me?”

He shouldn’t — “I can help, angel. Is it hurting? You’re stuck, aren’t you?” 

“Just a bit.” 

Your hesitant voice echoing off the walls makes him chuckle. “I can get Marlene,” he says. 

He’s already turning when you say, “Uh, no, that’s fine. Can you get me out?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I want it to be you,” you say quietly. 

James doesn’t know what to do with that. He opens the bathroom door and finds you uncomfortably twisted. You’ve tried to take off the sleeve on your injured arm first and ended up with the back of your shirt pulled away from you, pulled up, tight against your neck, a little gap between your chest and the fabric. You aren’t scandalous, barely undressed, but James knows you’re shy about how you look from fittings and intuition alike. He quickly encourages your uninjured hand into the air to loosen the band of fabric from behind your neck, and then easily tugs the entirety of it up your arms and off of you, more careful at your dominant hand. The moment you’re released, he takes the soft sleep shirt you’ve put on the laundry basket and ruches the sleeves. He sews your injured hand tentatively though one sleeve, then the other, before slipping it over your head and pulling it down. His knuckles skim your naked back, and he’s careful not to touch bare skin again. When he’s neatened you up, he holds your side in one hand. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning. 

“I know it’s just a fracture, but I feel like I can’t use it. Hurts.” 

“There’s no such thing as just a fracture,” he says. “Fractures hurt. Your hand is broken, it’s alright if you can’t move it. Do you need any more help?” 

You shake your head. “I managed the trousers by myself, thankfully.” 

James looks you over and finds himself softening swiftly. He does feel sorry for you. He thinks you’re allowed an allotment of pity. But he also just likes you, and doesn’t want to see you in pain. His colossal guilt doesn’t help. 

The darkness from outside is creeping in. You’ve a shadow on your cheek, another stretching out to your side. Your pajamas are worn —well-loved— a simple black t-shirt with a teddy bear on the chest and blue pajama trousers to match the teddy’s bow tie. You’ve the appearance of somebody who cried for a good hour or two, not so much splotchy or sore looking as simply coloured by the after effects of distress, a tiredness to your eyes that has nothing to do with sleep. You look small, but not in the sense of proportions. Just small. 

“How’s your pain?” he asks you quietly. 

“It’s not bad if I don’t move it.” 

“Try not to, then.” 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. 

“It’s all fine. I don’t have any more answers for you. Please, forgive me.” 

He knows a grudge hasn't crossed your mind. Still, he’s surprised again by your endless goodness, whether you might see it that way or not, your propensity for leniency and how it can be a brave, kind thing, “It wasn’t your fault, it just happened. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you weren’t there… Well, I can imagine. I can. And it really scares me.” You press your splinted hand to your abdomen. “Thank you for keeping me safe, James.” 

I didn’t keep you safe, I barely got to you in time, he thinks. He’s in over his head. He’s practically drowning in shame and responsibility and self-obsessed inner turmoil. 

He wants to be his best, for you. He wants to do this well. 

James has no idea how he’s going to do this. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, hiding everything but a stitch of breathlessness from his tone. 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

In over his head. Drowning, maybe. “No. Did you?” 

“I don’t have much appetite.” 

“Marl’s made chicken soup with little pasta stars,” he says, nodding toward the door. “You’ll love it. Promise.”

“You’ll eat too?” you ask. 

James feels a tightening in his stomach that he wisely ignores. Without answering aloud, he encourages you out of the bathroom to the kitchen, and you both eat.

He’s helping Marlene clear the plates away when you hesitate by the door. Sirius has unceremoniously tumbled from your bed to the sofa when Remus tried to rouse him, begging tiredly to be allowed to stay. You’d said yes without problem. You trust Sirius, and if you didn’t, James thinks you might trust him enough to know who you can be left alone with. Remus and Dorcas have been ferried back to the accommodation by one of the others. Marlene and James are set to leave together as soon as the kitchen is squared. 

And yet you hesitate. 

Haunting the door, James recognises the way one hand flutters, almost squeezes the air, wanting to wring the other but unable.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to use his body as a wall to offer you some privacy.

“Nothing.”

“You can go to bed if you need to, you don’t have to wait for us.” He manages a smirk. “You want me to change the sheets, don’t you? That Sirius Black character is a real heathen, isn't he? I don’t think a day went by when we were kids where his bed wasn’t inundated with crumbs.” 

“He ate in bed?” you ask. 

“Small rebellions.” 

“Remus says you guys shared a lot.” 

“We did. I don’t really know why. I know boys aren’t ‘supposed’ to love each other like that, but we never grew out of it.” James lonely without his mum and dad’s bed to climb into, Sirius realising he could have comfort whenever he wanted, even if he didn’t need it, and Remus, usually unwilling, occasionally doing the work himself if it was what was necessary to sleep again after a bad dream. (And the other, who didn’t often share, but leaves a bad taste in James’ mouth to recall.) 

“And it helped?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You squirm on the spot, but you force it out. “James, will you stay?” You’re apologetic. “I don’t think I can sleep if you go. I’m not scared, I promise, but…” 

James’ voice gets caught behind his teeth. 

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine. But if you don’t mind, you can stay, you can have my bed, if you want, I’d just feel better if it was you.” 

“Of course I’ll stay.” 

You smile. 

“It’s my job to look after you. If you feel better knowing I’m out here on the sofa, then I’ll stay.” He offers a smile usually saved for his friends.

“Okay.” Something in you has gone slack. You’re warmed from the inside out, and so suddenly tired. “You won’t go in the bed?” 

“I won’t take it from you, no. I quite like how you make the sofa up, I’ll just shove Sirius over. I want the pillowcase with flowers and the blanket with fleece underneath, please.” 

You leave to get his provisions. He follows your gaze. It’s why he knows you look back at him as you cross the threshold to your room. 

[leaderwonim]

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

waiiiiit need a fic where reader finds out finnick told snow he’d take on more clients to ensure she’s safe

YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE!!

Innocent

HEAVY content warnings: trafficking of victors, panic attack, self hatred, suidcidal thoughts.

part one. (not necessary to read, but if you would like some background i would definitely suggest reading this first)

masterlist.

It was late. Finnick had just gotten home from a long trip. He was gone for nearly a month. A month away from you felt like years. A month away from your smile, a month away from your laughter, a month away from your warm touch.

Tiredly, he walks into the living room of your shared home, flicking on a lamp so he could see better.

He was exhausted.

For the past few weeks it had been nonstop. A new person every single night. At times he would think, if he should even keep up with all of it. But then he remembered why he was doing this, to keep you shielded from the truth, to keep you protected.

"If you want her to remain untouched, you take on the responsibility of the people that would've wanted her."

He passes by a mirror and sees his reflection. He sees the scratches and bruises left by his 'lovers'. He stares at them for a moment, wanting to just rip the skin off of his body instead of just covering them up and playing it off as injuries that he would get from fishing and swimming, maybe then he won't feel dirty and used.

He plops onto the couch, his entire body aching. He puts his head in his hands, thinking that he should end his misery already.

He scolds himself for this.

Finnick hated that he had such thoughts of quiting everything, he hates himself for wanting to give up, he hates feeling dirty, he hates feeling used, he hates himself for allowing Snow to make him bend at his will.

He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't handle being treated like a toy. He just wanted it all to end.

But if he truly ended it all, he would be leaving you. He would be leaving you to the hands of the Capitol.

And how they wanted to get their hands on you.

He felt tears well up in his eyes, he felt his hands begin to shake, he felt his heart race.

Then he heard quiet footsteps.

"Finn? Is that you?"

He turns his head and sees you in one of his shirts and your pajama bottoms.

"Yea it's me angel"

You rub your eyes and slowly walk toward the couch. "What time is it?"

"Late." Finnick says, trying to hold back his tears.

You sit down next to him, even though you're half asleep you notice that he's trembling. You move close to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Finnick?...Are you alright?" you say in a gentle tone.

Feeling your warm touch, Finnick breaks down.

You wrap your arms around him, "Finn? Finn what's wrong?" you say as you stroke his hair, trying your best to comfort him.

"I-I'm so sorry angel. I'm so sorry" he says through tears.

You look at him with confusion, "You're sorry for what Finn?"

"For everything. I'm so sorry, I can't do it anymore angel...I can't. I'm so tired." he says as he begins to hyperventilate.

You feel alarms going off inside your head. "Finn. Finnick please talk to me. Please." you say in a soothing tone as you cup his face in your hands.

"I can't keep doing this...I can’t keep pretending, keep smiling for them, keep letting them—" his voice breaks, his breath becomes more uneven.

"Finnick who are you talking about?"

"S-Snow- the entire Capitol-" he says, trembling as he practically sobs in your hands, shaking his head.

You press your lips to his forehead, resting yours against his when you pull away, "Finny...please talk to me,

He sniffles, "They own me. Snow… he owns me."

"Own you? What are you talking about Finny?"

He bites his lip, is he really about to tell you the whole truth?

"He… he sells me. To his friends. To anyone with enough money or influence. And if I say no, if I fight back, he threatens… everyone I care about."

You can feel a pit form in your stomach, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him cry in your arms. "Finny..." you whisper, stroking his hair, "How long has this been going on?"

"S-Since I was sixteen, and they parade me around like I was some prize, some… toy. That's why I take so many trips to the Capitol. That's why I act the way I act. I play the role because- because I thought it meant keeping everyone I cared about safe. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop him."

"And the worst part? They love it. The Capitol loves it. They think I’m... happy. That I want this." he says, his tears wetting the fabric of your shirt. "But it’s never enough. Snow always wants more."

You tighten your embrace, letting him cry it all out.

"He threatened you, angel. He wanted to do this same thing to you. I couldn’t let that happen. He would’ve taken you, used you, broken you. And I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t let him touch you. So I made a deal. I told him I’d take on more, do whatever he wanted, as long as he left you alone. That's why my trips have been so much longer."

Your heart shatters. You can feel tears begin to well in your eyes, you don't even know what to say. He's been dealing with so much. Alone. Just to keep you protected. "Oh..Finny" you say shakily, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead.

"I hate him. I hate myself for letting him control me. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you s-suffering . I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe."

You pull away from him slightly, making just enough space so you can press your lips against his.

"I did it to protect you angel. I lovd you too much to- to let you go through that. I couldn't let you go through any of that, you don't deserve to."

You kiss him again, "I know Finny. I know." you say in a gentle tone, kissing his forehead. "And I love you for that. I love you so much Finny."

You pull him into a tight embrace again, letting his get all his bottled up emotions out.

"I'm sorry for keeping this from you angel."

"It's not your fault Finny.." you whisper. "None of it is. It's Snow. Not you."

For the next few hours, you cuddle with Finnick on the couch. Running your fingers through his hair til you both fall asleep in eachother's embrace.

part three.

A/N: MY SHAYLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA☹️💔

[meazalykov]

unexpected plays

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

part one - part two here - part three here

summary: how can she feel this way after she turned you into a joke?

warnings: angst, swearing, enemies to lovers, lena and reader are horrible towards each other in this part so beware, long fic I had to split into two parts.

the rivalry with lena oberdorf was something that always hung over your head, a weight you couldn’t shake, even when you were off the pitch. 

it started years ago, back when lena was just a kid at essen, and it seemed to follow you both as she moved to wolfsburg. she was always there—looming, challenging, dominating. 

you didn’t mind the competition, at first. you liked to win, you liked the push. but over time, it became something more. it became a joke, a running commentary that the world loved to poke at. 

you are known as one of the best dribblers in the league. you’d always been that way—fast feet, perfect touch, always able to weave through defenders like they were cones. no matter who you faced, whether it was a world-class fullback or a physical center-back, you’d find a way through. 

it was almost instinctual, the way you’d glide past them, the ball glued to your feet. defenders would throw everything at you—shoulder-to-shoulder challenges, slide tackles, grabbing at your jersey.. none of it could stop you. 

it felt like the ball was a part of you, like every movement you made was deliberate, one step ahead of everyone else on the pitch.

but then there was lena. somehow, she was different. she wasn’t just a defensive midfielder; she was a wall. 

whenever you came up against her, it was like hitting something immovable. she was strong, fast, and relentless, always anticipating your next move before you even made it. and it didn’t matter how many tricks you pulled, how many feints or step-overs you threw her way—lena was right there, closing the gap, pressing you so close that you couldn’t breathe. 

and it wasn’t just her physicality. lena knew how to get under your skin in a way that no one else did. 

even when you managed to get around her, there was this feeling, like she was right behind you, ready to pounce. you hated that she was always there, a shadow on your back, reading every turn, every faint gesture of your body as if you were an open book.

one time, you thought you had her beat for sure. it was a pokal match against wolfsburg, and you were charging down the left wing, the pitch wide open in front of you. 

you saw lena coming in fast from the side, so you dropped your shoulder, pretending to cut inside, only to dart back outside. normally, that would leave any defender on their heels, but lena didn't bite. 

she didn’t fall for the trick, staying tight, her eyes locked on the ball. the moment you tried to accelerate past her, she stepped in, her hip bumping you just enough to throw you off balance, and suddenly the ball was gone, at her feet. 

she didn’t just defend against you; she dismantled you, piece by piece.

"nice try," she had called out, laughing lightly as she played the ball away to jule, that made your blood boil. 

she didn’t just win the duel—she made sure you knew she won. she taunted you, poked at every weakness, like she enjoyed getting that rise out of you. 

you hated how she made you feel like you were never good enough, how she seemed to live for every time you stumbled or lost possession.

it wasn’t like that with anyone else. 

you could beat the best defenders, slide past the toughest midfields, but when it came to lena, it felt like you were always running into a brick wall. and it wasn’t that she was necessarily better—just different. 

no matter how fast you were, no matter how clever your dribbles, she would always find a way to be there, blocking your path. and worse than that, she got to your head.

every match you had against wolfsburg, every one-on-one battle felt like a war you couldn’t win, not just because of her skill, but because of how she seemed to know exactly what to say to unravel you.

you’d try to ignore her, to play your game, but it was like she thrived on your frustration. the more you pushed, the more she pushed back, until all you could think about was her—how to get past her, how to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could beat her.

but no matter how many times you tried, no matter how many games you faced each other, lena always found a way to stop you. you’d leave the pitch fuming, hands clenched into fists, replaying every missed chance, every time you felt her body knock you off balance, or heard her voice in your ear. 

and that’s what made it worse—you were used to beating everyone else. but with lena, it wasn’t just about the game. it was about pride, about proving yourself, and somehow, she always seemed to have the upper hand.

your teammates would notice it immediately in training sessions leading up to the matches against wolfsburg. there was this quiet intensity about you.

the sessions were faster, sharper, and it wasn't lost on your teammates that the real target on your mind wasn't just winning against wolfsburg—it was beating lena. 

they rallied behind you, trying to boost your spirits, teasing you about how this time you'd "get her," but even they knew there was more to it than just friendly banter.

sometimes they saw the frustration, too—the way you'd take out your anger on a stray pass or how a mistimed tackle would make your jaw clench. the pressure wasn't just on you to score, but to prove yourself in those one-on-one duels against lena. 

the team felt it, and it added a layer of tension to the matches. they were backing you, yes, but there was always that lingering fear of what would happen if lena got the best of you again—how it would affect your mood, your performance.

at wolfsburg, it was similar but different. 

they knew exactly how to press your buttons, and lena thrived in that environment. every time you faced off, her teammates would encourage her to go harder, get tighter on you, make it as difficult as possible. 

"she’s faster, but not stronger than you, lena," they'd say during training, pushing her to be more aggressive, more relentless. 

you were a threat, but a threat that lena can handle. 

there were times that your dislike for lena hurted the team dynamic—whenever you got too caught up in trying to beat lena one-on-one and lost sight of the bigger picture. 

your coaches would sometimes call you out, telling you to play simpler, to let the ball do the work, but the rivalry made it hard to think rationally. you wanted that win against lena almost more than you wanted the win against wolfsburg.

and the same went for lena. she’d get caught up in marking you so tightly, so aggressively, that it sometimes left gaps in wolfsburg’s defense. 

she'd go into challenges recklessly, earning yellow cards just for the sake of making sure you didn’t get past her. her teammates, as much as they backed her, would sometimes groan when they saw her chasing you out of position, knowing she was willing to risk everything to shut you down.

it was like this invisible pull between you, one that neither team could fully control.

the commentators always zeroed in on the rivalry whenever bayern faced wolfsburg. they’d sense the tension before the whistle even blew, knowing your one-on-ones with lena were the heartbeat of the match. 

“the first minute is set and here we go again—bayern vs wolfsburg. or should we say—y/n vs. lena.” the commentator says when you receive the ball from pernille. lena chased you but stops when you pass back to giulia.

“you can see it everytime this matchup happens. y/n beats almost anyone, but lena? she’s a different animal. she doesn’t just play the ball; she plays y/n,” they’d analyze each time after lena blocked your path or went in for a rough tackle. 

whenever you’d get past her, they’d erupt in excitement. “l/n breaks through down the middle! you can see the light excitement on her face as she passes over to buhl—she needed that.”

and when the tension would boil over, the commentators would almost lean in, voices rising as you and lena squared up, faces inches apart. 

“it’s more than just football with these two. look at that—you can feel the rivalry. it’s like they’re always one wrong move away from an explosion.”

there was a moment where lena pushed you on the grass after halftime. you didn’t react at first, hoping that you’d look up to see that poppi was the one to push you instead and apologize like she always did– but it was lena. you gave her dirty look as she looked at you from over her shoulder. 

"lena’s in y/n’s head," the commentators say, half-laughing. and then it was lena herself, always taking it a step further on the pitch.

“what’s wrong, süße erbse?” she’d taunt in that cocky voice, smirking since she knocked you off the ball yet again. 

your teammates at bayern call you sweet pea, due to your kind and caring nature, so of course lena used that nickname to come at you with.

“can’t keep up?” she snarks, laughing to herself and walking away– leaving you to watch her with an offended look.

“bitch.” you mumble to yourself every time.

you hated that she made you feel like this, cornered, small. and worst of all, you hated that the public loved it. 

people praised lena, and you were the punchline. every match between bayern and wolfsburg had that undertone. same if she was against you and your national team.

it was lena’s game, and you were there to be humbled. 

in the locker room after the game lena is sitting beside with jill, both of them cooling down after the draw with bayern. 

jill and lena have a normal bond for teammates who have been together for two seasons—friends, yes, but friends who can cut through each other’s bullshit without a second thought. 

the dutch is stretching out her hamstring as she looks over at lena staring at the ground. lena is relaxed but jill is observant.

"you were going hard today, huh?" jill says casually, raising an eyebrow as she side-eyes lena. 

“you play like you’re at war sometimes. especially with y/n.”

lena chuckles, shrugging it off. "yeah, well... you know how it is," she says, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long sip, as if the answer is just that simple. 

but the truth is, it’s not. she’s never been able to figure out what it is about you that drives her to push harder, be sharper, and more aggressive whenever she faces you on the pitch. there's something different about how you get under her skin—different, but not necessarily in a bad way.

jill doesn’t let it go, her gaze still pinned on lena. “no, i mean it,” she presses. “you’re different around her. the way you play, the way you talk... like, i get being aggressive, but with y/n, you’re... it’s more than just trying to win. do you hate her or something?”

lena lets out a breath, rolling her eyes a little, but she knows jill’s not going to drop it. “i don’t know, okay? maybe... maybe it’s just fun to get that reaction out of her. y/n’s always so... perfect on the pitch. so controlled. and when i’m in her face, it’s like... i don’t know, i like seeing her flustered.”

“flustered, huh?” jill’s tone is teasing, her eyes lighting up with amusement. she knows lena better than most, and she can hear the waver in her voice. 

“so... you like getting her attention? is that what this is? sounds like someone’s got a weird little thing going on.”

“no, that’s not what i meant,” lena snaps quickly, but the defensiveness in her tone is all the confirmation jill needs. “i’m just... i don’t know why i do it. she’s just easy to rile up, that’s all.”

“right,” jill says, stretching the word out, a grin spreading across her face. 

“it’s totally just about the bayern and wolfsburg rivalry. it’s not like you enjoy it when she gets all up in your space and starts yelling at you, right? not like you love it when she’s all fire and intensity.”

“jill, i swear to god—” lena starts, cutting her off sharply, but jill’s laughing now, clearly finding the whole thing more amusing than lena intended. lena looks away, her jaw tight as she fiddles with the tape on her wrist. 

she can’t explain it, not even to herself. there’s this feeling she gets when you’re close, whether you’re shoving her off the ball or staring her down with that heated glare of yours. it’s like electricity, and it’s addicting, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” jill says, raising her hands in mock surrender, though the playful glint is still there in her eyes. 

“but seriously, lena... i’m just saying, maybe take a second to figure out why y/n gets to you so much. ‘cause from where i’m sitting, it’s kinda obvious.”

lena doesn’t respond, refusing to meet jill’s eyes, and the silence hangs between them. it’s obvious to everyone except her, apparently. but all lena knows is that every time she faces you, it feels like more than just a game. and that scares her more than she’d ever admit out loud—even to jill.

three months later-- it’s the world cup group stage, your country was paired with germany, and tensions are already running high. the stakes are huge—your national team needs a win to secure a spot in the knockout rounds, and germany is standing in your way. 

however, germany needs to win in order to move on. all your country needs is a draw or a win. this gave your team the advantage. 

seeing lena knocked out of the world cup while you moved on would make your year. forget everything that happened in the bundesliga afterwards.

this is the world cup, and the rivalry between you two has never felt more personal.

from the first whistle, the match is physical. germany presses hard, lena especially. she’s everywhere—intercepting passes, throwing her body into challenges with your teammates, and making it clear that she’s not here to play nice. 

you try to stay focused, but every time you’re near her, you feel the heat of her presence, her energy almost daring you to engage.

about 30 minutes in, you receive a pass and turn quickly, dribbling down the wing. you see lena charging at you, and before you can even brace yourself, she comes in with a late, reckless tackle. her cleats scrape down the back of your ankle, and you stumble forward, barely managing to stay on your feet.

the ref blows the whistle immediately, but it doesn’t matter. the pain and frustration build inside you, and before you know it, you’re spinning around, glaring at lena. 

“what the fuck was that?” you shout, your voice rising with anger.

lena doesn’t back down, stepping closer with a cold smirk. 

“don't play if you have a low pain tolerance sweetheart” her tone is mocking, taunting you.

your blood boils, and before you can stop yourself, you clap your hands in sarcastic applause, the sound sharp in the tense air. 

one of your teammates, the right winger, presses their hand softly on your shoulder– encouraging you to not go any further with your words. 

you don’t take the hint.

“bravo, oberdorf! is that how you play now? just go in reckless because you can’t do anything else?”

lena’s smirk falters for a second, her eyes narrowing as she steps even closer. 

“you think you’re so special, don’t you? that everyone’s just supposed to move out of your way because you’re the fucking golden girl now?”

your eyebrows knitted together as your fist clenched together. is she mocking you? after winning golden girl in 2022, you surpassing her wolfsburg teammate and best friend jule in the votes, she's going to mock you now for it?

“at least i don’t need to injure and belittle people to stay relevant,” you snap back, your voice dripping with venom.

before either of you can escalate further, the ref is between you. the ref warns to not go any further. 

“watch yourself!” lena threatens. 

“fuck off!” you say back, madder than you’ve ever been. 

the ref blows the whistle, now most of the players on both sides surround her. 

she holds up a yellow card in each hand. one for you, one for lena. you barely register it, your heart pounding as you lock eyes with her, the fury between you practically crackling in the air.

as you walk away, still fuming, one of your teammates– your best friend who plays at a club in a different league, jogs up beside you. 

“y/n, what’s going on? what was that?”

she didn’t understand the beef between you and the german defensive midfielder. you shake your head, trying to calm down, but the anger is still simmering under your skin. 

“lena... she’s just a mean, aggressive person. always has been. she does stuff like this all the time. don’t ever trust her.”

your teammate frowns, clearly taken aback. they’ve never seen you this angry before, not like this. you’re usually the calm, composed one, the one who keeps her head in tough situations. 

“are you sure? she seems... intense, but i didn’t think she was that bad.”

your teammate’s club team mate, who is on the german team as well, described lena as a caring person– just like y/n. she is confused. 

you scoff, still glaring in lena’s direction as she walks away with her own teammates. 

“trust me. i’ve dealt with her for years. she’ll do anything to get under your skin, to take you down. i’m done giving her the benefit of the doubt.”

the rest of your teammates exchange glances, clearly believing you. they’ve never seen this side of you, so if you’re this worked up, lena must’ve crossed a serious line.

as the match wears on, things between you and lena don’t get any better. every time she’s near you, you can feel the tension, the unspoken rage. 

it’s like the rivalry between you two has exploded into something much more volatile, and neither of you is backing down. people are reacting to your outburst at lena, continuing on with the jokes.

late in the second half, you both go up for a header, and lena elbows you just a little too hard in the ribs. 

you win the ball, but you’re winded, your breath coming in sharp gasps. you land awkwardly, stumbling, and when you look up, lena’s watching you with that same smirk, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“still think i’m not relevant?” she mutters under her breath, kneeling down just loud enough for you to hear.

you grit your teeth, your fists clenching at your sides as you get back to your feet. 

“you’re pathetic,” you hiss. “imagine making yourself happy by intentionally hurting people.”

lena’s eyes flash, but she doesn’t say anything else. you can see it in her expression, though—the rivalry, the competition, it’s consumed her. and for the first time, you realize just how far she’s willing to go to win.

after another half–the final whistle blows, and the stadium erupts in cheers. 

your country just pulled off a massive win, eliminating germany from the world cup. adrenaline surges through your veins, and you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. 

you did it—you scored the only goal in the match. the one that sent germany home.

as you celebrate with your teammates, the conflicting emotions swirl in your chest. you know what this win means. it’s monumental, historic. but it also means something a little more personal—something just between you and lena.

you’ve always had a complicated relationship with her. you can’t wait to see the look on her face. it’s payback for all the times she’s pushed you too far, crossed that line on the pitch, and made you feel like you weren’t good enough by making everyone in the community tease you.

you glance over to the other side of the pitch, and that’s when you spot her. lena.

she’s standing there with her hands on her hips, staring at the ground in disbelief, the disappointment written all over her face. 

she’s not just upset—she’s devastated. the weight of germany’s elimination is heavy on her shoulders, and you can see the heartbreak etched into every line of her body.

a small smirk curls on your lips, and you can’t help it. payback. it feels good to see her like this, knowing that your goal, your performance, is what sent them packing. 

it’s petty, but you’ve never been able to shake the resentment, the rivalry that’s built between you two. she has hurt you more times than you have hurt her. you were never the first person to start a fight between the two of you. lena brought this upon herself.

as the german players start shaking hands with your teammates, lena finally looks up. her eyes lock onto yours from across the field. she’s still, her gaze piercing. you feel a rush of satisfaction, knowing that you’ve gotten the last word, in the most important match yet.

you lift your hand and give her a little wave, mocking in its casualness. you mouth the word goodbye, and you can see the flicker of emotion on her face. 

she’s hurting, more than you expected. and for a split second, the victory doesn’t feel quite as sweet. not when you see the sadness in her eyes.

lena’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something—maybe fight back, throw another snide comment your way like she always does, maybe even tackle you like she does on the pitch. 

but she doesn’t. instead, she just watches you, her expression defeated.

you turn away, but there’s a weird feeling in your chest now. as you turn to look at your teammate, the same one you talked to earlier, she shakes her head at you. 

you should be thrilled. your team’s through to the next round, and germany’s out. it’s everything you wanted. but why does it feel... strange? why is your teammate telling you that she doesn’t like what you did?

later that night, when you check your phone, you see social media tagging you in many photos and clips. your name is everywhere, with people talking about the match and your goal. 

there’s another narrative starting to form too—one that puts lena at the center of the jokes instead of you–for once.

look who’s going home now, one tweet reads, with a picture of lena looking dejected after the match.

it’s not just fans of your team—people all over are picking up on the tension between you two, turning it into a story. 

suddenly, lena’s not just dealing with the loss—she’s becoming a joke online. your moment of victory is becoming her moment of shame. the spots have turned.

a part of you feels vindicated, but another part... isn’t sure. you scroll through more posts, watching as people laugh at her expense, and it starts to feel wrong. 

what you did was immature, you realized. however, it is just one thing you’ve done in comparison to the multiple things lena has done to you.

yeah, lena’s been rough with you in the past. yeah, she’s made you angry. yeah, she made you into a joke for three years, but watching people tear her down like this—it doesn’t sit right.

but all you can think about is the way lena looked at you, the way she pushed and pushed until you snapped. 

that night you’re in a hotel room with your national teammate, fresh off the high of winning the world cup group stage and advancing to the knockouts. 

still, you’re suffering from exhaustion from the past few weeks of relentless games, travel, and pressure. the both of you are winding down, going over the moments from the match that brought you to where you are now. 

but your mind keeps wandering back to one thing—the match against germany, and how lena was all over you, again. all she does is piss you off. it gets to a point where you wonder what you did to her in the first place.

your teammate is sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. she looks up at you with a soft smile. 

“so... are we going to talk about what happened with you and lena on the pitch today?” she asks casually, but you know there’s more to it. 

you flop yourself onto your bed, getting under the covers before you respond.

“what about it?” you shrug, pulling your knees up to your chest as you lay. 

“you saw it. she was just... herself. aggressive, pushy. nothing new.”

your teammate raises an eyebrow, still looking at you like she’s dissecting every word. 

“you say that, but it’s not ‘nothing new’ to me. i know i play in england but i still watch your gams in germany– especially the ones against wolfsburg. its like.. every single time you two play i’m like watching some kind of... soap opera or something. it feels like– i don’t know.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. 

“yeah, well, that’s lena. always has been. she just... hates me or something. she’s always gotta be the one to win, to prove something. especially when it's me. shit, her best friend lea plays at bayern and she is nowhere near rude with her or her german national teammates.”

your teammate is quiet for a moment, and you glance over at her to see her biting her lip, like she’s thinking carefully before she speaks. 

“but... do you think she really hates you?”

she has the same thoughts jill had with lena in the locker room that one time.

you look at her, confused. “what do you mean? of course she does. she’s been like that with me since I came from chelsea. it’s like she lives to make my life hell on the pitch.”

your teammate leans back, clearly unconvinced. 

“i dunno. i know you blew up at her earlier but  it doesn’t seem like she hates you. it might be something else.”

you blink at her, not following. “something else? like what?”

“like... maybe she doesn’t actually hate you. maybe she’s... trying to get your attention,” she says, almost hesitantly, but her eyes are on yours, searching for a reaction.

you laugh out loud this time, the sound bitter, echoing off the walls of the room as you roll underneath the covers. 

“what, you think she’s, like, obsessed with me? that’s ridiculous. no way. she’s just... competitive. in the most annoying way.”

“no, not obsessed. not like that,” she says, and you can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to find the right words. 

“i just mean... i don’t know, it’s like she always makes it about you. every time i see you two play, it’s like... all of her attention is on you. even when she doesn’t have to be marking you, she’s there. like today, she was way too rough, yeah, but... maybe it’s not just about beating you. maybe it’s about... having you see her.”

you shake your head, the thought twisting in your mind like a bad joke. 

“no, that’s... you’re reading too much into it. she’s just a bitch, plain and simple. she wants to win, she likes to make me look like crap, and it works because shes one of the best midfielders in the world– that’s it.”

“you sure about that?” your teammate presses, leaning forward slightly. 

“because it kinda looks like she’s doing all of this on purpose to make sure you’re paying attention to her. like, lena’s the center of your world when you two are on the pitch.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “you’re making it sound like she’s got some kind of... weird attraction to me or something. trust me, she doesn’t. she hates me, i know that for sure.”

your teammate shrugs, her expression thoughtful. “or maybe... she just doesn’t know how to deal with whatever she feels when it comes to you. maybe being aggressive is her way of, like... i don’t know, being close to you?”

the idea makes you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “yeah, right. lena doesn’t want to be close to me. she just wants to tear me down.”

your teammate is quiet for a moment, as if letting the words hang in the air between you, but she’s clearly not ready to drop it yet. “i disagree.”

“nah,” you say firmly, but the words feel unsteady in your mouth, like they’re cracking at the edges. “lena and i... it’s just football. she’s always hated me, and... i guess that’s never going to change.”

your teammate lets it go after that, switching the conversation to something lighter, and you’re relieved. 

but the thought stays with you, staying at the back of your mind. you can’t shake it, even though you laugh it off to her. because as much as you don’t want to believe it, some small, uncomfortable part of you wonders... what if your teammate is right?

what if lena's aggression wasn’t just about beating you? what if it was something else entirely? and that thought terrifies you more than anything.

one thing is for certain.. you will go back to being the joke to everyone– not lena. she will be okay for the few days that she gets teased, you’ve been suffering it for three years. 

a month later– its the start of the 23/24 season, and the energy is exciting. you didn’t win the world cup, losing the semi final to england, but that is okay. the match feels like any other—until you realize it’s not. 

you're back on the pitch against wolfsburg.. and lena, and something feels off. ever since the world cup, the tension between the two of you has been thicker than ever. 

but this time, she’s different—angrier, harsher– if that's possible. 

you notice it in her body language early on—lena's more aggressive than usual, throwing herself into tackles harder than necessary, her movements sharp and unyielding. 

she’s usually tough, but today it feels personal, and you can feel her eyes on you constantly, her focus not just on the game, but on you.

then, it happens. lena comes charging at you, shoulder slamming into your ribs harder than it needed to. 

you stumble, barely keeping your balance as the ball rolls away. a foul is called, but the referee only gives a warning. 

the sting of impact radiates through your side, but you shake it off, biting back the urge to clap back at her.

sending her home from the world cup was all you needed to say.. and do. 

as you walk past lena, her voice cuts through the noise, low and biting. 

"enjoying that wave moment of yours?" she sneers in german, her words dripping with venom. 

"you got what you wanted at the world cup, right? well, don’t think i’ve forgotten."

your chest tightens, a flash of anger surging through you, but before you can respond, you catch something out of the corner of your eye—lea. 

she's on the sideline, shaking her head, silently telling you no. she knows you, knows how quick you can be to snap back when lena gets under your skin. 

and this time, it’s clear lena’s trying to bait you. trying to make you lose your cool. 

she wants you to become the joke again.

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. it’s not easy, but you let lena’s words slide off you, deciding it’s not worth it. not this time. not at the start of the season.

you brush past her, ignoring the sharpness in her eyes. 

"whatever, lena," you mutter, just loud enough for her to hear. 

"it’s just football."

lena scoffs, clearly annoyed that you’re not rising to the bait. 

"yeah, keep telling yourself that."

she stays on you for the rest of the match, every tackle a little too rough, every push a little too forceful. but you don't react. you can feel her frustration growing, the way she’s trying to get into your head, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction. 

every time she goes in for a hard challenge, you spot lea in the corner of your vision, that same look of silent encouragement, reminding you to stay calm and not react to her bestfriend’s aggression.

and you do. you keep your focus, reminding yourself that this is just the beginning of the season. whatever happened at the world cup is in the past, and you’re not going to let lena drag you into another fight.

by the time the final whistle blows, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically—but you feel a small sense of pride for not letting lena get the best of you. 

the game tied. as you head off the pitch, you glance over at her, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something. 

but then she turns away, her jaw clenched, still holding onto whatever grudge she has against you.

lea catches up to you, bumping your shoulder gently as you walk toward the locker room. 

"you did good out there," she says, a small smile on her face as she wraps her arms around you.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "thanks," you reply. 

“i wanted to snap at her, but... i didn’t want to give her that satisfaction. sorry, i know this is awkward to talk about because she’s your best friend."

lea nods, her expression soft. "its fine. she’s just pissed about the world cup. give her time. she’ll come around."

part two

[kayewrite]

Like I Do

(i just wanna love you)

genre:; fluff, best friends to lovers. word count: 1864

jeongin x reader. college jeongin!. architect student Jeongin! (writing for him cause university jeongin is what i always dream of *sobs*0

wherein: you tried to stop you feelings for your best friend especially he has a girl.

College is something—

Something you don’t want to do but have to do.

Something hard to do, but you need to do it anyway because your future is in there.

You sigh for the third time as you look at the problem you need to solve for your hydraulics subject. You feel overwhelmed, so you decide to close your book and stand up. "This won’t do. I need caffeine."

You walk to the cafeteria, buy what you need, and sit at the nearest table when someone places a piece of bread in front of you.

"Hello. Miss me?" You sigh, then look at the man who sits across from you.

"I’d rather swim than see you," you joke because you hate swimming.

"Aww, I missed you too." He smiles, then takes your coffee and sips, leaving the cup half empty.

Jeongin has been your best friend since high school. Now in college, where you take different courses, you rarely see each other. He’s studying architecture, and you’re in civil engineering. Neither of you is in your dream course, but you took it anyway.

"How’s life?" he asks after you both rant about that one instructor you share—the one who doesn’t teach well but gives hard quizzes anyway.

"Better until I saw you."

He squints his eyes and rolls them. "I think you’ll see me more often. My girlfriend is in your department."

You stop sipping your drink at his words but then pretend it doesn’t affect you.

You’ve had a long-time crush on this best friend of yours. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s handsome and cute at the same time. He knows you better than anyone else in this world and is always there for you in hard times. Tell me, who wouldn’t?

But you tried to suppress it when you realized he’s a gentleman to everyone, not just you. He’s like that to anybody, and you’re not that special. Well, you are his best friend, but that doesn’t differ from how he treats his other female friends. He’s just that kind of potato to everybody.

"Who? Why didn’t you tell me?" You put on an upset face.

"Well, you’re busy. Every time I go there, I see you spacing out, so I can’t tell you."

"Well, that explains it." You try to act calm, but honestly, you’re just as hurt as if you were pricked by a tiny splinter that goes deeper into your skin until it swells. It hurts like hell, but you’re afraid to tell anyone—they might say you’re overreacting. It’s just a small wound.

"Are you angry?" Jeongin suddenly feels uneasy. He knows you well.

"Nothing. I’m just tired, but you drank my coffee, you prick."

He laughs in relief. "Don’t worry, I’ll buy you another." Then he stands up. You’re about to say it’s okay, but you feel too weak to do so and let him do what he wants.

He comes back with the same coffee and two cupcakes—your favorites: strawberry and chocolate.

"Here, our future engineer. Keep fighting!" He places them in front of you, cheering you up. You can’t help but smile. You seek comfort from him. You stay there until who knows when, talking and catching up until you run out of things to say.

You return to your study area, feeling like the burden you were carrying is now gone. You pick up your pen and answer your problems quietly.

-

You step out of your classroom, feeling happy. Your long quiz is finally finished. You’re not sure about your answers, but at least it’s done, and now you can rest!

"Ohoy there!"

You look toward the end of the hallway you’re walking down and see Jeongin with a tube slung over his back (probably his plates).

You smiled. "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy?"

"I was busy, but I need to look for my inspiration. Have you seen her?" Jeongin's eyes twinkled as he teased, but you knew he meant his girlfriend. The words made your heart sink, but you played along.

"She's inside taking the exam. You should be quiet and let her take it in peace," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

Jeongin chuckled, leaning against the wall next to you. "How's the quiz? Did you ace it?"

"Finished, at least. Whether I aced it is a different story," you said with a small laugh. "But I'm just glad it's over."

"That's the spirit!" Jeongin gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow. "How about we celebrate? Let's go to that ramen shop we used to visit in high school. My treat."

The suggestion brought a rush of memories—late-night study sessions, bowls of steaming ramen, and laughter that echoed through the small, cozy shop. It was your place, your little refuge from the world. But now, the idea of going there with him, with her, made you hesitate.

You forced a smile and nodded. "Sure, sounds good."

Later that evening, the three of you sat around a familiar table at the ramen shop. The comforting aroma of broth filled the air, but the atmosphere was different, heavier.

Jeongin's girlfriend sat close to him, her arm looped through his as she leaned in, talking softly. You tried to focus on your ramen, stirring the noodles absentmindedly. Jeongin noticed and, without a word, pushed a small bowl toward you.

"I asked them to leave out the vegetables and tone down the spice," he said, his voice warm with familiarity. "Just how you like it."

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to ignore the way his girlfriend's eyes narrowed at the gesture.

Throughout the meal, she grew increasingly clingy, touching his arm, laughing louder at his jokes, as if marking her territory. You felt smaller with each passing second, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

"I need to go to the restroom," you suddenly announced, standing up before either of them could react. You needed air, needed space away from the suffocating tension.

In the restroom, you stared at your reflection, trying to compose yourself. But the tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable. It was too much—pretending you were okay, pretending you could just be his friend when every moment with him reminded you of what you couldn't have.

You cried until you couldn't anymore, until the mirror showed a person you barely recognized, someone worn out from hiding too much. Wiping your eyes, you took a deep breath and made a decision. You needed to set boundaries, for your own sake. Jeongin had a girlfriend, and you had to let go of the feelings that were tearing you apart.

The next few days were hard. You avoided Jeongin, making excuses whenever he tried to hang out. You buried yourself in your studies, in anything that could distract you from the ache in your chest. But Jeongin noticed. Of course, he did.

One day, he cornered you outside your classroom, his expression serious. "You've been avoiding me."

You sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I’ve just been busy, Jeongin. You know how it is."

"Bullshit," he said, his voice unusually sharp. "You’re not just busy. Something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me."

"Why does it matter?" you snapped, finally looking at him. "You have a girlfriend now. Go focus on her."

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. "Is that what this is about? You think I don’t care about you just because I’m dating someone?"

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill again. "No, it’s not that. It’s just… I need space, okay? I need to figure things out."

"Figure what out?" His voice softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to you.

You stepped back, shaking your head again. "I can’t do this, Jeongin. I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine when I’m not."

The silence between you was deafening. He looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, and maybe something else. You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, alone and confused.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between you and Jeongin grew. You tried to move on, focusing on your studies and pushing your feelings aside. But every time you saw him, your heart ached, a constant reminder of what you’d lost—not just the chance to be with him, but the friendship you had cherished.

Jeongin, on the other hand, became more and more withdrawn. His girlfriend noticed, of course, and their relationship began to strain under the weight of his unresolved feelings. He missed you, more than he thought possible, and the longer he went without seeing you, the more he realized something that terrified him.

He liked you. He always had, but he had been too blind to see it, too caught up in the idea of finding the perfect girl that he overlooked the one who had been there all along. The one who knew him better than anyone, who made him laugh, who made him feel at home.

And now, he was losing you.

It was a rainy afternoon when Jeongin finally found you in the library, your nose buried in a textbook. You didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in your reading. But when he sat down across from you, you looked up, surprised.

"Jeongin, what are you—"

"I broke up with her," he blurted out, cutting you off. His eyes were intense, filled with a determination that you hadn’t seen before.

You blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?"

"Because she’s not you," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Because I’ve been looking for something, someone, who was right in front of me the whole time. And I was too stupid to see it."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of hope and fear swirling inside you. "Jeongin, you don’t know what you’re saying…"

"I do," he insisted, leaning forward. "I know exactly what I’m saying. I like you. I like you so much that it hurts, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you because I was too scared to admit it."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of joy. You had been holding onto this hope for so long, and now, it was finally happening.

"I like you too," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Jeongin smiled, that familiar, boyish smile that you had fallen for all those years ago. "So, what do you say? Should we give this a shot?"

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. He reached out, taking your hand in his, and just like that, the distance that had grown between you disappeared. It wasn’t going to be easy, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

[captn-trex]

a little while longer

Hunter x F!Reader

word count: 4.1k

description: your job keeps you away from pabu, your home, more than you would like, but when you return after weeks away, there's a certain someone eager to make you stay for good.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, all that good stuff, wet hair hunter !!!

a/n: been sitting on this for a little while and finally finished it lol, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out in the end. also I realised after that pabu's beach might not be sand....... just pretend it is okay

You brought your ship out of Hyperspace and sighed delightedly at the sight of the swirling blues of Pabu's surface. It was always such a wonderful sight after a long stretch of selling.

You owned a small vineyard on Pabu, though of course none of your customers from other areas of the galaxy knew that's where you operated from. The drinks you made were your main source of money, but you also owned a small wine bar on Pabu. Most of your time was taken up by travelling to other star systems and selling your wares, but your favourite times were spent back home, talking with customers across the bar.

As you entered the upper atmosphere, you were greeted by the wonderful orange and pink hues of the sun disappearing over the horizon. You quickly sped down to the surface, eager to watch the sunset from the town square as you often did when you were back.

When you set down your ship, you saw the flash of blonde hair as the young girl you had grown so familiar with rushed across the square. You smiled at her eagerness, and barely made it out of your ship before you were attacked at the waist by her crushing hug.

“You've been gone for so long!” Omega whined, “You've never been away that long before”

“It was only a few weeks Mega” You told her, but she still wasn't pleased.

“How long are you back for this time?” She asked, her eyes wide and shining up at you.

“I'm not sure” You ruffled her hair with tight lipped smile.

She groaned as she let go of you, “Alright, well I guess I should just make the most of it then”

“That sounds good to me” You smiled down at her as she slung her arm around your waist, pulling you in the direction she knew you'd be going.

Ever since the Bad Batch had arrived on Pabu, you had spent a lot of your time with Omega. For whatever reason, she was very interested by your work, and she often came to help you with some of the more simple parts of the process. She was fascinated that you could create such a mind-altering beverage just from simple fruits. She always wanted to try some, but she was many years away from an acceptable drinking age, and so you had to crush her dreams every time you said no. You thought that she probably continued asking because one day you might just break, and sometimes it felt like that. Her hopeful smile was just too precious, and the look of dismay that followed denying her a taste was enough to make most people do as she liked.

Omega let go of your waist to pull you down onto the ledge by your forearm, a little too close for your comfort but you knew she was smart enough not to fall off.

“Careful Mega” You reminded her anyway, and she rolled her eyes.

“I'm always careful” She said, shuffling closer to you so that she could rest her head on your shoulder.

“I know. Doesn't stop me worrying though” You sighed, leaning your head onto hers and pulling her in with your arm around her back.

“Maker, you're as bad as Hunter” Omega mumbled, earning a chuckle from you.

“Can you blame him? Chaos follows you wherever you go”

“That's not my fault” Omega shrugged.

“Hm, I'm not sure about that… but if you insist” You replied, and both of you settled into silence as you watched the sun setting.

The pink clouds circled and danced around the orange glow, and a deep red was bursting from the horizon line. As the sun sunk lower and lower, the air was filled with a haziness that only came on beautiful summer evenings such as this. It was still warm, a little light and people still moved about in the town, but the lack of wind made everything seem stationary, like a picture, a frame, frozen in time.

“You should get home” You mumbled to Omega, feeling calmed by the serene atmosphere.

“Probably” She sighed, and lifted her head from your shoulder to look at you, “Why don't you come with me?”

“I'd love to Mega, but I should be getting back to the bar really” You told her reluctantly. You had told the person working you'd be back before sunset…

“Awh, come on, just this once? You can come and see Hunter” She grinned up at you and you rolled your eyes. You had made the sore mistake of letting slip the nature of your feelings towards the Sergeant, and Omega saw it as a perfect opportunity to try and play matchmaker. “I'm sure he'd like to see you” She added.

“Yeah yeah, in my dreams right?” You chuckled, and held your hand out to help her up as you stood.

“You know, there's nothing stopping you from just telling him how you feel” She said matter-of-factly, looking up at you with her hands on her hips.

“Well, for now I've still got to go back to the bar. I'll see you tomorrow kid” You smiled at her, and she waved you off before running back home.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you walked in the direction of your bar. It was located down a small street, almost tucked away, but the people of Pabu all knew where it was, those that drank wine anyway.

You approached the building, flower baskets adorning the windows and metal chairs and tables outside, a few people sitting there and enjoying the last traces of light. You brought your lighter from your pocket and lit the candles at the tables, the people smiling appreciatively and welcoming you back to the island.

You absolutely loved it here. You hadn't lived here your whole life like many of the other islanders, but when you had arrived around seven years back, they took you in as one of their own. Everyone was exceedingly friendly, and your dream of running an orchard and wine bar was quickly taken up when you had mentioned it in passing to Shep. A lot of people had pitched in, and you would never be able to repay them for that.

That was partly the reason you spent so much time away, because you couldn't possibly cover the cost of running your business just through the wine bar and the sales you made on the island. There simply weren't enough people. Truthfully, you wished that you never had to leave at all.

“Heya Lenny” You smiled at the man currently working the bar.

“Hey boss, looks like you're late again” He smirked, knowing what had kept you.

“Sorry Len, you can go home now, I've got it from here” You chuckled, setting down your bag behind the bar.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go spend time with that lovely husband of yours” You smirk at him, the emphasis coming from the newness of the title, as they had only got married a month prior.

“Alright, don't threaten me with a good time” He laughed, untying his apron and leaving out the back door.

You settled yourself behind the bar, looking up at all the bottles of wine that adorned the back of it. You smiled, looking at the labels from years gone by, as well as the new additions. You could honestly say that you were proud of yourself for how far you'd come.

“I heard you were looking for me” A voice spoke from behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. You turned towards the front of the bar, and met the soft brown eyes of your favourite customer.

“Who told you that? Wait- let me guess… Omega” You chuckled at the young girl’s attempts to get you two in the same space all the time.

“Oh, you weren't actually looking for me?” Hunter asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I wasn't, but it's nice to see you anyway” You smile.

“You too. When did you get back? You should've come said hi” Hunter leaned on the bar.

“Only as the sun was going down, I had to get back here anyway” You shrugged, brushing past his comment, “What can I get you?”

“Oh nothing, I was only coming to see why you were looking for me” He backed away from bar a little, “I'll leave you to it”

“To what?” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, casting a glance around the empty bar.

Hunter chuckled a little at the realisation, clearing his throat, “Right, sorry”

“Come on” You grinned, grabbing a bottle from a few years back off of the shelf, as well as two glasses. You held them up as you moved from behind the bar, heading outside, “Have a drink with me?”

Hunter smiled, following behind you, “Sure, why not”

The customers that were here when you got back had since left, so it was just the two of you when you sat down at the table outside. It was quiet as you set down the wine glasses on the table, and poured a sensible amount for both of you. You swirled the deep red liquid in the glass and took a sip, smiling as the different notes hit your taste buds.

Hunter watched you with interest, inspecting the way you enjoyed the drink. He took a small sip from his own glass and swallowed thickly to get it down his throat.

“So” You began, crossing one leg over the other as you looked to the clone across from you, “What's been going on since I was away?”

Hunter began going over everything he could think of that happened, which didn't end up being too much. Pabu was peaceful, nothing catastrophic ever really happened, not counting the sea surge that you still jokingly blamed the bad batch for bringing with them. He recounted how Omega had been doing more flying, and that she was pretty much better than him, Wrecker and Crosshair combined by now. He talked about his brothers so fondly, and you loved to listen to it. The way his mouth curled at the edges as if he was trying to surpress it, the creases at the edges of his eyes giving it away. It was clear to you how much he cared for them all, how he still felt responsible for them, and it always warmed your heart.

“And you? How have you been?” You asked, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled breathily, “Yeah I'm fine”

“Just fine?” You arched an eyebrow at him subtly.

“Good, then. I don't know” He shrugged with a small smile.

You shook your head a little. You had told him before that he thinks of himself far too little, so you knew he knew what you were getting at.

“Sorry, I've just been rambling on, what about you? How were your travels?”

A sigh escaped your lips before you gave it permission, “Fine, as always”

Hunter knew you didn't like leaving. You had once drunkenly regaled him with all of the worst tales of your travels, an unfortunate memory your mind replayed often at night when sleep eluded you.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“No, I'd just rather not have to do it”

“Why do you? Couldn't you get someone else to do it?”

“I wouldn't want to subject anyone else to it, and besides, I've gotta pay the bills somehow” You said with a tight smile.

“I'm sure Shep wouldn't mind helping out in some way” He suggested, but you shook your head forcefully.

“I've already taken too much from the people of Pabu”

Hunter could see the guilt written on your face as plain as day. He wished he could reach out and ease the crease that formed in your brow whenever you were reminded of how much had been given to you in your time on Pabu. You found it hard to accept help, Hunter had learnt that the hard way, but he could never find the right words to express just how much he felt you deserved. He would give you the galaxy if it was his to give, but that was far to obscene to just say in passing.

“It's fine” You blinked a few times, “The time I do get to spend here makes up for it”

Hunter offered you a sympathetic smile, “Omega misses you a lot when you leave”

You chuckled, “That sentence alone makes me want to never leave again”

Hunter huffed a small laugh, understanding completely what you meant. He, along with everyone else, had a hard time saying no to the small blonde clone. The only person he had seen handle saying no to her well, was you.

After a moment of silence, he spoke what was on his mind.

“I miss you when you leave too”

You just took a sip of wine and tried not to react in any sort of way, but that was always more difficult around Hunter, who could sense just about anything, any changes in your body.

“Yeah, I- I miss you too, all of you” You tried to act casually about it. Hunter smiled kindly and your eyes flicked away briefly.

“You not enjoying this one?” You asked, pointing to his almost untouched glass of wine

“Uh…” He scratched his neck, “To be honest, I don't really like any wine” He said cautiously and your mouth dropped open, “Sorry”

“You don't need to apologise, but… Hunter you've been coming here for the better part of a year, and you don't even like any of the drinks we sell?”

“Well… I wasn't really coming for the drinks” He said with a small smile stretching across his face.

You just looked at him puzzled, but he waited for you to figure it out, “I-” You frowned deeply, looking at him and trying to understand, “I'm confused”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, “I only come to see you”

“Oh” You said quietly, almost dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you're either always working, or away, so… I have to take what I can get”

You suddenly felt alive inside.

“I… I would have hung out with you if you had asked”

Hunter cocked his head slightly, looking vaguely amused, “I did ask”

“Well, I didn't know you were serious” You said, your cheeks heating up a little.

“I'm always serious” He replied, earning a laugh from you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, just watching him, and him watching you. He raised an eyebrow slightly as if to ask what was going on in your head. Truthfully, you didn't know.

You then stood up quickly, “Let's get out of here”

“What?”

“There's no one here anyway, let's go to the beach” You said, drinking the remainder of your wine and grabbing the other glass and bottle.

“What's at the beach?”

You shrugged with a grin, “I guess we'll find out”

You're body felt like it had been electrified as Hunter helped you take the tables inside, and your hands were almost shaking as you locked the door. You never did anything spontaneous, especially not nowadays, and the prospect of taking the evening as it came felt exhilarating. You were positively buzzing, maybe from the wine, but mainly from the nervous energy bubbling up inside of you.

Hunter could sense it. It was the strangest sensation, it's like your insides were trying to escape you, pent up with fizzing electricity, like static.

“Race you there?” You smirked up at him, and quickly ran off in the direction of the beach.

Hunter let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment just watched you sprint away from him, his smile taking over his face. He darted after you as you rounded the corner, not necessarily caring to beat you there, but just to engage in your sudden spontaneity.

The wind was whipping at your face, sending your hair flying behind you as you winded around the cobbled streets. You hadn't felt so free, so youthful, in such a long time, and it was nice to indulge in such a feeling.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes and sunk your toes into the sand. The sensation was strange but familiar, something you hadn't done for years. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon now, and the moon was shining proudly, casting a gentle blue light over the waves.

Hunter came to stand beside you, an intrigued smirk curling the edge of his lips. You looked up him, and couldn't help but mirror his expression. He could see the glimmer of mischief in your eyes and waited for whatever idea you had to unfold in front of him. Though, he was wholly unprepared when you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off.

“Woah!” He stepped back slightly, “Uh… What are you doing?”

“Going swimming” You said simply, unbuttoning your trousers and tugging them down.

Hunter's mind was reeling. One minute you were standing next to him, looking up at him innocently, and now here you were, walking away from him in only your underwear. He couldn't help but let his mouth hang open a little.

You turned to look at him from the edge of the water, “Are you coming?”

The moonlight illuminated the edges of your silhouette, your smirk undeniable even in the low light. Hunter was frozen, the sight in front of him making him breathless. As you turned your body towards him, hands on your hips with your brow arched questioningly, he gulped.

He didn't say anything, but he slowly reached back and took off his shirt. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he unbuttoned his trousers and left them in a crumpled pile with the rest of the discarded clothes. You bit your lip a little, turning back to the ocean and stepping into the water.

It was freezing, and you shivered violently, a small gasp escaping your lips. You waded in, getting used to the temperature, until the water came up to your mid-thigh. You heard a hiss as Hunter followed you in, and looked back at him, a genuine smile on your face.

“How are you in that far? It's kriffing freezing” He grumbled, moving away from the shoreline.

You laughed at him, “What's that? The big bad Sergeant can't handle a little cold water?”

The teasing look on your face was enough to make his knees fold in on themselves, but he kept a calm exterior as he shook his head and stepped into the water again.

“I'm not so bad, am I?” He said in reply to your mocking remark, finally reaching your position.

“Hm” You hummed, arms crossed over your chest, “That remains to be seen”

Hunter's eyebrows raised slightly, looking down at your teasing expression with a smirk. The longer he looked at you like that, the more you cracked, your confident streak fizzling out. He could feel your heart beating faster each second, and saw the light dusting of a blush across your cheeks, and his smirk faded into a more sincere smile.

“Come on” You nodded your head out to sea, “There's a place I want to show you”

You then dove into the water, submerging yourself completely. You broke the surface after a few moments, swimming out into seemingly - to Hunter - the open ocean. After a minute, you got to the rock that jutted out just above the water level, and hauled yourself onto it. Hunter followed after you, reluctantly at first as the freezing water chilled him to his bones, but seeing you sat atop the rock, body glistening in the moonlight, he soon forgot all about the temperature of the water.

Watching Hunter pull himself out of the water was unlike anything you had ever gazed upon. The moon cast a light on the drops of water that ran down his toned body, making it glitter, and highlighting every muscle as it moved to push himself to sit next to you. His hair was pulled down by the weight of the water, the pieces around his face falling over his eyes so that he had to push them away.

You couldn't look away. He was gorgeous.

His chest was heaving as his eyes found yours, both of you out of breath from swimming. The air between you felt different, charged with unspoken feelings that were quickly becoming apparent. Hunter's gaze was serious, a small crease in his brow as he looked at you.

“I don't want you to leave again” He admitted quietly.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away from him. There wasn’t really anything you could say.

“I don't want to either” You confessed, your shoulders slightly slumped.

“Then don't” He urged, and you tilted your head back to him. He looked at you with such longing, his eyes slightly wide and swimming with emotion. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your cheek, “Stay with me”

Your breath caught in your throat, “I can't promise something like that Hunter”

“Why not?” He asked softly.

“I-” You began, but hesitated when Hunter brought your face closer to his.

“Why not?” He asked again, looking so deeply into your eyes that he could be looking at your very soul.

“I- I don't know” You stuttered out, mesmerised by his gaze.

Hunter smirked, “Exactly”

He then immediately pulled away and slid back into the water, swimming towards shore faster than you could possibly keep up with.

“Hey!” You shouted after him, entering the water once more and racing after him. He stood in the shallows as you approached him, but before you could ask what that was all about, he scooped you up into his arms. His hands found themselves under your thighs and he pulled your body towards his, making you let out a small squeal at the sudden and unexpected closeness.

“You're going to stay here, on Pabu. I'm going to make you” He claimed.

“You're going to make me? How do you intend to do that?” You asked with a smile, feeling giddy from his words and the feel of his strong arms holding up your almost bare body.

“Like this” He mumbled before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was passionate, so much more so than you were expecting. It was a perfect climax to the tension that had been building all evening, possibly all year, finally bursting and dissipating. His lips moved against yours with an urgency, his plea for you to stay echoed by his actions. He held you close to him, one arm snaking around to your back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You deepened the kiss, your hand finding itself lightly tugging on his hair at the base of his scalp. He groaned quietly as he devoured your mouth, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip. After a short while, you broke away to catch your breath, the kiss feeling like it had taken your very lungs away.

“Well, that was certainly convincing” You grinned, pulling a laugh from Hunter.

He pressed his forehead into yours, his gaze becoming more serious, “If I do it again, will you stay?”

You sighed slightly, but the look in his eyes made you feel like everything in the galaxy was right, exactly how things were right now, with you in his arms. It made you feel alive, and the intense urge to finally do something self-indulgent brought your answer from you.

“Yes” You replied in a whisper, “I'll stay”

His hands gripped you tightly as he brought his lips to yours again, and you completely lost yourself in the sensation.

The feel of his body against yours, his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, were enough to make you want to stay forever. You could figure out the problems this would bring later, but for now, you were eager to get a taste of what the rest of your life could feel like.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie asked you on a date. Maybe. Possibly. But you definitely accepted. (5.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, mentions of sex, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, tipsiness, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter ten: this foolish lover's game

“I’m telling you: it’s a date.”

Nora flicked through the items on the clearance rack, searching for something in your size. She pulled out a floral shirt, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put it back. 

“It’s 1993. A guy and a girl can hang out without it being something romantic,” you retorted, trying to ignore the fuzziness that filled your head at the potential classification of your upcoming night out with Eddie as a ‘date.’

“Very true. But that’s not the case here.” Nora sighed at the limited clothing choices and at your stubbornness. She stalked over to a rack of regularly-priced skirts, evidently on a mission. “And you know it, too, which is why you asked me to help you choose a new outfit.”

You had done that, though you definitely regretted it now. It had been so long since you’d actually gone out with friends that you really did need new clothes, but you had no idea where to start. 

Enter Nora: best friend extraordinaire. She was just as great at finding clothes that flatter your figure as she was at being a study buddy. Her opinion mattered to you; it was necessary, especially considering the way you currently teemed with self-doubt. 

She plucked a denim miniskirt from the lineup and held it against your waist. “Go try this on,” she said. You reached for the price tag, almost certain that it was out of budget, but she clamped her hand over yours. “My treat. Now, go.”

There was no arguing with her, not while she was shooing you into the dressing room. She clasped your shoulders as she steered you towards a curtain, yanked it open, and shoved you inside. “I’ll wait here,” she said.

You closed the curtain once again, unbuttoning your shorts and letting them fall to the thin carpet below you. 

The skirt hung on its hanger, buttons all along the front, and it was impossible not to imagine Eddie being the one undoing them. His nimble fingers would dance across the seam as he positioned himself between your legs. You could practically feel his hands as they crept further upwards towards that dangerously sensitive part of you—

“Can we stop by the food court when you’re done? I’m dying for one of those cinnamon pretzels.”

The sound of Nora’s voice instantly cooled your heating skin. “Y-Yeah, sure,” you stammered. 

Focus on that, you silently reprimanded yourself. Focus on Auntie Anne’s or Orange Julius or Panda Express—not Eddie tracing his tongue along your inner thighs. 

You stepped into the skirt, warding off any lingering Eddie-related thoughts. Monday night would be like hanging out with Nora or Ben. There was no need to worry about your hair, or your clothes, or your makeup. Eddie was a friend, and only a friend, despite what absurdities your other friends planted in your head. 

With the last button fastened, you allowed yourself to glance at your reflection in the mirror. The denim hugged your curves delicately, providing just a hint of what laid beneath without giving too much away. It looked odd paired with the old t-shirt you’d thrown on this morning, but the right top would make a world of difference. 

Nora clapped her hands together the moment you opened the curtain. Her brown eyes lit up, and a soft squeal of excitement emanated from her throat. 

“You’re gonna have Eddie eating out the palm of your hand,” she declared, reaching out to give you a little spin. 

You gently pulled away from her as though it would offset the fluttering low in your stomach. “I told you, it’s—”

“Yeah, I know. Just two friends going to the bar, pretending they don’t wanna bone each other.” Nora rolled her eyes, already sick of the will they-won’t they song-and-dance. 

You ducked back into the fitting room to change out of the skirt. “He doesn’t wanna bone me.”

“But you wanna bone him?” 

It came out as a question, but you knew she meant as a statement. 

“First of all, stop saying ‘bone.’” You hissed, tugging your shorts back over your legs. “Second, Eddie and I are friends, and he’s taking me out for graduation. End of story.”

Nora’s sigh was audible from the other side of the curtain. “Not ‘end of story.’ You didn’t answer my question. Do you wanna b—have sex with Eddie?”

Your hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and though you couldn’t see her face, you were certain she was grinning when she announced, “I knew it!”

“It’s not like that,” you protested. The fitting room was suddenly far too crowded and depleted of oxygen despite you being its only occupant. You threaded the teeth into your shorts zipper and grabbed the skirt, now heavy in your hand. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute, but—”

“But nothing. C’mon, just admit it: you like Eddie.” You could detect a hint of exasperation in her tone. Frustration, even, or confusion as to why you continually denied yourself life’s small pleasures. 

You couldn’t answer that, either. 

Protest died with the subtle twitch of your lips that gave away the truth. You hated your tells, the ones that swiftly uncovered the feelings you worked diligently to stifle. And you knew that if Nora kept pressing you about this crush, you would eventually break down and divulge it all. 

Not just your burgeoning romantic feelings towards Eddie. Not the way you told bad jokes just to see his lopsided smile and the nose crinkle that often accompanied it. Not the multiple occasions when you caught yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and ached to kiss right along the hardened edge of his biceps. 

Once you said those thoughts out loud, gave them the weight of spoken words, they became real. Able to hurt you when he inevitably didn’t reciprocate them. 

And that terrified you. 

“You have a big ol’ crush on him,” Nora continued, “and he has one on you.”

“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you mumbled, purposely averting your gaze from hers.

Through peripheral vision, you could see her raise one brow. “Says who?”

Says the song lyrics about his ex-girlfriend. But that was too much to explain, so you slapped on a tight smile and shook the thought away. “Never mind. Let’s just pay for this.”

Nora swiped her credit card with an ease that only comes with the luxury of not having to worry about paying the water bill. She never had to dip into her own savings to keep the lights on. Buying her friend a miniskirt for a maybe-date wasn’t going to affect her grocery budget. 

“I have the perfect pair of Docs to go with this. You can borrow them,” she said, pointedly adding “for your date.” She was either oblivious or didn’t care that the cashier was eavesdropping on your conversation. 

“Not a date.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Nora plucked the bagged skirt from the cashier, flashed her a grateful smile, and shoved it in your direction. “Just answer one question for me—are you gonna wear lace panties underneath this, or cotton?” 

When you once again failed to look at her, her grin widened.  

“That’s what I thought.”

On Monday evening, you found yourself poised in front of the mirror, still fogged from your shower. The inky blue sky leaked into your room through the time-worn blinds, the sun almost fully faded into nighttime, which meant that Eddie would be knocking on your door at any moment. 

The hem of your black fitted t-shirt met the waist of your skirt, the slightest gap between the two fabrics. It wasn’t scandalous by any stretch of the imagination, but it still conveyed one message: you wanted Eddie to look at you. Wanted him to notice your soft skin the way you noticed his flexing muscles, with awe and more lust than you cared to admit. 

Did it all reek of desperation? What if Eddie was wearing the sweatpants he’d donned to remove the wallpaper? Just the possibility of him looking at your own outfit, at the effort you put into your appearance, and realizing you’d interpreted a friendly gesture as a date had you cringing. 

No, this was a bad idea. You had to back out, now. Claim that you weren’t feeling well, maybe even take some ibuprofen in front of him, and promise a raincheck. You did feel the familiar throbbing that accompanied a tension headache, so it wasn’t a total lie—

Knock knock. 

Sweat overrode the antiperspirant you’d lathered on, flooding you with a nervous heat. You frantically wiped your slick palms on the bed sheet like a cat at its scratching post and opened the door. 

Eddie's eyes widened and his tongue brushed over his lower lip. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped to your exposed thighs, drinking in every ounce of visible skin as though it was the only sustenance he’d ever need. His stare was hungry, if only for a moment, before his words broke the trance. 

“You look…good. Pretty.” He swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet your eyes. “Sorry…just not used to seeing you all dressed up.”

Pretty. Eddie Munson thought you were pretty. The notion sent serotonin surging through you, a soft giggle passing through your lips. It was embarrassing, this schoolgirl crush, the way a simple word from him rendered you pathetically speechless.

A barrage of compliments perched themselves on your tongue, waiting to be untethered. He looked good, too; beyond that, he looked handsome. His cream colored shirt was baggy around his torso but clung to his biceps, drawing your attention to the vein that ran up his forearm. 

You willed yourself to say something, anything, to reciprocate his kind words.   

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, mirroring your nervous energy as he gently rocked from the heel to the toe of his Reeboks. “We should get going,” he said.

Opportunity slipped from your grasp; anything you said now would seem like pity. Your only response was a nod as you locked the door and started towards the lobby.

Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

Mom stood behind the desk, flipping through the check-in sheets with the  cap end of a pen clenched between her teeth. She looked up, blinking in rapid succession when she saw you and Eddie approaching. You weren’t sure what surprised her more: you going out, or the man accompanying you.

“Well, don’t you two look nice!” She grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just getting a drink,” you said as casually as you could. “Celebrating my—the wallpaper.” It was a lame finish, one that Mom didn’t quite believe, but she lacked the energy to push further. 

Guilt panged in your chest, not just at the lie, but because part of you felt like you were taking advantage of her exhaustion. You couldn’t tell her the real reason for the celebration; bile rose in your throat at the thought. Instead, you smiled and promised to be home before the start of your shift. 

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Eddie added with a mischievous edge, not sexual in nature but still had your stomach doing somersaults. “I know she can be quite the troublemaker.”

Mom laughed at this, so pure and genuine that you were half-tempted to ask Eddie if you could stay here and talk with her all night. Maybe he could break the news to her, since they seemed to get on well enough.

You felt her watch as Eddie opened the door for you and gave the tiniest bow to let you pass, though you didn’t dare look back at her. Not because she wouldn’t approve—just the opposite. Looking at your mother would confirm what you already knew deep down: she’d be beaming at the sight of you going on a date. 

If that’s what this was. 

Eddie shuffled to walk right by your side, sneakers scuffing against the broken pavement. A flicker of hope ignited within you that he would do something to confirm that this was, in fact, a romantic endeavor and not just two friends getting a drink. Perhaps an arm slung over your shoulder or a hand laced with yours. 

There was only the gentle brush of his fingers against yours, knuckles grazing one another as they nearly slotted together. It was taunting, the way they could be a perfect fit if given the chance. 

You almost went for it, almost grabbed hold of his hand yourself, but fear had you in its own grasp. Even if the benefit outweighed the risk, you couldn’t stop picturing him tugging his hand away from yours in a humiliating show of rejection. 

“You okay? You’re not, like, mad at me again, are you?” Concern creased Eddie’s brows, and your heavy heart realized that the last time you were this quiet around him was after the argument. 

“Not at all. Sorry.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Just lost in my own thoughts.” You sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate on those thoughts. 

Luckily, he just tilted his head towards you, his eyes taking on an even more doe-like quality than usual. “That’s the problem with you smart people: you’re always thinking too much.”

You laughed as you nudged him, your right shoulder colliding with his left. He stumbled slightly, quickly catching himself before he could fully lose his balance. 

“Hey!” He yelped, rubbing his upper arm. The muscles beneath it flexed at his touch. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I…” You shook your nerves loose and faced him, speaking before you fully lost yourself in his full, waiting lips. “I’d never damage merchandise as priceless as you.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, the compliment seemingly rebooting his brain. Was it too forward? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d called you pretty just moments before. And it wasn’t as if you’d been forward enough to say he was sexy (though he was) or accidentally emasculated him by pointing out how adorable his soft dimples were (another fact). 

His exhale was a disbelieving chuckle. “I, uh, don’t think anyone’s called me ‘priceless’ before. ‘Worthless,’ maybe, but…” He trailed off in an attempt to contain it as a lighthearted joke, but it was anchored by an undeniable truth. 

If you could, you would wash away the ego-marring stains left behind by those who hurt him. Scrub and scrub until it was once again pristine as though they’d never been tarnished by self-doubt. 

“Priceless.” You said it definitively, leaving no room for further argument. 

Eddie ducked behind his hair, letting the curly locks dangle over his mouth to mask his flustered smile. You were willing to bet that a blush was spreading across the apples of his cheeks. 

Curiosity loosened your inhibitions enough for you to reach out and tuck a few strands behind his ear. Sure enough, a delicate pink tinged his skin. You wanted to kiss it until your lips grew swollen from where his stubble scratched them raw.

Doing that would require something far more potent than inquisitiveness. 

There was a decent crowd that night, not as packed as the weekend would have been, but there were enough people that only one empty stool remained in front of the bar. Eddie gestured to it, offering you the seat just as he had on the subway last week. 

You tucked the denim fabric of your skirt behind your thighs as you sat. Eddie watched every movement, an unreadable desire darkening his expression, as if he wished it were his fingers on your skin. 

Your smile seemed to snap him from his trance. He waved down the bartender, who held up her forefinger to signal she would be right over. 

A shadow draped over you as you scanned the liquor-cluttered shelves, bathing you in a welcoming darkness. Protection. Eddie’s arms framed your torso, his hands planted firmly on the bartop. And when you lightly grasped his wrist, your thumb rubbing against the soft hairs on his arm, you could have sworn you felt the tension leave his body in one swift exhale.

“What are you gonna get?” The grainy pop music playing from the speakers and a cacophony of neighboring conversations muffled his voice, and he had to shout just to be heard. 

“A vodka tonic.” Simple, classic, and most importantly—not expensive. Though you probably should let him be the judge of that, considering it was his treat. “If that’s okay?”

Eddie laughed softly and nodded. “It’s your night, Heiress.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip. 

He ordered your drink first, then placed his order for whatever beer was on tap before declining to open a tab. Your chest went slightly concave; you should have followed his lead and ordered the cheaper option. 

As if sensing your guilt, Eddie pulled back enough to look you in the eye. “It’s your night,” he repeated, grabbing your short, stout glass and placing it in your hand. He raised his own taller mug, proposing a toast. “To a badass future social worker and all of the lives she’s gonna change. For the better,” he added quickly. 

Before he could clink his glass to yours, you locked eyes with him. The brown eyes that steeled themselves against you the night he first checked into the motel were now pillow-soft, beckoning you to fall. He may not have even been aware of it himself. 

“To the coolest rockstar I know,” you said, allowing the lips of your glasses to touch. “And the second-coolest guest to ever stay at the motel.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Second?”

“You really think you’re cooler than Phyllis?”

“Touché.” He relented with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Without a second thought, he licked it away. 

The movement enraptured you: his tongue swiping over his skin, leaving no residue in its wake. That same tongue that peeked out from his mouth when he was focused, a simple muscle, but it held your attention for a beat too long. 

“Are you…” Eddie gestured towards your vodka tonic, and you realized you hadn’t even taken a sip. 

Cheers to embarrassing yourself ten minutes into the date. Non-date. Whatever it was. 

The vodka’s bitterness and the bubbles from the tonic water seeped into your tongue. You savored the burn as you swallowed. It had been so long since you’d had a drink, and just the first taste had you buzzing. If you didn’t pace yourself properly, you’d be tipsy far too soon. 

The sound system crackled and microphone feedback shot through the bar. You and Eddie winced in unison, each taking a gulp of your drinks. 

A man in his mid-thirties, balding with a goatee, stood at a makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Welcome to Music Mondays here at The Brink. That’s right…it’s karaoke night!”

There was a smattering of applause that didn’t  match the emcee’s enthusiasm, but he remained undeterred. 

“Sign up here with your name and your song, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Drink that liquid courage and come on down!” The microphone screeched once more as he slid it back into the stand. 

You turned to Eddie, your eyes wide with mischief. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

Eddie scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m not getting up there and making a fool of myself.”

“But it’s my night,” you reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

He looked poised to argue, one hand gripped tightly around the mug’s handle, his mouth ready to say no. But then you batted your eyelashes and pouted, all in jest. A dramatic showing that you didn’t expect would convince him. 

A wry smile betrayed his tough exterior as his thumb ghosted your lower lip. Lightning crackled at his touch, soft as it was, illuminating your bones and surging through your veins. When he pulled back, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a light red stain tinged his skin. If he noticed it, he made no attempt to wipe it off. 

“It is your night,” he mused, gaze flickering to your mouth before promptly returning to your eyes. When you lit up in anticipation of him conceding, he couldn’t help but grin back. “One song. And I’m choosing it.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when his touch still lingered on your lip. He disappeared for a moment to add his name to the list. As soon as he was out of sight, you took a much larger gulp of your drink. A trickle escaped out of the corner of your mouth, and you haphazardly swiped at it with the back of your hand, lest it ruin the shirt you’d picked out especially for the date. 

This isn’t a date. The reminder was as harsh as the vodka itself. You lifted the glass once more and drained it until the half-melted ice cubes clicked against your teeth. Whatever this evening was, you needed to relax. Enjoy Eddie’s company without reading too much into his every move. 

You turned your attention to the TV mounted above the shelves, engrossing yourself in the scrolling closed captions. A weatherman announced that this summer was going to be a ‘scorcher,’ and though he said it with a plastic grin, you inwardly cringed at the impact the air conditioning would have on the electric bill. 

“I’m up third.” Eddie’s voice broke in, turning the upcoming weather into a distant memory. He raised his brows when he saw your glass, now empty on the sticky bartop. “You finished that already?”

“Mhm.” Your smile was sloppier than you intended, your head starting to float from your neck as tipsiness crept in. 

Eddie breathed out, shaking his head with a glimmer of a smirk. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impressed, and you didn’t have time to ask before he waved over the bartender. “Just water, please.” He nodded his thanks when she slid it over. “Drink,” he said to you, and you dutifully obliged. 

“What song did you pick out?” Something that is supposed to be screamed more than sung, you assumed. 

He just shook his head again and swallowed more beer. “It’s a surprise.” His eyes twinkled when he said it, and you wondered if his choice erred more on the side of Madonna than Metallica. 

A woman got up on stage and began her rousing rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. 

Peppy? Upbeat? A great way to kick off karaoke night? Absolutely. 

On-key? Not even close. 

“If you ever start a new band, you should ask her to join.” You chinpointed towards the woman currently butchering the Cyndi Lauper classic. “She’s got that star power, I think.”

Eddie snorted but composed himself quickly to play into your joke. “I’m worried she’d outshine me.” He widened his eyes in faux concern. “Go solo and leave me behind, y’know?”  

“She’ll probably steal all of your groupies, too,” you added, tutting as if to say, what a shame. 

“Even you?”

You cocked your brow. “Who said I’m your groupie?”

He leaned his elbow against the bar, mouth slackjaw at your rejection. Disbelieving laughter left his throat in a huff. 

“I take you out, treat you to the best watered-down drink this city has to offer, and this is the thanks I get?” His curls brushed against his cheeks when he shook his head. “Who would you be a groupie for? Wait, no; lemme guess.” He tapped his finger to his chin. “New Kids on the Block? Boyz II Men?”

“I think I’d die if Joey McIntyre so much as looked at me.” You hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The watered-down or not, the alcohol was certainly turning sober thoughts into tipsy words. 

Eddie chugged half of the beer, watching as the woman on stage finished her song and left with a triumphant bow. “Pretty sure your shitty taste in music is what plays at the gates of Hell,” he said to you. 

Your response was a mere flick of your middle finger. 

A man in a suit took the stage next, loosening his tie as he positioned himself behind the microphone. A group of similarly-dressed men started hooting and hollering obnoxiously the moment the opening chords to Don’t Stop Believin’ blared through the sound system.

You looked back to Eddie. If he was nervous about singing karaoke, he didn’t show it. His shoulders were relaxed, his posture much less tense than on the walk to the bar. Maybe the alcohol loosened him up as it had you. 

“What about you?” You asked. “Whose groupie would you be?”

“Easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “Joan Jett. Total badass, killer musician, and hot as hell.” He nodded to confirm his choice before leaning in and loudly whispering. “Bad Reputation was basically my secret anthem in high school.”

You laughed. “Did you imagine it playing in the background when you walked down the halls?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie grinned and polished off his beer. 

His confession warmed you—or maybe that was just the vodka working its way through your bloodstream. Regardless, you were intrigued by the glimpse into his past and found yourself hungry for more. 

“Can I ask you a non-groupie related question?”

“Shoot.”

Your tongue was heavy, the resulting slurring softening your words. “If your hometown is so shitty, why are you trying to go back?”

He loosened a chuckle, glancing at the shelves of booze before looking back to you. “My uncle still lives there. He, ah, he raised me after my dad split and my mom…y’know.” Eddie cleared his throat and managed a small smile. “Why? You want me to stick around?” 

The hair on his forearm tickled when he slid it over to nudge you, his pinky finger overlapping yours. 

Of course you wanted him to stick around. You’d smear honey all over the motel’s siding to lure more bees, tempt them to build their nests among the sticky sweetness, just so he would have a reason to stay. 

The man on stage belted out his final “don’t stop believin’” as his buddies enveloped him in drunken hugs. 

“All right!” The emcee bleated into the microphone. “Next up, we have…” He checked the sign-up sheet. “…Eddie! Let’s give him a hand, folks.”

A smattering of applause echoed throughout the room, the excitement of karaoke night already dwindling. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t show it. 

“This one’s for you, Heiress.” He winked and sprinted towards the stage. 

Eddie pressed his foot on the microphone stand, adjusting it so it was level with his lips. His fingers curled around its neck, dramatically tugging it closer as the instrumentals piped through the sound system.

Well, since my baby left me Well, I found a new place to dwell Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street At Heartbreak Hotel

His hips swung back and forth, the gyrations not quite as precise as Elvis’s, but he still snapped them in time with the staccato guitar chords. The right heel of his sneakers tapped the floor as he continued, voice dipping into his lower register.

Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby  Well, I'm so lonely  I'll be so lonely, I could die

Free hand pressed to his heart, Eddie leaned in your direction and tilted the mic stand while he sang. The movements were reminiscent of how a man would dance with someone he loved, impassioned yet graceful. Charisma oozed from every pore, his natural command of the stage an enduring reminder of his brief foray into rock stardom.   

The other patrons faded into the background as his eyes fixed on you, a personal serenade rather than karaoke night amongst a sea of drunks. Easiness weaved through each note he sang, his body loosening and his lips curving into a smile when you let out a vodka-fueled whoop of admiration. 

Now, the bellhop's tears keep flowin'  And the desk clerk's dressed in black  Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street  Well, they'll never, they'll never look back

Eddie pointed to you when he referenced the desk clerk, the crowd following his every move. The heat of their stares only exacerbated the warmth that the alcohol already sent coursing through you, but you felt no need to hide. The rich timbre of his voice was a magnetic pull, drawing you in until it echoed deep in your bones. 

Although it's always crowded  But you still can find some room  For broken hearted lovers  To cry there in their gloom  Where they get so, they get so lonely, baby  Well, they're so lonely  They'll be so lonely, they could die

He ended the song with one final swing of his hips, one foot turned inward in an Elvis-esque pose. If anyone else applauded for him, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of your cheers. 

He made a beeline for you. “Did that live up to your expectations?” Sweat dripped from his flushed forehead and down his temples. 

“Exceeded them, actually.” 

The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber liquid. “On the house,” she explained when you and Eddie looked at her in confusion. 

You shouldn’t. The TV set that broadcasted the news showed that it was nearly nine o’clock and you were already tipsy from the one drink. Adding a shot—and subsequently mixing liquor—was a recipe for disaster. 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna,” Eddie said. “I’ll take them both.”

With a shake of your head, you took the glass nearest you and downed it, the whiskey burning stronger than you had anticipated. Tears reflexively welled in your eyes, leaving you clinging to the hope that you had blinked them away before Eddie could notice.

He let out a soft, low whistle. “Well, okay then.” His own shot disappeared past his grimacing lips.

A familiar synthesized beat replaced the idle hum of conversation as a middle-aged woman began her song. Eddie threw back his head when he heard it, groaning as though the ‘80s hit left him in agony.

“You’re such a music snob,” you lamented, reaching out with both of your hands to grab onto his. If this is what liquid courage felt like, you were more than happy to ride that wave. “There’s more to life than heavy metal.”

“I just sang Elvis!” He protested, but his efforts were all in vain as you hopped off of the barstool and led him away from your empty shot glasses. “Heiress…” His tone was a warning, one that you promptly ignored.

You let your gaze meet his, the vodka-and-whiskey combination working overtime to stifle your nerves. 

“Dance with me.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re tipsy.”

“I’m tipsy and I want you to dance with me.” 

“You wanna dance, huh?” He laughed again when you nodded. “All right; let’s dance.” 

Eddie’s hands slid down to your wrists and adjusted your arms so they draped over his shoulders, his curls tickling your fingers when they clasped behind his neck. He hesitated for a second before letting his own fingertips rest on your waist, careful to avoid dipping below the small of your back.

Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love  Never hesitating to become the fated ones  

The current performer was marginally better than the first two, but her voice wasn’t nearly as polished as Eddie’s. She kept getting too close to the mic, the lyrics muffled each time her purple-lipsticked mouth grazed the cover. 

You inched forward, your chest against Eddie’s as the two of you swayed in tandem. His fingers flexed before tugging you closer, evidence that you weren’t the only one affected by the shot. 

“Can’t remember the last time I heard this song,” he mused wistfully. “Probably my senior prom. The last one, anyway.”

“You had more than one senior prom?”

His cheeks, already pinkened from the liquor, flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, it, uh, took me a few tries to graduate,” Eddie admitted. “But I did it.” A sheepish smile still held a twinge of pride. 

“You did it.”

“Yeah.” One arm reached back to grasp your hand and twirl you around, and you breathed an audible sigh of relief when the room didn’t spin with you. “But tonight,” he grinned, “is all about you.” 

You. Not the motel or its crumbling financial infrastructure. Not the guests or your parents. Not school or exams or term papers. Just you. 

An involuntary giggle wriggled its way up and you ducked your head to hide it, your forehead brushing against Eddie’s lips. Did he purse them slightly in a hint of a kiss, or was that a figment of your imagination?

Turning and returning to some secret place inside  Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say  Take my breath away

“You okay?” Eddie asked, a smile in his voice.

“Mhm. Just happy.”

“Yeah? Good.” His forefinger tucked under your chin and tilted it upwards, granting him a better look at you. The tip of his tongue parted his lips and swiped over the whiskey-scented residue. “You deserve to be happy.”

You did deserve to be happy. You deserved joyful moments in your life, people who surrounded you in sunshine even when rain poured.

My love, take my breath away  My love, take my breath away

You deserved Eddie.

Standing before you, his eyes never strayed from your form, flicking from your face to where his hands gripped your waist. His chest rose and fell in time with the music. 

“I…” You swallowed your fear, already tempered by tipsiness, curling your fingers into the back of his ribbed t-shirt collar. 

Desire rippled down your spine and you leaned in to close that godforsaken gap, already tasting him on your tongue. 

But not before he pulled away. 

--

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[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Happy birthdayyyyy!!🥳🥳🥳🥳

If I’m still on time for the birthday event may I please request the following prompt:

"I can't pretend like everything's fine when I’m falling apart inside."

With fem reader and nsfw and Eustass Kid. 👀

Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for your request! I know, I know, it's been so long and I still have so many of these waiting for me in my inbox! Please forgive me, everyone... Anyway, this turned out more angst than NSFW, I hope that you still love it! Thank you for your support!

Source for pic

Gone

Word Count: 2671

Tags: Fem!Reader; Heavy Angst; Grief; Mourning; Sorrow; Pain; Mentions of sex, not explicit; Blood; Death;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Kid faces a loss that devastates him like nothing else. Not even Killer seems able to rouse the Captain from his grief.

|Masterlist|

Kid holds your lifeless body against his chest, cradling you with so much care that it’s as if you are merely sleeping. Your eyes are shut, and your head lolls softly with each step he takes towards the Victoria Punk. He’s covered head to toe in the blood of his enemies, having gone on a killing spree after he witnessed life spilling from your eyes as he held you close, sheltering you both from the bullets that took your life in a cocoon of metal he created far too late. 

‘Don't be sad, Captain.’ 

He can almost hear you whisper the words, but your death was nearly instant, not giving him any moment to tell you how much you meant to him. 

'Don't worry, Kid. It's just death. Nothing is final.’

That sounds like you. But it's just his mind putting sentences together. A way to cope, perhaps. His chest feels heavy, each breath pulling with a raging effort just to travel from his lungs to his throat. 

“DOOOOOOOC!” He doesn't sound like himself. He has never sounded so broken, so torn, so incomplete. The word drags, a ragged sound that tears through his heart and rips his insides. You can't be gone, he refuses to believe that. 

Kid's scream summons half the crew, and they all have different reactions to what they see. Some sob, some curse, some freeze, and some rage. The Doc appears, rushing towards Kid and your still body, their breath immediately hitching in their throat as they see your pale face and stilled chest. 

“Captain, she…”

“No! Heal her.” Kid’s eyes are red, a fiery rage held within, ready to snap, ready to break and take everything in his path. “She ain’t gone.” The whine that leaves his lips sounds far away. It's not Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid speaking. It's your lover, your ‘baby’, your everything. “Bring her back.” He almost sobs, knees faltering as he's brought down by grief, shoulders sagging and wracking with effort. 

The Doc stutters, knowing Kid is the one in need of comfort, not your still, lifeless body but they pretend, fussing over you, checking your breathing - there's no air leaving your lungs - checking your vitals - gone. 

Killer approaches, his head bowed down with sadness as he nears the broken form of his oldest friend. Squeezing Kid's shoulder, Killer kneels down next to him. If anyone can bring sense to Kid, it's him. 

‘Listen to Kill, baby. He's got you. Always.’

“Kid… she's gone.” Killer's voice trembles as he delivers his words, they seem so final, so somber. The Doc stops fussing, taking a step back and hiding their face behind their hands, like most of the crew are doing, coping with their loss and grief. “You have to let us care for her. She wouldn't want you to feel like this.”

Kid doesn't speak. His hold tightens and he brings your body close to his chest again, burying his face in your hair like he did a thousand times before. “I never told her–...” Kid's breath catches and morphs into a broken wail. “Kill, I never told her how much I–...” Kid mumbles and murmurs in your ear. Promises of eternal love, words of devotion, just for you. Words that were trapped inside of him, words he couldn't let go off. Everything you meant to him, lost against a lifeless body. 

Killer's hand grips harder. “She knew, partner. She knew.”

But Kid doubts that very much, his memories betray him.

You held his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks and showing him your easy smile. Eyes shining just for him, as bright as the stars above in the vast sky. You'd always kiss him tenderly, your devotion flowing freely from your lips and the tips of your fingers as you caressed him. 

Kid got easily bored. Your touch immediately riled him up, and rare was the time he was gentle in his lovemaking. He needed you, his desire animalistic, almost primal, and he couldn't contain himself. Searching for pleasure, giving pleasure, but always harsh, brute, intense, equal in action as he was in personality. 

You’d sigh, mewl and moan into him, giving in to his needs because you needed him back just the same. Every thrust was an extension of his roaring desire, every bite, a mark of how much you meant to him. Every bruise from holding you too tightly was a testament to how fiercely he cared. 

And every time you unravelled under his unbridled ministrations, a tug in his heart reminded him just how much you meant to him. 

Tangled in the sheets, his seed dripping from you, you'd smile in bliss. Holding him. And always, always uttering those four words he longed to hear: I love you, Kid. 

He'd force the words out of his mouth, but they never got past his tongue. It was never in his nature to be vulnerable, let alone show vulnerability. But he did. He loved you fiercely, blindly, madly. 

Had he known that was to be your last night together, would he have made love to you instead of fucking you? Would he have slowed down his relentless thrusts to languid, lazy strokes? Would he have kissed you, leaving a trail of perfect lipstick marks on your skin instead of smudges mixed with blood from careless, harsh bites? 

“That was an amazin’ fuck, lass.”

Would he have told you he loved you instead?

“Ye know how to make a man have a good time.”

Would he have told you how much he cared, instead? 

“So tight ye make my dick hard again, just thinkin’ about it.”

Would he have told you how perfectly you fit against him, instead? 

“Kid… You have to let her go. It's time.” Killer's voice pulls him out of his painful spiral of memories. 

Yet Kid remains motionless, his hold on you only tightens, his clothes soaking more of your blood, dyeing them as red as his hair. His fingers tremble against your cold skin in an endless caress, like he’s trying to memorize every little bit of you, too afraid to let go.

The ship, always so full of laughter, of rowdy screams and clangs from something or other, is unusually quiet. The gentle splash of waves against the hull being the only song lulling in the air. 

That, and the mournful sobs and whispered cries of your friends - your crew. 

“She ain’t gone…” Kid whispers one more time, his lips pressing hard against your temple, his eyes glassy as if he’s not here, as if he’s somewhere far away, with you still breathing and smiling in his arms. 

Killer opens his mouth to argue but knows that it’s useless. Nothing can change his captain’s mind when he’s fully set to it. “Back to work, everyone.” He commands gently as he gets up, a stiffness to his usually fluid movements. 

The crew disperses slowly, some looking at Killer with doubt in their gaze, but he just shakes his head, silently asking for more time. Kid just needs a little more time with you. That’s all.

‘It’s okay, baby. You can let go. I know you loved me.’

Kid’s breath hitches as he tries to stifle a sob, a sound so broken, so lost, that it can’t have come from him. He keeps hearing your whispered words, as if you’re still with him. 

So why can’t he feel your warmth? Why doesn’t your body respond to his touch? Why is the pain he’s feeling hurting like nothing else ever did before. 

“Ye ain’t gone…” The raw vulnerability in his words hangs around the deck like a thick fog, coating the ship with grief and sorrow. The Victoria being a reflection of her captain’s moods. “We still have more time…”

‘We’ll meet in the afterlife, love. After you’ve achieved your dream of becoming the Pirate King.’

Kid’s tears seem foreign to him. It’s been a while since he shed them. They scald his skin, and he won’t be surprised if he finds blisters marring his face later, the weight of his pain is so grand that it has to leave physical scars. 

“Yer my dream.” Kid whispers against your temple, your sweet scent still so strong that you have to be alive. You have to. “Bein’ Pirate King means nothin’ if yer not by my side.”

That’s what he should have told you. 

A fresh wave of memories inundates his mind as Kid clenches his jaw and braces himself for a new outbreak of pain. 

“I can taste it already! We’ll have all the riches, other crews will fear us!” 

You laughed softly, your bare back turned to him as you removed your makeup in the mirror, preparing for bed. Kid paced back and forth, his muscles rippling with every movement.

The Alliance had taken out Big Mom and Kaido, and now he felt invincible.

“Baby, the other crews already fear us. Have you seen your bounty?” Your voice rang soft in his ears. How he loved that sound. He’d have you whisper a freaking recipe in his ear just to be able to hear you speak forever.

But he’d never admit it out loud.

“Fuck yeah, they should!” He roared, a hearty laugh bubbling up his chest.

“You’re one step closer to your dream, love.” You turned fully to him, a softness in your gaze that could crumble the highest resolve. Yes, he wanted to be Pirate King, but he knew at that moment that his dream would mean nothing without your presence. 

“Aye, lass, I am.” 

What he really wanted to do was cup your face in his hands, revel in the way your cheeks felt soft and warm against his calloused fingers, and take his time to kiss you gently. Show you just how much you meant to him, how deeply in love you made him feel.

Instead, he bent you over the dresser and made you unravel over and over again before he was spent, panting over you. 

What a fool he’d been. 

If only he knew there would be no more time. No forever. No eternity.

Breathing hurts him. Looking at you aches. Feeling nothing but cold when he touches your cheek devastates him.

He’s lost. He doesn’t know what to do without you. He doesn’t know who to be without you. 

‘You’ll figure it out, Kid. You always do.’

“Not this time, lass… not this time…”

He clutches you against him, only moving to take off his coat and drape it over your cool body, trying against all hope to keep warmth inside you. 

The minutes stretch to hours, and Kid remains rooted to the same spot. The crew gives him a wide berth, trying to carry on with their tasks, the ship still anchored in the same spot since Kid hasn’t given orders to sail, and Killer still clings to the hope of burying you on dry land instead of dropping you in the unforgiving sea. 

Hours drag on, bringing the dusk with them. The sky fills with bright dots, though they seem far duller and dimmer than usual, a mimicry of the grief that haunts the Victoria. 

Kid doesn’t move.

Killer checks on him from time to time, but all he sees is his captain mourning the loss of a loved one, whispering broken promises against your hair, cradling your face in his hands, holding on to a hope that will never be fulfilled, as if you could, somehow, open your eyes and come back to him. 

Yet Killer doesn’t intervene. He knows Kid needs time.

Dusk settles into night, and night turns to dawn. 

Kid’s cheeks and ears are red, his breath comes out accompanied by tendrils of smoke. He’s freezing, but the numbness of the cold does nothing to stop the ache in his heart. He still feels empty and lost. Broken and incomplete. He fears he will never feel whole again. 

“Kid. It’s time.” Killer’s gravelly voice does little to shake him from his stupor, so he doesn’t move. “You can’t stay here forever. She needs to rest.”

A primal growl leaves his mouth through bared teeth as Kid clutches you closer to his chest. “The fuck do ye know what she needs? I’m the one who knows her! I’m the one who loves her! Fuck!”

Kid slams his fist against the deck, and Killer hears the wood groaning and cracking under his power. 

The First Mate takes a tentative step forward, his hand hovering over Kid’s shoulder. “You’re right. I don’t know what she needs. But I know she wouldn’t want to see you like this. Rotting with grief, hurting, becoming a shadow of the man you are.”

Kid groans, shutting his eyes, forcing Killer’s words out of his head. They ring far too close to the truth, and he can’t bear it, not now. 

“I can't pretend like everything's fine when I’m falling apart inside, Killer…”

Killer sighs behind his mask, fearing that what he has to say might not be enough to help his friend. 

“You have to try. She loved you because of your strength, your fire, your ability to chase your dream. Don’t let that die with her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Killer!” He slams his fist again, and the wood splinters. New blood drips from his fist, coating the dried, caked one with a bright red instead. “I failed her… I fuckin’ failed her…”

“We all did, Kid. And we’ll have to live with it. But not like this. She wouldn’t want this, think about it.” 

Kid freezes, his hand trembling as he prepares to strike the battered wood again. Yet something in Killer’s words strikes close to home. You used to talk about what came next: the afterlife…

‘That’s it, baby…’

“She used to say that she’d wait for me if she went first…” Kid’s scoff turns into a sob, and Killer’s shoulders sag at the helplessness of it all. “I always told her to shut her mouth, sayin’ she was talkin’ nonsense. In truth, I just didn’t want to think she’d be gone first.”

The waves lap gently against the husk of the ship, and Killer doesn’t dare disturb the silence. Kid is clearly lost in his own head, memories swirling around, taking hold of him, either saving him or drowning him in sorrow. 

“How am I supposed to go on, Kill? I can’t–...”

Killer’s hand squeezes his shoulder, the gesture the same as the day before, but this time, it seems to ground his captain in reality. 

“You go on by fulfilling your dream. By fighting. By being the fierce Eustass Captain Kid she loved. If there’s something else, she’ll be there for you, and you’ll want to face her as a proud man, won’t you?”

Kid lifts his head, his amber eyes dimmed by pain, searching the horizon as if mapping the islands that surround him. Creating a pathway to his goal. 

“Aye. I want her to be proud.”

‘I already am, love.’

“And I’ll let her know, Kill… I’ll…” Kid’s voice breaks as he slowly sets you down on the deck, his fingers brushing one last time against your cheek.

“She knows, Kid.”

But he’s not listening to Killer, his eyes are fixed on you, brimming with tears again, but burning a little brighter now. “I’ll become the damned Pirate King for you - for us. Just wait for me, love.” 

Later, after they buried you and left a marker on that small island alongside the Kid Pirates' flag, Kid faced the horizon with a fierce determination setting his features. “Ready the Victoria. We’re just gettin’ started. We’ve got a damned throne to claim.”

“Aye, Cap’n!”

Grief might have shadowed the crew for a while, might’ve even made the sails of the Victoria less willing to fly, her husk heavier, more burdened. But your love was what drove your captain further now. That and the promise of the afterlife, of what came next, of unspoken vows and a way to fulfill them. 

‘I’ll be waiting, love.’

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

[strbymacaroon]

Silent Love: Ch.3- Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Two

Previous Chapter: Sexual Tension

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 11,729

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 18th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Saturday

You sit up in your bed at the sound of frantic knocking, your eyes awkwardly adjusting to the room, and immediately getting hit with a splitting migraine enveloping your head. You wince in pain, groaning loudly as the knocking grows louder. 

“Shit. Yuuji, what the hell do you want?” You yell at the door, grabbing your pillow and pulling it over your head. It’s way to fucking early to be dealing with this shit, why couldn’t he bother you in the afternoon? 

You glance at the clock on your counter, the numbers ‘2:57 PM’ glaring back at you, oh shit. An exasperated noise leaves your mouth. Okay, fine, maybe it is time to get up. You push yourself off your bed, growing annoyed that the knocking hasn’t ceased to stop. 

You’re too hungover for this. You and Nobara ended up drinking far too many drinks than you care to admit, so much so to the point where you believe Nobara’s car is still at the house where the party was. Or, maybe the Nobara is still there, the party was hosted by the frat of her asshole. 

You should probably text her to see how she pulled through. Nobara seemed absolutely gone when you tried talking to her. Actually, is she even alive right now?

Your hair is a mess, your makeup still on from the previous night, it’s absolutely ruined, but it’s still on. You reach for your brush on the counter, flinching with the tension it has running through your thick strands. 

What are you wearing? Are you decent enough to open the door? You look down at your outfit, seeing you were just wearing a large shirt, only long enough to cover the important parts. You’re willing to change, but with the insistent knocking getting longer, you’re only growing more annoyed. You decide to quickly grab some shorts. 

You pull the door open mid hair stroke, clearly pissed as you say, “Yuuji what the hell do you want—“ You cut yourself off, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Sukuna?” Definiently, not how you wanted to start your morning–or, afternoon. You’re still reeling from your orgasm the other night. 

You’re honestly incredibly embarrassed, the idea of the man you got yourself off to from pleasing himself, now standing right in front of you, it’s a bit too much for you to handle. You hate it, but your body appreciates it. 

Sukuna looks… incredibly annoyed, maybe even a bit done. It’s hot. 

You can see Yuuji behind him, leaning on his door, and snickering in contentment. Somehow, that reels you back in and out of your head, containing your thoughts to something more manageable. Yuuji, on the other hand, seems incredibly amused, his mouth pressed in a thin line trying to conceal a smile. It’s cute.

You give Yuuji an accusing look, “What’s happening?” 

This seems to make Yuuji absolutely break, his hand slapping over his mouth as he bursts out in laughter. Sukuna looks more annoyed now, his eyes twitching closed as he rubs his temples. Yuuji obnoxiously points at his Sukuna with a very shaky hand. “Sukuna needs you—Sukuna needs your help.” He turns his face away from his Sukuna. “Oh my god, this is amazing.” 

Sukuna seems to snap at this, turning his head to his brother and yelling, “I do not need her help, brat.” He sounds pissed, more so than normal. That has to mean Yuuji is right, which doesn’t seem right. Sukuna needing help sounds foreign. “If you’re here to be an annoying shit, you can fuckin’ leave.”

“You need my help?” You interrupt, continuing to brush your hair while leaning on your door. “And, I thought you didn’t want to see me?” You’re a bit cocky when telling him that, a smile splitting your face. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word.” 

Yuuji narrows his eyes at you, then his brother. Confused but amused by the back and forth between the two of you, but… also equally as uncomfortable. “Okay, I feel like I missed out on some conversations between the two of you.”

Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes at his brother and turning his attention back at you. “Do me one favor, and I’ll owe you one.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his forearms catching your attention, along with the tattoos decorating them. 

“What am I doing for you?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and tossing your hair brush  behind you. However, Sukuna doesn’t answer, he just diverts his eyes from you. That makes you a bit uneasy, so you reword your question. “How big is this favor?” 

“Big.” Sukuna seems uncomfortable.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Just tell me what you need me to do, or I’m going back to sleep.” You place your hand on the door, getting ready to close it. You’re not going to close it, you're bluffing, this situation is too intriguing to just leave, and your curiosity is killing you. You close your eyes and dramatically groan, placing your hand on your forehead, “I’m dealing with a killer hangout right now, and you’re totally in the splash zone.” You open one of your eyes to see his reaction, not bothering to hide your brazen smile. 

Sukuna’s just scowling at you, “Disgusting.” He waves you off, trying to stay on topic. Actually, that’s a lie, he isn’t trying to stay on topic, he’s trying to get this conversation over and done with. “Yes or no?” 

Well, that didn’t give you much of an answer. You look at Yuuji, crossing your arms over your chest. You wave your hands over Sukuna, gesturing to him as you say, “What is this about, babe?” 

“Our Pops stopped by for a surprise visit.” Yuuji starts, pushing himself off his door and making his way next to his brother. “Sukuna was stupid enough to keep a girl with him in bed.” He laughs, placing his hands on his hips and leaning forward. “Now, he wants to meet his “girlfriend.” Isn’t that right, Su-ku-na.” He sings teasingly, shaking his butt a few times. You just raise an eyebrow at his actions. 

Sukuna kicks Yuuji back, making him fall forward into your room. You giggle, but quickly stop when Yuuji passes you a glare. Which makes you kneel and check on him, your hand rubbing his back while you ask Sukuna, “What does that have to do with me?”

Sukuna isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your hands rubbing circles on Yuuji’s back. “I don’t want to..” Sukuna groans, tilting his head back to look at the roof. “I’m not introducing a random girl to…” He sighs, looking back at you, “He wants to meet my girlfriend, and I don’t feel like having a conversation with anyone about my sex life.” 

You tilt your head at him, “What does that mean?” 

Yuuji pushes himself to sit back up, relishing the way your hands caress his face. Checking to see if he had any marks or bruises, smiling at him with care once you see he doesn’t. “He’s asking you to be his fake girlfriend.” 

You jump at that, your attention snapping back to Sukuna and Yuuji. “Huh?!” Their silence speaks thousands. “Oh my god, you’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.” You awkwardly laugh, pushing yourself off the floor and taking a few steps back from the both of them. 

Yuuji takes this time to get up, dusting his shirt off. “Better start begging, Sukuna, I don’t think she’s on board with this.” He laughs. 

“Fuck off, Yuuji.” Sukuna barks, grabbing the back of Yuuji’s shirt and tugging him out of the room. “Give me some fucking space.” You hear the rustle of the two of them moving, before the door across yours slams shut. There’s a loud sigh, then a few footsteps back to your door. 

“You’re being serious.” You say, your back pressing against the vanity. There’s a small smile tugging at your lips, “You actually–you’re really fucked, huh?” You tap your foot on the ground impatiently, “I thought we agreed no more girls?” You huff, “That wouldn’t even put you in this situation if you listened to me.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah, fuck off. Yuuji said you were out. I can do whatever I want knowing you won’t be around to bitch at me.” He sneers at you. 

You laugh, “Yeah, and look where that got you.” You look to the side, running his sentence through your head again, “Wait…? You were asking Yuuji about me?” You pass him a flattered smile, placing a “touched” hand over your chest. 

Sukuna completely ignores your point, “Don’t look happy. This whole situation affects you, too.” Sukuna walks into your room like he owns it, which he technically does, but it’s still a bit jarring. He closes your door behind him, “Don’t need that brat listening.” He whispers to himself, then comfortably sits down on your bed. 

The idea of being alone with Sukuna makes you a bit flustered. Yet, you try your best not to think about that, “How does this affect me?” You’re glaring at him. He’s far too comfortable in your room for your liking. “Last time I checked, I don’t fuck everything that breathes.”

“I don’t fuck everything.” He snaps back at you, “Anything with a cute face, though.” 

“Can you not?” You scold, “Just tell me what happens if I don’t help you.

“My–” Sukuna groans, grabbing one of your stuffies and playing with its fur. “My Pops is… a traditional man, hates the idea of–you know.” He sighs, tossing your stuffie behind him. “Hates the idea so much, he threatened to fire me if I’m not dating her.” 

You raise an eyebrow, a silent question of, ‘and?’ 

Sukuna sighs, “Then, you won’t be able to leech off my shit, that’s what it means.” He tells you, “You’re going to be homeless without me.” 

You laugh at that, no, you laugh at him. “Wait, you think I need you?” You scoff at him, pushing yourself off the desk and standing up straight. “I’m only here because it was the best option, I’m moving out the moment finals are over.” You smile at him, “I don’t need you, babe, you clearly need me right now, though.” 

Sukuna covers his face with his hands, sighing deeply as he looks at you through his fingers. “Like I said, I’ll–” He rolls his eyes, his voice becoming a bit more quiet, “Do whatever you want.” 

Hearing those words does something to you, but you don’t dwindle on it, but your eyes do dwindle on the open computer on your coffee table. “Hm.” You take a few steps forward, kneeling down and closing your computer. “Anything?” 

Sukuna instinctively leans back, his legs spreading, “Anything.” He’s smiling a bit, but you’re glaring at him with annoyance. 

Admittedly, despite how attractive he looks, and his actions are, you just roll your eyes at him. “Seriously? Can you not be a horny dog for a second?” You stand back up, “So, if I agree, what exactly am I doing for you?” 

Sukuna seems a bit annoyed, “I need you to meet my–I’m going to be introducing you to my pops. And, he just wants to get to know you.” He sighs, rubbing the bottom of his face. “We’re just going out to eat.” 

“Under what title?” You take this time to smile to yourself, cutting into him with a quick, “The girl who you think about when getting off?” 

“You were listening.” Sukuna inquires with a smirk. 

“Until you called my name, threw up the moment I heard it.” You stick out your tongue, faking a gag. “Thank god for headphones.” You point at the pair of headphones on your counter, “They’re cute, right? I like the color.” You mockingly tell him. 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “You want a fuckin’ title, you title is going to be my annoying ass girlfriend.” He barks at you, putting an emphasis on his profanity. 

You find it a bit endearing, placing your hand over your heart and singing, “I’m going to be your fake girlfriend? I’m so honored.” You sit on your coffee table across from him, crossing your legs over one another. “You need me, Sukuna?” 

“I don’t fucking need you, I can do shit on my own.” He turns away from you, child-like in a way. 

You laugh at him, “Okay, go tell your pops that you fuck everything that breathes.” You widen your eyes, faking a realization with a gasp, “Oh wait no, you only fuck things with a cute face, right?” You point at him scoldingly, “Make sure to clarify that with your pops, it’s not just anything. It has to have a cute face.” 

“Fuck you.” Sukuna seethes. 

I know you want to. “Do you need my help, yes or no?” You lean back on the palms of your hands. 

Sukuna takes in a breath, and lets out a slow one. “...Yes..” 

“Okay.” And, the only reason you're entertaining this conversation, is because of the nick in the back of your head, something that keeps you up at night. 

Your project. 

“I’ll do it. Under one condition.” Sukuna seems to ever so slightly lighten his gaze from this, but it’s immediately followed by an eyebrow furrow when you add, “If you let me do my week-long project on you.” 

Sukuna blinks, “Huh?”

You nod swiftly, tapping your foot on the ground, your leg bouncing with a bit of anxiety. “Yup. I’ll be evaluating your life and mental status for a week.” You lean forward, placing your elbow on your knee and look into his eyes, “You’ll be stuck with me for a whole week.” 

Sukuna doesn’t seem too onboard with the situation, closing his eyes and thinking. His lip slightly pulls back into a scowl, “Just for a week?” He asks, leaning back and putting his weight on the palm of his hands.

You nod, “Mhm, just for a week.” 

That’s fair, Sukuna’s going to have a bit of control over you for the day, especially if you’re going to be meeting his pops. 

Sukuna nods, “Okay, under one condition.”

You narrow your eyes at this suspiciously, “Sukuna, I hope you remember you came to me. You don’t have much wiggle room for demands.” You tell him matter of factly. “You can’t give me conditions, babe.”

“You have to move out within the month of December, before finals, and don’t even talk to me until then.” Completely ignoring your remark. 

You gape at this, shocked he is still trying to make claims with you pulling on his leash. “I can’t move out before the new year.” You entertain his demands, even though you’re at all going to give into them. “I’m already cramped over finals, I can’t find a house before then.” You point at him, “And I already told you I’m moving out after them.”

Sukuna sighs, looking to the side dejected. “Yeah… I was trying to get your ass out of here sooner.” He shrugs, “Worth a try.” 

A bit of rage fills your head at his words, “You know what, maybe I won’t agree to this.” You say looking to the side thoughtfully. “Hopefully, you'll learn a lesson not to be such an ass to women.” You huff. 

Sukuna lets out a small cocky laugh, and an equally cocky smile pulls at his lips. ”C’mon, don’t be like that. I know you don’t like me either.” He tilts his head to the side, his hair moving with him. You wonder if it feels as soft at Yuuji’s. 

“Yeah, but at least I’m secretive about it.” You stand up, pulling your shirt over your thighs, or trying to is the better word. “So, you’re agreeing to my terms, or are there more demands you’re going to make, to make you feel in control?” 

Sukuna smiles to himself proudly, “Yeah, actually.” He looks at you with no emotion, “We’re going to completely forget this shit happened.” He gestures between the two of you, “And any interaction before that.”   

That shocks you a bit, but you don’t show it. “Really?” 

Sukuna nods cruelly, “Yeah. Anything that happens over the next week, any conversation or action that happens between us, you’re going to forget all about it. It won’t give you a leg up, or anything.” His voice sounds like venom, “I don’t want to deal with you if you happen to want something more with me.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that in shock, “Someone’s cocky. Sounds like you’re hoping something will happen.” You cross your arms over your chest, scowling at him. “I’m afraid to disappoint when I inform you that nothing will happen.” 

“Good. Keep to your word.” Sukuna cooed at you.

You roll your eyes at his cocky nature, “So, what’s the plan? How long have we been dating, and how did we meet?” You make your way to your closet. 

Sukuna groans, pulling his eyes away from your legs. “I already hate this so much.” In the back of Sukuna’s head, he thought he would have just a bit of fun, watching you squirm under pressure, and force you to be a loving girlfriend despite how much you don’t like him, but now that it’s happening, he doesn’t find any enjoyment out of the situation. 

Sukuna huffs, what a pain.

You open your closet, “Yeah, imagine how I feel.” Meeting your parent’s parents is already such a nerve racking feeling, but meeting the parents of someone who you don’t even know under that title, for some reason that makes it even worse. “What’s your dad lik–” You slap your hand over your face, instantly remembering what Yuuji said the other day.

Shit, I completely forgot about that.

“Your Pops,” You add, trying to correct your slip of the tongue, “Tell me about your pops.” You feel bad now, you should really try to remember the small details Yuuji tells you about. That the one thing you wish you could improve yourself on, remembering the small things. 

It would make avoiding already tense conversations worse. 

Sukuna looks away from you, propping his hand to hold his head, “Stop asking questions about me. It’s weird.” His tone is different, you don’t want to say softer, but weaker would be the better word. You don’t take it to heart, it’s not your place to ask. “Just follow along with what I say, it doesn’t have to be hard.” 

You also don’t take that to heart, “Alright, when is he coming?” You skim through your clothing, pushing the hangers to the side with each article. 

Sukuna scoffs at this, “He’s not coming, he’s treating us out to dinner;” 

You don’t like how he addresses both of you with one sole word, it’s far too intimate for you liking, especially under this context. “Oh. I should go shower then. You should grab me some painkillers, too.” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond, he just stands up and makes his way close to you. You furrow your eyebrows when he stands behind you, “What are you–” The sentence dies when a shiver shoots down your spine. 

Sukuna reaches over your body, his chest pressing against the back of your head. His hand pushes each article of clothes to the side, skimming through your clothing. He hums thoughtfully to himself, “None of this will do.” He whispers, “Tell the brat to go grab you something. I’m not your dog, bitch.”

You can feel his breathing, the subtle rising and lowering of his chest, and it has you a bit frazzled. Your mind racing to the other night, how he sounds, what he said. Now, you can feel him pressing behind into you, you can really imagine how he would feel behind–

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, “What does that mean?” Wait, what did he call you? “Did you call me a bitch, you dick?” You narrow your eyes at him, watching as he walks to your door, “Some fake boyfriend you are.” 

Sukuna doesn’t even pass you a glance, but he’s smiling to himself when saying, “Yeah, you’re going to have to love it.” 

—-

You’re done with your shower when there’s a knock at the door, you’re quick to answer, “Yeah?” Grabbing your pink towel and wrapping it around your body, but when nobody answers, you roll your eyes and open the door to peek your head out. 

Sukuna’s outside, “Be ready at eight.” He tells you. 

You lean on the door frame, kicking the door open for you to really look at Sukuna. “Where am I going with you?” You cross your arms over your chest. 

Sukuna’s eyes look down at you, again shamelessly looking at your body. “We’re going to a restaurant my Pops picked out, you’ll like it, don’t worry.” He finally pulls his eyes away from your chest, and that makes you shiver, his words echoing in your head. 

‘Took everything in me not to pull down your towel and lick ‘em all over.’

Suddenly, the heat between your legs is fluttering and begging for attention, and you so desperately want to give into it. You thickly swallow and avert your eyes, “How would you know that?” 

Sukuna laughs at you, “You’re going to fuckin’ pretend you love whatever shit the restaurant serves, I don’t care.” He leans on the door frame with you, looking down at you, “What are you wearing.” 

Never mind, Sukuna doesn’t seem too hot anymore. “Something nice.” 

“Let me see.” Sukuna looks over your shoulder at the messy pile of your clothes, he makes an unsure face, “Are you wearing that?” 

You glance over your shoulder, looking at your clothes strung on the counter, “Yeah, It’s a cute outfit, I put some thought into it.” You look back at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at him. “What? Do you not like it?” 

Sukuna pauses for a moment, before nodding his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you in your room.” Then, he quickly enters your room, however, you can’t help but notice the bag he’s holding in his hand. You groan in annoyance at this, closing the door and changing into your clothes, despite how you want to dry your hair a bit more. The idea of Sukuna in your room alone doesn’t sit well with you.

When you enter your room, Sukuna is laying down on your bed, holding one of your pink stuffed animals between his arms while scrolling through his phone. You think it’s a bit funny to see. “I told you it was cute.”

Sukuna pulls his eyes away from his phone to sit up and look at you. You can’t read his expression, which makes you feel a bit insecure in your body. You close the door behind you, standing in the middle of your room, “What? Don’t tell me it isn’t good enough for your standard?” You snap at him. 

Sukuna shakes his head, “You know what my standards are.” Anything with a cute face. “I don’t like it, not to meet my Pops, atleast, it’s not good enough.” 

Your harsh expression falters for a moment with pain, but you quickly cover it. Still Sukuna picks up on it. He rolls his eyes and grabs your waist, pulling you close to him, right in between his spread legs. “Turn around.” He gruffs. 

You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows. “No, why the hell would I do that?” 

“So, I can see your whole outfit.” Sukuna tells you, his eyes moving down to his hands around your waist. “What? You don’t want me to look at you?” His head cranes up to look at your face, his pupils blown wide, a charming smirk on his lips. 

You press your lips together, looking to the side with an unsure expression. Your eyebrows are a bit furrowed, as if you’re debating with yourself. “Is this some weird sex thing?”

Sukuna turns his head away from you, “It can be.”  

“You’re so gross.” Still, you reluctantly turn around so your back is facing him. You’re glad for that though, the fact that he can’t see your face, he would see that it’s absolutely burning up right now. So fucking embarrassing. “Happy?” 

Sukuna leans forward, his nose dumping into the spine of your back. His hands working around your hips and moving to the underside of your tits, a soft hum leaving his lips. “You smell nice.” 

You softly moan, your eyes fluttering at the stimulation. You groan in disgust to cover yourself, “Get your hands off me, asshole.” 

Sukuna shakes his head against your back. “You like it when I touch you, don’t you, doll?” 

You look down at his hands and watch how they caress you, gentle but firm. You unintentionally lean into him, your words are desperate to be firm, “You think too much of yourself, believe it or not, not everything with a cute face want to fuck you.” You’re referencing yourself, but you don’t even believe that lie. 

Sure, you’re not entirely a fan of Sukuna, but he’s hot, and you don’t nessarily have to like the person you’re fucking. You’re sure Sukuna doesn’t like all the people he’s fucking, and there is a thing called hate-sex for a reason. Which people are justifyingly into, so, you’re good. Still, you need to call Nobara to confirm this, you have to make sure you have the right opinion. Having a second opinion—that supports your own—always helps. Always.

You can feel his hands slowly dragging farther up your torso, and when they finally touch you where you’ve been dying for attention, you fall into his lap. 

Sukuna places his chin on your shoulder, and nods against you, “I have something for you to wear.” His fingers work into your soft mounds, listening to the way you softly breath and moan when he squeezes just a bit harder. 

You turn to look at him, your eyebrows and eyes furrowed with anger, “Didn’t take you as the type to buy gifts. That’s too nice for you.” You have a bit of a snap in your voice despite how good you feel, how good Sukuna is making you feel, but you could never admit that. You arch your back, your ass digging into his lap, secretly trying to feel him between his legs. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a soft spot for me? How sweet of you.” 

Sukuna scoffs, “Like hell, I’m doing this shit for me.” God, you’re so hot. Sukuna leans in to kiss you, but you turn away from him. He just takes this opportunity to press kisses against your neck, sucking on the skin lightly to make you shiver. He loves this, watching you melt in front of him, it’s the best form of entertainment in the world. “But, you know I can make you feel good. Why won’t you let me make you feel good?”

You try to concentrate, placing both of your hands behind your back and pushing Sukuna away from you. “Go to hell.” You bark, “Go jerk off again if you can’t control yourself.” Sukuna pushes your hair to one side, leaning back slightly to see the curve of your back while your hands push against his body. 

Sukuna stifles a groan, his eyes fluttering at the sight. I practically like watching you ride his cock, your hands pressing against his abdomen. Fuck, he just want to reach over and pull up your skirt, look at the cute panties you picked out and how they hug your ass. Sukuna hates to admit it, but you look incredible in skirts. 

Fuck, you got him hard.

You’re a bit hesitant to speak, “Don’t tell me that’s your dick...” You sound pissed, that’s hot.

“It’s not my dick.” 

You groan with annoyance, pushing yourself off Sukuna and grabbing the bag near his feet. You’re still desperately wanting to be touched by him, but the idea of feeding into him and giving him the satisfaction has you pushing through. Even if you did have a moment of weakness. “Asshole.”

Sukuna pushes himself off the bed, getting up and adjusting his boner behind your back. “Be ready by six forty, the place is over an hour away.” He watches as you open the designer bag, trying to see what he purchased you. 

“The bus won’t make it in time, why don’t you just call an uber?” You blink at the pink fabric, trying to pick out what it was. “It may be a bit expensive, but it looks like you have money to spare.” 

Sukuna’s already at your door, practically walking out as he says, “Save the tags, I’m returning it after tonight, ungrateful brat.” He shuts the door after him, making sure to slam it so loud everyone in the whole neighborhood hears. 

“Wow, I know, I also love it when people answer my questions.” You wave your hand with a pleasant smile. “I also love it when people aren't bipolar as hell!” You shout at the door. Whatever. 

You roll your eyes, pulling out the dress, but something else in the bag catches your attention. You furrow your eyebrows, grabbing the water bottle, “Weird.” You look back in the bag, noticing a small unopened package. 

Once you grab it, that’s when you know what it is. 

Two pills of painkillers. 

——

You can not wrap your head around why meeting Sukuna’s Pops saunters this level of preparedness. Let alone class. No disrespect at all, but for goodness sake, you’re just going out to eat. Why do you need such a classy dress, along with jewelry? 

Your dress is surprisingly long, silk and soft to the touch. Still, it’s something you’ve never worn before, it feels expensive, actually, you know it’s expensive. You looked at the tag, and now feel like you’re not worthy to be wearing such an expensive dress. You can’t even force yourself to look at the price of the jewelry. 

Although, you have to admit, Sukuna has good taste. 

You flip your head back and forth, giving volume to your curls and glancing at your mirror for a final time. The heels that you’re wearing feel a bit impossible to walk in. You’ve never been a heels type of girl, you prefer your dirty converse and comfort, now. However, you do thank your middle school self who had a weird “only heels for shoes” phase. Otherwise, you would be tripping over everything right now. 

Your dress has a slit, letting your leg peek out, but you have to be careful not to walk too fast, take too big of a step, or bend down too much, otherwise the whole world would know your color of underwear. News flash, it wasn’t something cute when you first discovered this problem. 

You're wearing a diamond ring—which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen at Walmart—and a matching diamond necklace—which you haven’t seen at Walmart—to decorate your bare hands and neck. A part of you wonders if Sukuna would let you keep the jewelry since he won’t let you keep the dress, but you know those chances are slim. 

You grab your expensive perfume from your vanity, applying a few spirits to your pulse points and your body before placing it back down. You reach for your phone and naturally do the motion to place it in your pocket to remember, “No pockets…” You don’t have a bag to match the occasion either. 

Whatever, you’ll just hold onto your phone the entire time. 

You finally leave your room, only to be met face to face with—“Ah, you’re ready?” Yuuji asks, smiling at you while closing his door behind him. He cups his chin, leaning in close to you, “I see Sukuna got on your ass about clothing.” 

You give him a humorous laugh, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “Yeah.” You place your hand on his head, pushing his bangs from his face. “He literally was on me about it. The weird asshole.”

Yuuji passes you a suspicious look, before tilting his head. “Did he tackle you and force you into that outfit? Because he's done that to me far too many times now.” He asks while narrowing his eyes. 

You choke out a laugh, covering your mouth, “Really? That’s actually so funny.” You can literally picture that happening in your head. 

Yuuji laughs with you, “You look really nice, by the way.” The two of you start walking to the living room, “Watch, Pops isn’t going to believe you’re Sukuna’s girlfriend. He’s too much of an—“ 

“Brat.” Sukuna kicks Yuuji’s back, forcing him forward. “I’d like to see your girlfriend.” 

You turn over your shoulder, “About time.” You’re glad you finished your sentence before completely looking at him, because you know for a fact you would’ve been rendered speechless. 

Sukuna is wearing all black. Black dress shoes, black dress pants, and a nice black button up, with two buttons popped at the top. His hair is slicked back with gel, a few strands framing his face, and you can really see his undercut now. 

Of course he’s wearing his gold chain, too. Godammit, he looks hot. 

“You look terrible.” Yuuji says while eyeing his brother up and down, “You know Grandpa is going to be on your butt about that.” He says with sass, his hand on his hip. 

That makes you laugh, but you turn away once Sukuna glares at you. He groans, pushing himself forward, “Let's go. I already fucking hate this.” Sukuna extends his hand for you to the garage, but you just walk towards the door. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, “Where the fuck are you going?” He doesn’t even bother to follow after you, but much rather goes to the kitchen to open a drawer. Getting something the jingles in your ears. 

“Didn’t you call uber?” You throw at him, your back resting on the front door. 

Sukuna opens the door to the garage, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Take a damn uber, I’m driving myself, bitch.” 

You push yourself off the door, your footsteps heavy with rage. “Call me a bitch one more time and you’re going alone. I can’t stand you calling me that.” Your heels click as you follow him into the garage, your arms crossed over your chest. “Say sorry.”

“Fuck that.” Sukuna barks. 

Yuuji touches his heart, leaning on the doorframe of the garage door. “Couple goals, can’t wait to be like the two of you when I’m older.” 

You give Yuuji a questionable look, “Yuuji, babe, we’re the same age.” 

“You’re missing the big problem in that sentence.” Sukuna tells you, flipping the light switch of the garage, his thumb unlocking his car. 

You nod, “You’re right, babe.” You point a finger at Yuuji, smiling as you say, “Don’t date a toxic, bipolar, asshole.” 

Sukuna groans, popping open the driver’s door and telling you to, “Get in the car.” 

You look at him, “No, I’m not getting in the car.” You’re by Yuuji’s side, “I don’t know why you think I’m just going to go along with whatever you want now that you’ve insulted me.” 

“Who cares, get in the car.” Sukuna tells you, rolling his eyes at your antics. 

Yuuji makes a face, “Sukuna, I don’t think…” 

“No. I care, obviously.” You tell him, your hands gesturing around, “I’m doing you a big favor, yet you repay me by calling me a bitch, and being an dick. But you still expect me to do stuff for you?” You scoff, “How are you okay with treating anyone like that?” 

Sukuna’s expression falls, his furrowed eyebrows relaxing while his eyes soften. He sighs, placing his hand on the top of his car while placing his forehead between them, it’s silent now. 

Yuuji passes you an unsure look, whispering, “This is weird.” 

You don’t respond, your eyes are trained on Sukuna. “Can you please get in the car?” Sukuna’s voice is soft, it’s a tone you’ve never heard before. It shocks you a bit, even the expression he’s pacing you right now is a bit shocking. Maybe, jarring is the better word. 

You take a deep breath, pushing yourself away from the door. Sukuna takes this time to walk to the passenger door, opening it for you. You pass him a look, but it’s not returned, he’s not even looking at you. But, when you slip yourself into the seat, you hear him whisper, “Thank you.” Your name ending the sentence.

You can’t help it, despite how much you tried to avoid it, but a small smile pulls at your lips. “Yeah, whatever asshole.” He closes the door behind you, but it’s far more gentle from when he slammed your door earlier today. Even when he enters on his side. 

“You haven’t apologized.” You softly tell him, watching as the garage door lifts and the car drives out. Sukuna drives with care, not speeding–despite owning a sports car–and abiding by all traffic laws. Which you can say you didn’t think he was the type to. 

“You got in the car.” Sukuna rebuts. 

You place your hand on the arm rest, turning your body to face away from him, “Yeah, I knew that all you were going to give me was a “please” unless you were touching me. It’s all you’re capable of doing.” It’s a deliberate sentence with a kind and soft voice, it makes Sukuna's chest tighten. 

It’s silent for the rest of the ride.

—

You didn’t get the chance to look at Sukuna’s car back at the house, but now that you can, you hate to admit how nice it is. Although, you do find it a bit funny, how his car’s design matches his tattoos. Along with, you know, how the car is literally pink. 

Now that, that is a plot twist you truly didn’t see coming. 

You want to ask how that came about, or if… it was a personal choice, but the tension from the house is still very much there. Worst of all, to think not even three hours ago you wanted Sukuna and he wanted to fuck you, now the two of you can’t even look at each other. 

And you’re supposed to pretend to be this man’s girlfriend. 

Sukuna opens the door again, still not looking at you, but offers his hand with grace. You use it to pull yourself out of the car, and let go the moment you’re stable on your feet. You look at the restaurant, “This place looks nice.” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond, in fact, he looks anxious. The most anxious you’ve seen him today. His eyes darted from left to right, only to check his phone, then back to looking around again. You wonder if he’s nervous about the “date,” but something’s telling you it isn’t that. He’s been so relaxed about the situation, so why would he start panicking now? It seems out of character for him. 

However, when a voice startles you, Sukuna seems to relax at it. 

“Be nice to the lady, Sukuna, help her inside.” He scolds, hitting the back of Sukuna’s head. You blink a few times at his appearance. He’s wearing a statement-shirt of a button up, along with black dress pants. It looks a bit silly. “Here, let me help you, darling.” The old man extends his arm to you, it’s a bit shaky and even, but that doesn't deter you. 

You give him a kind smile, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” You hold his arm. 

“Oh please, Wasuke is fine.” He reassures you, looking over his shoulder and narrowing his eyes at his son. “Sukuna, I thought I raised you better. Come hold my arm.” He says brashly.

A small laugh escapes your lips, instantly covered your hand as your smile grows wider. That was a bit shocking, you expected Sukuna’s grandpa to be more… like Sukuna. Rude, a bit stoic, and maybe hot. But, he’s none of that. No offense Wasuke, I’m sure you’re an amazing person, you think. 

It’s a bit confusing how Sukuna turned out the way he did, but Yuuji is completely different. In fact, he does seem like Wasuke, more happy and silly. Although, unlike Wasuke, Yuuji is pretty hot in his own way. Again, no offense Wasuke, I’m sure you’re an amazing person. 

Sukuna shakes his head, moving to Wasuke's side and grabbing his hand. “It’s good to see you again.” He whispers to him, but it’s a bit tense. 

“Can’t say the same.” Wasuke says, “Last time I saw you–” 

“Shut up.” Sukuna barks, tightening his hand around his arm. 

“Don’t worry, I will. I will. Always with the yelling with you.” Wasuke says with a cheeky smile, pulling away from the both of you and entering the restaurant. 

Sukuna watches him, before extending his arm to you. You look at it, but turn away, whispering, “I don’t want you touching me right now.” You follow after the old man, seeing he’s already following a server to a table. 

Sukuna’s behind you, eyeing the place, “I’ve heard about this place, but it’s a bit too expensive for me to enjoy.” However, the interior design is absolutely stunning, he will give the place that. 

You, on the other hand, are absolutely awed, taking in everything the restaurant has to give you. The flooring, roof, lightning, the silver ware, the food, and the dining. It's absolutely stunning, something you’ve never seen in your life. 

You feel your eye twitch looking at Sukuna’s back, just how rich is this asshole? 

When you get to your booth, you’re already not liking the seating arrangements. Wasuke on the opposite side, while you sit in the corner, Sukuna in the aisle. It’s a bit weird to think, the two of you haven’t really had a real conversation with one another–just an argument–and now the two of you have to pretend to be dating. 

Wasuke pulls up the menu, eyeing the food options, Sukuna does the same. You’re still admiring the place, taking in everything as if it was the last time you are ever going to be in this environment, because it kind of is.

Wasuke notices this, eyeing you up and down. “First time at a place like this?” He asks innocently. 

You pull your attention away from the restaurant, and to Wasuke, you’re nodding a bit too excitedly. Sukuna softly groans at that in embarrassment, “Yeah, I’ve never… this place is just really nice.”

Wasuke glares at Sukuna, “You’ve never taken your girlfriend out? I thought I raised you better.” He scolds, lifting the back of his hand and making the threatening motion of hitting him. “She should dump you for someone who will care to take her out.” 

You look at him slowly, whispering, “And is nice to her…”

Sukuna just looks back at the menu mumbling explicits to himself. 

You’re quick to roll your eyes and look at your menu, trying your best to find something that sounds remotely similar to an item you know. When you don’t, you lean close to Sukuna, cup your mouth and whisper, “Can you order steak, or chicken for me.” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows slightly, “Why can’t you order it yourself.”

“You’re my boyfriend, for one.” You tell him with furrowed brows, “And…” You divert your eyes for a moment, somewhat embarrassed. “...I-I don’t know what a single thing is on this menu. Is it french?” 

Sukuna turns away from you, his hand pressing against his mouth. He’s a bit too loud for your liking when saying, “It’s all in English.” You want to pinch him, “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” He turns back to you, “I’ll order you a salad.” 

Your eye twitches at this, and you immediately spit back, “And what are you going to get? The hearts of women and children?” Despite how pissed you may sound, Sukuna picks up the small amusement in your tone. 

Sukuna places his hand over his heart, “You know me so well.” 

At that, you laugh, but you quickly cover it by biting the inside of his cheek. You hate that he’s a bit funny, just a little bit, though. 

“Speaking of which,” Wasuke starts, placing his menu down. “How did the two of you meet?” Both of you pull your faces away from each other–you didn’t notice how close you are to Sukuna–and give him your full attention.

Oh shit, you’re not ready. You’re really not ready, that question makes you deathly aware of how not ready you are to meet anyone’s parents. You give him a short laugh, leaning forward as you feel dread stir in your stomach. “Well, uh, we met–” 

“Thanks to the brat Yuuji.” Sukuna cuts you off, but in this scenario, you don’t think it’s rude, you think it’s life saving. “He moved her in without telling me. Although, to be fair, the idiot didn’t tell the girl about me.” Sukuna laughs to himself, “Should’ve seen her face when she first met me, completely hypnotized.” 

You gasp at that, “I thought you were Yuuji when we first met, that’s why I was staring.” 

“That’s insulting.” 

You turn away with a smile on your face, your hand covering your lips. “To Yuuji that is.”

Sukuna snaps his head at you, absolutely livid. “What did your dumbas–” 

Wasuke laughs at the both of you, making your childish quarrel come to an end. “Sukuna, you didn’t tell me the girl had spunk.” He looks at his glass, not liking that it is empty. “It’s good you found someone who can keep you in check. That’s good for you.” 

You find a sick pleasure in that, “Yeah, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna doesn’t have the chance to respond when the waiter comes, they’re dressed in all back, and have a nice smile to them. It’s far more inviting than the restaurant itself. He reaches into his apron, pulling out a small pad and pen, “Should I start rolling out the drinks?”

Wasuke laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Of course, get me something…” His eyes land on your for a moment, “Uh, something sweet. Like champagne.” He leans close to the waiter, “And maybe a couple beers.”

The waiter laughs, nodding his head, “Can I get some ID, from everyone at the table?” 

Wasuke and Sukuna instantly reach for their wallets, while you lean over Sukuna and ask the waiter, “Can I get a strawberry lemonade? Do you serve these here?” You’re a bit quiet. 

Wasuke gives you a look, “Don’t be like that, have a few drinks with us!” He’s smiling, handing his ID to the waiter, “I see you’re tense, drinks can help you loosen up.” You think that Wasuke is way too laid back for your own comfort. 

You tap your finger on the desk, a unsure smile building on your lips, “Uh, I’m not…” You pass him a small laugh once Wasuke’s eyebrow comes up, “..I’m not old enough to drink, sir.” 

This makes Wasuke’s smile fall, his eyes snapping to Sukuna. “The hell does she mean by that?” He’s glaring at Sukuna. 

“I’m Yuuji’s age.” 

Wasuke nods, taking his ID back, “Oh.” He watches Sukuna take his ID back from the waiter, “Weird.” He narrows his eyes at Sukuna, his face twisting into something of a scowl or judgmental look. “Isn’t Yuuji fifteen?... Should I be calling the cops?..”

Sukuna blinks in disbelief at his pops, “Yuuji’s a sophomore… in college?” He points to himself, “I’m a senior in college–how old do you think we are?” 

Wasuke leans back, looking at the roof, “Really?” He scratches his cheek in thought, “Huh, I could’ve sworn his fifteenth birthday was just recently.”

Sukuna cups his face, rolling his eyes, “His nineteenth birthday was back in March, it’s November.” The waiter places the drinks on the table, and immediately Sukuna is taking a big drink. “You old forgetful geezer.” 

You laugh at that, grabbing a straw and taking an equally big drink of your lemonade. “Yuuji is very much fifteen in my eyes,” You tell Wasuke, “But, aren’t we all teenage adults at heart?” You push your drink away from you, turning to the waiter again. 

He’s quick with asking for your orders, and you quickly feel foreign to the situation. Wasuke asks for something you don’t even want to attempt to repeat, then Sukuna comes up with another word you didn’t know existed. This has to be a different language. 

You whisper to Sukuna when he’s done ordering, “Is this rich people shit?” You narrow your eyes at him, “Are you trying to show me up right now?” 

Sukuna gives you a questioning look, “I didn’t pick the place, remember?” 

“So,” Wasuke calls your name, trying to gain your attention, “Tell me about yourself, what are you majoring in?” 

You drum your fingers against your lap, feeling your anxiety rise a bit. “Well, I’m majoring in Kinesiology, and I plan to go further into my education to become a physical therapist.” You play with your ring, “It’s nothing too interesting.” Sukuna’s looking at you, but you don’t pass him a glance. 

Wasuke nods to himself, “I don’t think I can even say that word. Looks like you caught yourself a smart one.” He cooed at Sukuna, smiling widely at him. “But tell me, dear, why did you want to become a physical therapist? Seems oddly specific.” 

You hesitate, Sukuna notices this. “Uh, it’s because… I just want to help people.” Sukuna notices how your hand twitches towards his side, but you instantly pull away. Wasuke notices it too, in fact, he passes Sukuna a look addressing it. 

This is what Sukuna is trying to avoid, touching you, but it looks like now that he’s not comforting you, it is making Wasuke suspicious. His mentality groans to himself, “C’mere…” He whispers to you, pulling you close while his hands rest atop of yours. You slid your hand away from his back into your lap. 

Wasuke takes a sip of his drink, noticing how quick you are to pull away. “Is anyone in your family working in that profession, or something similar.” 

You are completely tense at that. You pass an uncomfortable laugh, “Uh.. well…”

“She doesn’t like talkin’ about her family.” Sukuna tells Wasuke, “Ask her another question.” 

Wait, I never told Sukuna that? You’ve only told Yuuji, how would Sukuna know that? Wait, was he watching you that one time you and Yuuji were having breakfast? Most importantly…

Sukuna remembers?

You bite the inside of your cheek, leaning into Sukuna ever so slightly, “It’s okay.” You turn to look at him, passing him a kind smile, “It’s your grandpa, I can trust him.” Sukuna, a bit shocked by your kind tone, nods and pulls back slightly. “My mom experiences paralysis in her face, which is really painful for her. I wanted to learn how to help her in any way I can, and help people who experience something similar.” 

Which is everything simplified. You don’t have the strength to go into the real heart of the situation. It’s a bit too fresh and painful to think about, it’s something you don’t even like to think about. Sometimes, you like to imagine that becoming a physical therapist was something you developed a weird obsession with back in your youth. 

Wasuke nods, “That’s awfully sweet of you, it’s always nice to be close to your family.” He smiles kindly at you, “It’s going to be nice to know when you’re in time of need, you’ll be surrounded by people who love you.” 

That makes you smile, that’s a nice way to look at it. “Yeah, I agree.” You turn to the window, seeing that your seating was right in front of his pink parked car. Your eyebrows furrow as you concentrate on the design, then quickly look at Sukuna’s face, seeing that his tattoos perfectly match his car. 

You take a sip of your drink, eyes skimming up and down his face, before you ask, “Sukuna, how did your tattoos come about?” You’re tempted to pinch his face softly, “Don’t face tattoos hurt?...” 

“You haven’t told her?!” Wasuke says a bit too enthusiastically, “And how long have the two of you been together?” 

“A week.” You mumble to yourself. 

“A month.” Sukuna covers with his much more confident voice, you’re thankful for that. 

Wait, you’re on a fake date with someone you met only a week ago? And there’s already this much drama between you two? Damn, you feel sorry for the girl who decides to wear the ring Sukuna picks out for her. 

“Oh, I can’t wait to witness this.” Wasuke says, leaning back in his chair, grabbing his beer and getting comfortable. 

Sukuna groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we skip this part of dinner?” 

You shake your head frantically, “No, don’t even start. C’mon, babe, tell me.” There’s a shit eating grin on your face, “Don’t hurt my feelings in front of your grandpa, ‘Kuna.” What you’re really saying is, if you don’t tell me you’ll look suspicious. 

Sukuna wants to absolutely whip that devilish smirk off your face, but keeps his composure. “It happened when I was sixteen–” 

“You got them when you were sixteen?!” You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You just take another sip of your–shit, when did you finish it? 

“Exactly what I thought.” Wasuke backs you up. “I didn’t know it was possible for a sixteen year old to get tattoos, but apparently if there’s a will there’s a way.” He takes a sip of his drink, before excitedly sitting up and saying, “Tell her the reason, too.” 

Sukuna gestures to the waiter, before biting the inside of his cheek, staring daggers at Wasuke, “I…” He sighs, leaning his head back as one of his hands comes to the top of his temple. “I got a tattoo because I thought I looked too much like Yuuji… and I thought they were really cool.” 

Sukuna doesn’t hear a reaction from you, which makes his stomach turn uncomfortably. However, he isn’t expecting to see the absolutely horrid face you’re making at him desperately trying not to laugh. 

“I didn’t know it was that deep.” For some reason, you are your own tipping point, making you turn away and laugh into your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You whisper to him, quickly straightening up, “This is serious.”

“He acts like it is one of his biggest trophies.” Wasuke says with an eyeroll, “The boy was on the honor roll, state champion for football, played five instruments–did mock trial! And his biggest trophy is his tattoos.”

“It is!” He barks back. 

You smile, admiring Sukuna’s face for a moment. “Sounds like you had an emo phase, babe.” You try your best not to laugh at the ugly glare he’s giving you right now. 

Wasuke laughs with you, a subtle blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…” He slightly slurs at Sukuna, “That’s not it… for his birthday, I got him that really nice car there.” He points at the car with his beer, “Since those tattoos were done behind my back, I got it done behind his back.” He smiles to himself proudly, “Now, Sukuna’s got to drive a pink car with tattoos around town.” 

You give Sukuna a look, one that reads into so many things. Sukuna’s just glaring at you, clearly pissed at the memory. You shrug your shoulders, tilting your head to the side while weighing your hands back and forth, “C’mon, that’s… that's kinda’ funny.”

“Is it?” He asks you. 

“Absolutely.” 

The waiter is putting down your food, and you mentally sigh in relief noticing your dish was something significantly more identifiable compared to everyone else's. It’s chicken. Smells good, too. You also notice how Sukuna grabs your empty cup, and hands it to the waiter for a full one. Did he ask for one for you? Or, did the waiter just notice you finished your drink?

Probably the latter. Unless Sukuna’s just really good at noticing the small things. 

Yet, you’re hesitant to eat, can you eat this with your hands? Or, do you have to use a fork and knife like Sukuna? Sukuna notices your hesitation, and snorts to himself. Whispering, “Don’t be a caveman.” 

Okay, rude way to answer, but an answer nonetheless. There’s a bit of silence while the three of you take your initial bites, which seems to follow as you continue with your meal. 

“You guys sure act like strangers.” Wasuke comments thoughtfully.

“We’ve only been together for a month, give me a fuckin’ break.” Sukuna groans, cutting into his—what you think is—steak. “God knows I don’t get one at home.” He whispers underneath his breath. 

As much as you want to call him out for his small remark and ask him loudly, ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ You realize that question is literally the answer to your question. But, to be fair, when he pulls shit like that, why should you? 

“You give him crap?” Wasuke asks between bites.

You press your lips together, “Depends on what he’s done.” Like earlier. Sukuna immediately passes you a nasty glare, practically sawing into his meat. 

“See, she’s good for you Sukuna, you need someone to put you in check.” Wasuke leans back, tapping his belly in contentment. “Lord knows I didn’t do enough when you were growing up.” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “Old bastard—“

“Can you be a good grandson, and go to my car and get my wallet.” Wasuke says, “I plan on paying for this meal, but if you insist. I can let you pay.” He reaches into his pockets and holds the keys for Sukuna. 

“You don’t pay me enough for that shit.” Sukuna snatches the keys from his hand. But, before he can leave in a huff, he realizes exactly what his old man is trying to do. He bites the inside of his cheek, shit. “Actually, it’s fine, I’ll pay.” He looks at you for a brief moment. He’s silently telling you something. 

“Go get my wallet, son.” 

In that instant, you realize what Wasuke is doing, too. You stand up, waving your hand reassuringly as you say, “Oh, I can go, I’m sure—“ 

“Don’t be an ass, don’t make your lady walk, Sukuna.” Wasuke says with a frown, “I mean, you care about her right? Wouldn’t want to put her through that.” 

Sukuna slowly nods, hiding his emotions as best as he can. “Right. Wouldn’t want to do that to her.” Yet, when he walks out the restraint, you can’t help but notice how big his steps are.

Sukuna’s rushing.

You feel your stomach burst with the wrong type of butterflies. Crap, this isn’t good. You grab your pink lemonade, trying to distract yourself with a hearty sip. 

“Okay, stop bullshiting me.” Wasuke starts, “Tell me what’s really going on?” 

You choke on your pink lemonade, instantly covering your mouth and turning away from him. “W-What?.. What makes you say that?” You cover a cough with your hand, drinking more water to see if that would help. 

“Sukuna doesn’t date people. He has the emotional intelligence of a five year old.” Wasuke tells you with a bored expression, “And I promise you, the little turd was worse when he was given to me with Yuuji.” 

You pass him a sheepish smile, “O-Oh, what gave it away?” Should you have given in that easily? Should you have fought a bit harder to convince Wasuke? I mean, there’s no point right, he already knows. 

“He looks at you differently.” Wasuke looks to the side, “Well, he looks at you differently then he would a woman he was with for a month. And I know, I met an actual girlfriend of that length back his freshman year.” He chuckles remembering, “Much more admiration and less forced emotions.” 

Fuck you too, Sukuna. 

You blink at him a bit estranged, “Really? I didn’t take him as the dating type.” You lean back in your chair, “I mean, before we even got here I told him off for being mean to me.” You roll your eyes, “And he still expected me to come help him with a problem he created, the jerk.” 

“Yet, you’re still here.” Wasuke inquires. 

You huff, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Why?” 

You hesitate for a moment, “I… I don’t know.” You blink a few times, looking at your hands, the jewelry catching in the light. Should you be telling him this? Is this okay? 

Wasuke nods, silently telling you to continue. 

Maybe he’s the best person to tell this too, you take a deep breath. “He yelled at me to get in the car, but when I told him to apologize, he took a moment to breathe, and politely asked me to get in the car.” Wasuke nods intently, silently telling you to continue. “I knew I wasn’t going to get an apology for how he treated me, and I still know I’m not, but that was the first time he’d ever soften like that, you know?” 

You shakily sigh, “It was better than nothing, and despite how mad I was at him, I still appreciated the small force he pushed himself to calm down and reword himself. It shows improvement, and that was good. I appreciate it.” You really appreciated it, actually. 

Wasuke smiles slightly, “Sukuna is a…” He sighs, “He’s a weird kid, to say the least. But he’s a good kid.” He smiles, readjusting himself in his seat, “I once saw him crying over a dead fly.” He narrows his eyes at that memory, “Although that could be a bad example, he was crying over not being the one to kill it.” Wasuke thoughtfully thinks to himself. 

You loudly laugh, cupping your mouth, “Wasuke, that sounds like a serial killer in the making, not a good kid.” You gasp at your words, “Oh—I.. I swear I didn’t mean that! Just slipped..” Although, your worries quickly fade away to Wasuke’s shaky belly laugh. 

“Oh yeah, definitely, That kid needs to be on a watch list.” Wasuke tells you, taking a sip of his drink. “One time, I got a call from the police department, assumed the worst, number one thing being arson.” Your jaw drops at this, “Turns out it was Yuuji and Sukuna, Yuuji got his feelings caught up with a classmate, Sukuna came and finished the fight.” 

That’s cute. You smile at this, lightly tapping your finger on your glass, “Seems like the two of them used to be very close.” 

Wasuke nods, “The only thing that gave them away was their height. So, it shocked the hell out of me when one of them came home with tattoos.” He chuckles to himself, “I used to joke that they were the same person. Sukuna, some weird spiteful spirit cursing his cheerful younger brother.” 

You press your lips together, “What happened?” You slightly cringe at your sentence, “Well, I don’t mean to pry, I just—they seem very… tense with each other. More so than normal siblings.” You would know, you have your own. 

Wasuke looks to the side, sighing softly, “Their parents… They gave them to me, and never came back. Yuuji was young when it happened, and to protect him, I just said they passed. Sukuna… knew the truth, and it absolutely crushed him.” 

“Oh. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure one of them will tell you more about it later.” He waves off, “Besides, Sukuna seems to like you. Although, not as much as his other girlfriend from freshman year.” He jokes. 

You roll your eyes with a playful smile, looking at the entrance of the restaurant as if Sukuna were standing there. “No. I mean, I think he likes me, but in a college boy way. He doesn’t like-like me.” Wait, is that weird to say toward an old man? Especially since that old man is Sukuna’s grandpa. “You know what I mean?” 

“No. He looks at you… in a way I’ve never seen before.” Wasuke gives you a crooked smile, “Like the fly.” 

You laugh, but it’s not for long. 

“Probably ‘cause I hate her.” Sukuna butts in while looking at you, “What did the old geezer tell you?” Sukuna sips on his wine, about to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve. 

You grab his wrist, stropping him from dirtying his clothing. “How you commit arson as a hobby, babe.” You say, grabbing a napkin and pressing it on his lips. “Without me, more specifically.” You notice the expression he’s giving you, it’s a bit… dumbfounded. It’s cute.

But, one thing is running through Sukuna’s mind. She’s touching me.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and turns away from you, his shoulders bouncing up once. You’re a bit thankful to have that one-on-one with Wasuke, it made you feel far more comfortable then when you first arrived. Especially now that Sukuna is less tense as well.

“Well.” Wasuke extends his arm, grabbing the wallet from Sukuna. “I guess this means the meal has finally come to an end.” 

Sukuna sighs in relief, finally. 

—

Wasuke insists on walking you and Sukuna to his car, and despite Sukuna’s denial, he follows anyway. Making small conversation with you, which you can’t help but laugh at. 

When everyone reaches Sukuna’s car, you can’t help but feel a bit bummed. You didn’t mind Wasuke, not at all. Such a shame this is going to be the last time you see him. Maybe, Yuuji will invite him to the house sometime, or invite you to family gatherings with him. Sukuna’s far off the table from those options, but definitely not exiled from them. 

Wasuke sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, I hope I see you for Christmas. I’ll even get a gift for your troubles.” He shrugs, turning over his shoulder, “I know how much of a handful Sukuna is.” 

Wasuke words stick to you, touching you in a way. He knows the truth, but still wants to see more of you and Sukuna. That makes you feel a bit giddy, you hate that, but you love it, too. You giggle, nodding your head, “I hope to see you soon, too.” You bow your head slightly, “It was really nice meeting you, Wasuke.” 

Wasuke waves you off, “Yeah, I guess you were okay.” He looks at Sukuna, and points an accusing finger at him. “Hey, don’t mess this up. I like her, and you do too. Don’t be an idiot and do something you’ll regret.” 

Sukuna waves him off, entering his car with a huff as he says, “I won’t.” You’re quick to enter with him, gasping at how low the seats are. You apparently didn’t notice last time, but to be fair, you were pissed. Emotions can distract you at face value, clearly.  

As soon as the door closes behind you, Sukuna tells you, “You’re not going to see him. I hope you know that.” He places his keys in the cup hold, placing his hands on the steering wheel. 

The engine roars to life, “I know.” You reply boredly, again turning to face the window. “Let a girl dream.” You whisper. 

“Not about being my girlfriend.” Sukuna’s quick with his response, “That isn’t a good dream.” That doesn’t sound like rejection, but it doesn’t sound inviting either. 

You nod anyway, “I agree.” 

There’s silence, it’s not uncomfortable, but you’re still the one to break it. “Did I do good?” You’re still looking outside, your body turned along with your gaze.

Sukuna looks at you for a brief moment, before the road. He takes a moment to say, “Do you want me to praise you?” He’s whispering, and you’ve grown to like anytime he whispers. It’s comforting. You just nod. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Sure.” 

They’re quick, and a bit forced, but his words still make your chest flutter a bit. 

It’s back to silence again, and you can’t help but notice the slight drizzle hitting his windshield. “And, about the whole family thing, I didn’t know that.” His voice is quiet, but not a whisper. 

You're a bit shocked Sukuna is the one who broke the silence this time, but you don’t mind it. “Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, just to make it more believable, right?” Which didn’t seem to work in the end since Wasuke figured you out anyways. 

“I feel..” Sukuna groans slightly, “Ugh, that’s shitty, it sucks.”  

You shake your head, placing your forehead on the window. Loving how the cool surface feels against your skin. He feels bad for you, that’s what he's trying to say. It doesn't make you feel too good. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” 

“No, I mean...” Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, stopping at a red light. “I’m sorry.” 

You instantly turn to him, your eyes blinking in shock. “I—I said it wasn’t your fault, don’t think about it.” You wave him off, about to look back outside. You’re tone growing a bit more incentive, you want to drop the topic.

Sukuna shakes his head, “No, about the…” Sukuna is tapping his steering wheel a bit anxiously. It makes you uneasy to see. “The stupid fuckin’ garage.” His eyebrows are furrowed. 

You blink a few times, your chest flutters with those words, your lips parting ever so slightly. “Wh-What?” You’re looking at him with a dumbfounded look. 

“Don’t fuckin’ make me say it twice.” Sukuna says brashly. 

You stare at him for a moment, before a comforting sigh leaves your mouth, you can’t help but pass Sukuna a small smile. Sukuna doesn’t smile back, but he does see you smile, you know he can see you smiling at him. Which is more than enough for you. 

Sukuna’s words comfort you for the next week, too. Just knowing that the two of you are going to be so close for such an extended period of time. A part of you is dreading it, now, you feel a bit more relaxed. It’s nice. 

At least you won’t be going into the week absolutely hating each other. 

You turn back to the window, elbow propped on the arm rests while your hand supports your head. This time, your body facing the dashboard. 

Next Chapter: Ch. 4 - Project Week.

Tags!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific,

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 45

The silence was unbearable.

Daisy slid into the driver's seat without a word, adjusting her mirrors and gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her together. Punk sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before getting into the passenger seat.

He shut the door, glancing at her. "I can drive," he offered.

Nothing.

"Daisy." His voice was softer this time, almost pleading. "Come on, you've been wrestling all night. You gotta be tired. Just let me drive—"

Still nothing. She started the car, eyes fixed on the road ahead, her expression unreadable.

Punk let out a frustrated breath and leaned back against the seat, drumming his fingers on his thigh. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh? You just gonna pretend I don't exist?"

Daisy remained silent, shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

Punk let his head fall back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. "Jesus, you're stubborn."

No response.

The minutes passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional movement from Punk shifting in his seat. He exhaled sharply, glancing over at her. "You won't even let me drive?"

Still nothing.

"Because it's my birthday, right?" he muttered, more to himself than her. "Even though I was a complete dick, you're still making sure I don't have to drive."

Daisy's hands tightened slightly on the wheel, but she didn't say a word.

Punk closed his eyes and sighed, feeling that awful, gnawing guilt settle deeper in his chest. He had messed up. Bad. And now, he had to sit in this car for hours, trapped in the silence, with nothing to do but face the fact that he had hurt her worse than he realized.

Punk sat in the passenger seat, the unopened gift bag at his feet catching his attention. He hesitated for a moment before reaching down and grabbing it.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled out the first item—a vintage wrestling magazine, one of his favorites from when he was a kid. He stared at it for a long moment, flipping through the pages. His chest tightened.

"Where the hell did you even find this?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

Daisy didn't answer. She just kept her eyes on the road, her expression unreadable.

Punk swallowed hard and reached for the next gift. A black hoodie with a design he'd once pointed out months ago, thinking she wasn't even listening., she had and remembered

The next was a shirt with an old wrestling promotion he loved when he was a kid

And at the bottom of the bag, a handwritten note in Daisy's slightly messy but familiar handwriting.

He hesitated before unfolding it.

"Happy Birthday, Punk. Even when you piss me off, I still wanted today to feel special for you. You deserve that, even if you don't think you do."

Punk's grip tightened on the paper. His throat felt tight.

He turned to her, still holding the note. "Daisy—"

Nothing.

She just kept driving, her posture stiff, refusing to acknowledge him.

Punk exhaled sharply and ran a hand down his face, guilt settling deep in his gut. She had done all of this—gone out of her way to make him feel special—even after he had said some of the worst things to her.

And now she wouldn't even look at him.

For once, he didn't blame her.

Punk let out an exaggerated sigh, slouching further in his seat as he glanced at Daisy, who remained stubbornly focused on the road. He could see her jaw set tight, her hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too hard.

"You know," he started, his voice casual but laced with underlying frustration, "I only turn 26 once."

Silence.

Punk rolled his eyes. "I mean, I don't ask for much. A little 'Happy Birthday, Punk' doesn't seem like it would kill you."

Nothing. Not even a glance in his direction.

He huffed, leaning his head back. "You went through all that trouble decorating the locker room, getting me gifts, and now you won't even say it? That's actually insane."

Daisy's expression didn't change.

He knew he was going to have to make her laugh to break her and make her speak to him

Punk exhaled, tilting his head toward her. "Daze... come on. I know I was a dick, okay? I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But do you really hate me so much right now that you won't even say it?"

She finally glanced at him, just for a second, before looking back at the road.

"Wow," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're really gonna do me like this on my birthday? What if I just drop dead right now? What if this is my last birthday ever?"

Daisy's lip twitched like she wanted to smile, but she quickly pressed them together.

Punk narrowed his eyes. "I saw that. I saw that little almost-smile."

She gave him nothing.

Punk groaned dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. "Fine. Be stubborn. But just know, I'm gonna be the most annoying person on the planet until you say it."

Daisy rolled her eyes, still refusing to respond.

Punk grinned, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Oh yeah, you're in for a long ride, sweetheart."

Punk immediately recognized the name flashing on Daisy's phone screen, and his stomach twisted. He knew this wasn't going to be good.

Daisy hesitated before answering, her voice already tinged with exhaustion. "Hey, Mom."

Punk stayed silent, watching her closely as he shifted slightly in his seat.

"I saw you on TV tonight," her mother started, skipping right past any kind of greeting. "I was wondering... are you dating that Punk guy?"

Daisy closed her eyes briefly, gripping the wheel tighter. "Mom, I really don't want to do this right now. I've had a bad day—"

"I didn't ask about your day, Daisy. I asked if you were dating him."

Punk clenched his jaw, already feeling the heat of anger rising in his chest. He knew Daisy's mother never cared about how she felt—never asked, never listened.

Daisy let out a slow breath. "No, I'm not dating him."

"Well, good. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself more than you already do."

Punk felt his whole body tense. He turned his head sharply, watching Daisy as her face fell.

"You looked ridiculous out there tonight, by the way," her mother continued. "Flailing around, letting that other girl get the best of you. You always make everything so much harder than it needs to be. No wonder you—"

Daisy abruptly hung up.

The silence in the car was suffocating.

Punk stared at her, his hands balled into fists on his lap. Daisy kept her eyes forward, her lips pressed together, her breathing uneven.

After a few seconds, she let out a shaky breath. "Can we just... not talk about it?"

Punk exhaled through his nose, still fuming. But he nodded.

"Yeah, Daze," he said quietly. "We don't have to talk about it."

But he was sure as hell thinking about it. And if he ever met her mother, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from saying something.

Punk sat there, staring out the windshield as Daisy kept her eyes fixed on the road. The weight of everything hung heavy between them, but now, after hearing her mom tear her down like that, he couldn't take the silence anymore.

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before turning to look at her. "Daze... can you please just talk to me?"

She didn't answer.

Punk exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against his thigh, trying to find the right words. He sucked at this—apologizing, admitting when he was wrong—but if there was ever a time to try, it was now.

"Look, I'm—fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. He forced himself to just say it. "I'm sorry, alright? For everything. For what I said to you earlier, for how I acted, for being a complete asshole today. I—" He huffed out a breath. "I didn't mean it, any of it."

Daisy stayed quiet, but her fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

Punk ran a hand through his hair, his frustration now directed at himself. "I was just pissed off, and I took it out on you, which was fucked up. And then I saw you with Drew, and I lost my damn mind because—" He stopped himself, biting his tongue before he said too much.

Daisy let out a small scoff, shaking her head. "Because what, Punk?"

He swallowed, gripping his knee. "Because I hated it," he admitted. "Because the thought of you with someone else—especially him—makes me fucking crazy. But that's not an excuse for how I treated you."

Daisy's jaw clenched, her face still set in that heartbreakingly distant expression. "You said some really awful shit to me today."

Punk nodded, guilt pressing down on him. "I know. And I hate myself for it." He turned his body slightly toward her. "I just... I don't want you to hate me. Please, Daze. Just—stop ignoring me."

Daisy was quiet for a long moment, eyes focused on the road, but Punk saw her bottom lip tremble slightly. He wanted to reach for her, to touch her, but he didn't know if she'd let him.

Finally, she let out a slow breath. "I don't hate you, Punk," she admitted, her voice softer now. "But you really hurt me."

Punk felt something twist in his chest. "I know." His voice was rough, honest. "And I'll make it up to you. I swear."

Daisy glanced at him, her walls still up, but something in her softened just a little.

Punk took that as a start.

Daisy gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. "I don't forgive you," she finally said, her voice even but laced with hurt. "Not yet. Because honestly, Punk... it feels like you broke my heart today."

Punk swallowed hard, his stomach sinking. He deserved that. Every bit of it.

She let out a slow breath, fingers tightening on the wheel. "But... I do want to know if your birthday was good. If I made it special for you."

Punk exhaled, his body slumping slightly against the seat. His usual bravado, his sarcasm—none of it was there. Just him. Raw. Honest. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "You did."

Daisy still wouldn't look at him, but he kept going, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "I hate my birthday." He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Always have. My parents never gave a shit about it. Never did anything for it. No parties, no cake, nothing. Just another day."

Daisy's grip loosened, and she finally turned her head slightly toward him.

Punk looked down at his hands. "I guess at some point, I just stopped caring. Stopped expecting anything. Figured if I ignored it, it wouldn't suck as much." He swallowed, his throat tight. "But then... you did all that for me today." He glanced at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "No one's ever done that for me before, Daisy."

Daisy's expression softened, her lips pressing together. She wanted to stay mad, wanted to keep her walls up, but hearing that—knowing that she had done something for him no one else had ever done—made her heart ache for him.

She didn't say anything, just turned her eyes back to the road. But Punk could see it—the way her shoulders relaxed just a little, the way the tension between them shifted. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet. But it was something.

And for now, he'd take it.

[reputationmunson]

Crossing Lines | s.h x fem!reader

part one | part two | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

series summary: steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: things take a turn the night of the wedding. what happens when you’re back in Hawkins and no longer have to pretend to be steve’s girlfriend?

content: arguing, drinking, kissing (yes you read that right), a few confessions (yes you read that right, too), she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing

word count: 3.7k

a/n: THINGS ARE HAPPENING! BUCKLE UP

_

The sound of clanging cutlery makes your head throb due to the cruel hangover you woke up with. You were currently eating breakfast with the Harrington’s and not to sound rude, but it was the last place you wanted to be right now. 

After the events of last night, you couldn’t get even a blink of sleep. It was already bad enough you told Steve that he shouldn’t kiss you because you wouldn’t be able to sleep, but him agreeing made it even worse. 

It makes no sense to you. 

He must be playing some sort of cruel game, right? He’s probably just stringing you along trying to make you fall for him and when if you do, bam, you’re left heartbroken. 

Steve Harrington can suck it. There’s positively no way you’re falling for him. 

“You alright?” he whispers to you when he notices you moving the food around your plate instead of eating it. “m’fine” you shrug. “Just don’t have an appetite’’ you explain. “Eat something. We have a long day ahead of us” 

“Why do you care?” you snap and his eyes widen. Luckily, his family was too immersed in their  own conversations to pay attention to either of you. “Let’s not do this here, okay? Yell at me when we get back to the house if you want”

“What’s the point? You never listen anyways” you huff. 

This morning was a tad awkward between you and Steve. When you tried to talk about it and clear the air, he just grunted and wanted to brush it under the rug like he always does. Safe to say you were frustrated with him. 

“Whatever, y/n. Just promise you’ll stop acting like this when we’re at the wedding”

“Only if you promise to stop being such a dick”

“Fine”

“Fine”

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t fine. 

_ 

When you had gotten back to the house, neither of you spoke a word to each other. You took a much needed nap while Steve left the house. He didn’t tell you where he was going and frankly, you didn’t care to know. 

Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. You cared a teeny tiny amount. 

These past few days have felt so back and forth. Every time you think you’re making progress to the possibility of being friends, there’s a small hiccup and you’re back to square one. You feel like you’ve gotten a glimpse of Steve that you haven’t gotten in a long time, but then the glimpse is overshadowed by him going back to acting like an ass at the drop of a hat. 

Your rumination is interrupted by the sound of the front door closing, alerting you that Steve is back. You go back to doing your makeup until Steve knocks on the bathroom door. “Come in” you answer and he opens the door. 

“We’re leaving in an hour” he states “Then why aren’t you ready yet? You were gone for two hours” 

“I went to my parents to call Robin” he answers. “We have a phone here” you counter. “Thanks, sherlock, but I didn’t really want you snooping in on my conversation” 

“I have no interest in what you have to say considering you have no interest in listening to me” you sigh heavily. “Is this about last night? Can’t you get over that?” You angrily set your mascara down and turn to look at him. “No, it isn’t just about last night. It’s about the entire time I’ve known you, Steve! You are such an asshole to me and I’ve done nothing to you and yes, I wanted to kiss you, but you wanted to kiss me too and it’s driving me fucking mad because you want to act like this whole weekend hasn’t even happened!” you exclaim and hold back a sob. You’d always been so utterly confused about his hatred towards you and this trip has made it even worse. He gives you no explanations, no communication, just avoidance. 

“I have to get ready” is all he says before exiting the room and you groan in frustration. All you want, all you need, is for him to talk to you. It’s like trying to get through a brick wall. Impossible and not worth it. 

You’d never been more grateful for a weekend to almost be over.

_

The wedding ceremony had been uncomfortable, to say the least. You and Steve were squished together in a church pew, leaving no room for distance between the two of you. It was hard to focus on the beautiful event taking place in front of you when Steve’s thigh was pressed up against yours and he had to put his arm on the back of the bench and you had to lean into him for appearances. 

The reception was going better though, partially because of the open bar. You’re currently stood there waiting on your third drink when the bride herself comes up to you. “What did Steve do now?” she asks you. “What do you mean?” you play dumb. “You two have been so lovey dovey this whole weekend and now you haven’t spoken a word to each other tonight. Spill”

“I don’t want to burden you. It’s your wedding night!”

“Consider it a wedding present. Tell me everything!”

That was easier said than done. You couldn’t exactly explain that this entire relationship is fake and Steve has been sending you mixed signals, absolutely doing your head in. “Just a silly fight, I suppose. Nothing serious” you reply. “Alright, I won’t bother you for juicy details, but tonight is all about love and that boy loves you. He’s outside. Go find him, okay?” 

Before you go and find him, you make sure to get him a drink to break the ice. As frustrated as you were with him, you weren’t going to sulk at someone's wedding over it.

“Hey” you mutter when you find him alone outside. “Peace offering” you say as you hand him a drink and he accepts, chugging it rather quickly. 

“Look, I’m sorry ab-”

“No, I’m sorry.” he interrupts “I was an ass and you didn’t deserve it”

“Thank you, but you’ve been really off all day. Is something else wrong?’’ you question and he sighs “My dad keeps harping on me about my job, my apartment, and basically everything else. Says you’re too good for me. I don’t even deserve my fake girlfriend” he chuckles, humorlessly.

“Steve” you whisper, stepping closer to him and putting your hand on his arm “I know we’ve had our differences, but you should be proud of yourself. You could’ve easily had everything handed to you, but you decided to do everything on your own. I think that’s very brave of you”

“You think I’m brave?” his eyes meet yours and you swear there’s a sparkle in his golden irises. “yeah, i do, but don’t let that get to your head, alright?” you joke and he smiles for the first time today. “too late” he smiles. “So we’re okay now? ya know, until you start acting like a dick again” you joke. “Yeah, we’re okay. until you do something annoying again”

You both chuckle and you can’t deny this moment feels nice. Steve seems different, apart from the few arguments you’ve had over the weekend, it feels like there’s a possibility for an acquaintance. Maybe even friends, but you don’t wanna get ahead of yourself. 

“Hey, lovebirds. Get in here, everyone’s lookin for ya” one of the groomsmen says when he finds you and Steve outside. “we’ll be there in a sec” Steve tells him before he disappears. 

“ready?” he asks and you nod, both quickly finishing your drinks before facing the crowd inside. Steve takes your hand and leads you back into the reception. 

Once you’re back inside, you feel a gentle tug on your dress. When you turn around and look down, you’re met with a friendly, familiar face. “hi, penelope! you look so pretty!” you exclaim and she twirls to show you her dress. “you look like a princess! will you dance with me?” she asks. “I’d be honored!” 

“I’m gonna go get us a couple more drinks, okay?” Steve tells you before you’re escorted to the dance floor with your new best friend. 

While Steve waits to order at the bar, he watches you and penny absolutely steal the show. You’re holding hands while twirling around the dance floor and laughing. He notices everyone admiring you, much like he is right now. 

“She sure is lovely, Steve” his mom says when she approaches him. “she is, isn’t she?” he replies and he means it. You have this way about you that makes everyone swoon over you. At first, he found it annoying, but now he might say he finds it endearing. He’s starting to understand why everyone likes you so much. 

As ‘open arms’ by Journey starts to play, he watches your eyes light up and you say ‘I love this song!’. He decides the drinks can wait. 

“Care if I steal my girl for a dance, penny?” he asks, fully expecting her to say no. “fine, but only one dance, mister” she points her finger at him and you both laugh. “I’ll hand her off to you in no time. I swear” he promises before she walks back over to her parents. 

“So, I hear you like this totally cheesy song. Can’t say I’m surprised” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes. “And you wanna dance with me to this totally cheesy song” you rebuttal. “touche” he chuckles. 

Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands fall to your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. “I believe I was promised a drink” 

“Got distracted, plus I don’t need you getting sloppy and stepping on my toes”

“Sloppy?! If anything, my dance moves are even more impeccable when I’m drunk. Did you not see my moves earlier?”

“Oh, I did, unfortunately. You’re really great with Penny, by the way. Must be because you dance the same.” he torments you. “Okay, I’m ignoring that. She’s a great kid, though. Hard to believe you share genes” 

“How would we share jeans? She’s a toddler” 

“Steve” you deadpan, waiting for him to get that you meant genes, not jeans. “Oh” he nods his head once he understands and you both laugh. 

“Do you think that maybe after all of this we could be friends, maybe?” you ask, shyly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah, maybe” he answers before continuing “you aren’t completely awful and besides us fighting every other hour, I’ve had fun with you.”

“I’ve had fun with you too, but if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it” you jokingly respond and he agrees. “I don’t entirely hate being around you” he whispers. “I don’t either”

Steve’s eyes flick down to your lips and linger longer than you expected. “stop looking at my lips!” you quietly exclaim. “I'm not! Your lipstick is smeared!” he defends.“I’m not wearing lipstick, Steve” you clarify and his cheeks turn pink. 

“You’re blushing! you were totally looking at my lips!”

“I was not. If I get you a drink will you stop berating me?” he bargains. “Hm, I don’t know. Get me a drink anyways and let's find out.” 

Steve keeps his hand on the small on your back the entire time you stand at the bar. You lean your head on his shoulder, claiming that it’s only because you’re sleepy, but deep down you feel the need to be as close to him as possible. 

“Wanna go back outside? It’s kinda hot in here” Steve asks once you get your drinks. You nod and follow him, lacing your hands together, mostly for support as you're tired and you feel like your feet might actually fall off from your heels. 

You and Steve don’t bother finding any chairs, opting to sit in the grass instead. 

“It’s so beautiful out here” you sigh dreamily as you look at the stars in the sky. Steve turns to look at you while you admire the view “yeah. it really is”

A night breeze causes you to shiver, so Steve takes off his blazer and places it over your shoulders. “Thanks, Stevie” you smile at him and he hates how the way your nose scrunches as you smile makes him feel like a damn teenager with the butterflies he gets. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask, looking back at the sky not really wanting to look at him when you ask what’s on your mind. “go for it”

“Why did you hate me? I mean, I hope it’s past tense because you said we can be friends now, but I’m just curious” you nervously pluck grass out of the ground, still avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t hate you” “Steve, that’s a lie and we both know it. Be honest, I can take it”

Seconds pass before he speaks again, letting out a big sigh before doing so. “You’re too perfect”

“What?” you scoff. “You’re just so…unreal. With the way you laugh, the way you’re nice to everybody, and the way you could wear a trash bag and still be unbelievably beautiful. It just makes me so mad because I can never have you” he confessions and you’re stunned, to say the least. 

You don’t say anything for a good minute and a half, unable to think of anything to say. Steve wishes he had a time machine so he could go back and say literally anything else. He takes your silence as rejection.

“why can’t you have me?” you whisper “it’s stupid” he grumbles. “tell me. please”

“Robin told me that I wasn’t ready for a girl like you and truth be told, I don’t think I ever will be” he tells you. You scoot closer to him, locking your eyes with his. “you can have me tonight, Steve, while we’re away from home. No robin, no hawkins, just you and me and not a care in the world”

“Can we really do that just for one night?” he wonders, eyes scanning over your face to see if there’s any detection of you just messing around with him. “that depends…do you wanna kiss me?”

“yes”

Neither of you waste any time. His lips hungrily chase yours and you sigh into the kiss as you both lay down on your sides in the grass. Your hand grasps the back of his neck to keep him in place, making sure this moment lasts as long as possible. Warmth spreads throughout your body and you feel like your heart might beat out of your chest. 

One of Steve’s hands tangles in your hair while the other rests on your waist. It’s so quiet outside that all you can hear are the sounds of your kiss and you can’t be too sure, but so far you think it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. 

Steve is the first to pull away, but not too far. He rests his forehead on yours and he keeps his eyes closed. “Can we go back to our place?” he asks and you let out an ‘mhm’ before you both stand up, going back inside to quickly say your goodbyes. 

_

Steve presses kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips every five seconds in the back of the cab and all the way to the front door. He knows he won’t be able to do this once you go back to your lives in Hawkins, so he uses this opportunity as best as he can. 

For tonight, you’re his girl and he can kiss you silly if he wants to. 

“Stevie, can I sleep in your sweatshirt? it gets cold at night”

“Here. I’ll get out of your hair” he says before leaving the room so you can get changed. His sweatshirt smells like him and you smile as you put it on. 

You change in record time so Steve can come back in. You know this is a terrible idea. You shouldn’t want to kiss him this badly, you shouldn’t hope you sleep in his arms tonight, but you do because you don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance to once you’re home. 

“I’m done!’’ you shout and Steve returns, also changed into comfy clothes. You both climb into bed after turning off the lights. His arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you into him so your head lies on his chest. 

You’re both utterly exhausted, but don’t go to bed before sharing more giggly kisses. You each dread when the sunrises, meaning your time together is up. 

It was nice while it lasted. Even if it was only for a few hours. 

_

In the morning, there’s no regrets or arguing, like what both of you expected. Instead, there was a feeling of misery. If Steve knew he could’ve had you for this whole weekend, he wouldn’t have wasted a second. 

How is he supposed to act once you’re back in Hawkins? Does he go back to being an asshole or does he stick by his promise of being your friend? Is it even possible for him to be your friend at this point?

You don’t speak much throughout the morning, apart from when you’re at his parents’ to say goodbyes. “I can’t wait to see you again, dear” his mom had told you and you felt an odd feeling in your chest at her words. 

Steve loads up all of your things in the car for you and you mutter a ‘thanks’ before getting in the passenger seat. 

“Ready?” Steve asks when he gets in the car. “yep. let’s go home” you exhale a deep breath. 

You fall asleep almost as soon as you’re on the road and Steve sighs in relief. He doesn’t think he could take the silence. 

_

The ride home goes by fairly quickly. You wake once you feel his car come to a halt outside your house. 

“I’ll get your bags for you” he offers and you shake your head “no it’s o-”

“y/n, let me get your bags. It’ll be my final job as your fake boyfriend” he jokes and you let out a fake chuckle. Why does the thought of this being over hurt so much?

“Well, guess we’re broken up now, huh? Longest three and a half days of my life” you jest. “Right back at ya. Pleasure doing business with you” he holds his hand out and you shake it like you just got finished with a business meeting. “Until next time” 

“Until next time” he repeats your words and heads back to his car. 

You watch him drive away through your living room window, hoping he’ll turn around to give you one last kiss, but he doesn’t. It’s probably for the best anyways. 

_

It had been two weeks since returning to Hawkins and Steve couldn’t shake the feeling he had. It was the heart wrenching feeling you have when you miss someone, and he didn’t want to miss you, but he did. Severely.

Somehow, his apartment had felt lonelier. His bed felt colder as he grew accustomed to sharing a bed with you for only three nights, despite the gap that was left between you and him the first two nights. 

He hasn’t seen you since he dropped you off two weeks ago and there’s nothing else to say except that he misses you. 

He misses your laugh, he misses your banter, and he misses the way he felt when he kissed you that Saturday night. Like it was something you should’ve been doing this whole time. 

The clock on his bedside table reads 12:48 and he decides he can’t take this anymore. He can’t go through another sleepless night feeling like this.

He throws his blankets off his body and gets dressed, putting on the first thing he could find and running out the front door. 

He didn’t care anymore. 

He didn’t care about what Robin would say, or that you and Eddie used to be a thing, or that this could end in complete fucking disaster. 

All he cared about was what he wanted and that was you.

_

A series of knocks at your door wasn’t what you expected at one in the morning. 

Obviously, the first thing that came to mind was a murderer, but when you looked through your peephole, you saw a very frantic Steve.

“Steve? Are you okay?” his eyes were wide, his hair was a mess, and he was clearly jittery. 

“No, actually, I’m losing my mind. I mean, you tell me I can have you for one night and you thought that I could go back to normal after that?”

“I’m…sorry?”

“No, listen. I can’t go back to normal. I have wanted you for as long as I’ve known you and then we finally fucking kiss and I have to pretend like it wasn’t the best thing that’s happened to me a really long goddamn time. I want you and I can’t act like I don’t’’

You practically throw yourself at him, quickly crashing your lips together and pulling him inside. you’d been waiting so long for this.

“We can't tell any of our friends about this” kiss. “Agreed” kiss. “I mean this could totally blow up in our faces, there's no reason to tell them, right” you state, pulling away from his lips.“Uh-huh, right. Now shut up and kiss me again” 

You stand in your living for at least ten minutes, kissing him like it’s the only thing you’ll ever do again until exhaustion hits you both.

“do you wanna stay tonight? I don’t want you out driving this late”

“I wouldn’t be able to leave anyways” 

It feels weird at first to be cuddling Steve. Just a few weeks ago you swore up and down he hated you, and now you’re both curled up in your bed, clinging to each other like your life depends on it. It doesn’t feel wrong, though. It feels natural. Like, you’ve figured everything out. Well, almost everything. 

What else did you need to figure out? How the hell you were going to keep this from your friends.

_

taglist: @nix-rose-q @eternallyvenus @freezaz123 @whisperingwillowxox @buckysmetalhand @x-theolivia @realsuper-dark @eddiesguitarskills @megxplryxb @alicetweven @calmoistorm @impossibelle @k-k0129 @moonofthedevil @tinakham @kennedy-brooke @enco12e @sierrahhh @meet-me-backstage @whoringtonmunswhore

(a few blogs i was unable to tag :( i’m not sure if that’s an issue on my end or not but i’ll try to figure it out!)

[primasveraas-writing]

i see a darkness (did you know how much i love you?)

For Susan. I haven’t written for Rebels since you’ve been gone, and I still can’t imagine this community without you.

Words: 769

---

Alex goes quiet, first. Then, Zeb watches the tension hunch his shoulders and notices the way his husband can’t quite look him in the eye. He waits for Alex to tell him, to let the walls down- but then it turns to anger. When Alex speaks to him, it's in a short, clipped tone. His fists clench whenever Zeb enters the room; the thunk of his cane on the floor seems to ring out louder.

Zeb is well-practiced at tolerating his husband’s bad days. Pain seizes his body or a dark cloud overtakes his mind, and Zeb knows he’ll have to pick up the pieces when Kallus finally manages to open up about it.

The anger is different though, especially with a kit in the mix. Their daughter is still in infancy, but surely Alex knows she’s old enough to pick up on the tension between her fathers. Alex flees the room as soon as Zeb enters; various feeble excuses have meant that the three of them have barely been in a room together for the past day. It’s that- not his lover’s coldness, but the way their daughter is put to the side so Alex can stay angry with Zeb- that irritates him too.

On the second day, Zeb decides to confront him. It’s been over a rotation of slammed doors and avoided glances, their child passed wordlessly between them. But the kit is sleeping, safe in her room, when Zeb finds Kallus in their living room. The other man pauses when he enters and moves to leave, but Zeb blocks the entryway.

“Alex. What did I do?”

“What? Nothing.”

Zeb watches Alex’s hand clench around the handle of his cane; his eyes flick to the hall behind Zeb.

“You’re upset with me,” Zeb says, trying to sound casual.

“I’m not, I assure you.”

“I think we’ve been together and married too long for you to lie to me like that, Alexsandr.”

There’s a heavy pause, and Kallus’ jaw twitches. “Fine. Garazeb, I cannot believe you married me.”

“What?!” Zeb sputters. “Are you angry because you- do you want- ?”

“I don’t think it matters what I want. I’ve been- reflecting- these past few days. On our marriage, on the person that I am- and I can’t quite parse out why you married me.”

“I love you,” Zeb says dumbly, like the floor didn’t just fall out from beneath his feet.

“But don’t you get it? That doesn’t make sense, Garazeb. Even if I have redeemed myself,” he scoffs, “in the eyes of the galaxy, I am still the person who devastated Lasan. And now I’m a pretender, living on Lira San, married to you- who am I kidding that I have the right to raise a Lasat? I am an awful person, who has done awful things. There was- there is this darkness inside of me, Zeb, and I’ve tried my best- I really have- to banish it. But it left an impression on me. You don’t have to pretend you don’t see it too.”

“I see you,” Zeb croaks, stepping closer to his lover. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Alex, if you were still the same person, I- I wouldn't've married you. I wouldn’t be raising a kit with you. And you wouldn’t’ve said yes to either one of those things.” He reaches out to cup Alex’s face, and the other man shudders at the touch. 

“How many times do I hafta say it?” Zeb leans in and presses their foreheads together. “Alexsandr… I forgive you.”

Alex shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is thick.

“I would never ask that of you.”

“But you want it.” Zeb paws at the back of Kallus’ head, fingers intertwining in his hair. His heart feels sharp and heavy in his chest. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t deserve it,” Alex whispers, barely audible.

“You don’t decide that,” Zeb says, shaking his head. “When will you learn,” he huffs. “That I love you more than you could ever hate yourself? I’ll do whatever it takes to help you see that, Sasha. I’ll tell you as many times as it takes. I love you. I forgive you.”

“I don’t-”

Zeb closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him, soft and slow. Alexsandr freezes at first, then his shoulders slump and he kisses back.

“As many times as it takes,” Zeb repeats. “Trust me, please, when I tell you that I love you.”

Alex closes his eyes, rocking in Zeb’s arms. His breathing is shaky; Zeb feels wetness on the fur of his shoulder where Alex’s head rests.

“I’ll try.”

[faghubby]

secrets out

My name is Paul (48) I been married to a wonderful woman Mary Beth (44) for twenty years. We have two wonderful daughters 19 and 17. We both have good jobs. Live in a nice neighborhood. The average person would believe we where the typical American dream family.

Well we are, well except Beth is very much in charge. Early in our relationship Beth saw me for what I was. A beta male. She natured this I learned to embrace Beth being in control. The first time she spanked me after I had embarrassed her in front of her friends by making a stupid joke. She grew creative in punishments. Often making me wear panties so I would remember she was in charge. Or clean the house. These soon turned into everyday events. Wearing panties 24/7 and housework, cooking, laundry all became my sole responsibilities. When our daughters where born I took time off of work to care for them. Beth had always been in charge in the bedroom. She had taught me exactly how to please her. But after our oldest was born I found it difficult to forfil her needs.

Beth immediately started to seek out men who could. I of course didn't argue. She just told me she had needs. She was discreet. She included me by telling me how these men pleased her. It didn't take long for her to convince me to orally please her after they had fucked her. Then again one night when she had let one cum inside her. Feeding me my first cream pie.

As I always did I excepted my new duty of lickimg her clean after her lovers where done. Even with all this she allowed me to pretend in public that although I was attentive I was her husband and an equal partner.

That changed when she made partner of her law firm.

" I am going to need you to retire. And focus on me full time" Beth told me. The morning after as I got out of the shower. I kept myself fit for her but she didn't want me to be some muscle bound jerk. Just lean and fit. Beth ran her hand across my chest.

"I don't want you pretending to be a manly either" Beth said rubbing her hands thru my chest hair with a frown.

"Beth I take care of you" I said softly. I had never raised my voice to her.

"All this hair gone, from the nose down" she said in her tone when it was not open for discussion. She then placed a pink velvet bag on the counter.

"Then you will put this on" she told me. I knew it was a chastity cage. We had played with one a few times over the years. Then she just turned and left. I found that Beth had already sent in my resignation using my phone. As I folooked her wearing just my robe.

"Beth can we talk about this?" I asked as I helped her put on her coat.

"Tonight if you are shaved and locked when I get home we can talk" Beth replied and kissed me as I handed her her lunch.

I went back to the bathroom and googled hair removal. I found hair removal cream in Beth's cabinet along with her razors. I spent the next two hours making sure I got every hair knowing Beth would expect perfection. I waited to lock on the cage. Instead cleaning up and prepping dinner. At lunch I got a text from Beth.

/wear sexy panties for me / is all it said. She was usually home by 530 so I went and put on the cage about 430. Both the girls where home.

/ will be late my new assistant has a big cock/

Beth called when she was on her way so dinner would be hot

" Paulie, this looks delicious" Beth said her hand slid under my shirt to feel my smooth stomach. She just smiled. As I served her and the girls. After dinner I cleaned up as usual only when my chores where done did I seek Beth out.i found her sitting on our bed.

"Beth, do you have time?" I asked. She put down her phone. I closed the door. She looked at me like she had no idea what I wanted to discuss

"About the cage" I started

"Is it too big? I can find you a smaller one" she told me.

"No it fits fine" I responded. " it's just that I thought we where past locking me up" I said with my head down.

"Look at me" Beth said I lifted my head and looked straight into her eyes.

"Now tell me you aren't excited" Beth said

"Well its" I started then fell silent.

"I would like you to learn to be more femine" Beth told me.

"I don't understand" I stuttered

"Yes you do" Beth said getting annoyed. I again fell silent.

"I am not asking you to become a woman. I am saying no more playing man" Beth told me. She pulled a pink box with a bow on it from under the bed. She held it out to me. I stepped forward and took it.

"Thank you" I said

"Well open it" Beth smiled patting the bed.i sat next to her and unwrapped it. Inside was pink satin pajamas.

"Try them on" Beth told me excited.

"Beth" I whined but her face told me not to argue. I stood and stripped. Beth watched.

"You look so cute with no ugly hair" she told me. I wore a pink thong as well. Beth smiled when she saw it as well. I put on the pajamas the pants fit tight the top was a spaghetti strap that plunged low to shoe off cleavage if I had any. Then a light matching robe to wear over it.

"Come here" Beth motioned me back to bed, she pulled back the covers to reveal she was naked from the waist down. She pushed my head between her thighs. After I had made her cum she cuddled with me. Making me take the small spoon spot.

"Do you remember when we went on vacation to Puerto Rico?" Beth asked as she rubbed my satin covered ass. I knew what she was talking about a few years ago she had pegged me with a strapon every night of the vacation.

"Yes" I wimpered softly.

"I know you do" Beth giggled my dick trobbing as it tried to grow in the tight cage.

"In the bathroom I left you another present, I like you to go try it and come back in here" Beth told me. I got up. I found a jeweled butt plug and a bottle of lube. I frowned but lubed it up and worked it into my ass. Beth sometimes made me wear a plug as punishment. I came back to bed. The plug was a little bigger then what I was used to. I crawled back into bed. Beth immediately pushed against the plug.

"I like you to let your hair grow. And I will help you soften your features" Beth explained. No reason to pretend since you no longer have to work" Beth explained.

"Beth you said you didn't want me to be a woman" I reminded her

"That's right, I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you being a man either" Beth told me. I slept with the plug in my ass and kept it in as I made her breakfast in bed.

"In my my car you will find several big bags of clothes. I removed alot of your old things. You can figure out your new wardrobe." I got up and retrieved the bags. I went thru them s Beth watched. I realized they where very gender neutral but mostly woman's clothes. Such as shirts that buttoned backwards or slacks with no pockets. There where also several sets of ladies pajamas. Along with tons of lingerie including bras and stockings.

Over the next few weeks Beth helped me figure out my new style. She added shoes and hand bags. Since I had no pockets. Every night she made me wear a plug she increased the size several times.

One night I was getting dressed for bed when Beth approached me with a big black strapon sticking out from her jeans. I didn't fight it as she bent me over the bathroom sink and fucked me with long hard strokes.

"Now that I know you have fully excepted your role. I think we can stop pretending you where ever a male. And throw the keys away" Beth told me as I moaned as she pounded my ass. Tears flowed from my eyes as the fear of never being unlocked hit me. Beth continued to fuck me with long hard strokes.

Now I wasn't male, nor was I female. I was just a beta. Beth taught me to be submissive to everyone. At first she pushed. She had me suck my friends cock. Or orally please one of her friends after a bad day. But it wasn't just sex. I found myself wanting to serve people. Often kneeling to remove visitors to our home shoes. First time I tried to do this to my father in law he freaked. BUT soon would tell to rub his feet as he sat in the recliner. I sucked my mother in laws feet once after Beth told her how much she loved it. It turned my mother in law on so much she took her husband to the bedroom. Beth often allowed our friends to use me however they wished. My old best friend would invite me over to clean his apartment as he played video games.

Beth gave me free range to run the house how ever i wished, but also encouraged me to except how i felt. If I felt girlie to wear a dress. If I felt manly to dress more manly. Even though my manly clothes weren't really manly. And I always wore panties although sometimes it was a sexy thong while other days pink boy shorts.

Our daughter's stopped calling me Dad. It just didn't fit. Instead I was just Paulie. And although I treated them like princess waiting on them hand and foot. They excepted me and often asked my advice on outfits or boys.

Beth even took vacations without me choosing to take a man with her. I was a sexless sissy. When we remodeled the house she even had them make me a small adjoining room so she could have me close but also privacy if she wished. I had no desire to sleep with a man. But did find myself attracted to their form as well as women. I know I will never be unlocked ever again. And I don't feel I want to be it feels li,e a distant memory.

[hopefulromances]

Hi, I’m not sure if you’re requests are open so feel free to ignore this but if not, can you do a Jamie request where he and the reader are heavily in the “between friends and lovers��� phase and Jamie ditches hanging out with the boys to spend the night with her when she turns down their invite cause she’s burnt out from work?

I'm in a writing mood so I'm going through so old requests in my inbox

Jamie sat in their booth, tracing a smiley face in the condensation that was growing on his beer. It was a Saturday night and he and the boys had gone out. He'd texted you to come with him when they'd left almost 30 minutes ago but he still hadn't heard back from you.

You and him were... close. He wasn't quite sure where he stood with you actually. He wasn't sure friends got drunk and made out on the couch but he didn't think girlfriends left in a hurry the next morning.

He didn't want you to leave. When he woke up, reaching out for your warm body, only to find himself alone, he'd been so disappointed. And the next time he'd seen you, you pretended it didn't happen. But all Jamie could think about was how you felt wrapped in his arms, lips feverishly moving against each other.

His phone buzzed and he grabbed for it a bit too quickly.

y/n <3: sorry, cant come out

jamie:everything alright?

y/n<3: yeah just tired, have fun

Jamie stared at your response, pursing his lips as he tapped the table anxiously.

"Jamie, if you shake your leg any fast, you're gonna cause and earthquake," Colin chuckled as he and Isaac slid back in across the booth.

Jamie didn't even realize he'd been shaking his leg. "Whoops, sorry mate." He glanced down at his phone again and made a decision. "Look, sorry guys, I think I've gotta go."

"What? You're ditching us?" Isaac barked in outrage. "We just got out here."

"Sorry, I owe you one," Jamie downed his beer and threw down some quid. "Next rounds on me."

And he was out the door.

...

You were laying on your couch, a heating pad on your stomach and an ice pack on your head. You had a movie on in the background but really you were just enjoying not standing on your feet. It had been a week. A long week. And most of all, you missed Jamie.

When you were especially busy at work you didn't get to see him a lot. But part of it was you avoiding him. You didn't want to be there the next morning when he sobered up and realized the mistake he'd made by kissing you. Then making out with you.

There was a knock at the door and you groaned, not moving from your spot. Whoever it was, they would have to come back another time. But after a moment, the knocking returned. You huffed and got up out of your very comfortable position to go open the door. Surprisingly, it was:

"Jamie?" you questioned, flipping on the porch light. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged and pulled out a bottle of prosecco. "Thought you could use a drink."

You stared at the alcohol in his hand. This couldn't be happening again. Was he trying to get you drunk so you'd be stupid enough to kiss him again?

"Jamie..." You bit your lip. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

As if he read your mind, his eyes widened. "Oh, shit. Fuck, no. That's not what I meant- we don't need to- fuck, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pavlov you."

"Pavlov me? What are you on about?" You scoffed, quirking an eyebrow.

"Keeley told me about Pavlov and the dog and whatever," he explained. "And I just brought you this cause I know you can't stand champagne and we don't even have to drink, I just wanted to-fuck I'm sorry."

You giggled at his flustered behavior. "It's okay, why don't you come inside."

You brought him inside and put the prosecco in the refrigerator, far from reach.

"Now, tell me, Jamie, why are you here?" you asked as you flopped down on the couch next to him.

He shrugged, pulling a pillow into his lap. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, is all. Missed you this week."

You felt your heart flutter. "I missed you, too."

He looked up at you. Somewhat surprised by your admission.

"I thought... I mean I hoped that after last week..."

"Jamie, let me stop you there," You cut him off. "You don't need to try and spare my feelings. I fucked up."

"You... fucked up?"

"Yeah. When I get drunk I get emotional and I let my stupid feelings get the better of me," you frowned, shaking your head. "But I care more about our friendship. So let's just pretend it never happened."

Now it was Jamie's turn to frown. "Your feelings?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," you averted your eyes from him. "It's stupid, I'll get over them. But let's lay off the prosecco until then ye-"

He grabbed your chin between his fingers and gently pulled you so you were forced to look at him. Your eyes widened, when did he get so close?

"(Y/N), do you like me?" His voice was low and husky.

Your eyes were so big as they looked back and forth between Jamie's grey ones. "Yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

What? He was fully sober asking if he could kiss me. But his grip on my chin was firm, yet gentle as he rubbed his thumb back and forth. You just nodded. He pulled you the rest of the way into him as he kissed you.

The last time you'd kissed, you'd both been bubbly and drunk. The kiss was sloppy and heated but this kiss... this kiss was slow and sweet. He took his time, moving his hand to cup your head in his hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. He moved his mouth slowly, each kiss lasting a moment longer than the last until he finally pulled back just a bit.

His eyes opened, meeting yours. You were breathless, longing for more. He kissed you one more time, shorter, like he was making sure he'd memorized the way your lips felt. When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed, a lazy smirk appearing on his face.

"That was..." you started.

"Good, really good," he finished, his eyes finally opening. "I mean, was it good for you?"

"Yes," you answered, a second too quickly. "Let's do it again."

He chuckled, pulling you into his lap. "Oh, we will be doing a lot of that from now on."

[bexleyfix]

Ending Our Friendship

(Stranger Things AU)

Prom photos are posted at the end of the story!

WARNINGS AND TRIGGERS: 18+ ONLY (ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS) NSFW... Mature sexual content, suggestive situations and discussions, smut, pining, angst, fluff, swearing, smoking, drinking, mentions of drug use.

RELATIONSHIPS: Eddie Munson x Y/n ♡ friends to lovers; Gareth, Jeff, Doug, Dustin, Mike, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Max, Lucas, and El are side characters.

Copying, translating, or posting my work as your own is expressly forbidden. I do not give my permission. Reports with credit to me are encouraged.

°°°°°🤘°°°°°

What can I say about Eddie Munson? Well... he's eccentric, erratic, rambunctious, sarcastic, definitely an attention whore... irritable, obnoxious, unruly... long story short, he's kind of a dick. A menace to society whose name, behavior, interests, and all-around heavy metal image have earned him the reputation of 'Town Freak'. But it's an erroneous label born out of prejudice and arrogance, and one he most certainly doesn't deserve.

I'm not exactly a favorite among my peers either. My thrifty style, music taste, and shy demeanor make me an easy target for the ignorant fucks who dominate the high school hierarchy, and so does my association with The Hellfire Club. And since Eddie's a close friend of mine, I'm empathetic. I don't blame him for his behavior, 'cause I know it's a defense mechanism, a way of taking the torment bestowed upon him by the oppressors of Hawkins and turning it into some whimsical public attraction to hide his internal suffering and keep people on edge.

In any case, Munson's a pest. A huge, irritating, aggravating pest... a giant, perverted, flamboyant...... oh... who the fuck am I kidding? Whatever he is... I want him. I want him like a fat kid wants cake. I want him so goddamn bad that every time I lay eyes on him, hear his melodic, raspy voice, or even catch wind of his name, I feel like I wanna hurl. Fuck butterflies, that sexy son of a bitch makes me feel like I have a full-blown professional wrestling match ensuing in my gut. But could I tell him? Of course not. He doesn't see me as relationship material. I'm just 'one of the guys', permanently embedded in the friend zone, and if he ever found out my true feelings it would have grave repercussions on the whole dynamic of our collective friendships. So, I'm forced to put on a face, pretend that I'm immune to his charm, bottle up my feelings, and let them eat away at my insides.

In the four years I've attended Hawkins High not a day has gone by where Eddie Munson hasn't invaded my every thought, innocent or otherwise. Even when our interactions were non-existent, or nothing more than a hello here and there, I haven't been able to escape that scrumptious motherfucker's temptation no matter how hard I try. Ok... so I don't actually try that hard. Fuck it... I don't try at all... but I pretend to.

Eddie makes it a point to bother anyone he damn well pleases, but I seem to be his favorite prey, and I'll be damned if he doesn't get some sick perverse pleasure from incessantly teasing me. It's normal for he and I to playfully flirt and sexually tease each other. He knows he can get a rise out of me without the added contempt he gets from everyone else, but it's a game to him, just a game, one that I secretly love to play, but recently it's gotten a lot worse, and it was becoming unbearable.

Robin Buckley's the only one who knows my true feelings. She's been my best friend since we met in band freshman year. Being a bit of a loner herself, she and I just clicked. She too can't seem to find the courage to approach her respective love interest (our bandmate, Vickie), but Robin's reasons are more justified. Even still, we both live each day in a loop of self-induced torture. Robin at least gets a weekend reprieve, but not me. Sharing the same friends as Eddie, my torture is continuous, resuming every weekday morning in first-period art class, and today was another typical Friday. At least... that's how it started.

~~~~~

"Alright, guys. Today, I'm gonna meet with you all individually to see how you're doing on your projects for the year-end show. And for those of you who've decided to procrastinate... Mr. Munson, I'm looking at you... I need to ok your idea and make sure you have ample time to complete your work, and that your subject matter is appropriate."

"Aww, come on Mrs. S. You know I always finish my work on time." Eddie flashed the teacher a debonair smile.

"You better... if you finally wanna graduate. But your last project wasn't exactly school-friendly." She smiled back in jest.

I remember that project. The perfect example of Eddie's outlandish shenanigans. He'd drawn a Boris-style rendering of himself all but slaughtering his least favorite jock dipshit. But Mrs. Schwagert's one of the coolest teachers in this school, and unlike most, she's not quick to judge her students, including Eddie. She has a way of connecting with all of us.

Eddie scoffed playfully before spouting off an equally playful retort. "That hurts, Mrs. S. I thought you of all people would understand that I took an avant-garde approach, conceptualizing the fight against tyranny in today's society."

"Well, be that as it may, Mr. Munson, your tactless display of violence toward another student won't be tolerated, so I'd like to meet with you first."

I smiled to myself as Eddie exchanged playful banter with our art teacher, gawking at him like I do most of the day until their meeting was concluded, and like clockwork, he resumed his position right up my ass.

"Hi, there!" He proclaimed in his best baritone imitation of Freddy 'Boom Boom' Washington from 'Welcome Back Kotter'.

I closed my sketch pad and looked up. "Now, the Sweathog part I get, but Washington? I don't see it."

"Ok, how 'bout Barbarino?"

He started shimmying back and forth in proper Barbarino fashion and I burst into laughter.

"Um... the hair, maybe, but you're not exactly a chick magnet. You're more of a mashup between Epstein and Horshack. Quick-witted, but super annoying."

"Fair enough." He plopped into the open seat next to me. "So... does that make you Hotsy Totsy, my little... Bunny?"

Oh yeah... every day Eddie makes it a point to devise a new moniker for me that starts with the next sequential letter of the alphabet. Today we were back to B.

"Not quite. I don't have a kid or moonlight as a stripper." I gave him a cheeky smile.

"You sure about that? You look like you belong on a street corner in that outfit."

I scoffed. "It's not that bad."

I looked down at my clothes. Ok, the v-neck crop top and fish nets, sure, but my skirt covered my waist and it wasn't that short. Suddenly feeling self-conscious I wrapped my sweater around myself, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Whatever you say. I'm certainly not complaining."

He looked me up and down with a Cheshire grin, and I rolled my eyes.

"Don't you have someone else you can pester? I'm busy."

"Doing what? More doodles that you refuse to share with me? What do you draw in there anyway? Is it your secret crush? Ooo! Is it me?"

He could not be more spot on. My sketch pad was filled with doodles of his mouthwatering, metalhead physique, as well as some more risqué renderings that I may or may not imagine him doing to me like... all the time. So of course, I lied.

"You wish, Munson."

"Oh, I do, Bunny. But if it's not me, then who is it? That Ian Astbury guy, or uh... what's his face... that wrestler? The one who looks like a roided up Tom Selek, um..." he snapped his fingers in recognition, "oh, Scott Hall? Wait!... It's Harrington isn't it? I know you two are chummy, and I wouldn't blame you. He's a dreamy hunk of hairy beast, but I'd have no problem being your dirty little sidepiece."

Eddie cocked his head to the side, flashed me a suave smile, and wiggled his eyebrows. He was such a dork, but he was right... about the chummy part anyway. Steve Harrington is my friend, which is a fucking miracle in its own right seeing that before he and Robin started working together, I never got a second glance from the 'King' of Hawkins High, but it turns out he's a gentle soul, and not the egotistical, jock douche we thought he was. But Robin puts it best, our friendship with Steve is platonic with a capital P.

"Hmm, as tempting as that sounds... I think I'll pass."

"Ok, suit yourself. Gareth would kill me if I tried to lay a hand on you anyway. Sisters are off limits."

I wasn't actually Gareth's sister, but I've lived next door to him since we were kids, and our families are super close. I do love that dumbass like a brother, but like most brothers, he's an annoying shit with a big mouth, so he has no idea how I feel about Eddie.

"Speaking of your lovable, surrogate little brother, you comin' to watch us practice tonight?"

"I wouldn't exactly call what you guys do, practice. All you do is fuck around and rip on each other the whole time."

"True, but you keep us in check, so you have to come over."

"Oh, I have to, huh? What if I don't feel like it?"

"Well, then I'll be forced to wait 'til Tuesday to waste my sexual prowess on girls who won't give me the time of day, resulting in me crying myself to sleep, again."

He popped out his bottom lip and gave me puppy dog eyes. Goddammit!

"Uh-huh. And... why do you suppose that is?"

"Well, probably because they don't know how to handle my natural charisma and raw animal magnetism. If they knew what they were missing, they'd be all over me."

"Is that right?" I leaned toward him provocatively, making sure to flaunt my cleavage. "And uh, what exactly are they missing?"

He was visibly frazzled, just how I wanted him. He swallowed hard, trying to make eye contact but unable to peel his gaze from my tits.

"Um... let's just say, that when it comes to the utmost in sexual pleasure... I'm your guy."

"Mmm... that good, are ya?"

"Oh, Bunny. I'm first-rate."

"And you think I... would be able to handle you?"

"Maybe..." He swallowed again. "There's only one way to know for sure."

"Is that so?" I looked him over seductively. "Sounds like that'd be one hell of a time."

"You have no idea."

I nodded slowly and smiled, our faces separated by mere inches.

"I suppose I don't." I stared at his lips, watching him squirm uncomfortably in his chair, and I went in for the kill. "Well, Mr. Fantastic, how could I refuse an offer like that?"

I leaned closer as if going in for a kiss and SMACKED him square in the forehead.

"OW, SHIT! SON OF A..."

I sat back in my chair as he pressed the butt of his hand to his forehead.

"I've gotta hand it to ya, Munson, I didn't think your persistence could be any more annoying, but you proved me wrong."

"Ok, I get it. No sexy time from Bunny. Way to crush my ego."

"I thought you'd be used to it by now. You can keep laying it on as thick as you want. I'm not sleeping with you."

"Y/l/n! I'll meet with you now. Get back to work, Mr. Munson."

"Yes, ma'am!" Eddie gave Mrs. S. a salute.

"Saved by scholastic decree. Catch you on the flip side, Fabio."

I smiled slyly, grabbed my sketchbook, and made my way to Mrs. S's desk as Eddie yelled after me.

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"I won't."

Without turning around I gave him the finger. I caught the faint sound of his chuckle and smiled to myself.

~~~~~

With my Walkman blaring, I navigated my way toward the cafeteria through the crowded hallways of Hawkins High, trying not to get knocked around like a pinball when Robin came running up to me in true motormouth fashion.

"Hey-gotta skip lunch to finish my history assignment-try to find a date for prom-meet up with you later-love you-bye!"

And like that, she disappeared into the sea of students before I could get a word in. This meant I'd have to sit with the Hellfire Club today, so I took a detour and headed to their table.

"What's the haps, nerds? Mind if I sit?"

I got lazy waves from the older boys, but Dustin and Mike immediately perked up and flashed me bashful smiles and enthusiastic waves, which I returned in kind.

"I've got a seat for you right here."

Eddie patted his lap. I smiled seductively, walked toward him, and squatted as if about to sit. The look on his face was priceless, but just before my ass made contact with his lap, I straightened up and crushed his dreams.

"Ooo... fat chance, fucker. Scoot over bro."

I nudged Gareth, plopping down in the seat between him and Eddie.

"Well, played, Bunny."

"Bunny? Are you still playing that stupid letter game?" Gareth asked.

"Unfortunately."

"You know you love it."

I flashed Eddie an unamused smile and started digging into my lunch bag.

"No Buckley today?" Gareth asked receiving a shake of my head as confirmation. "Hey, that girl Becky from band asked me to Prom."

I had a mouth full of food. "Mm, I like her. She's super sweet."

"Prom? You're actually gonna attend that monstrosity?"

"Why wouldn't I? Becky's hot. Just 'cause no one will go with you doesn't mean I have to sit at home with my thumb up my ass."

"Oh, sweet burn."

Mike gave Gareth a high five, and I couldn't hold back a laugh at Eddie's expense.

"Wheeler, it's not wise to upset your Dungeon Master."

Eddie flashed Mike an evil grin and Mike's face fell. He quickly turned his attention back to Gareth.

"El and I are going too. Do you guys wanna ride with us? We're getting a limo."

"Thanks, man, but we're hitching a ride with Buckley, Harrington, and Y/n."

"You're going too?"

Eddie looked at me somewhat perplexed.

"Mm-hm." I continued to eat nonchalantly, watching Eddie laugh in disbelief.

"With who?"

I furrowed my brow. Was that a hint of jealousy in his tone? Nah, couldn't be.

"Myself... and..." I waved my finger in a circle around the table to indicate everyone sitting there.

"You're all going?"

"Yes, killjoy. Nothing is stopping you from coming with us. It's a Masquerade theme this year. It'll be fun."

"Fun?! Bunny, I have no desire to attend the masquerade of forced conformity." He smiled smugly.

"Well, we do. So shut your face."

Still sensing the piercing glare of a pair of deep brown eyes, I lifted my head slowly to see Eddie smiling at me, elbow on the table and chin in hand.

"Yes?" I droned.

"Whatcha listenin' to?"

"Music," I retorted, jerking back when Eddie tried to steal my headphones.

"Why so secretive? Isn't she secretive?" Eddie addressed the younger boys of the group.

"Eddie, she probably just wants to eat her lunch in peace," Dustin answered.

"Pshh, then she's at the wrong table," Mike joked.

I shot them a friendly wink.

"Who's side are you guys on? You gotta crush on her or something? Well, you can both stop kissing her ass 'cause she's too old for you."

"I don't. I have the sweetest girlfriend in the world, and she's a genius."

"She's not very smart if she's dating you."

"Shut up, Jeff." Dustin threw a carrot at Jeff and Eddie chucked a pretzel at Dustin and Mike.

"Jesus, you guys are such dicks. Stop tormenting them. Dusty, is Susie coming?"

"I wish. Her dad'll never let that happen. I'm goin' stag... again."

"Don't worry, I'll save you a dance." He smiled bashfully.

"Jesus, this is torment. I'm surprised you're not going with Harrington." Eddie addressed me before turning to Dustin. "You know she draws erotic pictures of him in her sketchbook, right?"

"What?!" The whole table exclaimed.

"I do not." I shoved the side of Eddie's head.

"Do you really?"

"Of course not, Dusty. Eddie just refuses to let go of his nonconformist pride and have a little fun, so he's taking his frustration out on me. You know Steve and I are JUST FRIENDS!" I emphasized, staring daggers at Eddie before turning back to my food.

"Then show me the sketchbook."

"Fuck off, Munson... hey, what the..." Before I could react Eddie swiped my headphones and put them on. "Give 'em back, asshole!"

"Goddamn! This is some heavy shit. What is this?"

"It's your face meeting my fist if you don't give 'em back."

He held me at arm's length as I tried, and failed, to reclaim my headphones, but I soon gave up, crossing my arms over my chest in a huff.

"Ok, fine! It's 'The Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny'."

"Hahaha! WHAT?"

"It's a demo. The band's called Mr. Bungle. They're from Eureka."

"Well, isn't that fortuitous, 'cause my little Bunny is definitely raging and wrathful today."

He screwed up his face, mocking me. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Where did you get this?"

"I'm a tape trader, remember?"

"No. I'd definitely remember you telling me something like that."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so busy running your mouth all the time, you'd actually hear what other people have to say."

"This... this is fuckin' brutal. It's like, black metal meets speed."

Eddie was in his own little world. I threw my hands up in disbelief and shook my head.

"See. Didn't hear a damn thing I just said."

"You gotta make me a copy of this."

"You know, you're awfully demanding today."

He shot me a wink and handed over my headphones. I swiped them out of his hand giving him the evil eye.

"I figured you'd be listening to that goth or glam bullshit. What other cool stuff you got?"

"I've got a lotta cool shit. I got this in my most recent haul along with a demo from Guns 'N' Roses, and one from Faster Pussycat. But they're both glam bullshit," I emphasized sarcastically.

"Glam. Gay L.A. music, you mean."

"Oh, whatever, asshole. Axel Rose has some killer pipes. And Kelly Nickels, the bassist from Faster Pussycat... total YUM! He was actually in the running to be the bassist for W.A.S.P. Bet you didn't know that, did ya? UGHH! I swear, what I would give to be the center of a Blackie Lawless and Kelly Nickels sandwich." I scanned the horrified faces at the table and froze. "Um... sorry... I forgot I'm not sitting with Robin." I took a huge chug of my drink and averted my gaze, dying of embarrassment.

"Isn't Kelly Nickels that guy you said looks like Munson?"

I choked on my beverage, hacking, and coughing, leaving no room for subtlety. Stealing a glance at Eddie I saw his smug grin. I had to think fast.

"Uh, I did not say that, Gareth."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"Well, you're wrong." I smacked his arm, wanting to crawl into a deep dark hole and die.

"Uh-huh... I knew it. You do wanna fuck me."

"Ugg! Munson, get over yourself." I stood up and collected my shit.

"Aw, come on. Where you goin'?"

"I've lost my appetite." I spat at Eddie. "Catch you later, losers." I turned to Dustin and Mike. "Not you two. You guys will always be my little cuties."

I scrunched my nose, kissed Dustin's head, and mussed Mike's hair, smiling at their giddy expressions, then I waved at Jeff and Doug, stuck my tongue out at Gareth, gave Eddie the finger, and left. I could still hear him laughing as I walked away.

Eddie's eyes followed you as you walked away. "Dude, you're gonna bore a hole in her back if you stare at her any harder."

"Hmph, she totally wants me," Eddie said smugly to no one in particular.

"Munson, just ask her out already and put us all out of our misery."

"That would negate the sister rule, Gareth."

"She's not my sister, so if you wanna give it a shot, be my guest. But you gotta stop comin' at her guns blazing, or she's gonna kick your ass."

"Now that I'd love to see."

"Jeff, if I want your opinion, I'll beat it outta you."

"Whatever, Munson, but Gareth's right. If this is your idea of playing it cool, it's not working. You need to stop being so rash... with all of us. She sees right through it, and it looks like it's starting to get to her."

Eddie thought about it for a moment. Maybe they're right. He loved his little sheep, and picking on you was his favorite pastime, but he was being an inconsiderate ass.

You've consumed Eddie's thoughts since the day Corroded Coffin started practicing at Gareth's house. He knew who you were. Being a year older than Gareth you'd already attended Hawkins High for a year, but you never actually spoke to one another until that fateful day in the fall of '83. You heard the commotion in the garage and decided to stroll over. That's when you two were formally introduced, and you permanently imprinted on his mind and his heart. It was the first day of the rest of his life, but you weren't yet 16, and he'd just turned 18 and he was not gonna open that can of worms. It didn't stop him from playfully pestering you every day. And when you turned 18 a few months back he bumped it up a notch, but lately, he's noticed that you've been on edge and not as receptive to his teasing. Was it losing its luster for you? Were you genuinely annoyed? He couldn't let that happen. You were too important to him, but there was only one way to find out, and he knew exactly where you'd be.

~~~~~

I entered the clearing in the woods and hopped onto the picnic table, hoping to spare myself any more embarrassment or harassment by finishing a cigarette before Eddie showed up.

I wasn't pissed at him, just pissy in general. He's been making it so much harder to mask my feelings and my sexual frustration with blatant denial, and I was starting to lash out, which made me feel incredibly guilty. I could try asking him to stop, but then he'd know something was up, so suffer I will. But it was evident as Eddie came strolling into the clearing that luck was not on my side today.

"Ah, shit... can't I have a moment's peace?"

"You're not escaping my sexy mug that easily, Bunny."

I smiled sarcastically, arms draped lazily over my knees. I watched Eddie park his ass next to me, pull a soft pack of Camels from his vest pocket, shake one out, and trap it between his lips. (Jesus, why when it comes to this man does my mind turn something so innocent into filth?) He flicked his Zippo shut and took a drag. Resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together, he studied my face.

"What, do I have something in my teeth?" I started rubbing them with my finger.

"No."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"'Cause you're sexy." He smiled slyly, taking another drag.

I exhaled heavily, leaning my forehead on my palms, visibly irritated.

"Ok, ok. I'll stop. I was actually wondering what you're doing for Schwag's class."

I whipped my head around, confusion written all over my face. Was I just transported into a parallel universe? Not only did Eddie stop teasing me on his own accord, but he's making small talk.

"What?"

"What are you doing for Schwagert's class?"

He flashed me a sweet smile, which is so unlike him. It was strange but refreshing, and it was stirring something inside me. I suddenly felt nervous, and uneasy... and kinda horny.

"Hey, you ok? You look like you're having some kinda... internal struggle. I promise I won't laugh if that's what you're worried about. I'm genuinely curious."

I was staring at him like he had three heads.

"Um, no... I um... I'm gonna do a portrait series."

"Self-portraits?"

"No, I hate self-portraits. I was actually considering drawing you if you wanna sit for me... and if you can keep your trap shut for a few hours."

His face fell. "You... you wanna draw me?"

"Yeah. Emphasis on the 'shut trap'." I took a drag from my cigarette as an embarrassing thought occurred to me, followed by more word vomit. "I mean, n-not like nude or anything." His smug ass perked right back up.

"Well, I'm not opposed," he said looking rather assuming.

"Dude, seriously."

He just kept laughing. "Ok, ok... but why me?"

"I don't know. You just have this... look." My eyes finally met his.

"I have a look?"

"Mm-hm."

I looked away sucking on my cigarette. Eddie was seemingly deep in thought and started playing with his rings.

"Um... what kinda look?"

"Not a bad look."

His head snapped up and he smiled mischievously.

"Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "Slow your roll, Munson... but yes. Your look, it's... well, it's distinctive and commanding. Good or bad, you can't deny that you have this... charisma... that makes you impossible to ignore. I wanna capture that." I was expecting some perverted retort, but it never came.

"Well, uh... that's... extremely flattering. I um... I didn't realize you saw me that way."

I couldn't read his expression, but the wrestlers in my stomach were at it again, powerbomb after powerbomb, and I felt the need to cover my tracks.

"I do. I mean, n-not like in that way. I can ignore you if I want to. You don't make it easy... b-but I can..." I rested my elbows on my knees, held my fingertips to my forehead, and sighed. "You just... your look is particular, that's all I'm saying." Shit, this was so embarrassing.

"Uh... o-kay?"

"So... will you do it?" I still couldn't look up.

"Absolutely! Just tell me when and where."

My head shot up. "Wow, um... ok, great... w-we could do it tonight if you want?"

I screwed up my face, immediately wanting to shove my foot in my mouth.

"Bunny, we can do it on this goddamn table, right here right now." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Jesus, I set myself up for that one. You know I didn't mean it like that."

He was giggling like an idiot. "Sorry, I couldn't pass up that opportunity."

Sorry? He never apologizes for his behavior.

"Ok, what the hell is up with you?"

"Whatta you mean?"

"I mean, you're being relatively polite, and making small talk. It's not like you. Did we transport to Bizarro World or something?"

He chuckled. "Just call me Eidde." He smiled bashfully. "I don't know. Maybe I'm trying to turn over a new leaf."

"Ok?" I shot him a sideways glance, but he just sat there, smoking his cigarette, smiling. "Well, we can start tonight at Gareth's." He nodded in agreement. "So what're you gonna do? Did you think of more ingenious ways to flaunt your hatred for Carver?"

He let out a huge belly laugh. "Um, no... Mrs. S. shot down my idea for a sequel. I'm probably gonna do an installation so I can incorporate my music."

"Oh! I like that idea. It's a shame about the sequel though. I was impressed with the original, but I'm biased. Carver's a douche with a capital bag."

We chuckled staring at each other for a moment.

"Yeah, well, it's nice to know someone appreciates my artistic talent."

Eddie placed his hand on my knee and gave it a little squeeze, but instead of shirking it off, I patted it, but he pulled away rather quickly, looking like he didn't know what he should do with his hand.

"So, you're really agreeing to help me?"

"Yep."

"Just like that? No... proposition or outrageous demands in return?"

"Well, since you suggested it..." His smile was wicked.

"Jesus, why the hell do I keep opening my big mouth?"

His grin widened. "Since your big mouth is already open, how 'bout a big sloppy blowjob... or I'll settle for a big wet kiss... or... we can cut right to the chase and finally fuck." He nudged my shoulder.

"Jesus, you're hopeless. Is that all? Do you want my first born too?" (Fuck! I did it again!)

"Well, I can cum inside you when we're fuckin'."

I shoved him so hard, I knocked his giggling ass off the table, but I welcomed the distraction of his laughing fit because the thought of him cumming inside me made my cheeks flush and my thighs clench involuntarily. If spontaneous combustion is truly a thing, consider me Spinal Tap drummer number seven. Luckily the position in which he fell and the time it took him to climb back onto the table was enough for me to collect myself.

"You're a fucking pervert."

"I know, I can't help it."

"Well, try." He nodded. "Why don't you agree to come to prom with all of us instead?"

"Um... that doesn't exactly benefit me. So, no... it has to be option 1, 2, or 3."

"Ok, then I guess I'll pick option 4, none of the above."

"Then you can't draw me."

His expression was serious. I didn't know how to react until he snickered and cracked a smile before erupting into full-on laughter. I smacked him upside the head and he yelped.

"You're such a dick, Munson."

He was still rolling, trying to catch his breath. "Ha! Uh ha, hmm... ok, fine, you can still draw me, but prom? That's really not my thing."

"You're missin' out."

"On what? Shitty music and jock scrutiny? No thanks. But I do wanna ask you something."

We locked eyes. His expression was foreign. He's never looked at me like this before. It was like... adoration mixed with worry. Was he nervous? He looked nervous. Or was I nervous?

"Does um... does my behavior bother you?"

I looked at him quizzically. Why would he care what I thought?

"Um... no. I mean, you definitely know how to push my buttons... and sometimes I just wanna strangle you... but you're one of my best friends. I understand your humor. But you do need to lay off the boys."

He looked only partially relieved. "Fair enough. I just... well, you're a cool girl... and I really enjoy our banter, but you seem a little on edge lately, so I just wanted to make sure. I've never had a female friend as accepting as you, so I don't wanna push you away."

I stared at him in shock, like maybe his three heads would sprout horns. He seemed genuinely worried about upsetting me.

"Ok, is this like, a reverse invasion of the body snatchers or something? Who are you?"

We both laughed. His smile was huge, and so fucking gorgeous. Then I saw it. The subtle movement of his eyes falling to my lips. Did I just see that, or did I imagine it? I felt lightheaded and my heart was pounding as he slid closer, smiling as he scanned my face. (Headlock, shoot off, drop down, leapfrog, hip toss, cover, and 1... 2... 3... wrestler pinned... insert pyro explosion here)

I think I stopped breathing, and then... (Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrringggggggg) Our heads swiveled toward the school. Ugg! That fucking bell. We turned our attention back to each other. Eddie let out a heavy breath, suddenly bashful, and awkwardly backed away, and I finally took a breath.

"Um... we... we should probably..."

"Yeah, um... I'll... I'll walk you back."

~~~~~

We walked through the hall in silence, still smiling, occasionally stealing glances at each other. I had no idea how to process what just happened. What did just happen? Was it even anything? I looked at Eddie. His smile was so bashful, almost innocent. It was so fucking CUTE I wanted to hug him, squeeze him, and call him George.

That's it... we were definitely in Bizarro World.

~~~~~

Sitting on the couch in Gareth's garage, my pencil flowed over the pages of my sketchbook with ease. Eddie was my fucking muse. It's amazing what I can accomplish when I'm drawing a willing participant. But when 'practice' was over, I had the misfortune of being a part of the most fucked up conversation in the history of conversations.

"Is that the latest Hustler? Ooo, toss that over here." Eddie wasted no time flipping through the pages.

"Jesus, you guys have a one-track mind."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black. I know for a fact you like to read those cheesy smut books."

I threw an empty beer can at Gareth. "Way to sell me out, asshole."

"Smut books, huh? A bit of a dirty bird aren't ya, Bunny?"

"This coming from the man who has a pile of nudie mags under his bed. And don't give me that 'I read the articles' excuse."

"I do read the articles."

"I'm not talking about letters to Penthouse." I smiled cheekily.

"She's got you there, Munson," Gareth said.

"Ok, my deviance is a surprise to no one, but this little dirty bird seems to be hiding more than just doodles. So, Bunny... what're your other guilty pleasures?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

I flashed him an irritated look. "Eddie, if you think I'm gonna tell you that you're outta your goddamn mind."

"Awww... come on. Don't be a prude."

Gareth, Jeff, and Doug turned their attention to Eddie, probably expecting me to kick his ass. I turned to look at him and sighed. He wasn't gonna let this go, so I figured I'd have a little fun with him.

"Alright... you really wanna know?"

Sitting on the edge of the couch, nodding like an idiot, a stupid grin spread across his face, Eddie anxiously awaited my reply.

"I wanna know."

"Me too."

Jeff and Doug, my peanut gallery.

"I'm not sure I do."

"SHHH! Shut up, Gareth. No one cares what you think."

Eddie was too preoccupied to notice Gareth giving him the finger.

"Ok... fine. If you really wanna know, I'll tell you."

Eddie took a sip of his beer. I could see the excitement in his eyes, so I exhaled heavily.

"Yes, I like smut novels. I draw a lot of erotic pictures, and I too read Letters to Penthouse. I also enjoy watching porn."

All four of them were frozen in place, Eddie in mid-swig and the other three with their jaws on the floor. Eddie swallowed hard before speaking.

"Like, what kinda porn?" He asked sheepishly.

All four boys were waiting impatiently with bated breath.

"Ok, um... well, the softcore, romantic stuff is my favorite, but I do enjoy a bit of hardcore." I gauged Eddie's reaction. He was mesmerized, eyes glued to my face as he took another sip of his beer. "I occasionally enjoy some girl-on-girl. Threesomes are so hot. Two girls and one guy, one girl and two guys, it doesn't matter. Like I said, I'm down for a Blackie/Kelly sandwich. Oh, and voyeurism. I love the thought of watching people fuck while I touch myself... really gets me goin'."

Eddie spit out a mouthful of beer and the others were all in a daze, mouths agape, processing everything I just said, but it was Eddie who broke the silence.

"And... how exactly did you pick up these little... hobbies?"

"Dude, I'm a shy, introvert, outcast... we're as freaky as they come."

"It's always the quiet ones," Doug said in disbelief.

"Mm-hm. Well... now that the cat's outta the bag, I have a date with my VCR and a naughty VHS. Later, losers."

(Suck it, Munson!) I gave a triumphant smile, winked at Eddie, turned on my heels, and headed to my garage making sure to shake my hips as I left.

Eddie sat staring at the ground. "I don't know about you guys, but I need a cold shower after that one."

"Me, too."

"Me three."

Eddie looked at his friends, who were all still in shock. "Do... do you think she's serious?"

He jumped off the couch and bolted after you.

"Hey, Munson, wait... MUNSON!" Gareth sprinted after Eddie and grabbed his arm before he could make it to your house. "Dude! Seriously? She was just fucking with you."

Eddie bowed his head in defeat and followed Gareth back to his garage. He sat down and resumed staring at the ground adjusting his crotch uncomfortably as Jeff and Doug grabbed their gear.

"You guys outta here?" Gareth asked.

"Yep. We'll see you tomorrow."

They waved goodbye and made their way to Jeff's car. Gareth turned his attention to Eddie, noticing his frustration.

"Munson, just fuckin' tell her."

Eddie threw his head back against the couch and rubbed his hands over his face, groaning.

"Come on, Gareth. You know I can't."

"Why?"

"'Cause we've got a good thing going. If I confess my love and she doesn't feel the same I'll lose her forever, or at the very least things'll just be incredibly awkward. But I can't stop fucking thinking about her." Eddie looked toward your house. "You know her better than I do. What should I do?"

"Ok, here's what I do know. If she's willing to take your shit... there's gotta be somethin' else there. No one's crazy enough to tolerate your dumb ass unless they want to, but if she does have feelings for you, she'll never make the first move, so I think you should approach her. I also know that she was lying at lunch. She can deny it all she wants but she really does think you look like that Kelly Nickels guy. That's gotta count for something."

Eddie smiled to himself. "Maybe."

"Well, either you tell her, or I will, 'cause all this pining shit... it's really fucking irritating. And swallow your pride, man. Ask her to prom. You know you'll have fun with her. Go ask her now. She's probably sitting in her garage."

Eddie let out a huge sigh. "Alright, man, but the whole feelings thing... let me test the water... if she seems receptive then I'll spill my guts."

"Good luck, dude."

Eddie gave Gareth a bro handshake, grabbed a couple of beers, and shuffled toward your garage. When he got close enough he heard you talking, probably on the phone. He knew he shouldn't listen but the devil on his shoulder convinced him otherwise, so he leaned against the corner of your garage just out of sight.

~~~~~

"Oh, come on, Robin. He was asking for it."

"Yes but when you do that it only riles him up more."

"Him? What about me? The flirting and teasing have only gotten worse. I can't fucking take it anymore."

"Exactly. You know how he is. If you keep egging him on you're only making things worse for you. Just tell him how you feel."

"Robin... you know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because... he's my friend."

"And?"

"And... if he rejects me... things'll be super awkward. And if he still wants to be my friend I'll be forced to suppress my feelings just to maintain some sort of normalcy around him, and I'll be no better off."

"Did you at least ask him to the dance?"

"Not exactly. I suggested he come with all of us, but you know how he is. He's too proud to 'give in to the masquerade of forced conformity'." I said in my best Eddie voice.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Just keep dropping hints. Maybe he'll get the message."

"I hope so. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I want to be with him so fucking bad, but I don't wanna lose him."

"I understand, trust me I do."

"I know. Well, I'm gonna go watch my movie, take my mind off shit. Tell Steve I said hi."

"Hey, Dingus! Y/n says hi! He's waving at you."

"Nice."

"Well, we love you girly."

"Love you guys too."

I hung up the phone and stared at my open sketch pad, utterly lost in Eddie's image.

Eddie's eyes were wide with shock. He could only hear your side of the conversation, but he had no doubt who you were talking about. Jesus H. Christ! You have feelings... for him. You pretend you don't but you do! This... this changes everything! So why was this dread still lingering in his chest? Nerves maybe? He had to say something, but he didn't want to come on too strong. Act casual... yeah. That's what he'll do... just... act casual. After silently syking himself up he took a few deep breaths and decided to make his move.

"BOO!"

"JESUS CHRIST!" I jumped out of my skin, nearly falling off of my stool. "You think you're funny, asshole?"

Eddie was doubled over with laughter as I sat there clutching my chest.

"Hahahahaha! Ohhhh, no... I think I'm adorable."

"Ugg! I hate you so much, Munson."

"Awww, come on now. You know that's not true. May I come in?"

I released a heavy sigh. "Sure... whatever."

"Here, a peace offering."

He handed me a beer.

"Thanks."

We sat in silence for a moment as he checked out all the drawings hanging above my desk.

"Jesus, you're amazing. I love your style. The way you see the world, it's just... incredible."

"Thanks." I smiled bashfully.

He motioned to my open sketch pad.

"May I?"

"Sure." Ahhhhhhh! His smile makes my fucking insides liquefy.

"Oh, Bunny... these are fantastic! I've never looked so good." He flashed a cheeky smile and flipped to the front of the book.

"Nice try. You won't find anything. This sketchbook is strictly for school projects."

He let out a breathy laugh. "You caught me. I wish you'd show me your personal drawings. You're so passionate about your work. Like I am with my music."

"Maybe someday, Munson." I flashed him a sweet smile.

"Um, you mind if I turn on some tunes?"

"No, go ahead."

He started fiddling with the record player.

"Looks like your old man was listening to Clapton. I'll just leave that on."

"Works for me."

He positioned the record player needle and shuffled back to his chair.

"So... what's on your agenda for this evening... besides hardcore porn... and me?"

He smiled wickedly, pulled his smokes from his vest pocket, and went through his routine.

"Not fucking you, Munson."

I loved hearing him laugh, or talk... or move... or fucking breathe. Whatever the hell he was doing... I loved it.

"So, do you actually watch all that stuff, or were you just fuckin' with me?"

"Uh..." I eyeballed him hesitantly, but his expression was calm, and not flirtatious, so I gave him this one. "Yeah... I do."

He raised his brow and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Well... that's um... that's hot. I was just gonna head home, get high, and play guitar, but now... I think I'm gonna have to rub one out. Care to turn it into phone sex? Preferably while you're still watching porn?"

(JESUS CHRIST! I know what I'm drawing tonight) I rolled my eyes. "Dude! What is with you? You've been so lewd lately. Like, more than usual." He smiled cheekily and stared at me. "No! No phone sex, no fucking, just... no!"

His whole body shook with laughter. "Ok, then I guess I'm goin' solo. So, if you're not gonna watch porn, what are you gonna do?"

I shook my head. "I'm gonna watch 'Help'."

"Can't say I've seen it."

"Really? It's a super corny Beatles movie."

"Oh, I know what it is, I just haven't seen it. Is it good?"

"I love it. It's one of my favorites. I watch it with my mom all the time."

"Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Y/l/n, where are your folks?"

"They're visiting my grandma this weekend."

"Well, that's a shame. I'll just have to schmooze your mom next time. So... was tonight's session enough to do your project, or do you need me to sit for you again?"

(Ok, what the fuck?) "Alright dude, what's going on? You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Oh, come on. For the past few months, you've been... I don't know... a lot more perverted, but today you're trying to incorporate small talk and some semblance of courtesy. So what's going on?"

"I don't know. Maybe I want you to see a different side of me, so I'm talking about things that aren't strictly sex oriented."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Well... maybe I like you."

"HA! Hyeah, right. If you don't wanna tell me the real reason, just say so. You don't need to make shit up."

"Who says I'm making shit up?"

I tried to play it cool, not letting on that the instant those words left his lips Hulk Hogan leg dropped King Kong Bundy.

"Uh... I am."

"Why? Is it so hard to believe that I could see you as more than just a friend?"

I scoffed. "Yeah, a fuck buddy, maybe."

Jesus, it felt like an Alien was about to punch through my chest. I reached for my smokes and lit up trying to thwart my anxiety.

Eddie nodded solemnly, but when 'Wonderful Tonight' started to play, he set down his beer and held out his hand.

"Wanna dance?"

I must've looked like a deer in headlights.

"What?"

"Come on... dance with me."

I snuffed out my cigarette looking at him hesitantly. He grabbed my hands and pulled me up, threw my arms around his neck, wrapped his around my waist, and pulled me close. He started swaying us back and forth, his head nestled next to mine, but when the chorus hit I got ballsy. Knowing this wasn't bound to last, I decided to live in the moment. I leaned my head on his shoulder, squeezed my arms tighter, closed my eyes, and started playing with his hair, but to my shock and delight, he tightened his grip around my waist and leaned his head against mine, grazing my back with his fingertips. We embraced silently for several minutes, and all I could think was that I could die happy at this very moment... and then he had to go and fucking ruin it.

"Go to prom with me?"

His voice was so faint I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. I lifted my head, our eyes lingering on each other's faces, and I scowled, about to lose my shit.

"What? Ok, now I know you're joking."

"I'm not joking."

"Eddie, stop it. This isn't funny."

I broke away and went to shut off the record player, ready to scream. We just held each other so fucking tight, and there was something about the way he touched me. Probably just wishful thinking, but it seemed like we had a moment.

"Al-alright fine. Don't believe me."

"Why should I when you've been shitting on the idea all day?"

He was silent. I slumped my shoulders, released a sigh, and faced him. "Ok, fine, don't answer me. I'm gonna go watch my movie."

Eddie was chewing on his thumbnail, his other hand in his pocket, and he was staring at the ground nodding. He actually looked disappointed, and I had to admit, I felt kinda guilty. I didn't want him to leave, but this charade had to stop.

"Hey, um... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. You don't have to go. I just... I want the nonsense to stop, ok? If you want you can watch 'Help' with me."

His head shot up so fast I thought he'd have whiplash.

"Um, yeah, ok. Your parents won't mind?"

"No, they know you. It's not like we're fuckin' or anything."

"Well..."

"DON'T... say it."

Signature Munson, never missing a beat. Jesus, my emotions were bouncing back and forth like a game of Pong.

~~~~~

We were on the couch in my basement, which also doubled as my bedroom. It was a pretty sweet setup if I say so myself.

"You're right. This is a really weird movie. Not as trippy as 'Tommy', but still pretty bad."

He pulled his arms up to shield himself from my slap but was unsuccessful.

"Oh, shut up. It's awesome and you know it. And so is 'Tommy'."

"No, you're right. I do like 'Tommy'. Ann Margaret's hot." His smile was so goofy.

"So is Roger Daltrey," I smirked. "Ooo, I love this part. Paul using the girl as a guitar."

"Ooo, that looks like fun. Come 'ere."

"What?" He reached for my arm and pulled me across the couch. "What... what're you...? Hey! Hahaha!"

"Come on, sit on my lap. Put your hand on your hip, hold the other arm out... there we go. Now... I play."

I was dying of laughter as Eddie played my arms like a guitar and started singing along to 'Another Girl'.

🎶For I have got, another girl

Another girl who will love me till the end

Through thick and thin, she will always be my friend

I don't wanna say that I've been unhappy with you

But as from today, well, I've seen somebody that's new

I ain't no fool and I don't take what I don't want

For I have got, another girl🎶

Eddie stopped playing, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled my giggling ass against his chest, continuing to rock me in time with the music, only this time, when the song ended, I stayed put.

"I thought you didn't like The Beatles."

"I never said that. I just said I never saw this movie, but my mom used to listen to them too."

I smiled, taking the opportunity to rest my head back against his shoulder and wrap my arms around his. I felt his hair tickle my neck, so I looked up and found him smiling at me. Our faces were so fucking close. I smiled back and he leaned down and kissed my cheek.

"W-what was that for?"

"Just felt like it. I'm having a good time."

"M-me too."

There was that look again. The same one from this afternoon at the picnic table. That look of adoration, but this time with a little something extra. And there was no bell. Nothing to break the trance. I couldn't look away as he scanned my face and brushed some stray hair behind my ear, his hand now resting on my cheek. A flash of eyes to lips, and then...

NOTHING!

He returned his arm to my waist and turned back to the TV.

(Mother... Shhhh... Jesu... what the... oh... SON OF A BITCH!!!) I couldn't even think a coherent sentence, so I turned my attention back to the movie. I must've been squirming too much because Eddie pulled my legs across his lap, which was a way more comfortable position, and I allowed myself to cuddle into his chest. I was so tired I should've passed out, but I couldn't shut off my brain.

"I love this song so much."

I started singing along with John Lennon to 'You've Got to Hide Your Love Away'. Eddie joined in, and we smiled at each other as we sang, and again he rocked me to the music.

🎶How can I even try?

I can never win

Hearing them, seeing them

In the state I'm in

How could she say to me

"Love will find a way"?

Gather 'round, all you clowns

Let me hear you say

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Hey, you've got to hide your love away🎶

We couldn't peel our eyes off each other.

"You're voice is beautiful."

"Thanks," I whispered.

We stared a few moments longer before my nerves got the better of me, and I returned my head to his chest.

"You know, this whole album is like... a metaphor for our entire relationship."

What? Did he really mean that? Most of the songs were about want, need, and... love. I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. I just buried myself deeper into his chest in reply, and again his arms tightened around me.

By the time the movie was over I could no longer keep my eyes open. The warmth of his body and his musky scent were so comforting.

"Hey, Bunny... you sleepy? You want me to leave?"

Without opening my eyes I shook my head, clutched onto his shirt, and whispered, "No... please don't go."

I have no idea where my newfound boldness was coming from, but Eddie didn't protest. Instead, he enveloped me in his arms and rested his cheek on my head.

"I won't, Bunny."

I smiled to myself as Eddie shifted us so we were lying down facing each other, my head still buried in his chest and his arms still wrapped tightly around me. I managed to open my eyes and look up. He was smiling, watching me, and like a moth to a flame, my hand found his face, my fingertips lightly grazing his features as my eyes followed their trek... his pale cheek, covered by little grains of stubble... his plush, pink lips, which parted slightly at my touch. He closed his eyes and leaned into it until my fingertips trailed to his cute, button nose, his forehead, and back through his hair, where I buried them behind his neck giving him a little scratch.

"Mmm, that's... that's nice."

He released a faint moan and slowly opened his eyes. They were glossy, wanton, and... unsure. His lips formed a sincere smile, and he started repeating my previous motions. His fingers explored my face, eyes following suit.

"Go to prom with me, Bunny."

His voice was so low, commanding even.

"Eddie, why?"

"Because I wanna spend time with you."

"You already spend time with me."

"I know, but... I just wanna go with you. Please say yes."

I sensed nothing but sincerity in his gorgeous eyes, and his voice, so I willed myself to whisper, "Ok... I'll go with you."

"Yeah?" His smile was enormous.

"Yeah."

He cuddled closer and kissed my head. (Flying elbow drop, off the top rope, straight to the gut) When I looked at him we were nose to nose. He nuzzled mine, lips parted. It was almost like a silent plea, begging me to close the gap, to finally let him taste my lips for the very first time, but I was frozen. His lips ghosted mine. I was practically cross-eyed staring at them, but he wouldn't take the plunge. I felt like I was trying to will him with a Jedi mind trick to just do it already, but the force is not strong with me, and he just lingered... the fucking tease.

"Have sex with me," he whispered, smiling playfully.

"What? No." I poked him in the gut, and he giggled.

"Come on. I know you want it as much as I do... and I think it's time we do something about it."

My brow furrowed, eyes darting back and forth in disbelief across Eddie's face. Who does this mother fucker think he is? I mean, I do in fact wanna fuck him, but that's not the point. It's the principle of the thing. I pushed his chest hard and got off the couch ready to lay into him.

"Hey, what---?"

"That's all I am to you, huh? Some... perverted game or prized sexual conquest? Do you have any respect?"

"What? N-no, that's..." he stood up and gripped my arms, "it's not like that at all."

"Then why do you keep pushing this?! I can't..."

I started to cry, unable to finish my sentence. I wanted to smack him, kick him outta my house, just... anything to make the pain stop, but I was so exhausted from this charade and all the mind games that I didn't have the strength to fight him anymore, so when he pulled me into a tight hug and kissed the top of my head I didn't fight him. I just let him hold me as I balled into his shirt.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm just... not very good at this, so I'm going about it the only way I know how, and... well, I'm failing miserably, and um... Jesus, I don't know how the hell to do this."

"Do what?" I mumbled.

He pulled me back so he could look at my face, and caress my cheek. His expression immediately softened, but he looked uncertain and extremely nervous.

"Um, hhhhh... something I should've done a long time ago. I wasn't lying earlier. I like you... a lot... but it's more than that... I'm uh..."

"Eddie... what're you doing?"

There was a brief silence. And then... it happened...

"I'm ending our friendship."

And just like that, he closed the gap and encased my lips with his. The sweet pressure of it, the subtle transition of tongue against tongue, the soft, gentle strokes of his thumbs against my face. It was perfect. I couldn't speak, but I needed reassurance. I slowly broke the kiss.

"Hyou... you're serious... aren't you? You're not just saying all this so I'll sleep with you?"

Now he looked like he wanted to cry.

"Y/n, no... you know me better than that. I'm just... a big oaf, but I would never take advantage of you. I just... I wanna be with you. And yes, I... I really wanna fuck you... but not as a buddy. I want you to be my girl. We don't have to do a damn thing. I'd be elated to just hold you for five minutes, but I need you to know this. I--I'm in love with you."

(DDT into a flying body press, followed by a sit-down drop to the gut) I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the onset of tears. Oh my God... oh my God, oh my God, oh my God... oh my FUCKING God! I opened my eyes slowly. We were nose to nose. He flicked his tongue lightly against my lips, and the bastard fucking smiled.

"Munson... hyou-- you're fucking evil." The words came out with my breath.

"I know..."

He cupped his hand under my knee, wrapping my thigh around his hip, and with an arm around my back, he pulled me flush against him. HOOOLY FUCKING SHIT! I could feel how hard he was as he ground his bulge against my aching cunt. My fucking eyes rolled into the back of my head and my breathing hitched. Jesus, Fuck! He was playing so dirty. I wanted to curse him out, spew every obscenity known to man and then some. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling devilishly.

"But you still wanna fuck me... don't you?"

I nodded involuntarily, as if I no longer had control of my body, and Eddie's tongue shot into my mouth. His kiss was hurried, and vivacious, our faces smashed so close together it hurt... but I didn't care. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and without parting he hiked me up by my thighs and carried me to my bed.

He fell onto the mattress with me on top of him, shifting his body under my weight, continuing to breathe new life into me. His hands found my ass, greedily squeezing before gliding gently up my sides, lifting my shirt. The touch of his hands on my bare skin sent shockwaves up my spine. I broke away just long enough to grab the bunched fabric and rip it over my head throwing it to the floor. Like he couldn't function without them, he found my lips again.

"Mmm, mhh, hhhh... Bunny, I know I joke, but I'm not fuckin' around. Are you sure you want this?" He smoothed back my hair and searched my eyes.

I smiled brightly, tears flowing freely. "Eddie, I want this. I want you."

"Yeah?" He asked, just to be sure.

When I nodded he crashed his lips to mine, drinking them in, savoring them as I've wanted him to for so fucking long.

He rolled me onto my back, trailing hot, wet kisses down my neck, licking softly between my breasts. The heat of his breath was like fire on my skin, and it burned so good. He gently tugged at the front of my bra freeing my perky tits, stopping to admire me.

"Jesus H. Christ... you're so beautiful."

When he finally took a hard peak into his mouth, my back arched, my brow creased, my teeth clenched, and I sucked in a breath of praise, shaking from the stimulation.

"Mmm... Jesus, you're nipples are sensitive. Have they always been like that?"

"N-no... hoh--only when I'm... really turned on. And I-- I've been waiting... so long... for you to touch me like this."

I gasped as he gently flicked my nipple with the tip of his tongue, trailing it up my neck. He placed a chaste kiss on my lips, cupped my cheek, and kissed my forehead tenderly before leaning his on mine.

"My sweet, beautiful Bunny. I've been dreaming of touching you like this for ages, and I wanna take my time with you... to make our first time together last, but I don't think either one of us is gonna make it." He let out a breathy laugh. "Just seeing you, hearing you... knowing how you make me feel, and... knowing how you feel about me..."

He was shaking with urgency, lip quivering, running his hands through my hair, brushing my face with his fingertips... he was manic... and it was beautiful.

"Eddie... I know... there'll be time for all that. I just wanna be with you now."

He exhaled, eyes still shut tight, and he nodded before claiming my lips in a passionate kiss.

"Mhhhh... you're sure about this? About me?"

I gave him a sweet pout, cupped his face, and pulled his forehead to mine.

"Eddie... I want everything with you... and only you."

His whimper was resounding, muffled by my own as we kissed feverishly.

"Mmhhh, Y/n... are you safe? Can-can I take you raw?"

His expression was sweet. He was watching, waiting, yearning as he searched my face.

"Eddie, yes... I love you."

The instant the words left my lips he ravished mine. I ripped off his shirt and tossed it away, quickly locking lips again as he rushed to undo his belt. Without parting we both fumbled with his jeans only bothering to push them just past his hips, and in seconds he was pushing himself inside me. I sucked in a sharp breath, and he was shaking, mouth agape, eyes shut tight as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Ohhhhhsweet... Jeeesus!" He stilled, little broken moans reverberating throughout his chest as we got used to each other.

"Eddie, it's ok... I'm-I'm ok, uuh! Hyou--you can move."

He exhaled heavily and slowly started thrusting, adjusting to the tight space.

"GodDAMN! Hyou, mgghh... you feel better than anything I could've imagined. So soft, so warm... so fucking tight! Jesus, you're perfect."

He leaned his forehead to the crook of my neck as he picked up his pace. I was moaning like a harlot, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. It was pure fucking bliss. I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding him so close.

"I... I couldn't take it anymore." He breathed out. "I--I've been in love with you... since the day we met. Needed this... needed you... so fucking bad. Haww, uhhhh, FUCK!"

My heart skipped a beat. His thrusts were steady, almost prolonged, like he didn't want to consider the notion of this moment ending.

"Eddie, mhhh... I-- I've been dying to hear you say those words."

He lifted his head to look at me, and he was beaming, smoothing my hair back.

"Mhh, my angel. You... you doin' ok? You feel good? Uhhhh."

UGGGG! He was so fucking sweet.

"Eddie..." I ground my hips into him, coaxing from him a delicious guttural moan. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, but I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me. "I'm loving this. We're finally together. Please... don't stop until you make me yours."

He stared at me as if he wasn't sure I was telling the truth. I placed a small kiss of reassurance on his lips, and they turned up into a huge smile. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was about to cry. He immediately claimed my lips, wrapped his arms around my back, and started to move faster. His movements, his touch, his eyes... they said so much, and nothing at all. He made me feel so goddamn good I began to come undone.

"Eddie... I'm-I'm close."

"Uhhh, that's my girl." He immediately rolled us over so he was on his back. "Fuck me, Bunny. Make yourself feel good, ungghh, mhhh yeah, just like that. Hoh, oh fuck! Cum... cum for me, Bunny."

I pressed my hands, to his chest, spread my thighs wide, and fucked him hard until all I could do was throw my head back and scream his name.

"Eddie, oh, ohfuck, FUCK! EDDIE!!!"

I came hard on his thick cock. His body tensed, and I knew he was done for, but I continued to grind and swirl my hips.

"Eddie, I wanna hear you, feel you. Cum inside me, baby. Please... cum for me."

I have never heard a more beautiful sound in my life. He pulled me down, rolled us over, laced our fingers together, and held them above my head, as he ground his hips into mine.

"Mm-Y/n, I'm-I'm gonna fill you up... make you mine. Uhhhhh, fuck... FUCK!"

He gave one more powerful thrust, and his body shuddered. Making the most lewd, yet seductive sound I ever had the pleasure of witnessing, he pumped me full of his seed. Once he was finished he collapsed onto his side, his chest heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Uhhh... mhhh, h-holy shit..."

He smiled, met my blitzed-out gaze, and started laughing. I placed my hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. When he opened them he let out a content sigh. He reached for me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me into the spoon position. Looking down at me, he tilted my chin with his finger so he could see my face. He smiled brightly as an equally giddy smile crossed my lips, and he kissed me, squeezing me tight. I couldn't describe the happiness I felt.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, Bunny?"

"How did you know?"

He chuckled. "I heard you talking to Robin earlier."

"You were eves dropping?"

"Guilty as charged. I knew it was wrong, but I'm glad I did it."

"Hmm, me too. Do you really wanna go to prom?"

"Not particularly. But I'm not about to let you guys have all the fun without me, so I'm willing to damage my hard-earned rep for you. I just wanna be with you, Bunny."

He placed sweet, wet kisses on my bare shoulder.

"Well, you're one hell of a dancer. Surprised the shit outta me." Mhh, those fucking giggles.

"I know a thing or two." He took his arm from around my waist, laced our fingers together, and held them close to my chest. "I also knew I'd get you to fuck me."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Eddie Munson... you're such an ass... but don't ever change." I turned my head to look at his smiling face, and he kissed me passionately. "Mmm, so... why didn't you tell me you liked me? I was on the verge of imploding."

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I asked you first."

"Hmm, m-hm, hmm! Well, I wanted to. Gareth was my number one cheerleader... but I was too chicken shit. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you if you didn't feel the same way. But when I heard you talking to Robin... it was like... a weight lifted from my shoulders. I love you, Y/n... so fucking much. I fell in love with you the moment we were introduced... but you were so young. So when you turned 18, I just..."

"You started laying it on thick. Jesus, I can't believe I didn't put two and two together."

"Yeah, well... it seemed to have the opposite effect I was going for. Apparently I came off a lot more irritating than charming, so Gareth and Jeff told me to dial it back, and that's when the small talk started."

"I can't believe I was so blind."

"You and me both, Bunny, but now it's your turn, so fess up."

"Hmm, then let me up. I need to show you something."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, just for a moment. I promise."

Eddie kissed my knuckles and reluctantly let me up. I retrieved a stack of sketchbooks and made my way back to the bed. I plopped down and placed the books in front of him.

"Go ahead."

He rolled onto his side, and I watched as he opened them and scanned the pages in disbelief.

"Are-are these for the project?"

"No. Look at the dates."

He checked them all, page after page, book after book.

"You... you've been drawing me since freshman year?"

"Yeah. That's why I never let you see anything. I know that's kinda creepy, but I just..."

"Uh... this one's far from creepy. We are definitely doing this later."

He pointed to one of my more risqué drawings, smiling mischievously, and I blushed.

"Anyway..." I exaggerated, "I couldn't keep my eyes off you. I've been crazy about you since my first day of school. And when we finally started hanging out, and you began teasing me all the time, I fell for you... hard, but by that point I was deep in the friend zone, and it seemed like you only thought of me as one of the guys. I didn't wanna jeopardize our friendship either, so... I hid my feelings. I thought if you knew the truth... that our banter, the flirting... everything... would all end, so I played along. But when the teasing got worse it became excruciating, so I started lashing out. But I love you, Eddie... with all my heart, and after what we just shared... I've fallen even harder."

I was balling like a baby, and when Eddie trapped me in his arms I melted into him.

"Hey, don't cry, Bunny."

I chuckled through sobs. "They're happy tears, Eddie. Just years of pent-up emotion and sexual frustration finally being expelled. And I really dig the name Bunny. You can call me that one all the time."

"Done. My sweet... soft... beautiful... raging... wrathful Bunny." He kissed my lips between every word. "Mmm, mhh. Can I spend the night?"

"What? Oh, fuck no! Get your shit and go. I got what I wanted." I smiled playfully.

"Hey now, there's only room in this relationship for one asshole."

"I beg to differ."

He wiggled out of his jeans, pulled me down with him and we held each other close. It took mere minutes for us to succumb to the exhaustion. It was the best night's sleep I've had in a long time.

~~~~~

Prom night had finally come. My house was abuzz as all the girls gathered here to get ready while our parents socialized. I was a ball of nerves waiting to see what Eddie had in store for me.

"Alright, look up and hold still... now close your eyes." Nancy lifted my chin and proceeded to apply my eye eyeliner.

"Thanks for doing this, Nancy. Robin and I aren't really make-up girls."

"Don't mention it. You're much less fidgety than Robin."

Nancy was such a sweet girl. Another perk of being friends with Mike and Steve.

"There we go. Hand me your lipstick."

I did as she asked, and she proceeded to apply.

"So... how are you and Munson dealing at school? Blot."

I opened my mouth and clamped my lips down on the piece of toilet paper Nancy was holding.

"Well, we had our fair share of jock harassment on Monday, but I nipped that one in the bud."

"Yeah, Jonathan and I dealt with that crap too. Just let it roll off your shoulder. People eventually get bored. And how about prom? I never thought I'd see the day when Munson would attend."

"Yeah, he feels like he's going against everything he stands for, but if you ask me, I think he's secretly enjoying himself. He won't tell me a damn thing about his outfit, just that I needed to wear black and red. Steve took him shopping, but Eddie swore him to secrecy. All Steve would say is that once he showed Eddie that he could look good and keep his metalhead flair he was very receptive. Steve was proud of him."

Nancy flashed a sweet smile.

"Nancy! Y/n! Get your asses up here! The boys will be here any minute!"

"Keep your panties on Robin, we're comin'!" I took a deep breath as Nancy put the finishing touches on my make-up.

"Ok, all done."

I took one last look at myself in the mirror. My hair was huge, but it fit the theme, and my make-up looked amazing.

"Nancy, you're a miracle worker. I appreciate it!"

"No problem. I love these colors on you. Too dark for my taste, but they suit you."

We smiled at each other, put on our masks, wrapped an arm around each other, and squeezed each other's shoulders.

"Well... you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Nancy took my hand and we headed upstairs.

~~~~~

"AHHHHH!!! You... look... amazing. Eddie's gonna flip his shit."

"Thanks, Robin."

"Alright girls, get together. I want some pictures. Make sure you have your masks."

"Mom, wait. Where's Max and El."

"We're right here!" Max yelled, dragging El behind her.

We all gathered in my living room in front of the fireplace, pushing and shoving, trying to get situated.

"Alright, girls. Everyone look this way. One... two... three!"

"Cheeeeeeese!" We all chimed in unison.

We appeased our parents with several photos and that's when we heard the horns.

"Ooo! They're here. Come on let's go!"

Robin grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the front door. Standing in the driveway we watched as two limos pulled up the street. Girls and mothers alike joined the reprise or 'ooo's' and 'ahh's' and 'wows' as the boys piled out of the limos dressed to the nine. They were all so handsome.

"I don't see Eddie."

As soon as the words left my lips it was like the parting of the Red Sea. All the boys moved to the side to reveal Eddie in a devil mask wearing all black save for the red paisley vest and the trim that lined his leather waistcoat. It was gothic steampunk meets metalhead pirate. When he removed his mask he was smiling.

"Someone catch me, I think I'm gonna faint."

Robin grabbed my arm. It was like time stopped, save for Eddie and me. I stood there with my jaw on the ground, eyeballing him up and down as the boys made their way toward us. It was like watching a slow-motion male model montage. When Eddie was finally in front of me he pulled a single long-stemmed rose from behind his back and presented it to me.

"My lady."

I took it hesitantly, unable to speak. I just gawked trying to find my voice.

"You um... ha! Good God you look... so goddamn fuckable," I managed to whisper.

He chuckled. "Hmm, later. I see you followed my instructions. You look absolutely gorgeous. And the bunny mask? Excellent touch."

"I like yours too. Is that your way of protesting your participation in the forced social conformity?"

He chuckled and nodded. "I thought you'd appreciate that."

He claimed my lips with so much passion I forgot we were surrounded by a giant group of people, including my parents.

"Alright, alright. Break it up you two."

We broke apart in protest. Eddie looked at the ground sheepishly, and I pawed at my face, making sure my make-up wasn't a mess.

"Um, sorry Dad."

"Yeah, I'm sorry Mr. Y/l/n. She's just..." Eddie turned to look at me, "so beautiful."

"Mm-hm, she's also my little girl, so mind your manners." My dad held out his hand to Eddie, which he shook happily and with much relief. "You clean up nice, Eddie."

"Thanks, Mr. Y/l/n." They smiled before my dad clapped Eddie's shoulder in approval.

"Oh, get outta the way. Let me take a look at you, Eddie." My mom cupped his cheeks and gave him a once-over. "You look so handsome."

She trapped him in a hug, kissed him on the cheek, pulled back, and smiled.

"Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n."

He kissed my mom's hand, making her blush, and then she ran to her next victim.

"Gareth Emerson, get your butt over here! Ooo, and who is this pretty lady?"

My mom's voice trailed off and Eddie and I laughed, focusing on each other. After several minutes of socializing and more pictures, I reminded my parents that we were all spending the night at Steve's, and then we finally made our way inside the limos and headed to Hawkins Hall.

~~~~~

The prying eyes were everywhere, but to our surprise, they were out of delight and not hatred.

"Bunny, is it just me, or have the jocks backed off lately?"

"Yeah, I may've had something to do with that."

"Oh? How's that?"

"Well, Monday was the last straw, so I told Carver that if he doesn't shut his dick licker and leave us and the other outcasts alone, the whole school would find out what he and his goons do in the locker room when they think no one's looking."

"Hahaha! What?! Are you serious?"

"Mm-hm."

"And how, pray tell, did you come across that juicy bit of gossip?"

"Well, it pays to have an ex-jock as a friend."

"Wha... Harrington told you this?!"

"That I did, my good man." Steve appeared out of nowhere and clapped Eddie on the shoulder. "Y/n came to the video store a few months back practically in tears, and I was pissed. I can't stand those assholes either, so... I figured that information might come in handy."

"Harrington, I could kiss you."

"Please don't."

They both smiled, and with a chuckle, Eddie patted Steve on the back.

"Thanks for the help, man. You're alright."

Steve gave Eddie's shoulder another pat and proceeded to escort Robin into the building. ~~~~~

I'm surprised none of us passed out from exhaustion. We sat only to eat. The rest of the time we were on the dance floor regaling each other with our moves.

Lucas was a break dancing and moonwalk prodigy. Dustin is a master at the worm. Max and El can replicate any Madonna move known to man. It was a fucking riot. We were cracking each other up with the more ridiculous dances, like me catching Eddie with the fishing pole, Steve and Robin doing the sprinkler, Steve, Eddie, Jonathan, Robin, me, and Nancy doing the library dance from 'The Breakfast Club', all the younger boys doing the Robot, and the lot of us doing the running man. Eddie even had a chance to flaunt his usual shenanigans, which meant dancing on top of a table. That was until Mrs. S. came over and made him get down. And me being a closet disco nerd was forced by Robin to do John Travolta's dance from Saturday Night Fever. I was so fucking nervous, but the cheers, and accompaniment of several other students who also knew the dance, including Robin and Chrissy Cunningham, helped my fear to dissipate. And of course, the majority of the student body performed Michael Jackson's Thriller. At the end of the night, to no one's surprise, Jason and Chrissy were crowned prom king and queen.

It was almost surreal. For the first time in... well, ever... there was no anger or animosity. Everyone in the building was getting along, and when it came time to leave, Chrissy made sure to find me and tell me how much fun she had dancing with me. She gave me a sincere smile and a big hug, but the strangest thing of all was when Jason confronted Eddie, but instead of disdain he offered a handshake thanking him for the entertainment. Eddie accepted his hand and congratulated him on winning prom king, and they actually smiled at each other. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it.

When it came time for the after-party at Steve's house, Eddie and I took the opportunity to slip away and head back to his trailer so we could be alone.

~~~~~

We devoured each other like animals as we made our way through his trailer to his room. Feverish, sloppy kisses, lips and chins and necks, back to lips, until he pulled away, revealing a malevolent smile.

"As gorgeous as you are in this dress... I've been waiting all night to get you out of it. Off... now."

I did as he commanded, slowly peeled off my dress, and let it fall to the floor. My black lace bra and panties, stalkings, and garter belt were all that remained.

"Jesus Christ, you're stunning, Bunny."

Eddie stared at me with a carnal desire, drinking in the sight of my body, removing his clothing until he was shirtless. He advanced toward me slowly and started running his hands gently up my sides, and around my shoulders so he could unclasp my bra. I stood completely still as he dropped the flimsy article to the floor. He backed away slowly, his eyes glued to my tits. When he met my gaze I made a show of removing my panties, but when I tried to remove my stalkings he grabbed my hands.

"No... leave 'em on. The garter belt too. You're perfect just like this."

Eddie was breathing heavily, blackness consuming his eyes. He leaned forward to trap my nipple between his lips, sucking, licking, teasing each one in turn as I cradled his head, my needy whines and mewells filling the room.

"Mrrmm, Eddie... hyou-you're gonna make me cum."

"Mhhhh..." He released my nipple with a pop and straightened up. "Not yet, Bunny. I wanna taste you first." He gently cupped my tits and licked at my lips until I took his tongue into my mouth. "Hmmm... can I taste you?" He whispered his words, his hot breath sweeping across my face.

"Hhhhyes."

Before I knew it I was on my back, and Eddie was licking a slow, soft trail down my stomach. He latched his lips to the tender flesh of my waistline and sucked a deep purple mark into my skin.

"Mmm... you're mine now, Bunny. I can finally take my time with you."

All I could do was moan at his words. He kissed his mark, knelt on the floor in front of me, and pulled me to the edge of his bed. I could feel his hands, the cool metal of his rings, smoothing gently over my inner thighs, spreading them. I caught the sound of an inhale and felt his warm breath against my wet heat when he exhaled.

"Oh, Bunny, your scent... I need it all over me. On my fingers... my face... hmmm, my tongue. Look at me." I lifted my head long enough for his eyes to silently ask for permission. I gave him a shy nod, but instead of diving in like I figured he would, he lingered, took a quick taste with a flick of his tongue, and savored.

"Mgghh, Christ, that's so sweet."

The instant I felt his fingers slip into my folds I shrieked. His touch was gentle, massaging my thigh with one hand as his fingers barely grazed my inner lips and my clit. It was at that moment I knew that he was hell-bent on torturing me, teasing me, prolonging my pleasure until I was ready to burst. He wasn't going to give me what I so desperately wanted, not until I was begging for it, for him... and I would. I would do anything this man asked of me if it pleased him. When I felt the tip of his finger trace light circles over my clit I wanted to cry. I had a moment's reprieve when he stopped to lick his fingers clean.

"Mmmm, hhhhhh, Bunny, you taste like heaven... but if you don't stop squirming I'm gonna have to pin you down."

"Eddie... wh-why are you being so cruel?"

"Oh, Bunny... I've only just begun."

He blew a light stream of air on my clit until I whined, then he licked me gently from my dripping hole to my hard bud. I was thrashing around, trying to quell the sensation, only to have my thighs pinned to the mattress, by his strong, unyielding grip. Using the tip of his tongue he lightly teased the sensitive skin of my lips, and toyed with my swollen clit until I was sobbing from the pleasure. I tried to touch my sensitive nipples, to rush my release, but he reached up, locked his hands around my wrists, and held them at my sides so he could use his forearms to pin my thighs, then he flattened his tongue and licked from my ass to my clit. I screamed in frustration.

"Eddie, for fuck sake, please! Please let me cum."

He ignored my plea, continuing to fuck me with his tongue until he was ravenous. His pace not letting up as he devoured my pussy like he was starving.

"Holy fucking shit, Munson! Stop... please, just, just fucking stop!"

He halted immediately, breathing heavily. When he took a hand from my wrist to wipe his face, I made my move, twisting violently until I was free of his agonizing hold. I got to my knees, grabbed him by his belt, and pulled him roughly onto the bed, pushing him onto his back. I crawled up his body, straddled his head, and sank my cunt onto his waiting mouth. He dug his fingers into my thighs, the pain shooting through me, but I didn't care. I could finally get what I wanted.

"Mhhhh, Eddie... Yes, YES!" He moaned at my praise, sending chills up my spine. Fuck! The things this man can do with his mouth. I tangled my fingers tightly into his hair and fucked his face. "Munson... hoh... shit, SHIT!!! Hyou... you're gonna tell me... every dirty detail... about how you learned to do this... so fucking well! Fuck, I wanna cum for you!"

He moaned into my pussy. I could hardly control my breathing as small high-pitched whimpers escaped my lips. I was so close to the edge.

"Mhhhhhh..."

The vibrations of his moans, his caressing lips, and the flick of his tongue against my clit were making me buck even harder as his painful grip on my thighs held me steady. I've never felt pleasure like this. He was too good, I could feel a sensation so incredibly earth-shattering building inside me. He must've felt it too 'cause he reached up to tease my nipples, as he feasted, lapped, licked, and sucked at my dripping pussy. My whimpers were loud, shameless, and FUCK were they warranted. I was plunged into a realm of pleasure and bliss, and Eddie was the cause. I let go of his hair, cupped his hands over my tits, and ground my pussy against his face as I experienced the most intense orgasm in the history of sex.

"OhhhhhhFUCK!!! Oh... GOD!... Eddie, EDDIE... Holy SHIT!!!"

"Mmmm, that's it, Bunny. Mhhhhhh."

I continued screaming his name as he greedily sucked and lapped at the sticky mess that poured from my pussy.

"Mmmmm! Fuck! You're taste... it's so goddamn satisfying! Hhhmm!"

He lapped once more at my overstimulated clit. I tried to steady my breathing as I climbed off of him, collapsing onto my back. Breathing heavily he turned his head to look at me, rolled onto his side, and propped himself on his elbow so he could stare at me. His eyes trailed up and down my body, so I decided to tease him. He was in the perfect position to watch. I put my knees up and spread them wide, dipping a finger into my still-dripping folds. I coated it with my slick juices and ran a trail of cum up the middle of my body before raising my finger to his lips. He let out an adorable whimper before sucking it clean.

"Mmmmm... Jesus Christ... you're fucking intoxicating."

He shifted his body, hovering above me so he could trace the trail of cum with his tongue, then he pressed his weight against me, kissing me deeply, passionately before he got to his knees to unbuckled his belt. He undid his pants and pushed them off. Once they were on the floor with the rest of our discarded clothing, he leaned over me, the head of his throbbing cock pushing against my heat. He took my hard peaks into his mouth once more gently teasing my sensitive nipples with the tip of his tongue. The soft tickles were too much to bear, and I almost came, only to be denied. He sat back on his heels, his knees spread wide so his massive erection was standing at attention between my legs, but before he could pull me toward him I quickly got on all fours facing him and wrapped my lips around his swollen head.

"Ohhhhhhhhh..." he breathed out.

He started convulsing as I used my tongue to toy with his slit. I sucked his head into my mouth and slowly swallowed him whole until my nose was touching his coarse, dark pubes. He brushed his fingers through my hair, holding it back so he could watch as I took him in and out of my mouth.

"Oh, Bunny... uhhhhyeah... suck me, beautiful... just like that... ohhhhhh."

Still sitting on his heels he leaned back, braced himself on his hands, and spread his knees wider. I pulled all the way off of him before sucking him into the back of my throat.

"OH!! God...DAMMIT!!!"

I swallowed hard around him, releasing him to catch my breath, and sank again, slurping and gagging as he used one hand to hold my head, and I loved every second of it. When he let me surface for air his chest was heaving. I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed as I vigorously sucked his tip. He sucked in a hiss, his breath catching in his throat, chest heaving as I started to work him faster. His vocals just made me more feral.

"Oh...SWEET JESUS!!! You're... you're fucking phenomenal... Uhhnnggg..."

My strokes and his breathing became more erratic.

"Oh, oh, fuck! That's my good girl, my good Bunny, mhhhhh... keep-keep going. Take me deep. OhhhhhhFuck! YES!"

With his fingers clenched in my hair and his cock lodged deep in my throat, I sucked his soul through his dick. His body was shuddering, jolt after jolt of sexual electricity, until he pulled my head up.

"Jesus Christ! That-that's so fucking good, hhmhh... but I don't wanna cum yet..... HOH! GODDAMN!"

His whole body tensed as I licked him from balls to tip, sucking his sensitive head one last time. When he opened his eyes he caught my smug smile, threw his head back, and started laughing.

"That was payback, you teasing fuck."

His laugh morphed into a heady moan as I trailed my tongue through his pubes, over the wiry muscles of his stomach until I was on my knees, teasing his hard nipple with my tongue. He caressed my head tenderly as I suckled before he forced it up and shoved his tongue down my throat.

"MmmHmmm... hhhhhhh. O-ok, I get it. I've met my match. Now lie back baby girl."

With his knees under my thighs and my hot wet cunt begging to be filled, we made eye contact.

"Oh, Bunny... you're so gorgeous it hurts. Are you ready for me?"

"Munson, if you don't put your dick inside me, like yesterday, I'm never speaking to you again... now fuck me!"

I threw my head back and whimpered as Eddie grasped my thighs and plunged his cock deep inside me.

"Oh, FUCK! Munson! PLEASE!"

I stared at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth agape as I rubbed my tits. With every powerful thrust I became more and more excited... and so very close to another intense orgasm. He used a thumb to tease my sensitive clit. I arched my back, my tits moving up and down with every heavy breath. He dug his fingers into my thigh, still teasing my clit as he continued to pound into me, willing me to scream his name.

"Oh... FUCK! EDDIE!!! Oh my God. I'm gonna cum!!!"

"That's it Bunny... take my cock. Wanna, MRRGGG! Wanna watch your sweet pussy gush from what I do to you. I want it all over me."

"Oh, that fucking mouth, Munson!"

"You mean this mouth?"

He wrapped his arms around the small of my back, leaning down to lick and kiss my navel, then he lifted me upright so he could claim my tits again, licking and sucking as he held me close, his course hair rubbing against my clit as he fucked up into me. My walls started to clench around him, so he laid me down and ran his hand from my tits back to my clit.

"Scream for me, Bunny... scream my fucking name!"

He commanded me, letting his head fall back as he fucked me and continued to rub circles around my clit with his thumb.

"Oh... holy shit, Eddie! EDDIE! Oh my GOD!"

Screaming, I clenched the sheets and a burst of liquid sprayed all over his abdomen.

"YES! OHHHHHHFUCK!!! I'm-I'm gonna bust. C-can I come inside you?"

"Yes! Do it!"

He slammed into me one last time and his whole body tensed.

"Ohhhhh, Fuck!!! God.... DAMMIT!!! HOHHHH, ohhh my gorgeous girl."

His fingers dug into my waist until he rode out his release and collapsed on top of me. I threw my limbs around him as he poured all of his emotion into our kiss. I was on the verge of tears.

"Munson... I love you. I love you so much." We hugged each other so tight. "Hyou... you can do that to me forever if you like."

He looked up, still breathing hard, and smiled. Staring into my eyes with all the love in the world, he brushed some hair from my face, placed one more passionate kiss on my smiling lips, rolled us onto our sides, and pulled me tightly to his chest.

"Hmm, my beautiful, raging... wrathful, Bunny. I love you more than life itself. Ending our friendship was the best decision we ever made."

•••••❤️❤️•••••

Thank you for reading! Be excellent to each other, and get your Munson on!

🤘

Freddy 'Boom Boom' Washington from 'Welcome Back Kotter'... Hi there!

Vinnie Barbarino from 'Welcome Back Kotter'

The Beatles 'Another Girl' video from the movie 'Help'

Your prom dress and mask.