#the game just turned 7 a few days ago

[gilbertsdumbblog]

it’s time to enter old hyperfixation hell

[enkvyu]

7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

[neo-nomatrix]

10 Things I hate about you

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 1120

(My) Nuisance masterlist

Synopsis: You have hated your neighbor for one year, 3 months, and 8 days. You hate his hair, his boots, his obnoxious music, and most of all you hate the way you love him

a/n; This is the last part of the main (My) Nuisance story! Other installments will be on parters about reader and Hobie before and after the main plot. Thank you to everyone who loves this story it means the world to me!

Being neighbors with Hobie has been one of the most frustrating, exhausting, and confusing experiences of your life. He has truly put you through hell and back.

1. I hate the way you talk to me and the way you do your hair.

If someone had told you one year ago you would be completely head of heels for Hobie you most likely would have laughed in their face. If someone had told you he was the man under Spider-punk's mask you would have jumped off a bridge right then and there. Yet here you are, searching your brain for answers about Hobie and his feelings wondering what you got yourself into.

2. I hate the way you lie to me and your stupid boot buckles.

The unbearable truth was, Hobie got to you. Most importantly he hurt you in the process. You weren’t supposed to get close to him, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him but you did. He had completely forgotten about the night before and it hurt you more than anything. You genuinely thought he liked you, as luck would have it he confessed to you that he was a compulsive liar when he drank too much. Leading you into realizing he didn’t mean it, why would he? He seemed like the type who would flirt with you just as a fun game, you didn’t know what you were expecting.

3. I hate you so much it makes me mad, it makes my head spin, my stomach ties into knots, makes me weak in the legs.

Was that what this was? A sick joke? A game to him? Just thinking about that made you want to scream at him. Yell at him, tell him how angry you were with the fact that he played with your feelings. You wanted to scream at him and give him a piece of your mind. Yet you couldn’t. You have always been able to yell at Hobie, always. Even over dumb things like the way he talked. But now, it’s different. You wanted to get up and yell at him but you stayed sitting on the ground. Legs to your chest and you just sat there. Unable to move, frozen in that position.

4. I hate it when you’re out all night drinking and the way it makes me worry, worry so much that I stay up all night waiting to hear your stupid boots.

You hear a knock at the door and know it’s him. Of course it’s him, in your time living here he was the only person to ever knock on your door.

“Love? I- I want to talk to you. Can you let me in?” He asked, his voice quiet.

5. I hate your stupid smile and the way you purposefully play your guitar too loud just so i’ll come over.

He takes your silence as an answer, he’s about to say something and then pauses.

“When you were in my room you found a box. It had your stuff in it and a letter. I wrote the letter for you. You deserve to read it. I have your necklace and ring too, sorry bout that,” he gave you an awkward laugh.

“No, I shouldn't have even known about it,” you’re surprised you could even speak to him, “I don’t want to read it either,” you say quickly.

“You have a right to know what it says, okay? At least let me tell you.”

6. I hate that you were so easy to fall in love with.

A few seconds after he finished talking he turned the doorknob and walked into your flat.

“I don’t know what I said to you last night but I'm sorry. Whatever-“ you cut him off before he can finish.

“Don’t. I know you didn’t mean it so don’t. It doesn’t matter now I'm over it,” you brush him off.

“So uhm, what did i say exactly?” He questions

“I said it doesn’t matter, piss off!” you snap.

You both look away from each other, unable to speak.

7. I hate the way you hurt me and the way you made me get close to you. It would be so much easier to despise you if you weren’t so handsome.

“The letter talks about how much I love you, alright? Ever since the day we met and you gave me that stupid note I have been in love with you. You really don’t see the way I look at you? Or- or how I'm extra loud when I know you're trying to sleep? I would do anything just to look at you, that is how in love I am with you. I don’t know if you’re really just clueless or you’re trying to ignore the signs but I am pulling every string to try and make you fall in love with me. Is that what you want to hear?” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes. Tears are brewing in the corner of his eye.

8. I hate it when you say exactly what I want you to say.

“Yeah, actually it kind of is. You told me that it hurt when I didn't show up for our date. I thought you did like me, but then you said you lied when you were drunk. And I don't know why but I believed you,” You confess.

9. I hate it when we don’t talk and the way you make me feel. I hate that I didn't understand those stomach knots were me falling in love.

“No no no, I thought I said something that would upset you. Of course I meant that, Love,” he said, holding your face in his hands. The cold metal of his rings touching you.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” he smiles. God that stupid smile.

“You also, kind of told me something else. You said you were uhm, Spiderman?” you nervously asked.

He visibly tensed up.

“Oh that, well I guess there’s no point in lying huh?”

“So you are?”

“Yeah, for the last three years. But I don’t believe in labels, they’re stupid,” he shrugs

“That’s pretty embarrassing for me then, hm?” you look around your spiderman themed room.

“Nah, I think it’s pretty cute,” he says, making you blush.

“Why don’t we start over? We can go out on a proper date, forget any of this happened. I promise, no standing each other up and we’ll be so happy,” He says, grinning ear to ear.

“Alright then, where should we go?”

10. You especially hate the way you don’t hate him at all. You don’t like him either. You love him. You’re in love with Hobie Brown, your nuisance.

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*If your user wasn’t tagged and showed up as just text it’s because you have something changed in settings

[jaemmphilia]

heart stop (jung sungchan)

☾ featuring: gym bro! sungchan x m! artist! reader ☾ synopsis: sungchan gets to...sleep with his crush !! ☾ content: (3.3k words), smut (18+ mdni or i will kick you), the sex is protected in this one (gotta be responsible), consensual photo taking, honestly this is just standard smut, nothing special ☾ notes: PART TWO BABYYY, this is a special collab with kyu !!!! @luvkyu this is where the nasty, filthy magic happens ☾ jaemmphilia, 2024. plagiarism of any kind is forbidden.

part one (in case you missed it)

y/n stands at the edge of his bed, his hand holding his chin as he stares at the two sets of clothes laid out so nicely on his bed. his socked feet scratch his bare legs as he hums softly to himself.

y/n is aware that no one at the bonfire is going to care about what he's wearing, too occupied with cuddling close to the fire with their partners or crushes. and y/n is also aware that it's just an outfit, but he doesn't want to turn up to the function looking like hot garbage.

he considers the outfit on his left, but he realizes how much he likes the shirt on the right, it just doesn't go well with the pants on the left. he also considers going to seunghan's dorm and raiding the younger male's closet (seunghan has the best hoodies that smell amazing).

but then y/n's mind wanders to the reason why he's going to the bonfire in the first place.

sungchan.

he feels his face warm up at the thought of possibly snuggling close to sungchan as the light from the fire illuminates his strong features. sungchan's muscular arm wrapped around his shoulders as they whisper about whatever is on their minds.

y/n thinks about the way sungchan had given him a pat on the head just a hours ago, and it makes him chuckle. he doesn't know why sungchan went with a head pat, when there were plenty of other dismissal options in the entire world (a kiss on the cheek would've been less odd).

y/n just shakes his head and checks his phone. he has a few messages form seunghan, the other male announcing he would be barging into y/n's dorm in 5 minutes. y/n prepares himself for his best friend's presence, he quickly gets dressed and fixes his hair how it typically looks on a normal day.

--

when the two males arrive at the beach, bag of drinks in hand, they search around to see if there are any open seats for them to sit in.

"y/n! over here!"

y/n turns his head toward the voice calling his name and he sees shotaro, waving his hands and motioning for him to come over. y/n also notices eunseok and sungchan sitting next to him along with two empty chairs.

y/n smiles and walks over to the trio, seunghan right behind him. y/n picks the chair that's right next to sungchan, forcing seunghan to sit next to eunseok. y/n can see the pout on seunghan's face from his peripherals, but his eyes are on sungchan.

"we brought you guys some drinks," y/n says once he realizes he may have been staring for too long, "we didn't know if drinks would be provided, so we stopped at a 7-11 on our way here."

"y/n, ever the sweetheart. always thinking about others and not himself," shotaro says, bringing his clasped fits up under his chin and wiggling his body from side to side.

y/n stifles a laugh and shakes his head at his friend, "be quiet, taro," y/n chides his friend, reaching into the bag and passing a drink to sungchan to pass to shotaro.

as sungchan takes the can from y/n (he isn't looking at y/n, he's too busy listening to what eunseok is saying about some game), he feels his hand come in contact with something warm. he whips his head to look at the male beside him, his eyes staring intently into y/n's own pair.

sungchan just stares, his chilly fingertips laid gently on top of y/n's much warmer fingertips. shotaro snickers along with eunseok and he can faintly hear the shutter of a camera. he blinks and snaps out his lovestruck trance. he clears his throat and passes the drink down to shotaro who is still giggling like a schoolgirl. sungchan mutters a soft, 'shut up..' which only makes shotaro's giggles turn into full on cackles.

"i'm saving those pictures for a later day, b-t-w," shotaro says once his laughter dies down, and sungchan wishes he could just press the mute button on a remote and shut his friend up and save him from anymore embarrassment.

y/n just snickers and keeps passing the drinks around until there are no more. the group of five open their drinks and enjoy each others' company with light chatter and silly stories.

--

as the night goes on, there are laughs and happy energy shared between the five newfound friends. y/n checks his phone for the first time since they arrived a the bonfire, and he feels the color drain from his face. he gets up quickly, causing the other four guys to look at him with surprise and confusion.

"what's going on, babe?" shotaro asks, his brows furrowed at his friend's sudden frenzy.

y/n doesn't even acknowledge the pet name shotato insists on using. he's too busy digging his fingers into his eyes, a stressed groan falling past his lips.

"my roommate just texted that he was going to be bringing his long-distance boyfriend back to our dorm. so i can't go there tonight," y/n explains, leaning back in his chair, his head tipped back, exposing his neck muscles straining from the movement.

sungchan stares at the exposed skin of y/n's neck. he can't help but let his mind wander what the expanse of skin would look like with dozens of purple and red blotches littering the once clear skin.

sungchan is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels a pinch on his upper arm. he jerks his arm away and rubs at the sore spot as he looks at shotaro pointedly.

shotaro nods toward y/n, silently urging sungchan to offer his dorm and company to his crush. sungchan doesn't say anything for a second, his mind running a mile a minute at the thought of being with y/n in such a small place. he feels his stomach turn and he swallows the lump in his throat.

"you-" sungchan starts, his voice cracking but clears his voice before speaking again, "you can crash at my dorm tonight, my roommate is out of town for a few days."

y/n ponders the offer for a second. does he really want to be alone with his crush in a smaller space than he's used to? he weighs his options; he could either stay with seunghan, who tends to kick in his sleep and oftentimes talks in his sleep, or he could stay with sungchan and possibly get to know the muscular male better in the process.

after a moment of pondering, he replies:

"sure, it would probably be better than sleeping with seunghan, anyways."

"hey, that's mean, y/n!" seunghan defends, pointing a finger at the male who insulted him.

"i wasn't trying to be nice, hannie."

--

sungchan enters his dorm, y/n right behind him. he flips the light switch on, allowing y/n to get a good look at the room. y/n takes in his surroundings, taking note of the posters littering the walls. he sees a lot of sports posters and a few posters of musicians. as y/n's eyes look around, his eyes land on a little photo collage on the wall next to sungchan's bed.

he steps toward the bed to get a better look. he sees some landscape photos and some polaroid photos of shotaro and eunseok. a smile creeps onto his lips as he realizes that sungchan was the one to take the photos.

"i didn't know you did photography," y/n points out, making sungchan turn to the other male, "you're really good."

sungchan's cheeks grow pink at the compliment. not a lot of people are aware of his hobby, only his close friends and some of his family members.

"thanks. it's really just a hobby that i indulge in when i'm not in the gym or in class," sungchan explains, "i have more pictures. if you want to see them, that is."

"i would love to see them! besides, you've seen my art, i think it's only fair i get to see yours."

sungchan just chuckles and get his camera out of its bag. he powers the device on and waits for it to boot up. y/n marvels at the camera.

"woah, i didn't expect you to have a high quality camera. i figured you took them on your phone." y/n says, his eyes wide as he looks at the expensive camera.

"i mean, i like taking pics on my phone for portability reasons, but i like the outcome of the pictures way more when they're taken with this camera." sungchan explains, y/n letting out a soft 'oh' in understanding.

"i know how you feel. i have cheaper supplies available to me, but i like the outcome of the more expensive supplies better."

sungchan nods in agreement and he shows y/n the various pictures he's taken with his camera, the two of them sitting on sungchan's bed, their arms touching. neither of them seem to mind that their arms are touching because of how close they are.

once they get to the end of the photos, they look at each other and finally take in the proximity. sungchan stares into y/n eyes before his eyes automatically flit to the male's lips.

y/n takes notice of this and decides to lick his lips while sungchan stares. sungchan sucks in a breath, his eyes wide.

"is something wrong, channie?" y/n teases, and typically the nickname wouldn't turn him on, but the way y/n says it has sungchan's cock twitching in his pants.

"can i kiss you, y/n? i don't know if i can hold back any longer."

y/n just simply nods, and sungchan gathers up as much courage as he can, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

sungchan scoots closer and leans in to connect his lips with y/n's. the kiss starts out soft, their lips molding together for a moment before sungchan's hand comes up to cup y/n's jaw gently. sungchan's tongue swipes against y/n's plush bottom lip, the other male allowing him to slide the wet muscle inside his mouth.

the kiss only escalates from there, the male swapping spit and moaning into each other's mouths. sungchan pulls away and attaches his lips to y/n's neck, kissing the skin lightly. y/n just sighs, tipping his head to the side to give sungchan more room to work with. y/n slides his hands around to sungchan's back and he slides them under sungchan's hoodie, discovering that the male doesn't have a shirt on.

y/n lets his hands rub and grip at sungchan's muscular back. he feels the male nibble at the side of his neck and he moans softly at the feeling. it stings, but in a good way.

sungchan ends up lightly pushing y/n down to lay on the bed. sungchan is grateful that he and his roommate decided against putting their beds atop each other to make bunkbeds. if they had done that, sungchan would have definitely hit his head and possibly concussed himself before he was even able to touch his crush.

sungchan climbs over y/n and sits back on his heels. he quickly pulls off his hoodie, allowing y/n to see the one thing he dreamt about seeing. y/n takes in sungchan's bare torso, his skin the perfect honey color. y/n takes in the way sungchan's muscles ripple with every single movement he makes and y/n feels like he's drooling.

sungchan connects his lips with y/n's again, his arms on either side of the smaller male.

as they continue to make out on sungchan's bed, they take turns ridding each other of their clothes until the both of them are fully naked in front of each other.

as sungchan takes in y/n's naked form laid out on his bed, his eyes glance at his camera sitting on his bedside table. y/n notices that sungchan is looking at his camera and he already knows where sungchan's mind is going.

"i'll let you take one picture," y/n says, his hand reaching up to lightly pull sungchan's head to look at him, "if you keep it in a secret folder where no one can ever see it but you."

sungchan nods with out hesitation. he would hate to betray y/n's trust, especially before the two of them even had the chance to talk about their very obvious feelings for each other.

"yes, of course. i wouldn't dare show anyone something as intimate as this," sungchan says, reaching over to grab his camera and fiddle with the settings.

once he gets his settings exactly how he wants them, he holds his camera up to his eye to see what kind of angle he's looking for. sungchan gets into his photographer mode, his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out from between his lips.

y/n just giggles at the male, a soft smile painting his pretty face. sungchan quickly snaps a few pictures, capturing y/n's gentle smile and his eyes that are closed. y/n's wasn't posing purposely, he was just laying there on the bed, his body language comfortable, with this hardening length covered by his plush thigh.

sungchan removes the camera from his face and he takes a look at the results. his breath hitches and a warm feeling pools in his stomach. his cock stands at full hardness, which doesn't go unnoticed by y/n.

y/n sits up and reaches out to stroke sungchan's length. his hand wraps around the males cock, his up and down movements very slow, but his grip is snug.

sungchan almost doubles over, nearly dropping his camera. y/n apologizes with a laugh, his movements pausing while sungchan carefully puts his camera away.

once the camera is safe and sound, y/n begins to stroke the cock in his hand. he adjusts his position so he is able to wrap his lips around sungchan's cock. y/n bobs his head up and down, his tongue licking around the underside of sungchan's cock. his hands stroke whatever he can't fit in his mouth, and sungchan knows he isn't going to last if y/n keeps going.

sungchan shudders, a telltale sign that he's close to his release. sungchan places his hand on y/n's head and lightly grips at the male's strands of hair at his crown.

"y/n, baby," he sighs out, his head lolling backward, "baby, you have to stop before i bust."

y/n looks up at sungchan through his long lashes and detaches himself from sungchan's cock with a wet pop.

sungchan regains his composure and looks down at the male in front of him. y/n has drool mixed with precum gathered at the corners of his mouth and on his lips. sungchan gets the two of them back in their laying position, his hand snaking toward y/n's behind.

sungchan kisses y/n while his hand slips between the male's cheeks, his fingers gliding along y/n's rim. this action draws a shiver and a whine out of y/n, the male's eyes closing.

sungchan slips a finger passed the puckered muscle, taking note of how easy it was to do so. had y/n touched himself before the bonfire in hopes of getting fucked by him?

"my finger just slid right in," sungchan says after he stops kissing y/n, "did you prep yourself beforehand?"

y/n's face and neck gets warm at sungchan's question, he takes a second to answer, his mind clouded with sungchan, sungchan, and sungchan.

"i did, but not before the bonfire," y/n says, his voice shaky from the amount of pleasure he's under.

sungchan nods, slipping in another finger and spreading his digits to stretch the male (although he's stretched pretty good, what did he use?).

"you stretched yourself pretty good, baby. think you can take me?" sungchan teases, chuckling at how y/n writhes under him.

"channie, please," y/n begs.

"please what, baby? you gotta use your words."

"please fuck me, i can take it," y/n continues to beg and whine, his back arching off of the bed as his cock spurts precum from the tip.

sungchan wastes no more time, reaching over to dig in his bedside table's drawer to fetch his condoms and lube. once he retrieves the items, he tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls the rubber onto his cock.

he shuffles his way in between y/n's spread legs and guides his slick cock into y/n's entrance. the two of them let out moans in unison, sungchan's being deep and guttural, while y/n's was more whiny.

sungchan bottoms out and allows himself to really gauge his current situation. he's buried deep inside his crush, something he never thought he would ever get to experience. sungchan allows y/n to adjust to his length and once he notices the male begin to rut his hips, he starts to rock his hips forward.

sungchan hovers over y/n, his arms once again caging the male in. sungchan sets a normal pace, not too fast, but not slow either. sungchan is aware that y/n isn't a virgin and that he's fairly experienced in the sex department, but he doesn't want to overwhelm the male under him. this is their first time together and he doesn't want to ruin it by being greedy.

"you can pick up the pace, please," y/n says, his face twisted up with pleasure, but sungchan can tell that he wants more.

sungchan replies by rutting his hips at a quicker pace, his entire length disappearing inside y/n, making the two of them moan and groan together.

after a handful of thrusts, y/n starts to get even whinier and his grip on sungchan's bicep tightens. the male arches his back and his cock starts leaking, the whiteish liquid dribbling down the sides of his cock.

sungchan picks up the pace once again, his hips beginning to stutter as he feels that familiar band in his lower stomach stretching and finally snapping, spilling his load into the condom. y/n follows right after, his load splattering against his stomach, some of it landing on sungchan's lower stomach.

--

the sun beats into the window, the bright light shining right into sungchan's eyes, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he stirs. his body feels spent as he remembers what happened last night.

his arms also feel full and as he adjusts to the light, he sees y/n laying there in his arms, the male scrolling on his phone. sungchan can't quite see what the male is looking at, but he guesses it is either social media or pinterest.

"morning," y/n says as he feels sungchan stirring and waking up, "did the sun wake you up?"

sungchan hums an affirmative, his hand reaching up to rub at his eyes, his body stretching, muscles flexing. the early morning glow warms up the natural honey color of sungchan's skin, the shadows of the blinds making him look like a painting made by leonardo da vinci himself. he hears a camera shutter and he opens his eyes.

y/n is no longer in his arms, but he's laying across from him, his phone in front of his face as he wears a cheeky smile on his face. sungchan gives him a puzzled look and y/n just giggles.

"what? i needed a drawing reference," y/n explains himself, squealing when sungchan pulls him flush against his chest, his hands lightly grazing the male's skin and tickling him.

"i guess it's only fair because i took pictures of you last night," sungchan says, resting his chin on top of y/n's head.

y/n just nuzzles his face in sungchan's neck, his nose lightly rubbing the skin, making goosebumps form on the male's skin.

the two of them spend the morning cuddled up in bed, choosing to ignore their friends texts asking if they're both alive and if they're sore.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier

paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made

warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)

author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.

The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.

A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”

“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”

She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”

Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.

“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”

“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”

Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.

“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”

They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”

She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”

He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.

“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”

“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”

It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.

A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.

Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”

“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”

She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.

They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.

There is no way he means that.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.

“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”

Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”

Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”

He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”

With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”

She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.

She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.

It’s time to find out.

Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.

“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”

Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”

She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.

The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.

He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”

“And you’re sober?”

“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”

It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”

Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.

Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.

This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.

It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”

Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”

“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.

“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I believe you now.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[copper-16]

Scary

Several things go amiss during an El Clásico, but it is nothing that cannot be fixed with a little love and bravery.

(a/n: This might be a stretch to the imagination, but let’s just pretend that all the RM/Barcelona games are played at bigger stadiums in this universe. Also Marta Cardona still plays at RM in this as well, because I said so <3)

Ingrid and Mapi had made a small list of rules regarding their daughter when she was born. Some of them included things like: 

4. She would not attend any games at stadiums bigger than Johan Cryuff until she was three years old. 

7. She would never go to a Spain camp or a Spanish national team game unless situations change drastically. 

12. She would take turns being their mascot, unless it was a big event for one of their teammates, and they wanted Elena as their mascot. 

All of them had been good additions to the list, and they had stuck to their guns on it. They were made for her safety, to make sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed or overstimulated as a young child, or put in situations that could negatively affect her as such a young child. They did not regret their choices, but it did lend itself to an interesting situation just a few weeks after Elena’s third birthday. 

Ever since she had been born, all of the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid games had been played at large arenas, beyond the capacity that they wanted Elena to experience at such a young age. And just as they said, the toddler had never been to a Spain national team camp or game. She readily came to the Norwegian camps and games, but Mapi strictly forbade her from coming to Spains. 

When the Spanish defender had made the decision to go back to the Spanish national team, it wasn’t something she had taken lightly. But Pina and Patri wished to go back, and the brunette both wanted to protect her friends, and play for her country again. 

But hell would freeze over before she let her baby anywhere near that environment, near the coaches and structures that had played a hand in so much abuse, both physically and mentally. 

It was better for Elena this way, and Mapi preferred it that way. But it also meant that several of the Real Madrid girls who Mapi wasn’t necessarily as close with, had never met Elena. 

So when El Clásico is scheduled for early January at Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium, the mothers realize that it will be their first time getting to bring Elena to such an event. She had just turned three a few weeks ago, and they figured it was as good of a time as any to introduce her to the environment of a larger game, still safe with the two of them. 

And as it turned out, Mapi was the one who got Elena as her mascot that day. Which meant that early in January, the center back stood in the starting eleven lineup with her daughter on her hip, bouncing her lightly as they waited to walk out onto the pitch. 

Elena was slightly overstimulated, the roar of the crowd outside of the tunnel and the sheer size of the place around her slightly overwhelming for the young girl, so she was happy to cling to her mother’s side. She looked around at everything for a while, before settling on waving back at her Mama, who was standing in line behind her, holding the hand of another little boy. 

Mapi waved forward at Misa Rodríguez and Marta Cardona, who were both pointing at Elena with excitement. The Barcelona defender smiled, rubbing her daughter’s back up and down softly as she nodded - confirming that the two players would get to meet the little girl today. 

But it’s an exchange Elena misses entirely, only focusing fully back on her Mami when the players begin to walk out to the stadium properly. 

It’s an early evening game, the sun just beginning to set as Mapi tickles Elena’s stomach as they walk out, pointing at all the fans and explaining everything to her daughter. The little girl tucks herself into the smaller defenders side, happily pressed up against Mapi as she takes everything in, curious if not a little anxious. 

It’s the biggest environment she’s ever been in, but Mapi finds that their daughter settles quite quickly, waving at all the people as they stand in a line. 

“Hola!” Elena calls out happily, and the brunette smiles as many of the fans wave back, well aware of who was in the defender's arms. 

“I love you mi sol,” Mapi murmurs, pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple before she passes the little one to Irene, who would not be playing in the match, but rather resting. Ingrid comes over to kiss Elena’s forehead once before she runs toward the backline, leaving Mapi to jog after her, still looking at their daughter. 

“Adios Mami, good luck!” Elena called out as Irene carted her away, remaining happily placed in the older defender's arms for the remainder of the game. 

The game doesn’t end up being too hard of a match for Barcelona, with a scoreline of 5-0 in their favor. Ingrid had even scored one of their goals, a header off of a corner set piece they had played. 

When the final whistle blew, Irene released Elena and watched carefully as she ran straight to Ingrid, who was closer to the little girl than her wife. The Norwegian turned easily, opening her arms as she crouched down, scooping the toddler up into her arms and pressing kisses all over her head. 

“You won!” Elena cheered as she giggled, and Ingrid nodded, sweaty and tired but excited nonetheless. It had been a good match, and the crowd was rowdy and roaring around them, clearly equally as elated with the win. 

“We did!” Ingrid responded happily as she bounced her daughter on her hip, clapping her hands together as best as she could as she held her daughter, looking around at her teammates with a big smile on her face. 

The Norwegian headed toward the bench, intent on getting some water, when she was intercepted by one of the staff members. 

“They need you for media,” she explained with a grimace, her voice urgent, and the dark haired woman nodded her head in understanding as she looked quickly toward her wife. The Spaniard was standing off toward their bench, talking to some teammates. 

“Of course, let me just do a hand off real quick,” Ingrid explained, rushing over to place Elena down a few paces from where Mapi’s back was turned to them, as she hears her name being called more urgently. “You go over to Mami, okay Elena?” Ingrid explained as she brushed the little girl's sandy blonde curls back, and she received a small nod in response from her daughter. 

“María!” Ingrid called out as she turned around, running over to where they needed her for media. But just as she called out and turned away, Mapi started walking forward, away from her daughter as she was called to meet with one of the staff members. Ingrid’s call for her wife is lost in the crowd, and suddenly Elena is left standing on the sidelines of the pitch, with neither of her parents really in sight. 

The little girl looks around, hoping that someone in her Mami and Mama’s team will notice her standing all alone, but everyone is distracted. And the loud, rambunctious crowd that she didn’t mind so much when her Mami was by her side, suddenly seemed much scarier than it had a minute ago to the toddler. 

Elena doesn’t know this stadium like she does Johan Cryuff, but there are similarities. She turns around, eyeing the tunnel that she finds similar to the one in Johan, and she makes a run for it, weaving through legs in her quest to get to somewhere a little more quiet and contained. 

Once she gets there, she realizes that she’s maybe made a bit of a mistake. Because suddenly nothing really looks familiar, and the young girl struggles with what to do. At Johan, you turned right to get to the Barcelona changing room, so that’s exactly what she does. 

The little girl is near close to tears, and desperately hoping that she’ll stumble across the locker room, or one of the Barcelona players that she knows. She’s simply kept walking, going down hallway after hallway, trying to find something or someone familiar. By the time she decides that she should turn back around, she’s so lost she doesn’t know how to get back out to the field, and there are tears beginning to brim in her eyes. 

Elena comes to a halt in one of the intersections of a hallway as she realizes that she just wants her Mami and Mama, and she doesn’t know what to do. She isn’t the type to wander off, and she’s never been lost like this before. Armed with exactly no experience or skills in coping with such overwhelming feelings, the little girl can do nothing but burst into tears, which stream down her cheeks at a rapid pace as she stands there helplessly. 

Misa had been pacing up and down an abandoned hallway in Lluís Companys, staving off tears of her own, her face red as tears brimmed in her eyes. She was frustrated with her performance, with her team's performance, and she needed a second to calm herself down before talking to her teammates or the press, she had decided. 

What she didn’t expect, however, was to hear someone else burst into tears, in what sounded like the hallway down from her. Misa pauses, confused by how high pitched and small the noise sounded. It didn’t sound like one of her teammates, and when she rounds the corner, she is entirely unprepared for what she finds. 

There is a toddler, a little girl standing alone in the completely empty hallway, her shoulders heaving with the force of her cries, her hands covering her face. She has a little Barcelona kit top on, with the number 23 on it but the last name León across it. The Madridista immediately knows who it is, but what she doesn’t quite understand is why Mapi León and Ingrid Engen’s daughter is sitting in the middle of a hallway on the away side of the stadium. 

“Niña? Elena?” Misa calls out softly, walking toward the little girl, who looks up at her when she hears her name called. 

Elena looks up, finding a woman she doesn’t know walking toward her, and the first emotion that pours through her is fear. The woman is tall, like Mama, but her face is flushed and she’s wearing an alarmingly bright red jersey and shorts that the young girl doesn’t recognize. Her hands are large, considering that they are encased in goalkeeper gloves, but Elena doesn’t quite realize they are just gloves in her stressed state. 

All she registers is that there is a large, unknown woman walking toward her with big, scary hands, and if she was panicked before, it was nothing compared to now. She lets out a fearful squeak as she cowers from Misa, taking several unsteady steps back. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I am not going to hurt you niña,” Misa promises, even though she herself is cringing at her words. She’s never felt more like a child predator than in this moment, despite her intentions being more than pure. The goalkeeper had been excited to meet Elena, even more so after the loss, honestly. All of the girls often spoke about how much they adored the little girl, how smiley and kind she was. Misa felt like she could use just a little bit of that energy after the frustrating loss. 

And here the smiley little girl was, trying to get away from Misa because she was scared of her. It cracked the Spaniard’s heart right in half, and if she wasn’t upset before, she most definitely was now. 

Elena looked behind herself, finally and thankfully spotting a familiar face that had just turned toward the hallway toward the two of them. The Spaniard and Norwegian’s daughter ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, beelining for the Barcelona player who had just turned the corner with Marta and Olga next to her. 

Salma had just been coming back to talk to Misa with Marta when all the sudden she felt something slam into her legs, nearly sending her toppling over. 

“What the hell—o Elena!” Salma quickly corrected, trying to take in the scene in front of her with complete confusion. The little girl was cowering behind Salma’s legs, holding onto the forward for dear life, practically shaking. Salma instinctively placed her hand over the little girl’s hair, smoothing her curls as she looked up to see Misa walking slowly toward them. 

“Elena? What’s going on?” Salma asked helplessly, lost on what to do as she looked between the three Real Madrid players for some semblance of guidance. 

Elena had always loved Salma, from when she was a baby. The forward never knew what to do with the little girl, especially when she was younger. She had no experience with children, and she found herself often stunted and awkward in her interactions with Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter, but Elena’s love for her transcended any superfluous worries or awkwardness Salma expressed. 

“Scary,” Elena whispered as she pointed toward Misa timidly, her grip on Salma tightening as she tucked her head behind the young Barcelona player's legs. Salma looked up with a heartbroken expression, watching as Misa bit her lip to keep from crying, keeping her distance. 

The goalkeeper knew that some people thought she was scary. She got it, she really did. She had an RBF that could probably win an award, and a very intense personality. But it was one thing for a conscious adult to call her scary, and another for a little girl who she had been so excited to meet to call her that. The goalkeeper's heart sank at the realization that this was how Elena was always going to remember her, as the scary woman who tried to kidnap her when she was three years old. 

Salma looked between Olga and Marta, silently begging for help. She still had no clue what to do, and appeared to be rather paralyzed by indecision. 

It’s Olga who crouches down so that she’s level with the little girl, her voice soft and kind. 

“Are you lost niña?” The defender asked gently, and Elena poked her head out from its spot against Salma’s calf, nodding slightly. Her lower lip wobbled heavily, but she wasn’t actively crying, so they all took it as a win. 

Elena regarded Olga kindly, if not a bit shyly. The two women with Salma were wearing white, nowhere near the angry red that the other, larger woman was, and the little girl didn’t find them nearly as frightening, all things considered. 

“Come on, why don’t we take you back to your Mamis,” Olga decided, holding her hand out for the young girl. Elena took it carefully, but not before reaching for Salma’s hand, making sure that the forward was still holding onto her. 

Salma sent the little girl what she hoped was an encouraging smile as they began to walk out toward the pitch. The Barcelona forward wound them down the confusing hallways, with Olga holding Elena’s other hand while Marta carefully wrapped her arm around the goalkeeper. Misa was fighting to keep it together as they all ventured back out to the stadium pitch together. 

After a few minutes of walking, Elena let out a small whine, looking up at Salma with big, wet eyes. 

“Carry?” She asked, letting go of Olga’s hand in favor of staring up at the tall forward hopefully, tugging lightly on her kit top. Salma looked around at the other girls, terrified and scared of disappointing the little girl. They all looked back at her expectantly in that moment, and she was struck with the fact that she was the one with the most experience with Elena, of the group. It both calms her and terrifies her at the same time, somehow. 

“Uh…sure!” She laughed nervously, reaching down to pick Elena up, gripping her under her arms. The forward was used to dealing with the toddler when she was planted firmly on the ground, and she hadn’t carried the sandy blonde girl since she was a baby. She had been so scared to drop the baby that she had shook anxiously the whole time, until Mapi took pity on her and took her daughter back. 

But she tries to remember how Mapi and Ingrid do it, settling Elena on her hip as she clings to the little girl for dear life. She would never forgive herself if she dropped her, and she knew she would never hear the end of it from the rest of the team if she did. They were all highly protective of her, a fact that they all prided themselves on. 

As the five of them walked out toward the pitch, they had no idea the chaos that was awaiting them out on the field. 

—

After her interview had ended, Ingrid had walked back over to her wife with a pep in her step, still overjoyed at the win and the goal she had scored. 

Mapi wasn’t hard to find, standing with the assistant coach, discussing a few tactics from the game after he had called her over to talk about some of their defensive lapses. Their daughter was nowhere in sight, so the Norwegian assumed that Mapi had passed her off to one of their teammates, but when she looked around, she couldn’t see Elena anywhere. 

“Who did you give Elena to?” Ingrid asked, a crease appeared in her forehead as her eyebrows furrowed together. Mapi looked back at her with equal confusion, shaking her head. 

“You have Elena, not me. She went to you after the game,” the Spaniard insists, now beginning to grow confused. Ingrid’s eyebrows flew into her hairline at that statement, shaking her head. 

“I gave her to you ten minutes ago, I sent her your way and called out to you,” Ingrid explains, and Mapi pales at the realization that she had never received her daughter. 

“I did not hear you, and she never came over to me!” Mapi cried, looking around wildly for her daughter. When she cannot see her anywhere on the pitch, her worry only balloons. “Oh my god, she is lost. She is not here!” The brunette cried out, panic washing over her in waves as she realized what this meant. 

The ironic thing was that generally, Ingrid was the anxious one between them. She was the one who worried for Elena, the one who baby proofed the house and took first aid classes and sat in the back of the car with her when she was the baby. 

But Ingrid was also exceptional in a crisis, and this was no different. 

Mapi, however? Not so good in a crisis, at least a non-football related crisis, that was. 

“Oh my god, Ingrid, she could be anywhere!” Mapi pitched as she clawed at her chest, her throat tightening with anxiety as she whipped her head around, looking for any sign of the little girl. 

“Do not panic Mapi, she has to be here somewhere. Come on, let’s go find her,” Ingrid insisted, forcing herself to remain calm as she pulled her panicking wife with her as she began to inform people, everyone scrambling to begin looking for the young girl. 

They alerted security, sent people all over the stadium to look for her as the Norwegian drug her wife back toward the Barcelona bench. 

“This was the last place I left her, so we should stay here. She’s around here somewhere, we just have to find her!” Ingrid insisted as she turned to Irene, who had come over as she got wind of the situation. Hot on the tails of the older defender is the Barcelona captain, looking close to tears herself. 

“Is Elena really lost? Where could she have gone? We must find her!” Alexia cried, baby hairs escaping her ponytail as she looked around, clearly frazzled and stressed at the news of the curly haired little girl being lost. 

“Yes she is gone–” Ingrid began, only to be cut off before she could even really start her sentence. 

“Well we must search for her then!” Alexia interrupted, looking around wildly, her own panic growing. 

“Alexia, this is not even your child! If anyone should be allowed to panic, it should be us!” Mapi interjected, her stress seeping into her tone as she gestured wildly with her hands. Alexia let out a huff of disapproval at that, clearly in disagreement. 

“She is my goddaughter, I love her too!” Alexia insisted, the two squabbling uselessly as Ingrid watched on with an unimpressed expression. 

“If I were not more aware I would assume that these two were the mothers, and not me,” Ingrid mumbled under her breath to Irene, who couldn’t resist letting out a small peal of laughter that she quickly masked as a cough when Mapi and Alexia looked toward her pointedly. 

“Who knew that all it took to reduce La Reina and the fearless Mapi León into a puddle of stress was losing a toddler one singular time,” Irene joked back, where she was promptly met with more unimpressed looks from her teammates, and a chuckle from Ingrid. 

But even the Norwegian, who was generally cool in a crisis, was beginning to grow worried as time stretched on. Her eyebrows remained furrowed together, her foot beginning to tap nervously as she looked around, letting out a nervous sigh. 

“She’s going to be fine, Ingrid. She’s just wandered off somewhere, kids do it sometimes. We lost Mateo in the store once, and found him in the freezer aisle cuddling with some old lady's little dog,” Irene soothed, and Ingrid sent her a grateful smile, even if she didn’t look convinced. She knew the stories, she knew it was normal, but it didn’t make it any easier when it was her own child. 

She just wanted Elena back in her arms, proof that she was safe and sound, and to not let her daughter out of her sight until she was twenty seven years old. 

“How about we go check the locker room again?” Irene suggests, and the dark haired woman jumps at the opportunity to do something, nodding insistently. 

“That’s a good idea,” Ingrid confirmed, and she was just about to head back with her fellow defender when she heard it. 

“Mami! Mama!” Elena called out from her spot in Salma’s arms, and both Ingrid and Mapi were booking it toward their daughter as soon as they heard it. The forward was entirely unprepared for both the Spaniard and Norwegian to plow into her, raining kisses down onto her head as they plucked her from Salma’s arms. Mapi hugged Elena tightly to her, as Ingrid pressed into her space, both of them crowding their daughter with an abundance of love and relief, the panic washing off of them at the sight of their precious little girl back safely in their arms. 

The forward flipped her braids over her shoulder in relief at the hand off, nearly stumbling over when Ingrid stepped away from her wife and daughter, pulling her younger teammate into a tight hug as Mapi cradled Elena to her chest. 

“Thank you so much Salma,” Ingrid murmured in the space above the forward’s shoulders, and despite accepting the hug, the younger woman shook her head. 

“It was Misa who found her,” Salma promised, and the dark haired woman wasted no time in moving toward the Real Madrid player, stepping into her space and immediately hugging the goalkeeper, regardless of the fact that they hardly knew one another. Elena looked up from her spot against Mapi to see her Mama moving toward the scary woman, and she let out a whimper as she turned, burrowing her face into Mapi’s sternum with fear. 

As the panic subsides from her chest slowly, Mapi takes stock of the whole situation. Elena seemed scared of the Real Madrid players, cowering into her arms as Ingrid hugged Misa tightly. Everyone else seemed focused on Misa, with Salma, Olga, and Marta watching her wife and the Real Madrid goalkeeper. The goalkeeper seemed on the brink of tears, something that the center back assumed was because of the game. 

She was informed otherwise when Marta approached her carefully, her voice soft as came close to the Barcelona defender. 

“Misa found her in the hallway, but I think she caught the little one in a bad spot, and now I think she’s a little scared of her,” Marta explained, looking toward the Spanish goalkeeper with worry before looking back at the Barcelona center back. Misa was getting a pep talk from both Ingrid and Irene, to what appeared to be little avail, if the tears in her eyes were any indication. 

Mapi nods slowly, rubbing her hand soothingly over Elena’s back, up and down softly. Her daughter is already a hundred times calmer, having regulated herself well in her Mami’s arms. That being said, Mapi knew they needed a few moments to regather themselves before they reintroduced her to Misa, if they could. 

“Okay, thank you for letting me know. Give us a few minutes?” Mapi asked gently, and Marta nodded before leaving, heading back to her teammate's side. 

It was just a few moments later that Ingrid appeared at her wife’s side, the Spaniard wordlessly passing her daughter to the Norwegian, who held her close and rained kisses down on her. 

“It’s okay, we’re right here Elena,” Ingrid promised, her own worry and stress evaporating at the content little sigh their daughter let out as she was held tightly to the Norwegians side. It was after a few minutes of holding her that Elena leaned back, looking calmer, if not a little more worried. 

“‘M sorry, got lost,” Elena explained gently, her lower lip wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes again. Ingrid shook her head slightly, her words soft and soothing. 

“You do not have to be sorry, Elena. Just try to stay close to me or Mami next time, or someone you know, si? We do not want you to get lost where we cannot find you, because that would make us very scared, okay?” Ingrid explained carefully, and when she finished Elena nodded, a small smile finally appearing on her face as she settled in her mothers arms, back to the happy little girl she normally was. That was something wonderful Ingrid and Mapi both loved about their daughter being so small, how resilient she always was in situations like this. 

Mapi looked back over toward Misa, her heart breaking when she saw that the tears had broken through finally, her head buried in her hands. 

Elena looked from her mother to the Real Madrid goalkeeper, her little eyebrows worried together at the sight. 

“Mami, is she okay?” The sandy blonde girl asked as she looked toward Misa, recognizing the signs of someone crying. Mapi looked toward her wife for a moment, and after receiving a nod of approval from the Norwegian, the Spaniard took her daughter into her arms from her fellow center back. 

“That is my friend Misa,” Mapi explained to her daughter, her words slow and gentle. She stays where she is, but tries to convey her warmth to the woman regardless. “She has had a bad day, and I think she is just expressing that by crying, like you do sometimes too when you are upset,” Mapi continued, watching as her daughter stared at the goalkeeper with concern painted in her small face. 

“Friend? Tía?” Elena asked curiously, clearly trying to work everything out as Mapi nodded. 

“Yes Tía Misa, she is one of my very good friends. She is very kind and funny, just like you!” The Spaniard tried, and Elena looked over at her skeptically, but she chose to believe her Mami. 

“Maybe we cheer up?” The little girl asked, and Mapi raised her hand to run it over Elena’s cheek gently, in a soothing manner. 

“Are you sure, El? You do not have to, I know you thought she was scary earlier. I promise she is not though, she is one of Mami’s friends,” Mapi promised, not wanting to pressure her daughter to do anything she didn’t want to. 

“Cheer her up,” Elena decided, wriggling her body slightly to signal her mother to move. She stiffened suddenly as she looked from Misa to Mapi, with some fear clearly still present in her tone. “You come too,” she checked quickly, relaxing back into the Spaniard when Mapi nodded her agreement to the statement. 

Salma, Olga, and Marta had led Misa over to the Real Madrid bench, which was where Mapi brought Elena over to. The goalkeeper was sitting on the bench, her head in her hands as silent sobs wracked her shoulders. 

Marta looked over at Mapi with a hopeful expression as the Spaniard placed her daughter on the ground, taking Elena’s hand as she led her over to Misa. 

The young girl held her mothers hand carefully as she made her way up to the woman who had been wearing the angry red jersey. She was now wearing a white jacket over her kit top, and something about seeing her when Elena was in a calm state, and the lack of such an aggressive kit top helped to soothe the little girl’s initial concerns. 

“Hola,” Elena said softly, her voice small but fierce in its kindness as she stopped a few steps from the goalkeeper. Misa paused, looking up carefully, unable to keep the surprise off her expression when she realized who was in front of her, looking at her carefully. 

The goalkeeper looks up at Mapi in shock before she is wiping the tears from her eyes, offering a watery smile to the toddler. 

“Hola,” she responded, unsure of what else to say. Elena took another step toward her, offering a small smile. 

“My name is Elena,” she expressed quietly, watching as Misa rubbed the tears from her eyes. 

“Hi Elena, I’m Misa,” the goalkeeper repeated, trying not to burst into more tears. There was no fear in the little girl's eyes, only curiosity and kindness. Misa feels hope flying into her chest at the little girl's face, at the thought that maybe this whole situation was salvageable. Elena looks at the spot next to Misa, her eyebrows furrowing together in curiosity. 

“What are those?” Elena asked gently, pointing to the abandoned goalkeeper gloves that were sitting next to the Madridista. The Spaniard reached for them, holding them out to the little girl softly. 

“These are my goalkeeper gloves. Would you like to see them?” Misa asked gently, her voice hopeful. The little girl looked back at her mother for a second before releasing Mapi’s hand, nodding as she walked over to Misa, right up to where she was sitting, placing her hand on the goalkeeper's knee. 

“Here, you can put them on,” Misa said softly, everyone watching with relief as the goalkeeper slid her giant gloves onto Elena’s little hands, holding them on to help to keep them from falling off. 

The Real Madrid player was absolutely positive that Elena healed something within her when she giggled, leaning into Misa as she moved her hands with the gloves still over them, laughing happily at the sight. It was the goalkeeper's first real smile of the day, and her heart leapt into her throat when Elena climbed into her lap, beginning to talk her toddler nonsense to Misa, who held onto every single word she said. 

The Madridista carefully held Elena to her, making sure she was secure with no chance of falling. She looked up when the toddler gasped, seeing Pina and Jana still out on the field, passing the ball listlessly back and forth as they spoke about something. 

Elena turned back to Misa with excitement, the goalkeeper gloves falling off her hands in excitement. 

“Come play Tía Misa?” The toddler asked hopefully, her eyes big and filled with joy at the prospect of getting to play with all of her friends. Misa looked toward Mapi, who nodded her head in agreement before she smiled brightly, agreeing with Elena. 

“Come on!” Elena cheered as she took Misa’s hand after being set on the ground by the goalkeeper, and dragging the taller woman toward the younger girls. 

Ingrid had come over to join Mapi, Salma, and Marta, as the right winger shook her head in disbelief. Misa was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground, rolling the ball toward Elena, cheering when the toddler tried to kick it. 

When Elena finally managed to hit the ball back with some semblance of accuracy, Jana and Pina immediately cheered loudly. Elena giggled at both of them, smiling before she ran over to Misa, collapsing into a hug as she wrapped her arms around the goalkeeper, who hugged her back just as fiercely, a huge smile pulling at both of her cheeks. 

“What is it about children that just…heals any wrongdoing?” Marta asked wistfully, and Ingrid chuckled as Mapi shook her head. 

“You can’t not love them,” she acquiesced, letting out a final sigh of relief as they all moved to join the girls in playing with the toddler, who happily giggled away at all the attention raining down on her. 

[hqbaby]

seven — i have a secret

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2k content. profanity, FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELINGS

You met Satoru by chance. Or at least that was what you thought until he confessed three months into your relationship that he’d devised the whole thing.

“You’re not serious,” you said, gaping at your boyfriend. “You couldn’t have planned that.”

The two of you were sitting in his car, seats reclined backwards as you shared a bag of fries and passed a milkshake between one another. The speakers were blaring a hodgepodge playlist the two of you had made, one you’d both added all your favorite songs to with no rhyme or reason that resulted in an eccentric mix of ‘90s rock, rap, and—courtesy of Satoru—Britney Spears’ entire discography.

Things were so much simpler then. Better.

“I planned it all!” he told you, laughing as you continued to stare at him in bewilderment. “I had a massive crush on you, what else was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno,” you gestured frantically, “maybe talk to me like a normal person?”

He snorted. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“You wouldn’t have given me the time of day!”

You gasped in faux shock. “I totally would’ve!”

He pointed the fry he was holding at you in wild accusation. “You turned down everyone who asked you out,” he said, all matter-of-factly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, princess.”

You shook your head, grinning now as your boyfriend stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth. He’s such a boy, you thought.

“Let me get this straight,” you said as you sat up, placing your hands on your lap. “You took a class that isn’t even in your curriculum, purposely bumped into me after a game, proceeded to tutor me for a whole month just to ask me out?”

He shrugged, beaming proudly at his apparent job well-done. “What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”

You tossed a fry at him as you laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I believe ‘amazing’ is the right term,” he said, sitting up now too. He leaned in towards you and brushed a strand of hair from your eye. Quietly, he added, “And you were totally worth it.”

His lips met yours and you swore that if you died right then and there, you’d have died happy.

What a shame it all had to end.

Your neighborhood is safe. Well, that’s what you tell yourself when you go rogue—against all of Maki and Nobara’s insistence and all your empty promises—and decide to go on a run in the dead of night.

You don’t usually take this kind of risk, resorting to early morning jogs before class or training, but you couldn’t sleep anyway and the tournament is coming up soon. You’ve never been one to half-ass anything, so you have no intentions of half-assing this. Safety be damned. You’ll run if you want to run.

The streets are still as you make your way around the block. You circle the park, the cluster of houses, the apartment buildings. There’s a convenience store that’s still open—you wonder what it’s like to work there, to tend to an empty shop. Maybe it isn’t so bad a life. Maybe you wouldn’t mind winding down in your old age and owning a 24/7 convenience store. Maybe you’ll have grandchildren by then, but that would require children and you don’t necessarily want to think about that just yet.

You distract yourself with the different sights, the mindless thoughts, the grocery list of things you need to buy the next day—anything to not think about the fact that you’re absolutely exhausted and could pass out at any point in your run.

You haven’t slept much since that brief reprieve afforded by Sukuna’s company a few days ago. You’ve gone to classes, dutifully attended meetings for your organizations, religiously beat your body into perfection in training. At this point, you’re just running on auto-pilot.

You wonder when this will ever end.

You circle back to the convenience store and your foot—so tired, so susceptible to minor inconveniences now—catches on a stone on the ground. At least you have enough foresight to land your ass.

It’s then that everything crashes down on you. You can do nothing now but sit on the ground and wearily massage your legs as you wait for the last bit of strength to return to you, just enough to make you get up and walk home. You just sit there, on the pavement of a dark street, fully aware that it’s probably not a good idea but also fully aware that you don’t have it in yourself to care.

You pull your phone out of your pocket. There’s a text from Maki asking if you placed the orders for the shirts you’re selling at the children’s rights fundraiser. Right. You forgot to do that. There’s a text from Kento asking if you have notes from that one class the two of you share. An email from Yuki with the details of the tournament. A meme from Sukuna, an image of a clown with the accompanying message “u.”

Then there’s the text you’ve been avoiding.

satoru <3 : can we talk sometime?

You should really change his contact name.

And it’s like the universe hears you. You don’t know if you’ve ever fully bought into the whole “the universe is listening” thing, but you might just become a full-fledged believer, because as soon as you look up from your phone, you find a figure walking through the shadows towards you.

A random straggler maybe? A murder with an axe? One of those zombies that keep chasing you in your dreams?

You know who it is as soon as the first bit of light from the dying street lamp hits his hair.

Satoru.

He’s walking with his hands in his pockets, head hung low like he’s tired or thinking or both. It takes him a while to even register your presence. It’s only after you put your phone away that he looks up, alerted by the slight movement.

His eyes meet yours. Blue piercing straight into you, like he can see your thoughts. Like he can read your mind. You always suspected he could.

“Hi,” he says.

He’s standing a few feet away from you, close enough to take in your weakened form but far enough to run away if you decide to lunge forward and strangle him for whatever reason.

You lift your hand, a tiny wave. “Hey.”

His eyes scan your body, already checking to see what’s happened. He notices your legs spread out on the pavement, the bags under your eyes. You look okay, though, he thinks. Not in any immediate distress.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is unsure, afraid of entering the realm of familiarity, uncertain if you want him there.

You shrug, “Oh, you know. Just seeing the sights.”

He nods. “Right.”

“You wanna sit with me?”

The question isn’t so much said as it just flies out of you. A natural thing, to pose this question. Akin to asking about the weather, akin to how you used to tell him you loved him. Exactly what was expected, exactly what it should have been.

His answer is just as expected too. “Sure.”

Satoru steps closer and crouches down to sit in front of you. He sits cross-legged, placing his hands on his knees as he looks around hesitantly.

“It’s really late,” he says.

“I know.”

“It gets dodgy here at night.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”

You crack a smile at that. “I’m not alone now, am I?”

Satoru looks at you incredulously before smiling too. “Maki is so gonna kill you if she hears about this.”

“Then don’t fucking snitch,” you warn him. Your words are harsh, but your tone is light. Easy. “I’m already in hot water with her.”

“What did you do?” he asks. He relaxes a little, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. “Did you lose her sweater again?”

You roll your eyes. “That was one time.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “I remember at least four times you came to me all panicked because you didn’t know where it was.”

“To be fair, half of those times I was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

He raises a brow. “You’re kidding.”

“Not,” you tell him. “You’re not the only one who made shit up to talk to their crush.”

The two of you laugh, remembering that horrifying period of time before you got together and routinely embarrassed yourselves for one another. 

You know this whole thing, laughing on the street with the boy you broke up with less than a month ago, should feel wrong, at the very least awkward. But it doesn’t. When you look at Satoru, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, you can’t help but remember just how much he meant to you. Maybe just how much he’ll always mean to you.

Satoru shuffles closer and says in a low conspiratorial tone, “I have a secret.”

You pretend to look around, check to see if anyone is listening. Then, you ask him, “What?”

He moves closer until his face is just inches away from yours. And he says the words you already knew he was going to say.

“I miss you.”

You let out a breath.

“I miss you too.”

You both lean forward, close enough to feel his breath on your lips, but not enough to touch his. His hand reaches for yours and squeezes it, holds it to his chest. There’s comfort to his touch, a familiar warmth. One that you’ve loved for a while now.

“‘Toru,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding through your chest. You suspect that you can hear his.

“We can’t do this.”

His eyes flicker to your lips. You can almost read his mind. Why can’t we?

But he pulls back and so do you. He lets go of your hand, nodding as he takes his warmth away with him. There’s disappointment in his expression, but also a deep understanding. A deep knowledge that this isn’t right. You can’t do this.

You wring your hands and turn your gaze to a receipt on the ground. It lists a very specific assortment of things: a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of water, some lube, and a teddy bear. It must be Valentine’s Day somewhere.

“You’re good, right?” you find yourself asking. “With… Kimi.”

Satoru hums. He’s avoiding your eyes too, lost his footing in this whole interaction just like you. “Yeah, we’re good,” he says, words leaving a pit in your stomach that you try to ignore. “And you’re good with him?”

There’s a venom in the way he says the last word. As if he means to say, you’re good with him—him of all people. The scourge of the earth, that’s probably all Satoru can think about when he even considers the idea of Sukuna.

You nod. “We’re good too.”

Satoru’s eyes search yours and you do your best to hide the fact that you’re lying. You already know what he wants to see. He wants to see that you’re miserable without him.

That you made a mistake.

He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he just clears his throat, looks away, and says, “Good.”

You pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. Suddenly, this whole thing feels like the kind of wrong it always was.

“You should go,” you say.

Satoru shakes his head, standing up and dragging you up with him. “I’m taking you home.”

“Satoru, it’s fine—”

But he won’t hear it. He’s already holding your hand and pulling you in the direction of your apartment building. As much as you want to, you don’t necessarily have the strength to argue with him, so you let him lead the way, one painful step after another.

When you get to the front of the building, Satoru drops your hand and motions for you to head inside. “Get some sleep.”

You turn to the door, then you hesitate, looking back at him. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, like he’s worried it might scare you away.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

His eyes widen just a bit as he tilts his head. “For what?”

You swallow. “For everything.”

You don’t expect him to smile, but he does. It’s all gentle and sweet. It’s exactly the way he’s always looked at you. The way he probably always will.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he says. “It’s just the way things are.”

notes. if there’s one thing i know about me when i’m writing my love triangle fics, it’s that i refuse to let either side go down without a fight 😌

ALSO FINAL REMINDER THAT THIS SERIES HAS SMUT, so minors sincerely fuck off please, i'm not responsible for what you consume online.

[moonswolfie]

Once in a lifetime

timeskip!Suna x reporter!reader (SPOILERS!!)

Reader is gender neutral

Because my other suna fics popped off i'm writing for my boi again ( *︾▽︾)

So yk the thing where news reporters playfully flirt with athletes/sportsmen while interviewing them sometimes? Yeah this is that basically

idk how news reporting works lmao

Being a news reporter for the sports division was always fun. You got to watch all sorts of different sports matches and competitions and even talk to some of the star atheletes up close, which was your favourite part. They always look so different to the way they do in TV.

And that holds true to EJP Raijin's Suna Rintaro, too. In a good way, a very very good way. You see, Suna Rintaro has caught your eye a while ago and you became his fan in an instant. The way he moved during each match was awfully entrancing.

You weren't going to lie, you do have a celebrity crush on him. You've watched enough matches and interviews and tiktok edits for that to hold true.

So when you got an opportunity to do post-game interviews with the EJP Raijin team, you took it as fast as you possibly could. Maybe you'll even get his autograph out of it.

So here you were, watching the match (mostly Suna) with the camera crew. It was invigorating to see him in real life, that's for sure.

The team was doing well, as expected. So close to winning, and you have zero doubt about it. With how well they're playing you just know they'll win.

You don't even realise the excited grin on your face, or the flushed cheeks for the record, but your camera crew was already gossiping about it behind you.

Their points ticked up and soon they got the final point for their victory. "Yesss..." you whispered to yourself. Winning puts the players in a good mood, consequently putting you in a good mood. And it makes them more willing to do interviews, too.

You and your camera crew pounced at the opportunity as always. You ran up to the players, the crew on your heels. And you weren't the only ones waiting to cease the opportunity, as many other reporters and photographers ran beside you. "Suna-san, Suna-san!" You tried getting his attention over the various reporters.

You knew he had a habit of ignoring interviewers, so you weren't too hopeful about an interview, especially not when literally everyone around you was also trying to get his attention, but it was always worth a try. It's not every day you see your celebrity crush, after all.

He glanced back at you, and you swear his eyes widened a little. He looked away, and then back again, seemingly deciding if it's worth it. He then stopped, letting his teammates walk around him before turning around and walking to you, pushing through the crowd of reporters.

Your smile widened with every step he took, stars shining in your eyes when you got a good look at his face up close.

Your camera crew was already set up and waiting for you to begin. You cleared your throat, trying your best to supress your big dumb smile.

"I'm here live from the stadium with EJP Raijin's number 7, Suna Rintaro!" You gesture to Suna who nods curtly. "If you don't mind, I have a few questions for you following your team's victory." You smiled brightly at him, him nodding in response.

"How did you feel about today's opponent?" You went about asking the standard questions you ask basically every time you do an interview.

"Their serves were tough to handle..." Suna sighed slightly, thinking back of all the times his receives were slightly off and the ball went in a weird direction. "And their libero was quite annoying to deal with. That's a compliment, by the way."

You chuckled a little, quickly following up with "How do you feel about your victory?" You asked, smile as bright as ever. Somehow, you felt bold all of a sudden. I mean, isn't interviewing your celebrity crush a once in a lifetime moment? You might as well take advantage of that....

You nodded along to his answer, channeling your courage in the meantime.

"And are you single?" You asked in a half joking tone so you can play it off as one just in case he doesn't take it well. You would like to think that you asked this with confidence but you honestly can't hear yourself over your hammering heartbeat right now.

He seemed stunned by your question, a small smile forming on his face when seeing your nervous smile. Your camera crew sighed, one of them smiling victoriously, knowing he won the bet.

"...Yes, I am. Why are you asking?" He asked, looking at you with feigned cluelessness. You realise just now that this is odd behaviour for him. Usually when a news reporter would try to flirt with him, he'd shut them down immediately.

"Well, you know... because this is a question of utmost importance. Alteast to me." You winked, immediately regretting it after. Ugh, that was lame...

"Is my number a a thing of utmost importance, too?" he asked playfully, smirking at you. Out of all the things that could happen today, you were never expecting him to flirt back.

You almost didn't want to believe it. You thought that you'll wake up from the dream any second now. You swallowed all your emotions quickly, nodding eagerly while trying your best to wear a flirty smile. "But of course."

At this, he chuckles a little bit, which put a big smile on your face. You cannot believe you actually made him laugh. And got to see it up close, too. "This is wayyy better than all the other interviews I've ever done. No shade to the other reporters." After a small pause, he stretched his arms.

"I'll be behind the stadium, by the way." he said with a casual smile on his face, turning around and walking off.

Only then did the reality that you just flirted with your celebrity crush on live TV truly hit you. "Umm, well, back to you, Kiriya-san!" you signified the end of your segment swiftly, and your camera crew cut the cameras.

Oh lord, the other news reporters back at the station are never going to let you forget this, are they... "Hey, look who's out here getting a boyfriend..." your cameraman teased, and you clenched your jaw in embarrasment. "You don't gotta do this to me, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity..."

"Well, then what are you waiting for? He said he's waiting for you behind the stadium."

I normally don't do this but i am in my shadowban era so likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3 )

(oh yeah, please and thank u 😊)

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Can y’all please let me know if the long chapters are harder to digest? Because I love writing them, but if they actively impair enjoyment of the story I can start to cut them in half. Chapter Title from DEVIL by Shinedown.

Word Count: 13k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Everyone has a lesson in actions and their subsequent consequences. Emphasis on mental health issues warning for the chapter: specifically suicidal ideation and PTSD.

Read on A03!

Chapter 6 - Chapter 8

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Free will was cruel, and you had some choice words for whatever had given it to you. "Words,” meaning several unspeakable acts of violence, a wide variety of cuss words and vulgar phrases that would leave even Ben agape, and at least one loud, feral scream.

Free will had allowed you to attend a fancy party at Vought, a party that put you in a silk dress and winged eyeliner with glossy lips. Free will had let you do one, two, three shots and gotten you tipsy enough that when the elegant woman with strawberry hair had asked if anyone wanted to sing on stage, asked the crowd if there was at least one guest who wasn’t tone deaf and could do a passible rendition of Moon River, you’d raised your hand. Free will had made you not do a fourth shot, so that when you started to sing you didn’t stumble around the stage, missing notes and embarrassing yourself, but had put on a perfect show, singing and swaying in time to the music.

Later, you had learned that the woman with the strawberry hair had been killed later that night, and Free will had allowed you to feel sorry about it. Free will had you visit her grave in the dead of night in a thunderstorm, and let you sing Moon River one last time.

Free will had allowed you to cave when Butcher and the Boys had found you in a different graveyard, only a month later. Free will let you stick with them all the way to the barn. Free will was what had you coming up with very, very stupid plans.

Not this plan, though. You loved this plan. You loved this plan enough that you hadn’t waited even a half hour after thinking of it to call Butcher, or two minutes after Butcher had screened your call to turn around and call MM instead.

“What’s wrong?” MM had picked up after two rings, and you could almost see his worried frown with his words. “Did Soldier Boy-“

“Ben’s in the living room yelling at a documentary about World War II.” You’d dismissed. “He likes to point out all the alleged inaccuracies. I have a plan, I need everyone here by tonight.”

“Uh,” MM said your name apprehensively. “I don’t think that’ll really work.”

“Look, I know everyone’s probably still freaked out about last night, but this is really important-“

“No, that’s not it. We’re fine. Butcher’s still being a fucking ass about it, but everyone else- Hey!” MM had yelled away from the receiver as something banged in the background, accompanied by muffled shouts.

“Uh, MM?” You’d frowned. “Where are you?”

“Ohio.”

“Ohi- why are you in fucking Ohio?”

“Soldier Boy’s shield is here. Turns out it’s been so motherfucking difficult to get because Vought has their hands on it, and they’ve been keeping it in a warehouse in Akron.”

“I thought it had been flown from Jacksonville, with the suit?”

“Nope. Akron. We didn’t know until a few days ago, even Mallory thought it was just waiting in cargo at JFK.”

You’d glanced down the hall to make sure Ben hadn’t heard that his shield was in Ohio, a state he’d once called “America’s shitstained taint” while watching a football game. You heard him shout “fucking commies didn’t do goddamn shit about the Nazi’s, fuck off!” And decided you were in the clear.

“When do you think you’ll be done?” You’d asked, keeping one ear open in case Ben decided to stop fighting with Ken Burns’ voice and join you in the kitchen.

“If Butcher keeps it together and nobody sees Annie and tips off Vought? Tomorrow night.” MM had answered tensely.

“Ok, come right here when you get back. Like I said, I've got a plan, but it’s time sensitive.” You gone to hang up, but paused with your finger over the button. “Don’t die.” You’d added, and heard MM’s grunted acknowledgment just before the call dropped.

Somehow they’d managed to meet MM’s prediction, and all returned in one piece. The team had stood awkwardly in the kitchen—almost everyone avoiding full eye contact with you despite MM’s claim of everything being fine—as you and Ben had sat at the counter, Ben making a mediocre effort to fake some sort of hospitality per your request.

“Thanks to Ashley,” you’d started. “We know Sage told Homelander that I’m in New York and Ben’s awake.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry about that.” Annie had said your name apologetically. “We should’ve been more careful-“

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You’d cut her off, giving Ben’s shin a swift kick behind the counter before he could’ve said anything, his disbelieving scorn at your statement running through where your arms were brushing. “And we can use this.”

“Use what?” Hughie had frowned, and you’d continued.

“They haven’t told anyone else about it. We weren’t even sure they knew until Ashley told us. I’m not anticipating them to start alerting the media about me anytime soon, but they should’ve announced that America’s number one traitor is back from the dead and out to attack the innocent.”

“Fucking rude.” Ben grumbled, and a surprisingly bruised feeling ran through you. “All I do is help you, Sunshine, and that’s how you fucking thank me?”

You gave him a quick, half-apologetic, half-annoyed look. I’m being sardonic for arguments sake, and you know it. He’d just rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the mozzarella sticks you’d heated up before the Boys arrived.

“But they haven’t done that,” you’d continued, giving Ben one last dirty look. “Which means-“

“They’re saving it for something.” Annie had finished your sentence with a thoughtful frown.

“Exactly. Sage has some sort of plan, some dramatic and complicated way to fear monger people, turn everyone against Starlight by saying you released Soldier Boy, and have been risking public safety by letting him run rampant for your own anti-American reasons.”

“You want to get ahead of it.” MM had said, eyes narrowed.

You’d nodded, and shared your plan. Now, two days later, you were squished in the back of the van between Hughie—a well placed towel separating any physical contact—and Ben—who despite many protests was eating your burger—watching Firecracker and The Deep sing in a way that made you want to permanently remove your ears.

You visibly recoil as The Deep looks into the camera, and Ben looks up from eating to watch the video as it plays on Hughie’s laptop.

“Fish-boy sounds like a fucking constipated cowboy,” Ben mutters through a mouthful of food.

You hum in agreement. “You even sounded better on your stupid Rapture video.”

Ben scowls, taking another large bite that muffles his words. “I was fucking fantastic in that.”

“You were certainly, technically, singing.” You look up at him with a grin. “With all the passion of a dying squid giving one last, mighty squirt.”

“I don’t ’squirt’, Sunshine.” Ben grumbles, and you can see the moment every filthy thing he could say pops into his head. He takes a rough swallow, mouth opening to say something that will undoubtedly make Hughie regret volunteering to stay in the van, and you cut him off.

“Before you say anything, keep in mind that is still my burger, meaning I have every right to take it back and shove it right up your ass.”

Ben glowers at you, taking another aggressively large bite. “Bitch.” He grunts, and a piece of lettuce falls fully out of his mouth. Though you can feel his dirty look in your direction, you can also feel a spark of amusement run from where your knees are touching into your chest.

“Cunt.” You pick the lettuce off his lap and throw it into his face. “You eat like a squid too.”

“The only thing that me and squids have in common is our giant-“

“Okay!” Hughie shouts, pausing the video. “Soldier Boy, can you please not say something sexual for like, fuck, ten minutes?”

Ben doesn’t respond, invested completely in the burger, and you elbow him in the ribs.

He gives a loud cough, little bits of meat spurting out of his mouth. “What the fuck?!” When you incline your head to Hughie, Ben rolls his eyes and offers Hughie a grunted, “Fuckin hell- fine, you pussy.”

“Oh, ok.” Hughie blinks at Ben nervously before fumbling to unpause the video.

As the laptop catches up with the live feed, jumping to Firecracker bouncing over-excitedly around the now empty stage, Ben leans over you to get a good look at the screen.

“That’s her?”

“Yep.” You give the screen a glare. “Crazy brown-nosing bitch.”

Hughie lets out a noise of agreement, and Ben snorts. After another minute, in which Firecracker manages to say a record twenty-two objectively wrong things in a row, Ben grunts in annoyance.

“When I was at Vought, we had real goddamn talent, not whatever the fuck this is.”

“I know, in the 80s they managed to book a Pretty Boy squid who could kind of sing.”

Lettuce hits you in the face, and you let out a sputtering string of profanities.

“I can more than kind of sing, Sunshine. I have the voice of a goddamn angel. And that song didn’t make any fucking sense, I fucking blew it out of the fucking water- what the fucks so funny?”

“Nothing!” You try and smother the giggles that had built in you as he’d devolved into rambling ire. “You’re way angrier about this than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m not fucking angry-“

“I can feel it, Ben.” You press your leg further against his in reminder. “And even if I couldn’t, you just said ‘fuck’ so many times.”

“I’m not a damn pussy, I’ll swear as much as I fucking please-“ Ben falters slightly as the word slips out once more, and you grin at him.

“When you’re angry, every other word out of your mouth is ‘fuck’. It’s actually really funny.“

“I’m glad it’s amusing for you.” He’s glaring at you, but you can feel the rapid ebbing of his anger through your body.

“It is.” You shrug, and attempt an olive branch. “So was the Rapture video. I used to watch it all the time.”

“Really?” At your words, he’s suddenly giving a toothy, egotistical grin. “What, did you have a crush on me?”

“No,” You mirror his grin, even as you feel your cheeks heat and hear your sister’s teasing in your ear. “It was just really funny.”

He scoffs. “Like you could’ve done it any damn better.”

“Oh, I know I couldn’t have. I sing like a horse who chain smokes.” The lie slips through your teeth with practiced ease. “But nobody would be paying me whatever digusting amout they payed you.”

"Joke's on you, Sunshine. I bought a house with that money."

"Hm," you give him a toothy smile. "I think that makes the joke on Vought."

“I liked your dancing,” Hughie offers weakly. “It was… interesting.”

“See, Cocksucker gets it.” Ben says smugly, giving you a nudge as his attention refocuses on the video.

“That’s, that’s not my name…” Hughie sighs, and you offer him an apologetic, close-lipped smile.

Still leaning over you, Ben takes another bite of the burger as he watches Firecracker. “She’s got good tits,” he observes, and you tilt your head to look at him incredulously. “What?! She does!”

“You didn’t even last,” you look at the clock on Hughie’s laptop. “Five minutes.”

“That’s bullshit, I always last more than five minutes- Hey!”

You manage to fit the entire remaining burger into your mouth a once, chewing frantically before he can try and take it back from you. You give him a smug look. I warned you, Pretty Boy.

He narrows his eyes at you. I’ll make you fucking regret that, Sunshine.

You swallow, his promise of regret already catching up to you from the large bite as the food aches down your throat, and push Ben until he’s fully in his seat. “Her tits better not be nice enough that you decide to blow the mission.”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine, yours are better.” He ignores your venomous look. “And she’s with Homelander. Even the best fucking tits in the world couldn’t make up for choosing that pussy.” His eyes narrow at the screen. “I should just fucking go now, it’s been the same stupid shit for a damn hour.”

“No!” Hughie’s arm shoots out to hold him in his seat, before thinking better and pulling back just as fast. “No, they’re almost ready, please, can we just wait until they’re ready?”

Ben shoots you a look of questioning annoyance. I could just fucking go. Cocksucker couldn’t stop me, and we could all be fucking done and go home early.

No. We’re sticking to the plan. You glare back.

He rolls his eyes. Fucking stupid plan if it takes ten goddamn hours to set up.

You stick your tongue out at him, and turn back to Hughie. “Have they sent any updates? At least gotten the stage passes?”

“They aren’t supposed to check in for another three minutes.” Hughie shakes his head. “And MM’s still working on the stage passes. They’re $350 for some fucking reason.”

“I don’t need a stage pass.” Ben grumbles. “I could just walk in if you would give me the suit, none of those pussies would stop me.”

“The whole point is that you don’t have the suit. But…” You trail off, frowning to yourself. “Hughie, Ben might be right about the stage pass.”

Ben makes a satisfied “Ha!” as Hughie gives you a wide-eyed stare.

“But they can’t know he’s working with-“

“Butcher and Starlight, yeah, I know, it's my plan. But the whole idea is that he’s rogue. Soldier Boy, back from the dead once more, loose on the streets of Manhattan with no adult supervision.” You sweep your hand in a mock headline gesture, and pretend you can’t feel Ben’s indignance. “A real rogue hundred year old terrorist would not have a credit score that lets him buy Vought’s super-diamond-truther backstage pass.”

“So I can have my fucking suit-“

“No,” you snap, and Ben scowls. “That defeats the point even more than the stage pass. Your suit is known government property. It was being kept in a high-security warehouse in Florida. It would be really fucking suspicious if you were wearing it.”

“They were keeping my suit in Florida?!” Ben’s face coils in disgust. “Was my fucking shield in Florida too?! Fuck, is it still fucking there?! In goddamn, sweat-stained-“

“No, apparently Vought was keeping your shield in Ohio.”

“Fucking Ohio?!”

“This doesn’t really seem like it’s about the mission anymore,” Hughie says nervously.

“It’s not, it’s about you fucking dumbass cum guzzlers keeping my shit in goddamn Florida and Ohio- Fuck!”

You give Ben a warning glare, fingers still smoking, as he rubs his arm. “They survived it, and maybe if you put on your big boy pants you’ll manage to as well. Now-“ You turn to Hughie. “You should tell MM that we don’t need the stage pass before he spends a disgusting amount of money on it.”

As Hughie takes out his phone, closing his laptop and standing to cross the van for some semblance of privacy, Ben nudges you with a grunt of your name.

“I don’t like this.” He’s frowning at nothing in particular, and you can feel tight, solid concern through your body. “It’s too fucking public.”

You wrinkle your brow at him, eyes narrowing. “Since when do you give a shit how ‘public’ a mission is?”

“Since it’s a fucking liability. Too fucking public means too many fucking people that even I won’t be able to control.��

“That’s the point-“

“I fucking know ‘that’s the point’, Sunshine, you’ve made that real fucking clear.” Ben grunts, giving you an odd look as his tight feeling grows in your chest. “Doesn’t mean I have to like this fucking dumb plan.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I love it. It’s going to work, you’ll admit I’m a goddamn genius, and maybe Firecracker will start crying like a baby.”

Ben snorts, and a jab of his amusement hits you. But before he can make any snide comments, Hughie hangs up his call with MM and returns to where you and Ben are pressed against the wall of the van.

“Well, MM’s really not happy about it, but he agrees it’s smarter not to do the pass.” Hughie sighs. “And he says that Butcher’s on his way to get us. He should be here in five.”

You nod, turning to Ben with narrow eyes. “Repeat the plan to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “What, don’t you trust me, Sunshine?”

“To retain vital information about my plan that you’ve called ‘fucking stupid’ numerous times? Absolutely not.”

“It is fucking stupid.” He grunts.

You sigh. “Please, Ben. Humor me and pretend you give a shit for one minute.”

Ben’s leg tenses against yours, and something falters along your ribs. He scowls as he speaks in terse, clipped words.

“Get on the stage, make sure the cameras see me, neutralize that Firecracker broad, and beat her up, but don’t kill her for some fucking reason.” The last part is muttered resentfully, and you chose to pretend you don’t hear it.

“And then?” You prompt.

“Break the cameras, find you, and get back here.” He grumbles.

You nod in approval. “You have to make sure you break the cameras, Ben. Frenchie’s going to make sure that all the phones get fried, but you need to break the cameras. There can’t be any evidence you’re not working alone.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I fucking got it. Kill the bitch, break the cameras.”

“Do not kill Firecracker!” Hughie says frantically, giving you a desperate look and saying your name in a pleading tone. “Please don’t let him kill her.”

You elbow Ben in the gut as you respond. “He knows, he’s just being a fucking dick about it.”

“Fuck off, Sunshine,” he mutters. “And you should let me kill her. She’s not fucking innocent, she’s a goddamn lying bitch.”

“Nope. No killing her.” You say firmly, crossing your arms. “You only get to beat her up because we need to sell the whole ‘out for revenge’ narrative. That’s-“

“The point.” Ben finishes your sentence mockingly. “I fucking got it, Sunshine.”

You kick him again. “So prove it, Pretty Boy. No killing Firecracker.”

“What if she tries to attack me? I should be allowed to fucking defend myself-“

You snort. “Her power is being a dogshit human sparkler. Her attacking you would feel like this.” You poke Ben’s arm, and he frowns.

“I thought she was a fucking fire supe. Like you.”

“I mean, yeah. She technically is. But not all fire supes can have massive fucking horse cocks like mine.”

Hughie lets out a chocking sputter, and Ben rumbles a loud laugh that makes your stomach feel soft and warm. You’re saved from dwelling on how the feeling lingers, starting to spread through your body in time with an easy delighted, sensation that’s not yours, by the opening of the van door.

“Am I bloody interrupting something?” Butcher’s dry voice is raised over Ben’s laughter, an angry and wired frown across his face. “Or can we all stop jerking each other off and do our fuckin jobs?”

“Pull the damn stick out of your ass, Butcher.” Ben rolls his eyes. “We’re not the pussies who took a year to do recon on three fucking blocks.”

"Well, someone has to make sure you don’t blow your load all over a bunch of innocent civilians again.” Butcher sneers, and Ben’s fists curl at his sides.

“I have it under control, you fucking-“

“Butcher,” you interject, feeling something hot and bloody in Ben’s chest start to grow. “We’re ready?”

Not taking his eyes off of Ben, Butcher grunts. “We’ve been ready, Love. We’re just waiting on you bloody cunts.”

“Then let’s go.” You start to stand but have barely moved from your seat when Ben’s hands are on you, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ben glares at you, and you feel that weird, tight concern along your skin again.

“On the mission, dumbass.” You snap, trying to pry his grip off of your thigh.

“No.” His hand doesn’t move, and the tight feeling grows. “Too fucking risky.”

“It’s my plan, Ben. Did you seriously think I was going to stay in the fucking van?”

He ignores you, turning to where Hughie and Butcher are watching the exchange, Hughie wide-eyed and Butcher scowling impatiently. “Tell her she’s fucking staying here with Cocksucker.”

“No can do, Mate. She goes where you go.” Butcher gives Ben a mocking grin, and another weird feeling writhes in your—Ben’s—gut.

“We’re right in front of fucking Vought, there’s going to be a shit ton of cameras-Fucking hell!” Ben’s hand jerks off of you, smoking and red.

“I’m a grown ass woman, Ben.” You hiss. “I know what I’m walking into, and I know what the risks are. And seeing as you somehow forgot, I’m in charge of you. I go where you go, and that’s not up for fucking debate. I can, I will handle my goddamn self.”

“Trust me, Sunshine, I know you can.” He says, facing his still-raw palm to you. “Doesn’t mean you have to fucking risk yourself for this bullshit-“

“It’s my fucking job!” You burst out. “The whole ‘find me’ part of the plan requires me to be in the fucking crowd, not sitting on my ass with Hughie!”

“What if fucking Homelander’s there? Then what?”

A painful ardor kicks up in your lungs. “He won’t be.”

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben’s voice is dripping with unconvinced cynicism.

“Why are you being so weird about this? It’s not like-“

Butcher gives an overdramatic cough over your words. “Oi, Bonnie and Clyde. I’d let you two fuck it out, but we’re on a bloody tight schedule. She’s coming, that’s that. Now get off your arses and let’s fucking move.”

“Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not done with our fucking conversation.”

“Yes, we are.” You stand up, walking across the van. “Hughie, wait a bit until we’re out of the alley, then send Ben out. Ben,” you raise your hand, dropping fingers one by one as you run through the plan. “Get on stage, blast Firecracker, give her a few light punches, break the cameras, and find me. No casualties.”

“Maybe sprout some anti-patriot shit as well, Gov.” Butcher adds. “Really bloody sell it.”

You shake your head, giving Butcher an exasperated look. “No, we don’t know what Firecracker might say. What Homelander and Sage have told her. In, violent, and out. That’s it.”

You look back at Ben with a steel gaze, to find a glower of his face you’ve never seen before. His whole body is rigid, jaw clenched, mouth in a dropped scowl as his eyes burn through you. He’s looking at you in a way you aren’t able to read, but you feel like he wants you to. Everything about his face screams that you should be able to understand it, but you can’t.

“You’re, you're leaving me here with him?” Hughie’s voice is unsteady, and when you remove your eyes from Ben you find his face has grown pale.

“It’s only a few bleedin’ seconds, Lass. He don’t bite, don’t he?” Butcher gives Ben a cocky smirk.

“Fucking watch yourself, Butcher, I’ll crack your weak fucking skull and not break a sweat.” Ben snarls, eyes still on you.

Butcher scoffs, a taunting jeer in his voice. "No, you won’t. You don’t want to upset Sunshine.”

Ben’s eyes rip from you as he stands up at a freighting speed, body tense and fists clenched as he reaches his full height. For a second, you think you might have to interfere and prevent Butcher’s life from finding a brutal and inconvenient end in the alleyway, but Ben just gives him a violent, twisted growl.

“Count your fucking blessings that I have a job to do, you pussy. And sleep with one fucking eye open, because once this is over, I’m going to drown you in your own blood.”

Butcher gives him a mocking wink and turns to walk down the alley, leaving you scramble after him.

Before you’re fully out of the van, you turn and give Ben one last look. “No casualties.” You say, and almost against your will, your face draws into a look of and stay safe.

You don’t have time to read his face before you jog after Butcher, but the last thing you see of Ben is his arms still braced at his side, his eyes on yours with an almost feral look.

You catch up to Butcher right at the end of the ally, running face-first into his arm when he holds it out, halted before stepping onto the main street.

“Fucking ow, Butcher.” You rub your face where you’d collided, and over your fingers you barely have time to register the Noir baseball cap and jacket flying at your face, managing to catch them against your chest at the last second.

“Put them on.” Butcher says, and looking over the merchandise you see him leaning out the ally, watching the flowing crowds of pedestrians. People clad in red and blue Firecracker costumes and costume adjacect outfits, a few less in dark greens and Deep trademarked Love the Ocean like the Earth and Fish and Man are One shirts, and exactly one, a bouncing little girl with a tutu and big eyes, wearing a Homelander cape.

You look back down at the cap and jacket—which is a few sizes too big—and realize both were made by Uought International, and that Noir has been spelled as Noire. Looking up, you see that Butcher has pulled a Quen Maeve sweatshirt over his shirt, and is wearing green-tinted sunglasses that have little, blue Soldier Boy brand symbols along the frame.

“You shouldn’t wear those,” you point to your nose, mirroring where the sunglasses sit on Butcher’s face.

“Why, Love, you want them so you can feel close to Ben?” He mocks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, dumbass. Right now Soldier Boy is a dead American traitor who’s going to rise from the dead and commit an act of terrorism in like, seven minutes. It’s not smart to wear anything associated with him to ‘blend in’, especially if you’re pairing it with an off brand shirt of the woman who sacrificed herself to save the world from him.”

“You know just as bloody as well as me that Maeve is picking dandelions in California.”

“Yeah, and Soldier Boy isn’t dead, he’s in the van, probably trying to blackmail Hughie into buying him drugs. The internet is a liar sometimes.”

Butcher pulls off the sunglasses with a scowl and a dirty look in your direction before dropping them on your Noire jacket. “Put on your clothes so we can get a fucking move on. We wanna get outta here before Soldier Boy sees you and carries you back to the bloody van.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and pretend you don’t hear the questioning contempt of his voice, shoving the sunglasses into your back pocket before you pull on the jacket. You give Butcher a nod and step out into the current of the street.

The walk to Firecracker’s stage is silent, both you and Butcher angling your heads down from the crowd, down from the blue, cloudless sky and anyone who may be in it. The sun beats down a warmth that is only offset by the biting of the wind, and Firecracker’s voice, projected by speakers to carry over the horns and shouts of the city, starts to claw into your head.

“Patriots, are you ready to know the truth about Starlight and how she’s been kidnapping and trafficking your innocent babies?!” Her voice has the same southern drawl you’ve heard on TV, her bubbly tone in stark contrast to her words. “We’re lucky we have Homelander lookin out for us, keepin us safe, otherwise Starlight might try to take us too!”

You drop your head further, some fearful part of your brain telling you that Homelander might hear his name from the Tower and decide to make an appearance.

Fucking risky, Ben’s voice says in your head, and suddenly you can see him in your head, that strange, angered and piercing face watching you. What if fucking Homelander’s there, Sunshine? Then what? You’ll freeze up, and I won’t be there to help.

I’ll manage, you snap back at his voice, and can almost hear his scoff.

You’ll start crying and wish I was there. You wish I was there right now. You hate that you’re walking with Butcher, who���s probably going to try and kill you instead of me.

Butcher won’t kill me. He can’t.

Never stopped him from trying before. I wouldn’t let him, Sunshine.

I’m stronger than Butcher. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than fucking Homelander. I don’t need your help.

But you fucking want it.

“No, I don’t!” You hiss, and only realize you’ve spoken aloud when the words come out strained, caught on a lump that has formed in our throat.

You hear Butcher snort from your side. “Who the bloody hell are you talking to?”

“No one,” you mumble, feeling your face heat as you feel his disbelieving look.

“If you’re going to lose your damn mind and go all mental, you can wait until all this is done? Would be real bloody inconvenient to have to kill you ahead of schedule.”

“Not funny.” You mutter, and are saved from Butcher’s response by arriving at the crowd, stopping next to where MM watches the show in an A-Trane shirt.

“He behind you?” MM says by way of greeting, voice barely raised over the children’s choir rendition of God Bless the USA, complete with trumpet and string accompaniment.

“Should be,” Butcher looks over the heads of the audience, scanning for something that he doesn’t seem to find. “Frenchie gonna be ready when Soldier Boy gets here?”

“Kimiko got them up on a roof across the street, and Annie will get him the electricity he needs when it happens.”

You glance behind you, hoping that Hughie can manage to keep Ben in the van a few minutes more. “We should move,” you say, turning back to MM. “We don’t want to be anywhere near the path to the stage.”

MM nods and begins to lead you and Butcher deeper into the crowd, weaving through the frenzied cheers and whoops as the choir walks off the stage. You stop at the edge of the crowd, off to side enough to avoid any crossfire, but with Firecracker still in a clear line of sight.

She’s staring down the camera, her toothy and smug smile projected on a Jumbotron as she speaks. “I don’t know about y’all, but I think Starlight should come down here and tell us why! Why she won’t show us any proof of her claims that Homelander is a murderer! When, need I remind y’all, Homelander was found innocent! Has Starlight been found innocent?” You watch her cup her ear, listening for the crowds shouted responses.

“Jesus Christ, she has to know this is bullshit, right?” You mutter to yourself, and MM chuckles beside you.

“As far as I can tell, she really believes all the bullshit she’s saying.” He says with a shake of his head. “She got this job cause her head was up Homelander’s ass for free, she ain’t gonna pull it out now that Vought’s paying.”

You hum, looking up at the sky nervously. “MM, has Hughie texted that Ben-“

You’re cut off as screams sound from down the street, and your head shoots to where you had just stood, watching as the crowd beings to franticly part for something you can’t yet see. Butcher and MM are stiff beside you, Butcher’s gun already in his hand as MM’s lingers at his hip. Firecracker’s voice has faltered through the speakers, her eyes wide and face slack on the Jumbotron. The feeling in you, the ardor against your spine and clawing at your skin, begins, and you try not to watch the sky. The sun is bright and there are no city lights, the only thing you can hear is the terrified people, but Homelander’s not here, so you’ll be fine.

The feeling is in your blood and gut, but you’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

Are you sure about that? Ben’s voice says in your head.

Shut up. You tell it, just as Firecracker lets out a shrill sound that echos down the streets.

You look up and find Ben has gotten to the foot of the stage, only his side profile visible to you. Firecracker has a shaking finger pointing at him, her mouth agape as she watches him walk closer, closer, closer. You hadn’t been sure what to expect once it began. For Firecracker to scream, beg, cry, fight, run, or collapse once it became that her life was gone from her hands. Of all the scenarios you’d traced, all the outcomes with more blood, less blood, more scream or quick silence, you hadn’t thought she start to laugh. Doubled over, cackling glee, tears in her eyes visible on the Jumbotron.

“Well, look here, folks! No need to be afraid, it’s going to be just fine! Soldier Boy here’s a guest, and he’s going to tell us all about how Starlight tricked him and forced him to fake his death!”

You watch Ben freeze on stage, and the Jumbotron begins to broadcast his tight, angered face to the steadily regrouping audience.

“Fuck,” MM breathes out. “They’re going to flip him.”

Butcher says your name roughly. “You need to get there, get him in bloody line. We can’t have him running off with Vought.”

You need to move. Every part of you is screaming that you need to go, go, get there and remind Ben that you’re watching and keeping him in check. But you can’t, frozen as you watch his movements on the Jumbotron, trying to keep control when your blood has run cold, and every breath you take is caught against that lump in your throat. You can’t move, and all you can do is watch him on stage, eyes scanning the crowd as he watches them look at him in awe.

Then your falling forward, barely managing to catch your footing before your knees hit the pavement, turning to see MM on the phone speaking in a commanding, measured tone, and Butcher reaching forward to push you once more. You take another, smoother step back before he can, but you don’t wait for him to bark an order for you to go. You turn back to the crowd with the bass of the speakers barely drowning feeling, trying to weave without touching anyone as it grows and grows.

You’re at the base of the stage now, and before you can start to figure out a subtle way to alert him, his eyes lock with yours.

What the fuck is happening. His gaze asks at it runs through you, his body turned as though he may start to move in your direction, and Firecracker's voice rings the air.

“Lovely, you brought her too!” Both you and Ben turn to where she stands, smiling and looking at you. “Our very special guest, The Anomaly!”

Your blood isn’t cold. It’s burning, everything is burning inside of you, scraping to get out. But there are people moving around you now, people everywhere, and someone is nudging you forwards to the stage until a smiling face is pulling you up and moving you right next to Ben. It’s so bright, and you’re burning, and when you turn your head out to the crowd, you see yourself. Up on the Jumbotron. And there are cameras. Cameras everywhere. Cameras that are following your movements as Firecracker speaks.

“I know ya’ll don’t recognize her, she hasn’t been around for as long as this patriot!” Your eyes tear from the screen just in time to see Firecracker playfully slap Ben’s arm, to watch his whole body go rigid as she did. “But she’s a real good friend, and she and Homelander go way back!”

You’re cold again. Cold and angry and sharp. Everything is sharp again, the faces of the audience are clear, and Firecracker’s words are no longer miles away. No, she’s right in front of you with a wide smile of teeth, and you can hear drums.

Drums.

You look down, and your foot is bumped against Ben’s. His eyes aren’t watching you anymore, fixed on Firecracker, but everything sharp in him, in you, is pointed at her.

“If fact,” Firecracker has turned back to the crowd, hands placed over her heart with a simpering face. “She and Homelander? Well they were childhood sweethearts! Supes, raised together, only having each other. And when Homelander went off to become our great hero, she stepped away from the spotlight.” Firecracker takes a large step back, turning back to you. “She didn’t want the fame. She just wanted him!”

A chorus of sickly sweet awwws ripples through the crowd, and the feeling is behind your eyes.

“Homelander was, is, the love of her life. Which is why, when Starlight and her team of devil-worshippers came to kill her, The Anomaly fought with all she had to stop them.”

It’s under your nails.

“She wasn’t strong enough, though, and they dragged her away from where Homelander had been keeping her safe to let her bleed out, far away from the man she loved.”

It’s on your teeth.

“Love that kept her alive, love that made her find another who had been wronged, another who would do anything for Homelander-“

Firecracker makes a gesturing sweep to Ben, and the world begins to blur.

“Soldier Boy! And now they’re here, to reunite with their lover, their son, and have the happy endings they deserve!”

The feeling is everywhere. Ben is pressed closely against you, and the drums are in your ribs. Firecracker is still smiling and her teeth are so white. The crowd is cheering and whooping and you’re going to crack-

Something smashes off the stage, and Firecracker’s smile drops. You make yourself follow her gaze, the movement like moving through mud, and see smashed cameras at MM’s feet. Gunshots ring out, and something above you shatters as Butcher appears, gun raised.

Firecracker’s face has contorted, cheery persona vaporized and she starts to shout in a furious wail.

“No! My cameras! My show- Do you have any idea how hard that speech was to memorize?! I worked so hard, and you ruined it you fucking-“

She flys across the stage, Ben taking large, violent strides to where she lands with a crack. You can see her fear when she looks up to where he stops above her, the light growing in his chest.

“Help!” She screams, looking around at the stage audience and tech workers. “He’s- he’s fucking crazy, he’s going to kill me! Someone- someone fucking stop him!”

The stage audience.

The tech workers.

You’re running. Words aren’t fast enough, and Ben’s too far gone for them anyway. You are, though. You’re flying, tearing across the stage and throwing yourself against Ben. He falls to the ground, the light still building, and twists to try and throw you off of him, his eyes so deep into himself you don’t think he knows it’s you.

Pressed against him, you can only feel the drums, and you brace yourself as the light in him explodes.

It’s painful. A blinding and unforgiving pain that sears through your body. Numbness follows behind it though, fast and empty relief, and when your eyes can see once more Ben is watching you with horror across every feature.

He looks like he’s going to roar at you, tear into and across you. You can feel fury and something deep into his chest that’s screaming.

Firecracker lets out a breathy, sobbing laugh from somewhere to your side, and even if nothing in him wavers, it saves you from whatever Ben was going to say.

“Shit, you're both pathetic. You can’t even take out one person?” Firecracker starts to pull herself up to her feet. “I don’t know why Homelander was so worried about y’all. You’re weak.” She reaches down, grabbing the back of your tattered Noire jacket and pulling you off of Ben. “I mean, I expected more from at least you, Soldier Boy. He looks up to you still, you know. Was so hopeful you’d flip. But,” she shakes her head sadly. “What a disappointment.”

You’re not sure how it happens, let alone where the energy comes from, but you twist in Firecracker’s hold and punch her square in the face. She drops her hold, stumbling back as her nose starts to fill with blood. You never hit the floor though, Ben’s arm looping around your waist as he draws himself upwards.

Everything is sharp and hungry anger that is driving in you—in Ben—to Firecracker. The thing in his chest is still clawing at him, and you can feel your own glacial fervor, but nothing is as strong as the hungry anger.

Firecracker doesn’t feel it though, the storm that's brewing. And she doesn’t know when to quit.

“You worthless bitch.” She sneers through her fingers, trying to plug the blood. “You frigid little whore.”

“Watch it.” Ben growls, arm tensing around your waist.

“Oh, fuck off, you fossil! She’s tricking you, sinking her little claws into her like she did Homelander, with her stupid little songs and dances!”

“Shut up,” the words don’t come out in the firm command you wanted. Your voice sounds pathetic, weak against your ears.

“Do you have any idea how fucking exhausting you’ve been?” Firecracker whines. “Everything was amazing until you came back. He was starting to trust me! And then Sage comes back, accuses Homelander of lyin to her, and says you’re alive. And all of a sudden that’s all that fucking matters! He’s just angry and hurt and it’s so annoying.”

The world is less focused.

“I’ve heard Moon River so many fucking times this week, it makes my skin fucking crawl. I don’t even get it! What can you do that I can’t? I want him, you don’t even care to stick around-“

Nothing is in focus. It’s only Firecracker, her voice, and the feeling.

“I love him, I am perfect for him, I am blessed and chosen and you’re just a lonely little stuck up slut who didn’t even wait after leaving him and everything he did for you-“

Her teeth are so white and you don't think you can breathe.

“Everything he gave you-“

You can feel ghosts of the pain, see the bright light as they push the fire into you. Can feel it now, trying to get out.

“To turn around and spread your fucking whore legs!”

Something in you snaps. Cracks, echoes through your body, and explodes. You’re everywhere, the fire bleeding from you. You can’t see anything but the white room around you, and you have to get out. So you let everything go. It’s just you and the fire, cocooning around you and keeping you safe.

Just you and the fire and something else that is gripping around you. Something in your chest that is thrashing and trying to keep you close. It feels safe too, so you let it stay as everything else continues to burn.

A deep, roaring voice is calling your name. It sounds like the thing in your chest, and it reverberates through you as if it’s pressed against you. There are screams too, broken and raw screams, but you can’t see where they’re coming from, and they don’t feel safe like the voice.

The thing gripping around you feels heavier. It feels safer. There’s no city lights, you can’t even really remember what they might look like, but there’s music. Soft and deep in your ear, wrapping around you. Putting something out along your skin. You’re getting weak, and you feel cold.

You can’t stop. Something in your head tells you. You falter, and you’re back in the room.

But you’re so tired. The grip feels safe. And the music is settling into you and feels so good.

So when the world goes black, the last thing you feel is the thing in your chest reaching for you, and you could swear it breathes in relief.

————

He’d figured it out. The tapping. Firecracker had said Moon River, and he’d realized that was it. The rhythm of the verses matched that incessant tapping of Hers perfectly. He’d taken a fucking gamble, dragging the verses from somewhere deep in his brain as she’d been consumed by the fire, and it had paid off when She’d collapsed into him. The fire still lingered long after She closed her eyes, long after Ben stopped humming. Most of the stage was ash, from the hollowed, disgusting bodies of Firecracker and a few unfortunate audience members to the still flaming stage curtains.

Ben picked her up, and her eyes didn’t even flutter. Her body was still burning, and his hands protested in pain against her skin, but he bit down his pain with ease. Ben wasn’t a pussy, and he’d heal. This was more important.

A thought that had everything in him—except the feeling he’d been keeping in his gut that had somehow managed to crawl into his chest—very fucking irritated.

Ben turned, carrying Her off the stage to get her as far away from here as possible, only to find both MM and Butcher waiting, guns pointed right at his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled. They didn’t have any fucking time for these dramatics. As far as he fucking understood from Her explanations, all that shit show had just been broadcast through the fucking nation. Homelander was probably on his way, and Ben wouldn’t be able to do his fucking job and wipe the floor with that pussy if She was still unconscious and the stupid fucking thing in his chest was worried.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gov.” Butcher jeered back. “We’re not letting you off that bloody easy.”

Ben glowered at him, and his desire to throw Butcher against the nearest concrete wall was only barely defeated by the godforsaken need to get Her somewhere safe. “We don’t have fucking time for this. Move out of my fucking way, or I’ll make you.”

“Take your best fucking shot, cunt.” Butcher taunted.

“Last fucking chance to get out of my way.” Ben could hear the hitch in both their hearts, uneven from the growing steadiness in Hers.

“We ain’t moving, Soldier Boy.” MM angled his gun higher. “And you’re not taking her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking pussies!” Ben roared, whatever patience he’d managed to hold onto vanished. “Homelander is probably on his fucking way, and unless you want him to take her, we need to fucking leave right fucking now!”

Both men blink, Ben’s words hanging in the air just long enough that he was starting to get ready to just fucking push through them. He’d deal with Her anger about it later, when she was awake and they were far fucking away from cages and boxes.

But MM lowered his gun, narrowing his eyes at Ben. “You’re going to let us take you back to the safe house?” His voice had a tone of disbelief that Ben didn’t fucking appreciate.

“Fucking hell, yes. Now fucking move your dumb fucking asses before I change my fucking mind!”

MM looked over at Butcher, whose gun was still aimed at Ben’s head. “The kid’s bringing the van round?”

“He bloody should be.“ Butcher grunted, but didn’t move. “But that don’t mean shit, I ain’t trusting this cunt to go quietly.”

“I’m certainly not going to go quietly if you keep a fucking gun in my face.” Ben sneered. “I might not do jackshit to me, but it’s goddamn rude when I’m trying to fucking help.”

“Why should we trust that?” MM asked coldly, glancing down at Her in Ben’s arms. “This is your ticket out. You’re probably just going to kill us in the van while she’s still out.”

Ben fucking knew that, he wasn’t an fucking idiot. He could hear Her heartbeat, fully steady as sleep held her under, could feel the scalding heat of her body almost fully faded. When he glanced down at her face, it painted into an empty ease. But when he blinked, it would flash back to just before she’d burst. Afraid. Only pure terror on Her face as Firecracker screamed about Homelander.

She wasn’t going back there.

“I guess you’re going to have to take a fucking gamble.” Ben held MM’s stare. “Because you have five seconds to fucking move before I kill both you pussies and leave with her.”

Some part of Ben still managed to be surprised when they exchanged one last, tense look, MM’s eyes flaring at Butcher, who dropped his gun with an angry huff. When MM started to walk away, likely to where Cocksucker waited with the van, and Butcher only said, “Breathe one wrong breath, Soldier Boy, and I’ll put you right back under.”

Ben wanted to. He wanted to step just far out enough of line that he’d be justified in bashing Butcher’s smug, pussy fucking head against the curb. But he didn’t, just keeping Her in place against him until they were back at the safe house, glaring at the whole sorry fucking lot of Her team as they watched Ben hold Her in the corner. Her heartbeat stayed steady, and it kept the drum in him from bursting, aided by the thing in his chest settling back into him the more distance grew between Her and the stage, Vought Tower, and Homelander.

When they reached the safe house, Ben didn’t bother to pause, waiting only for Butcher to open the door, before he was moving through the hall in tight, bounding steps. Up the stairs, shoving the door to Her room open, laying her on the bed above her sheets. She let out a little sigh as he let her go, and Ben hated how it made the thing in his chest wake up. He had to get himself under fucking control. She was safe, he’d done what he fucking needed to, and he wasn’t about to be a goddamn creep and watch her sleep.

The seconds were starting to stretch though, as he watched Her, listened to the steady sound of her heart. She looked so fucking peaceful, and it was calming the thing in his chest.

Fuck, he didn’t like how easy it felt. Especially as she let out another small sigh, rolling over with an arm stretching out, and he wanted to touch her upturned palm. That realization snapped him out of whatever stupid fucking trance he’d been dragged into, and he managed to turn, walking towards the door.

Before he left though—practically against his will—he turned back just in time to hear another sigh and see Her body curl into the mattress.

“Sleep well, Sunshine.” He muttered and tried to ignore the last sigh released from her chest, and how if ran through him.

When Ben got down to the kitchen, goddamn fucking Cocksucker and Starlight were waiting for him.

“What are you cum guzzlers still fucking doing here?” He grumbled, pushing past them to get to the pantry.

“Is she ok?” Cocksucker asked, and Ben shrugged, grabbing a bag of half-eaten jerky from the top shelf.

“She’ll fucking live.” He ignored the flash of Her fearful face in his head, and how his grip on the bag turned to steel. “One of you better answer my goddamn question.”

“We need to talk to her,” Starlight said softly.

“Don’t hold your fucking breath, she’s out cold.” Ben snapped.

Starlight sighed. “We’ll wait.”

“No, you won’t.” Ben turned around to face her. “She needs to fucking rest.”

“Cocksucker look between Starlight and Ben nervously. “We need to make sure-“

“She did you a fucking favor.” Ben growled. “Firecracker’s not a problem anymore, and her stupid plan fucking worked.”

“She killed four people.” Starlight said tightly. “And after Ashley, we need to know that she’s still with us.”

“With you?” Ben scoffed, saying Her name in the same exasperated tone. “Her? You think she’s going to turn against you fucking pussies?”

“She’s- she’s been weird.” Cocksucker stuttered. “And you’ve gotten closer than we thought-“

“Fuck off.” Ben snorted. “I haven’t turned her, if that’s what your dumb little pea-brains think.”

“We’re not who you have to convince, Soldier Boy.” Starlight watched Ben with a frown. “I trust her. Hughie trusts her.”

“Then what the fuck-“

“Butcher,” Cocksucker said softly. “MM. Mallory. They’re worried she’s going to be a liability.”

“Then they can come fucking tell me their fucking selves.” Ben hissed. “Now get the fuck out.”

Starlight looked like she was going to push back, and Ben was ready to throw her through the door himself, but Cocksucker placed his hand on her back, and something passed silently between them.

“Fine,” Starlight sighed, giving Ben one last, tired look. “If you promise to tell us when she’s awake, I can try and hold them off.” Her eyes narrowed. “For her.”

Ben grunted. “Deal.”

And they were gone, and Ben was alone in the kitchen.

She didn’t wake up for three full days. Three, long, insufferably quiet days where it was just Ben. Three days of pacing, of eating alone, of watching TV all through the damn night because he couldn’t sleep even if he fucking tried. Three days of the awful thing in his chest making up stupid excuse to open the door to her room and check to see if she had vanished. She never had, she would always be twisted on the bed, heart steady, face empty. At some point Ben moved Her under the covers, after he made up an excuse to touch her and found her not burning like he’d been checking for, but freezing cold. Three long days of wishing She was awake, reminding himself he didn’t fucking need Her awake, and the thing in his chest roaring that he did.

He tried to push it down, and almost succeeded, but at the end of the second day he walked downstairs from where he’d been standing outside her door for a disgustingly long time—finally managing to not push in and check on her—to find Butcher in the living room.

“She’s still out.” Ben had grunted, and Butcher had only shrugged.

“I ain’t here for her. We need to have a little chat.”

“I’m good.”

“I wasn’t bloody asking.”

Ben remembered wondering in the moment if he was already in enough hot water that killing Butcher wouldn’t really matter. “You’re playing a game you can’t fucking win.” He’d warned, and even Butcher’s heart hadn’t stuttered.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a flash, Gov. But not until you fucking listen.” Butcher managed to have more intelligence than Ben thought him capable of, and didn’t wait to hear Ben’s answer before he began. “Her plan, somehow, bloody worked. Most of the media coverage is sayin that Firecracker started panicking and lying to try and keep herself alive. You’re being label as a crazed lunatic, out for revenge.”

“Then what’s the fucking problem-“

“Her. Everyone’s buying the story about Her and Homelander, thinkin you kidnapped her after we tried to kill her.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make any fucking sense.”

“Don’t need to make sense. It’s the narrative Vought got, and they’re running with it. As far as the public knows, you’re back, out for bloody and evil revenge, and are holding her hostage to hurt Homelander.” Butcher narrowed his eyes at Ben. “And they’ve reached out. They want to meet with you.”

“They?” Ben paused, ready to grab Butcher’s tongue and make him stop talking in fucking riddles. “Who the fuck is they?”

“Vought.” Butcher said shortly. “Sage. Homelander.”

Ben snorted. “Fuck no. We’re not bringing her anywhere near that goddamn pussy and his conniving bitch.”

“Good thing they only want to talk to you, then, ain’t it.”

That made Ben pause, eyes narrowing at Butcher as suspicion had begun to build in his chest. “The fuck are you talking about.”

“One hour, a truce, just you, me, Starlight, Homelander, and Sage. At the old Starlight Fund building. Just talking.”

Ben snorted. “You dumb enough to believe that?”

“Nope. But you agree, it happens.”

Ben grunted. He didn’t trust any of it. He didn’t trust Homelander to have no ulterior motive. He didn’t trust Sage to not be plotting something. He didn’t trust Butcher to not have a fucking trick up his stupid fucking Hawaiian shirt. “And if don’t.”

Butcher shrugged. “Then this conversation never happened.”

Ben had said your name carefully, trying to feel out whatever it was he fucking knew Butcher was hiding. “What about her?”

“She’d stay here.”

Ben raised his brows at that. “You’d trust me without her?”

“Fucking hell, no. Not if hell bloody froze over. Don’t trust you with her. We’d set up something to make you go night-night if you get all nuclear. CIA got more than enough gas to put you under, they can spare some for our lovely uses.”

“How long does the offer stand?” Ben asked, pushing down the drum.

Butcher had shrugged. “Until you give an answer.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ben said. “Now get the fuck out.”

Butcher chuckled dryly. “Alright, Gov. Keep your damn pants on.” As Butcher walked, hands in pockets, down the hall, he paused as he passed Ben, and shoved something into his hands. “She dropped those on her way to the stage. Good luck when she wakes up, Mate. I’d keep her away from the telly.”

Ben had looked down at what Butcher had given him as the man walked away, brow furrowing at what he found.

Shitty, off-brand Soldier Boy sunglasses.

Ben had placed them in his room to give to Her later. But another full day had passed before she woke up, and Ben’s mind had not stilled the whole fucking time.

He hadn’t been lying. Ben thought about Butcher’s—Homelander’s—offer. Constantly. Starting with the fact that he didn’t have a goddamn thing to say to Homelander. The shock of their relation had long passed, fading into a numbness of just another fucking job for Ben to do, just another way in which he had to be alone. Then the numbness had been replaced by a blinding wrath. A disgust from what he had done. Ben wasn’t a saint, saints were weak, self-righteous whiners. But he wasn’t a fucking monster. He did what had to be done, and a little more to make sure he didn’t have to do it again. He didn’t take women and lock them in cages. He didn’t hurt people until the singular thought of him made them afraid. People fear Ben, yes. But just as much as they should.

Ben didn’t fear Homelander. She didn’t fear Ben. But She feared Homelander. A weak, fucking pathetic man who had needed to break someone stronger than him, someone worth more than him powerless, to feel big. She was worth so much more than Homelander that she wanted to help people. Worth so much more that she still somehow looked at the world and found it worth something. She found worth in fucking everything. Everything was amusing to Her, everything was beautiful, everything had value and meaning. Ben fucking hated it. It leaked into him, and felt fucking strange. Because he could hear Her in his head, saying Pretty Boy, this is an opportunity. Don’t be a petty baby and waste it.

And that was where the thoughts would loop. Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Homelander had hurt Her and Ben never would. She’d find a way to use this, though, and She’d want him to go. But Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Over and over until Ben heard Her heartbeat stutter, heard shuffling around in Her room, and had to fight the thing roaring in his chest to sprint up the stairs. He somehow managed to remain seated on the couch, everything in him fucking strained to stay in place as she tapped down the stairs and cleared her throat behind him.

Ben turned to find Her watching him with eyes still crusted from sleep. When She spoke, her voice was hoarse, and her words were quiet.

“How long was I out?”

“Few days.” Ben answered, trying to watch her passively, to pretend he wasn’t studying her every feature. He wasn’t even fucking sure what he was looking for himself.

“What-“ She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

Ben paused, finding her eyes again. Keep her away from the telly, Butcher had said, and Ben had immediately checked to see what the fuck he was talking about. He’d found the answer fast: photos of Firecracker’s scorched body, interviews with the families of the audience members who had met the same fate. Speculation about what Ben was doing to Her, fabricated “evidence” of Her and Homelander’s love. A complete, well-developed, entirely bullshit story about her life. Born in the same hometown as Homelander, happily giving up her life to support him, working instead behind the scenes in Vought marketing and cooking in her free time.

Homelander didn’t have a hometown, that pussies whole story was even more bullshit Vought propaganda than Ben’s was.

She wouldn’t “give up her life” to support anyone. And if she did, they’d have to hear her bitch about it until they fucking died.

Ben had once heard her call marketing “a plague upon human culture and societal development” during the third commercial break of one of his football games.

Everyone would know if She had tried to cook Homelander food, because it would’ve killed him.

Butcher had wanted Ben to lie. But Ben fucking knew She wouldn’t have lied to him. And he knew She would find out the truth somehow and be a real bitch about Ben lying to her.

“Three audience members and Firecracker died. You passed out. We got back here.”

“Oh,” she said softly, but didn’t look away, and Ben could see something fragile in her eyes fracture. Hear the taps of Moon River begin. “What are they saying?”

“They?”

“Vought.”

“Your plan worked.” Ben grunted, and the rhythm of Her heart told him she knew there was more. “But Firecracker’s bullshit stuck. I’m being painted as a revenge-blind maniac, and you’re being painted as my victim.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “If anything, you’re my victim.”

Ben felt his mouth twitch. “That’s what I keep fucking saying.”

She let out another, smaller huff of amusement before her face fell back into that soft state, her eyes still tired as she watched him. “That’s all?”

He nodded. “That’s all.”

She gave one last sigh, and it sounded so weak. He wanted to grab her and figure out a way to make her move. Get her to sit next to him and laugh so the fucking thing in his chest would let go of his lungs. Before he could, though, she turned and padded back up the stairs, her door closing behind her.

Another day passed before Ben even fucking saw her again. She’d slunk into the kitchen around dinner, hair tangled and eyes hollow, heating up a box-meal before placing it on a plate and carrying it back upstairs. The next day was the same, and Ben had tried to grab her and make her fucking talk to him, and she'd stared at him with a wide, empty gaze.

“We need to fucking talk.” He’d grunted.

“Please don’t.” Her voice had been so fucking quiet.

“Don’t what?” He’d growled. “Fucking talk to you? You’re just going to never fucking talk to me again?”

She’d given a small shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk. Please.”

“You’re being fucking weird.”

“Please.” She’d sounded desperate. “I can’t talk. Please.”

He’d never heard her say please so many times. He’d only seen her like this, a weak and fearful girl, once.

He’d hated it on the Neuman mission. He hated it now.

He hated she looked weaker now. Hopeless. He hated how he relented, let go of her, and she’d gone back upstairs and didn’t come back down. Two more days passed, and the only way Ben knew she was alive was the sounds of music coming from her room and the food that vanished from the kitchen overnight.

Ben was going to lose his fucking mind. The last time she’d avoided him this much had been the beginning, and, fuck, that had been better than this. She’s seen him and fought with him, tearing him to pieces as he did the same to her. Stood her fucking ground against him, a completely insufferable, violent, angry bitch of a woman. Even after they’d called truce on their war, she’d remained a powerfully wrathful, unrelenting pain in Ben’s ass. Now she wouldn’t stand in the same fucking room as him, and he was going to go fucking insane.

So, on the fifth day, Ben banged down her door, ready to demand she fucking tell him who to kill to fix this.

He found her curled in her bed, staring far ahead into nothing. Something hit his nose that he forced himself to ignore, and she didn’t even move as he pushed into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked gruffly. She didn’t answer, so he said her name roughly. “What’s fucking wrong with you?”

“Why did you do it?” Her voice was light—frail—as she stared ahead.

“Do fucking what?”

She finally looked at him. “Why did you go back, with Sage, why did you fucking do that?”

“I saved your life, Sunshine. And you never even fucking thanked me.” Ben knew his words were cruel, shooting to hurt Her. But maybe she’d fucking fight him. Fucking do something that wasn’t just fucking sitting there.

“You should’ve left me.” She whispered, Ben rolled his eyes, and her voice raised. Not to a scream, but a high-pitched, frantic tone of desperation. “You should’ve! You should’ve left me and run! You could’ve been free, why did you do that! Why! You should’ve just fucking left me!”

This was worse, Ben knew. So much fucking worse. “Why are you being so fucking dramatic-“

“You should’ve left me to die!” She screamed. “You should’ve just left me to die! Why didn’t you just let me fucking die?!”

Ben stared at Her as she started to cry, shaking on the bed, trying to push herself further back into its frame. She’d tucked her head into her arms, sobs wracking through her whole body as she held herself, fingers digging into her skin. No smoke was rising, no tapping or chewing, just Her tears falling as she let out another, broken scream. Ben was frozen, he didn’t know how to fucking deal with this. Fuck, he barely knew how to deal with Her when she wasn’t breaking down in front of him.

Through sobs, Ben heard Her say it again. “It would be better if you had just let me die.”

Ben didn’t need the thing in his chest to tell him to move. He crossed the room in two long steps, dropping on the bed next Her.

“Look at me.” She didn’t, so Ben grabbed her wrists and pulled them down. “Sunshine, fucking look at me.”

She glanced down at where he still held her and blinked, letting out a stuttered breath. Her voice was still so weak when she spoke, “What?”

“Fucking look at me.” He growled one last time, and she finally did, her eyes still so empty. “You’re being fucking stupid.”

She gaped at him, disbelief finally filling her expression. It wasn’t the amusement or rage Ben wanted back, but it was something.

“What?’

“You’re being a goddamn idiot. Things would…” The words vomited out of him. “Be a lot fucking worse if you were dead.”

She shook her head, the hopeless looking creeping back. “I killed four people, they’d still be alive-“

"Maybe.” Ben grunted. “Maybe not. But they, along with a few more, would still be dead if you hadn’t knocked me down. Which was even fucking stupider than you’re being now, but we’ll fix that later.”

“Fix that?” She gave him a sharp look, words still choked. “I thought we agreed not to fix each other.”

“You agreed not to fix me. I made no such fucking promises.”

There was a silence for a second before She spoke again. “I don’t want you to ‘fix me’. I want to care that I…” Her stuttered, and she took another shaky breath before pushing them out. “I hurt people.”

“That’s to job, Sunshine.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I didn’t even want the job anyway.”

Ben watched her, wrists still in his hands, face faraway, and eyes still lined with tears. An image flashed in front of him, of Her a few years younger, singing karaoke and crying about stupid, normal shit. Something Ben himself had never done, something Ben wouldn’t even know how to miss. The image lingered in his head, her smile carefree, singing loudly and off-key, no blood on her hands, and the thing in his chest was angry.

“Ben?” She said softly, and the image vanished. “I’m sorry.”

He scowled. “Why are you fucking apologizing to me?”

“You don’t want to deal with this, with me. It’s not- it’s not useful to cry over spilled milk-“

“Shut up,” he snapped. “No, it’s not useful. For me. For Butcher. For Homelander. You get to whine over it, because-“

“Because I’m a woman?” She asked dryly, and he glared at her.

“No, smartass. Because you’re not like us. You didn’t fucking choose this.”

“You didn’t choose that,” she nodded to his chest. “Do you get to cry?”

“I don’t cry.” He said firmly, and She tilted her head at him in a way he didn’t like. “But I get to be angry. You get to be angry. And if you need to have a little breakdown to be angry, then so fucking be it.”

“But I killed people-“

Ben rolled his eyes. “Three Homelander supporters and Firecracker. Real fucking contributors to society, I’m sure.”

“They were still people.” She pushed. “People who I killed. People who would be alive-”

“If you say ‘if you were dead’, I’ll kill you myself.” Ben snapped.

She stared at him in disbelief and something harsher flickered in Her eyes. Fucking finally.

“I’d like to see you fucking try, Pretty Boy.”

He huffed a laugh. “I’ll wipe the floor with your ass, Sunshine.”

“I’ll make you regret crawling out of your mother in the first place, cunt.” She taunted, and Ben felt a wide grin on his face.

“I’m sure you will, you bitch.” Ben gave her a sweeping look. Her matted hair, tear crusted and red eyes, the smell he’d been pushing down starting to feel fucking visible. “But you need to fucking shower first, you smell like the shit you’ve been wallowing in.”

She glared at him, and for a second Ben thought she’d keep fighting him, or worse, start crying again, but she just gave a light tug against where he still held her.

“Can’t fucking shower if you won’t let me move, Ben.” She said flatly, and Ben rolled his eyes as he let go.

“Fucking drama queen,” he muttered, and She gave him a sarcastic, toothy smile as she stood.

“Eat me.”

“I would if you’d let me, Sunshine.” He called after Her, and though she closed the door with a slam, Ben still heard her heart flutter.

He waited as the water ran and tried not to think about Her, naked, in just the other room. Tried not to think about the relief the thing in his chest had felt when she’d stopped crying, the satisfaction it felt when he’d gotten her to laugh, and the stupid fucking anger it had felt at everything when she’d broken in front of him. He didn’t let himself dwell on the way it made him sit here. Fucking waiting for her like a lost goddamn puppy. Wanting to make sure she was okay. She was fine, she wasn’t sobbing and screaming, so she was fucking fine.

But what if She’s not, you fucking ass? The thing growled. What if she’s just waiting for you to leave?

Ben fucking hated that it worked, and he stayed on the bed.

What if She needs you? It hissed. What if she wants you to stay?

Ben loathed that even more. Because it echoed in his brain, and made him listen intently for any sounds of distress over the water, made him sit rigid and alert until the door opened.

She walked out, a towel wrapped around her body. She blinked at him once, and Ben couldn’t fucking figure out if she was even surprised he was there.

“Clothes,” she mumbled, walking to her dresser. Ben grunted, and watched her return to the bathroom, the door closing behind her once more.

Maybe he should go now. It was late, it had been a weird, long fucking day. He should fucking go and put some distance between the thing in his stupid fucking chest and Her-

The door opened, and She walked over to drop back on the bed, a small smile on her face.

“You’re real shit at comforting people, Pretty Boy.”

Fine. He’d fucking stay.

“Good.” Ben grunted. “And it fucking worked on you. Didn’t even get a damn ‘thank you.’”

He felt Her hand on his arm, and looked at her face, soft and open. “Thank you.”

He grunted again, staring back at the wall, and she chuckled.

“I mean, it was still a shit job, but it was so shit it looped around into being remarkably effective.”

“Doesn’t count as a damn thank you, Sunshine, if you fucking insult me right after.”

She shrugged. “Then do a better fucking job next time, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorted. “Don’t hold your damn breath.” She didn’t respond, and he turned to find Her watching him, lips in a thin frown with her brow gently wrinkled. “I can hear the fucking gears in your head, Sunshine.” He said. “Say what you’re fucking thinking.”

“I’m going to ask you something once. If your answer is no, you’re not allowed to talk about it again.”

Ben frowned. Every time she started a question with a phrase like that, it ended up being something fucking insane. “Okay.” He said shortly, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“If you want, you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to-“

“Quit fucking edging and spit it out.”

She glared at him. “You can stay in here tonight.”

Ben stared at Her, the thing in his chest clawing against him. “What?”

“You can sit in my bed. If you want. I know you won’t sleep, and I won’t sleep well, and I’d probably end up sitting in your room at some point-“

“Why?” Ben cut off Her rambling, frowning.

She held his gaze, her uneven heart the only sign of her nerves. “I don’t-“ she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone. You’d just be sitting here, nothing else. But if you don’t-“

“Fine.” He answered, and the thing in his chest roared.

“Oh,” she paused, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure She’d expected him to say no. “Okay. Good.”

She pulled herself under the covers, looking up at Ben from her back. He didn’t like what that made him feel, and how easy it would be to just pull Her against him and keep her there.

“Thank you.” She said with a small smile. “No insults."

“Whatever,” Ben grumbled, leaning back in a pointless attempt to find a comfortable position. “Just saving you the fucking walk to my room.”

“You’re a saint,” she mumbled sarcastically, eyes drooping. “I’m sure this must have been very hard for you.”

“I’ll live.” He said, watching Her. “I need you functional, Sunshine. Small, stupid fucking price to pay.”

“You need me?” She breathed out, a sleepy smile on her face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “You burn, I burn.” He echoed the words she'd said before. “I’m not going to let you fucking burn. You don’t get away from me that easy.”

“How sweet.” She whispered, eyes fully closing. “I won’t let you burn either, Pretty Boy.”

Ben wanted to protest, and tell Her that he wasn’t sweet, just practical, and he—despite the protests of the thing in his chest—didn’t need her at all. But Her breathing became steady and even, fast asleep in seconds at his side, and he couldn’t fucking bring himself to wake her. So Ben just studied Her sleeping face, not empty, not twisted in pain, a soft smile playing on her lips. He should fucking go, She was asleep and that’s all She’d fucking needed from him. But he stayed in place, and watcher Her like a fucking creep. Her peaceful face, smooth heartbeat, and gentle breaths soothing the thing in his chest. Ben need to get himself under fucking control, he was being fucking pathetic.

But he stayed, all fucking night, unable to move and barely capable of looking away. And the more of the night that passed, the long he watched Her, the more he realized she was pretty. Really fucking pretty. He hadn’t been fucking blind, he’d known she was pretty before. Thought about it more than he’d ever fucking admit. But fuck, this was different. She was really, really goddamn pretty. And then She rolled over, settling so she was comfortably pressed against him, and he realized she was beautiful. Like one of those stupid, overpriced paintings art-pussies in the 70s had tried to sell him. But real. Fucking beautiful, in a way that made him unable to look away, that made him feel fucking stupid.

Beautiful in a way that made him stay at Her side the whole night, frozen on her bed with her body against him, all the way until the sun started to leak into the room.

[saturdaysky]

been playing Baldur's Gate 3 lately and having a blast running a little gnome warlock named Mayhew! he gets into shenanigans on the reg, some of which i intend to draw. like so:

a few sessions ago, there were these cool masks lying unattended on a table in Auntie Ethel's teahouse lair. just sitting there, waiting to be worn! i am not one to pass up an opportunity.

now you might say, "sky, wearing masks a hag left for you to find sounds like a terrible idea" but actually it turned out great

naturally i am blaming it on an in-character decision and not the fact that i press buttons first and ask questions later. poor Mayhew, really earning that low WIS score 😔 maybe he'll learn restraint one day

sketch and chatter under the cut!

The sketch! It came to me as a complete idea, more or less.

I am very into moments where a character's will is suborned and they turn on their friends. "Light them up, pretty" moments, to be Caleb Widogastian about it. So, it was a very interesting experience to have this decision backfire so spectacularly! I've been playing Mayhew as someone who will take risky gambles for power -- after all, he's already made several dumb gambles that paid off; that's why he's a warlock.

When I beat Ethel, the game actually handed the conversation to Lae'zel, not Mayhew. I like to think that was because the entire party decided his judgement couldn't be trusted. This was smart of them because right after that he drank one of the hag's potions ("it says parasite! maybe it gives me powers") and permanently debuffed himself to 7 strength. 😎 only the best decisions are made in the saturdaysky household

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 9

a/n: So excited to get this one out to you guys! I hope you enjoy it 😁Thank you again to @cloverstayy for the beautiful graphic 🩵 she's amazing and is on insta & tiktok under the same name.

edit 1/22/24 - I have changed a few things around, this was previously chapter 7, but will now be chapter 9. Stay with me people!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween and Hallways

It’s now approaching the end of your first month at the SKZ house. Hyunjin still has not pressured you to move further, but you have continued to explore each others bodies more. Whenever you’re with him, kissing and cuddling in bed, you both allow your hands to roam freely across each other. He’s made it clear that you have control of the reins with him. You enjoy the power—getting both yourself and Hyunjin worked up, kissing, touching, fondling, just to back off. Maybe Chan’s sadism is rubbing off on you a bit. 

Speaking of Chan, your nights with him since offering your submission are always like rolling a 20 sided die. You might be teased, you might get fucked, he might be sweet, but more often he’s rough. He does seem to make some kind of effort to not come off as a dick, however there is definitely still a wall between you two. You feel more comfortable conversing with him, though it’s usually just small talk and nothing remotely deep. 

Lee Know’s birthday passes on Wednesday, October 25th and everyone celebrates with dinner, drinks and dessert. You and Allie helped Felix bake him a chocolate cake (they wouldn’t let you add arsenic, which was a bummer).

It’s now Saturday, October 28th—the day of the Halloween party. The morning of is spent with everyone moving throughout the house making sure their appointed tasks are complete. As evening approaches, your excitement for the event grows—everyone has kept their final costume reveals a secret and you can’t wait to see what they have all come up with. 

Your main goal is to have a good time and possibly, finally have sex with Hyunjin. But, oh, sweet girl, you have no clue what the night has in store for you. 

6:00pm

All of the decorations and finishing touches have been put in place. There are spiderwebs and bats strewn across the ceiling in the living room, a couple skeletons are seated at the dining room table that’s surrounded by floating candles, severed hands and feet rest on surfaces throughout the home, spiders of various sizes adorn the walls, and there’s even an animatronic Pennywise in the in the guest bathroom guaranteed to scare people shitless, but, hopefully not literally as that will just be a nightmare to clean. 

6:30pm

The kegs arrive and are carted off to the basement and backyard. You’re setting up the snack table, putting out the orange and black paper cups, plates, and napkins when you hear a commotion coming down the stairs. 

“This is stupid,” the familiar voice of Lee Know grumbles and you immediately smile.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress,” says Changbin.

Two weeks ago you challenged Changbin and Lee Know in beer pong—winner got to choose the others Halloween costume. You had Hyunjin on your team and came out victorious.

“I don’t look that bad,” comes the voice of Seungmin. 

Seungmin you challenged in a game of pool, same stakes. You’re shit at it, but he sank the 8 ball early and thus, you had all of them right where you wanted.

You turn around to face the stairs as they finish making their way down and bring your hand to your mouth to cover your laugh. They really committed…and their assignees had obviously helped put their looks together, from the makeup to the faux cleavage.

“The Sanderson sisters have come to SKZ house,” Han announces, pointing and laughing at the trio.

Changbin is dressed as Mary—eyebrows drawn on pencil thin, lips crooked and painted red, with a black wig shaped like a witch’s hat. Seungmin is Sarah—thick, dark eyebrows and eye makeup and a long, blonde wig. And the beautiful Lee Know is Winifred—copious amounts of blush on his cheeks, red lipstick only on the middle part of his lips, red wig and, of course, the look wouldn’t be complete without the trademark buck teeth. 

“BoooOOOOOoook,” he wails as he enters the living room and everyone fucking loses it. 

7:00pm 

You finally have a chance to shower and get changed into your costume. It took you a while to decide on what you would be, but Hyunjin suggested an idea to play off what Chan is going as and you went along with it. 

With your dress, corset, fishnets, calf-high combat boots in place and make up complete, you make your way back downstairs. The regular lights have all been turned off so the house has a darker feel to it, but there are various purple, red, and orange lights throughout to compliment the decorations and mood. 

Hyunjin is sitting on the couch and offers you a look of appreciation when he sees you. You can only giggle at his costume. He’s half-assed it, for sure, but he still looks adorable. He’s wearing his regular clothing and has a headband on with pink ears, a pink bow tie, and a pink pigs nose covering his own. He turns around to show you the squiggly tail hanging near his butt. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

“You look way better,” he says, pulling you close and lifting his pig nose to kiss you on the lips. 

You look around the living room and survey everyone’s costumes. Han is dressed as Jack Sparrow, Felix looks like a man being taken by an inflatable alien and Allie is dressed as an agent from ‘Men In Black’. Jeongin is Woody from Toy Story and Charlotte is Jesse, they’re adorable. Rhiannon has decided to play along with Seungmin and Changbin as the Sanderson sisters and dressed as Binx, wearing all black with cat ears and whiskers, she even popped in some yellow cat eye contacts. 

You don’t see Chan though and you’ve been dying to know what he’s put together. You excuse yourself from the room and check for him in the kitchen, but he’s not there either so you make your way to the basement. 

It’s dark there as well, but lights have been added to each step to prevent anyone from falling. The lighting in the room is purple and a projector casts various Halloween themed images against the walls in slow, spinning rotation. 

Chan and Changbin have their back to you as they struggle to get the dry ice machine working. 

“Need any help?” You ask, and they turn to look at you over their shoulder. 

Changbin’s eyebrows raise at the sight of you, followed by a nod and thumbs up thrown in your direction before he turns his attention back to the machine. 

Chan turns around to face you, smirking as he takes in your costume. The first thing you notice on him is the amount of skin showing on his upper body and the slash-like wounds that have been added to it. You look from his bare navel up to his eyes and arch an eyebrow. It’s definitely not what you had expected but holy fuck does the sight of him make you want to let him do despicable things to you.

In his ears he has one silver stud earring and the the other is shaped like a fang. On his upper half he’s wearing a furry, grey vest that has a hood with a realistic wolf’s head attached to it. On his lower half he has on a pair of black boots and low hanging, ripped black jeans with black Supreme boxers peeking above the top. His hands are covered in grey, furry gloves with nothing but his finger tips out. 

“Little red, eh?” He asks, looking you up and down. 

Your costume consists of a dress that is white at the top (frilly and off the shoulders) then turns red near your hips accompanied by a black bustier that’s squeezing your insides together and pushing up your breasts. A red cloak is also draped around your shoulders, tied in a delicate bow across your clavicle. The fishnets and combat boots add a sexy, grungy feel to the look.

You pinch the sides of your dress between your thumb and forefinger, extend your right foot back and curtsy.

9:30pm

You hate to admit that Seungmin was right. Actually, you would never admit that. However, telling people the party began at 7:30 ensured they actually started showing up around 8:30. Everyone is now scattered throughout the first floor, basement and backyard.

You start the night off with a shot to calm your nerves from being in the house full of so many people. You also can’t help but feel like a hostess, wanting to make sure the snacks and drinks are never empty. You make sure the best costume voting station has pens and paper. You refill bowls of chips. Changbin follows behind you as you refill the drink dispensers to slip more alcohol into it. You eye him carefully and shoo him away from the one dispenser clearly labeled as non-alcoholic. Not everybody wants to get shitfaced tonight. 

When you’re not playing hostess, you float around from room to room. With all the housemates here, you always have someone to wander off and talk to, which is comforting. You spend some time cheering Lee Know and Allie on as they reign over the beer pong table. You listen as Jeongin engages in a conversation with a group of girls, talking about needing models for an upcoming project. He has his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist as he addresses them, and she looks so out of her element, but leans onto him for support.

As far as you’ve seen, the boys really live up to the rule about not sleeping with anyone else outside of the house. Jeongin could probably pull any one of those girls in that circle, but he’s making it clear he has someone and is not interested. 

Felix really did put himself in charge of the music and made a master playlist that’s blaring throughout the main floor. You spend some time with him in the living room, watching the people mingle and dance. Later you join Seungmin and Rhiannon in the backyard, sitting around the fire pit with a couple of others.

11:30pm

The house is fucking packed. With the music so loud, people’s conversations sound more like shouting matches. You take another shot with Hyunjin and snack on some of the Halloween-themed food that was catered. There are several giant, soft pretzels shaped like spiders, stuffed peppers that look like Jack-O-Lanterns, witch hat shaped calzones, white chocolate covered strawberries that look like ghosts, cheese wrapped with prosciutto and a green olive in the center to make it look like an eyeball. You’re delighted with the selections you and the girls made. 

Eventually, you duck off from a conversation with Han (who, after two drinks is taking his role as Jack Sparrow a little too seriously), to head to the bathroom on the second floor. You bypass the yellow caution tape blocking upstairs to let everyone know it’s off limits, and head up. It’s dark and the lighting has been changed to red, making it feel extremely eerie. 

Once in the bathroom, you quickly relieve your bladder and wash your hands. When you’re done, you stay inside for a bit longer than necessary, just needing a moment of silence. You can still hear the music bumping and people chattering, but it feels calmer in here. You lean against the counter, check your makeup and adjust your costume. The corset is tight around your chest—but it does look good. You bounce, tipsy enough to giggle at the sight of your boobs jiggling in the mirror. 

There’s a knock at the door that snatches the laugh right out of you. 

“Yes?” You call out, wondering who it could be. The girls would have walked right in, but no one else should be up here. 

There’s no response, so you open the door, ready to tell off whoever it is. 

“Second floor is off—“

The first thing you see is a wolf’s snout. 

“What are you doing?” You ask Chan, shutting the light off to the bathroom. You place a hand on his chest and force him backwards into the hallway.

You move to drop your hand from his chest, but his fur clad hand stops you, keeping it in place. 

“Just making sure nobody else was up here,” he shrugs. 

He places his other hand on your waist and pulls you to him. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, looking up at him skeptically. “Did you find anyone?”

“This costume,” he switches gears and releases your wrist, not allowing you time to call him on his bullshit. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he’s not drunk.

His eyes trail down to your cleavage. He brings a hand up to trace lines back and forth across the top of your breasts with his finger.

“So you did wanna play dress up with me?” 

Your eyes drop to his fingers touching you. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes.

“It was Hyunjin’s idea,” you reply.

“Oh?” He cocks his head to the side. “Those are two different wolves though—from the three pigs and little red.”

“And?” You counter.

His hand slides up from your breasts to your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. You are slowly growing accustom to the feel of this. You were shocked the first time he did it—there must have been an intense look of panic on your face because he eased up his grip and assured you he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s odd to think you trust him more sexually than in your everyday life, but he’s shown you enough when fucking you to let you know it’s all meant to be pleasurable in some way—sometimes for both of you, sometimes just for one of you. 

“You guys never clarified what wolf I am,” he says.

His hand drops from your neck to yank down the fabric and reveal one of your breasts. You look down the hall, a look of shock plastered to your face, but there’s no one in sight. He doesn’t seem like he would care, even if there was. When your eyes meet with his again, he’s staring right back at you. Daring you to protest.

He pushes the wolf head off and it falls to his back. His dark, curly hair is stuck to his forehead after having it on for so long. You lean back instinctively as he lowers his head to take your nipple in his mouth and let out a surprised gasp. 

“Chan,” you say, gripping his bare waist. 

He swirls his tongue around your nipple and bites it, eliciting another gasp from you. He releases your nipple and stands up straight, cupping your breast as he makes a declaration you’ll never forget.

“I wanna be Red’s wolf.”

No smirk, no smile…it doesn’t feel like he’s joking or teasing you. Does he mean it?

Your hand shoots up to his neck lightning fast, pulling him down and crashing your lips to his. He spins you both around so your back is now against the wall as he kisses you. You roll your body, pressing your hips against his as his tongue clashes with yours. 

He leans back for a moment, biting his furry glove with his hand to pull it off so his hand can feel you completely. When his lips are on yours again, his other hand takes hold of your neck once more, squeezing it as you slip your tongue in his mouth and he sucks it in further.

With his now glove free hand, he lowers it to rub at your fishnet covered thighs. His hand inches higher beneath the hem of the dress until it’s right between your legs. But then he freezes.

He breaks the kiss, still gripping your neck. His thumb rests on one side, pointer finger directly on your chin, and the other three are on the opposite side. He pushes your head up, pressing your head to the wall as you both catch your breath.

“Is shark week over yet?” He asks, cupping your pussy. 

You start to repeat the phrase back to him, but chuckle as the realization hits you. The last three days you had been with him you were nearing the end of ‘shark week’ as he just called it. He had kept his distance, for the most part, aside from an impromptu morning blowjob before he trotted off to class on Tuesday. 

“Yes,” you breathe in response. 

His thumb and pointer finger squeeze your jaw, lowering your head and allowing him to recapture your lips. He resumes moving his other hand, hooking two fingers between the fishnets and the side of your underwear. He sucks on your bottom lip as his fingers rub your pussy, feeling how wet you are. He groans into your mouth as his fingers circle between your lips.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, Red,” he says, breaking the kiss once again.

He withdraws his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, popping them right inside and sucking your juices off. You watch him through lustful eyes, loving how fond he is of your taste. He’s not even remotely communicative with you but in these small moments you share, you understand all you need.  

He pulls his other glove off and tosses it aside before dropping to his knees in front of you and bringing both hands to where the fishnets are at your crotch, poised to rip them apart. 

“Chan!” You yell, grabbing his wrists. “I’ve only gotten to wear this for three hours, the party isn’t even over yet.”

“So?” He says, breaking his wrists free of your hands with ease. 

“So, relax.” You say, taking hold of his wrists again. “And wait.”

He drops his hands and sits back on his heels, looking up at you. With only the red light illuminating the hallway, his gaze feels ravenous. Perhaps he does not like you telling him what to do. You second guess your word choice…maybe you should have added a please in there. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as his continued silence makes you anxious. 

When his hands move back to your thighs, you don’t even try to stop him this time. Resisting is futile. You always give in to the pleasure. They slide up beneath the hem of the dress again, but instead of ripping them, he respectfully finds the waistband of the fishnets. His eyes never leave yours as he hooks his finger inside them and slowly pulls them down, dragging your underwear with it. 

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. So maybe he disregarded the part about waiting, but he did at least grant your request to not rip them. He has a smug look on his face, seeing your reaction. You avert your gaze down the hall, wanting to check that the coast is clear but also wanting to keep him from seeing how much of an affect a small act of kindness from him makes you feel. 

The hallway is still empty. 

You look back to Chan and pull your dress up and out of the way. He uses one hand to keep the fishnets and underwear pulled down as the other guides your leg over his shoulder. And as soon as he leans forward, taking your pussy in his mouth, you know you wouldn’t fucking care if the entire party walked up here right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you roll your hips, pushing your pussy against his face so he can properly devour you. The music downstairs is muffled, but still mostly drowns out the sound of him slurping you up. He replaces his mouth with his fingers, playing in your wetness. He uses his thumb to rub circles around your clit as you grip his hair with your free hand. 

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, pressing his thumb against you harder, watching your hips move in response. He slips his fingers inside of you and swaps his thumb and mouth again. 

Your eyes snap open at his words and your hand forces his face against your pussy even more. You had already declared you belong to him the first time he fucked you. Hearing him say it, hearing him claim you drives you wild. 

His fingers pump in and out of you rapidly as his tongue licks up and down your pussy. You put your head back against the wall, moaning at all the feelings. His fingers inside of you, his mouth on you, being in the hallway where anyone could come up and see you. But most of all, being his. 

“Please, Chan,” you say, feeling so fucking turned on you think you might burst.

He detaches his mouth and stands up, causing your leg to fall from his shoulder, and reclaims your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips as his fingers keep thrusting into you. His other hand finds it way back to your neck, squeezing it harder than before. 

“Please what?” He asks, lips pressed against yours.

You keep your eyes on his as your hips fuck his fingers back, whimpering. You reach your hands between you, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing the zipper down. You slip a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grip his cock, feeling how hard he is.

“I need you,” you force out with his hand still around your neck and he grins. 

He knows how he makes you feel and he loves it. Seeing you desperate and needy, begging him to fuck you. 

Before he has a chance to, you see someone step onto the landing from the corner for your eye. The thought of being caught and the reality of it are two very different things. 

Chan reacts so quickly, turning to shield you, lowering his hand from you neck to pull your dress up and cover your breasts. You drop your dress and pull your fishnets and underwear back up. You peek over his shoulder to see who’s come up.

It’s Han. 

He sees you two, but he doesn’t say anything. He opens the door and walks into his room, but a moment later his head pops back out, adorned with his pirates hat and he throws a grin in your direction. You flip him the middle finger and he disappears fully into his room.

You press your head to Chan’s chest. Maybe he does care about people seeing you exposed and he just talks a big game. You don’t want to ask, though. He might just take it as a challenge. 

You lean your head back to look up at him and he chuckles, wrapping his hand around your back and pressing your hips against his. You can still feel the bulge of his cock.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” you say, taking a step away from him as you come back to your right state of mind. You need to clear your head—maybe get another drink, maybe get some fresh air. 

“Will you stay with me Sunday?” He asks suddenly, pulling his zipper back up.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, nor ask you to stay with him. You had yet to spend a Sunday with him. In all honestly, you didn’t think he cared much for you to be there. But maybe he’s only asking since he didn’t get to fuck you during the week and feels like he needs to make up for lost time or something. 

“Maybe,” you reply.

Sunday is your day. It would mean a lot, to you, for you to choose to stay with him. What would it mean to him? 

He buttons his pants as you pick up his discarded gloves from the ground and hold them out to him. 

“Maybe?” He repeats skeptically, eyeing you as he accepts the gloves with one hand. 

His other hand—the one that had been inside you—he brings to his lips and sucks his first three fingers into his mouth one by one. He’s silent as he puts the gloves back on, mulling over your answer. 

“Okay,” he finally says. 

“Okay?” You repeat him this time. 

The dark look in his eyes makes you feel as though it’s not okay.

“Sure,” his tone is now sickly sweet and you find it unnerving. “I’ll be back down in a sec.”

12:15am 

The keg in the basement has been tapped already. Changbin and Chan work to move the one from the backyard down there with the help of a few other guys. It looks like a disaster waiting to happen and you don’t want to watch. You spot one of your friends that you stayed with after the breakup hanging in the kitchen and talk with her for a bit. You let her know you’re fine and have found a place to stay—sparing the specifics, of course. 

1:00am 

All the housemates and a good majority of the guests crowd around the living room as Felix MC’s, to hand out best costume awards. Much to your chagrin, Changbin, Lee Know and Seungmin win best group. Some guy dressed as Elton John in his bedazzled LA Dodger outfit wins most like the original. A girl with a literal UFO floating above her head and lights streaming down wins most creative. Sexiest female goes to a girl dressed as a skimpy Mario. Sexiest male costume goes to none other than Chan—he celebrates by taking two shots back to back. You’re close enough to notice a small dribble that’s trickled down to his abdomen and you’re tempted to get on your knees and lick it off in front of everyone.

After the prizes—gift cards and alcohol—are handed out, the crowd disburses throughout the house. You stay in the living room with Hyunjin and Felix as Felix gets the music going again. 

Hyunjin wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to his side as Despacito plays. He’s smiling down at you with glossy eyes and you can tell he’s definitely had a couple cups of the Changbin-spiked punch.

“Dance with me,” he says.

“Hell no,” you spit back, shaking your head. “I’m not anywhere near drunk enough for that.”

“Well, drink up,” he says, moving your hand with the cup to your mouth. 

You take a large gulp but still shake your head again. He takes the cup from you and finishes it off, sitting it on the table next to Felix. You protest as he pulls you to the middle of the living room where others are dancing. You’re struck with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face as he dances around you. He moves freely and easily to the beat, tongue caught between his teeth with a smile. He stops behind you and puts his hands on your hips, moving you from side to side with him. 

He spins you in a circle, then brings you back against him, rocking his hips backwards and forwards to the music, guiding yours in sync with his, holding you firmly to him. You want to feel mortified, but you’re smiling and laughing. You’re enjoying yourself. As you always do with him. He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling your back flush against his chest and kisses your neck.

“Y/n?” You hear your name called and as your eyes snap up to the person who said it your smile immediately drops.

Your ex. 

Hyunjin still has his arms around your shoulder, holding you against him, but he stops moving and looks up at your mood killer too. 

“Who’s that?” He asks.

“My ex,” you tell him. He straightens up, but doesn’t remove his arms from you. 

Your ex walks closer to you, not even glancing at Hyunjin behind you.

“Can we talk?” He asks. 

1:45am

You’re hesitant. You don’t walk to speak to him, not now when you’re having such a good time.  You also don’t want to cause a scene, though.

You tap Hyunjin’s arm around your shoulder and he releases you. You gesture for you ex to follow you and lead him through the kitchen to the backyard. There are people out here too, but it’s not as crowded. You fan yourself when you hit the fresh air—you hadn’t realized how hot it had gotten inside with all the people, combined with the alcohol and dancing. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in an accusatory manner. 

“Nothing?” You respond, not sure what he means. 

“I saw you a few weeks ago with one guy, now you’re dancing up on some other dude?”

“You keep asking these questions as if you’re entitled to answers,” you snap at him. “You wanted to break up with me. You wanted to see other people. You don’t get to say shit about what I do.” You step closer to him and jab your finger into his chest each time you say ‘you’. 

“Is this where you’re living now, then?”

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Listen, I think closure would be good here…but this is not the way.”

“I told you I wasn’t looking for closure.”

You let out a wry laugh.

“I’m not going to sit around waiting for you, if that’s what you’re wanting. I’m single. I’ll do whatever and whomever I want.”

His jaw clenches as he glares at you. 

“And I have no intention of ever being with you again.” You add. “So, either leave me alone and enjoy yourself at the party or get the fuck out if that’s too hard for you to do.”

You throw your hands up at him and shake your head before opening the sliding glass door and walking back into the house. He follows you inside, grabbing you by the arm to stop you before you reach the living room. You turn to face him, snatching your arm back. 

“So you give me shit about wanting to see other people, but now you’re living in a house with these frat bros?” He arches an eyebrow.

You shrug. He becomes more annoyed at your response. 

“You’re fucking them aren’t you?” He spits, stepping closer to you, leaning down so you can hear him over the loud music. He grabs you by the arm again, dragging you to him.

You put a hand on his chest and struggle to push him away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You’re certain the music is still blaring, but it suddenly feels extremely quiet.

“You’re fucking all eight of these squinty-eyed motherfu—“

Your fist connecting with his jaw cuts him off. You don’t know what’s come over you to react in such a physical way, but you’d be damned if you let him finish that sentence. 

The next few moments happen in a blur.

He yanks you closer, seething, as he opens his mouth to say more disprectful shit. But someone wraps their arm around your waist and pulls you away from him and at the same time, someone else shoves your ex. Then Chan is standing between you and him, facing your ex. You can’t clearly hear what he’s saying over the music and the erratic beating of your heart, but they look to be exchanging some heated words. Your ex looks furious with Chan in his face, acting like the literal big, bad wolf. 

You look back to see who’s grabbed you—it’s Seungmin. He’s holding you close, but his eyes are locked on Chan, waiting to see if he needs to get involved. 

Hyunjin and Felix come into the dining room amidst the commotion. He walks behind your ex and places a hand on his shoulder. Your ex shoves his hand off, says one last remark to Chan then storms out of the room. Hyunjin follows behind him to make sure he leaves. Felix puts a hand on Chan’s chest to keep him from following. He forces Chan to look him in the eye to hear whatever he’s saying. 

Changbin storms in, coming from the basement a little too late, but still looking ready for a confrontation. All while dressed as Mary Sanderson. The sight sends you into an immediate fit of laughter. 

The partygoers go back to their own conversation as Changbin approaches you, Chan, Felix and Seungmin. 

“Why didn’t you ride your vacuum?” Seungmin says to him. “You would have gotten here sooner.”

“He’s lucky I was late,” he huffs. 

Chan turns away from Felix to face you and Seungmin releases you from his grasp.

“You okay?” Chan asks, softly. 

“I’m fine,” you tell him, wiping at a stray tear as you regain your composure.  

Chan lifts your chin up with a finger so you’re looking him in the eyes, possibly wanting to make sure the tears are from laughing. 

You nod your head, reassuring him. 

“Nice job, slugger,” Seungmin says, ruffling the top of your hair. You swat him away and wince as your hand comes in contact with his arm. He laughs at your pain. “I’ll get some ice.”

He disappears behind you towards the fridge. 

Chan gently takes your hand in his and brings it up for inspection as you weakly wiggle your fingers. 

“Can you make a fist?”

You squeeze your hand together the best you can but it becomes painful before you can make a complete fist. 

You hear Chan take a deep breath. He closes his eyes, hand still holding yours. 

“Tell me I shouldn’t go after him,” his eyes snap back open and they are brimming with rage. 

“Don’t,” you plead. 

“I wouldn’t lose,” he says, rubbing his thumb across your fingers. He’s here, physically, in front of you, but it seems like his mind is already out the door. 

“He’s not worth it,” you shake your head. 

He readjusts the wolf on his head and nods, as if trying to convince himself you’re right. 

“Go to Seungmin, put some ice on it.”

He lets go of your hand and heads for the basement with Changbin.

3:30am 

You’ve apologized profusely to the members and the other assignees, hoping the altercation with your ex hadn’t put a damper on the night. They assure you it’s alright—they all seem more concerned that you’re okay, and it makes you feel warm and cared for.

The house has mostly emptied, Seungmin and Jeongin are getting the last few stragglers out. Changbin and Hyunjin are supposed to be helping clean but Changbin, drunk off his spiked punch, is cradling Hyunjin’s face in his hands and loudly alternating between calling him the cutest piglet he’s ever seen and asking him to ‘oink’. Hyunjin is cackling, trying to squirm away from his touch, but he’s no match for Changbin’s strength.

Chan, Jeongin and Han come up from the basement and shut the light off behind them. 

“Everyone’s clear from down there,” Han says, removing his pirate hat.

Chan has his arm around Jeongin’s neck as Jeongin supports his stumbling steps. 

“…and that’s why you’re my baby,” Chan is saying to Jeongin.

“Okay, hyung, okay. I’m your baby forever,” Jeongin is smiling widely, amused.

He must not get to see their chapter president like this often. 

You’ve never seen him like this. 

“Y/n,” he says with a smile when his eyes fall on you.

He shakes free of Jeongin and walks to you.

“What did you do to him down there?” You ask.

“We had to keep him from going after that guy—he’s at least responsible enough to not drive drunk,” Han tells you. 

His words give you some pause. You would never want to condone any further violence, but…had Chan been ready and willing to fight over you? 

Chan hugs you from behind, head hanging over your shoulder.

“You should probably take him upstairs,” Felix says, taking the stack of paper plates you’ve amassed and tossing them into the trash bag he’s holding. 

You step to the side and drape Chan’s arm around your neck, holding on to it with one hand as the other holds him by the waist. 

He lets you walk him up the stairs, giggling to himself as he concentrates on taking one step after the other. 

“Do not fucking fall. I’m telling you right now I can’t save you,” you warn him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles again, putting his other hand on the rail to grip as he walks.

Once in his room, finally, you ease him onto his bed and he immediately splays out flat on his back. You kneel on the bed to get his costume off and he lets you remove his gloves, and vest without putting up a fight. However, when you get off the bed to place them on the dresser, he protests

“Come here with me,” he whines. 

“You need to sleep it off, Chan.” You tell him, softly.

“No,” he pouts, sitting up on the bed, swaying. He looks like he’s concentrating every fiber of his being on holding steady. “Come here.” 

There’s more demand to his voice the second time. You sigh and walk towards the bed.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

He mimics your sigh.

“Like you hate me or something. Don’t hate me,” he turns to look at you with sad eyes and pout once again firmly in place on his lips. 

“I don’t hate you,” you tell him truthfully, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you sit next to him on the bed. “You’re just always so hot and cold with me. I don’t know how to be or feel when I’m around you. I’m in a perpetual state of conflicting confusion with you.”

You choose to be honest with him about your emotions. You do want him to know how it feels, but you also wonder if he’ll even remember any of this tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning to the side to rest his head on your shoulders. “I have to be this way, y/n.”

You furrow your brow at his response. Why on earth would he have to be this way to you? You shake him off of you and he sits back up on his own, leaving his head hanging. 

“Why, Chan?” You ask angrily. He doesn’t budge. “Chan. Look at me!”

Your sharp tone of voice causes his head to snap up.

“Why?” You ask again, softer this time. 

“It’s just easier this way…I don’t think I cou—“ he starts but trails off and shakes head, unable to finish.

“Chan, please,” you plead with him. “How is this easier? Easier than what?”

He shrugs and places his head in his hand. A silence falls over the room as you wait to see if he will respond. He doesn’t, and it angers you. 

“Why would you choose me,” you start slowly, “if you’re so determined to treat me like an object you own when everyone else in this house can be both friends and lovers, fuck buddies, whatever the hell you want to call it with their assignee. Why is it so fucking hard for you?”

“I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else,” he says, words muffled by his hands.

You sigh. Again. You’re desperate to know what he means, to get some kind of clue about why he keeps you at arms length. Why he wants your full submission but refuses to let you get closer to him. You wish he were sober. It's even more frustrating that even when he’s drunk, he’s not spilling out helpful information. It’s the most of an explanation you’ve ever gotten out of him, though, but talking to him like these feels useless. He’s too heavily guarded. 

He looks up again and turns to face you.

“Stay with me tonight?” 

What is he trying to do to you? It’s the second time tonight he’s asked you to stay with him. And the way he looks right now, annoyingly adorable, you want nothing more than to grant his wish. But it’s infuriating to think that this isn’t the real him. Or if it is, why the fuck can’t sober Chan be the same? If you give in to him like this, after he’s explained nothing yet expects everything from you, you will lose even more of yourself. 

You find logical ways to justify your shared intimacy and lack of anything else, telling yourself that it’s part of the gig as an in-house stay. But what happens if you start to choose him and his behavior doesn’t change? Will you become upset if he continues to treat you the same?

“It’s Saturday,” you say finally, standing from the bed. 

He pouts again.

“It’s Sunday, actually.” He corrects you. 

He stands, taking a moment to catch his balance. He reaches for your hand and brings you towards him. He rubs his finger over the back of your knuckles. The pain from the punch earlier had mostly subsided after icing it.

You think back to Chan’s actions in the kitchen, how he immediately sprung to your defense. It’s as if he wants to be the only one who can get away with mistreating you. 

“We’ll just sleep. Stay with me.” He asks again, bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. Your stomach flutters at the sight. 

“No,” you say defiantly, shaking your head. “That’s not how it works.”

“It works how we decide it works,” he counters, placing his hands on your hips and looking down at you. 

“No, Chan…not like this.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, dropping his hands from you. 

He turns away from you and walks towards the corner of the room—to your bed. He grabs your pillow and hugs it to his chest as he walks back to his bed. 

He’s acting like the cutest fucking brat you’ve ever seen and yet you still want to slap his face. How had his parents put up with this? Maybe shipping him off to the states for school had been in their best interest. He would have been a handful, and spoiled rotten. You can almost guarantee it.

He climbs into his bed, holding your pillow as he gets comfortable. You stand watching him. You want to go to him. You want to curl up behind him, to hold him. To share a bed with him for the first time. But you can’t keep setting yourself up for failure. If you do that tonight, what happens tomorrow? He won’t treat you any different and you’ll be upset you let yourself fall for it. 

“Goodnight, Chan,” you say, turning for the door. 

He grunts in response as you turn the light off and exit the room.

On your way downstairs, you stop to listen and see if anyone is still cleaning in the kitchen but it’s dead quiet so you continue to Hyunjin’s room. You make it back to the room and see he’s already knocked out. You contemplate waking him up but decide against it. Any mood you had for fooling around is gone. 

You rid yourself of your costume piece by piece and climb into bed with Hyunjin in just your underwear and a shirt. His body adjusts to your presence, as it always does, and you snuggle in to him. What started as a promising night that could have ended with some fun—with either Hyunjin or Chan—turned out to be quite the opposite.

[ read chapter 10 here ]

a/n: I am struggling so much to keep Chan in check. I want him to just give in an be the bestest boy ever, but then it'll be a rush and the story will end sooner. So, let's ride this out together.

taglist: @iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604

[cheolhub]

WORTH THE WAIT — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. mingyu forgets about the date you’ve had planned and he wants to show you he’s sorry in a rather unconventional way.

wc. 1.8k

warning. unprotected sex, couch sex, dumbification, lots of apologizing, big d!ck!gyu (ofc), kinda angsty but it’s all resolved, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. this idea was sent by my beloved 🌵 anon… like…. literal months ago lol— it was a drabble at first, then it got a bit too long, so enjoy it xx [not proofread, kinda shitty]

contrary to belief, kim mingyu does have a few faults. he can be a bit clumsy and he’ll accidentally eat your leftovers every time he’s over, but the biggest fault of them all is… he can be a bit forgetful.

so when mingyu accidentally double books hanging out with wonwoo on the same night as your date, you find yourself dolled up and waiting around your apartment for him, unaware of his whereabouts. you hadn’t seen him much due to your conflicting schedules and you’d been looking forward to the date all week long.

you wait and wait— 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour. you text him a few times, but you don’t get a response and you figure he’s at work, asleep, or doing something else. whatever the case may be, he definitely forgot.

mingyu doesn’t realize this until he’s checking his phone for the first time of the hectic game night and he sees a string of text messages from you.

from you 6:33 

i can’t wait to see u!! :,)

from you 7:07

hi babyyy, text me when you’re here and i’ll come down

from you 7:39

gyu are you still coming?

if you wanna reschedule, we can… just text me back and let me know?

from you 8:02

i checked ur location to make sure u weren’t dead and i saw you were at woo’s

i’m just gonna assume ur with him, which is fine :) pls just let me know next time.

shit.

shit shit shit.

regardless of what you say, it’s not fine— he can practically hear your dejected voice through the text and the smiley face doesn’t do shit to mask it. 

he’s quick to tell wonwoo and make his way to your place, insides churning at the thought of you feeling stood up. he would never, in a million years, ever want to hurt you in any way.

he doesn’t text he’s here, he doesn’t knock, he just takes the spare key hidden under your placemat and lets himself in. 

you’re curled up on the couch in your date outfit watching some random show before you jolt at the sound of your door being unlocked. when mingyu walks in, panic on his face, you deflate a bit, internally thanking the universe that it was just him and not some intruder.

“baby…” 

you try to put a smile on as if he isn’t the last person you wanted to see at the moment, but mingyu sees through it. 

“hi, gyu.” you say curtly. “hope you had fun at wonwoo’s tonight.”

the subtle shade proves you’re upset, even if you had said it unconsciously. his lips turn down in a frown and he walks around the couch so he’s posted right in front of you.

“Y/N, you have to believe me— i’m so sorry. i got the days—“

you cut him off with a sigh, “gyu, seriously. it’s fine. it’s not that big of a deal. we can just do something the next time you’re free.” 

he doesn’t even know when next time will be given his rather strenuous schedule and you know that, yet those words come out of your mouth anyway. he huffs softly and takes a seat next to you, intertwining your hands into his.

“baby, please,” he whispers. “you know i would never stand you up on purpose. i lost my mind and got the days mixed up– please let me make it up to you.”

you shrug, avoiding eye contact. you want to stay mad, but the way he’s looking at you… the way he’s holding your hands… it’s making it impossible not to melt into a helpless puddle. “how?” you ask meekly.

he doesn’t say anything, letting go of your hands in favor of cupping your cheek and pulling you in. his soft lips meet yours and you practically forget why you’re angry to begin with. his tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth and your soft moan eases his nerves a bit. 

he pulls back, leaving you warm and fuzzy and a bit needy for more of him. he finally takes you in when his eyes open. you’re still in a pretty little outfit– presumably, one you’d picked out for your date– and it makes him groan a little bit. 

“you look so pretty, baby. you wore this all for me?”

you nod your head slowly. “i was really excited to show you…”

he frowns, “i know, i’m sorry… i’m so, so sorry,” he mumbles and you don’t say anymore, simply nodding your head at his apology. his lips are on yours again, rougher this time. it’s like he’s trying to prove just how sorry he is with every passing second. 

and when he breaks the kiss again, you whine. “gyu…”

“wanna take this off. can i?” he asks, referring to your dress and you just nod again. 

his hands find the hem, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in your even prettier set. the black lace adorns your body and mingyu feels his pants tighten at the mere sight. 

he’s breathless when the pet name falls from his lips, “baby…”

he’s so glad you didn’t change, but he feels like such an idiot for fucking up this bad. he wishes he checked his phone earlier, he wishes he remembered your date was tonight, he wishes he could’ve taken you out in your gorgeous dress and brought you back home to see the even more gorgeous set underneath. 

but he’ll make up for it. he’ll spend all the time in the world doing so if he needs to.

he stands to his feet pulling his shorts off and revealing his aching cock. you bite your lip and slide down so your back and head are comfortably on the cushion of your couch, eyes trained on his huge length.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, rolling them down your legs and leaving your now-wet cunt bare. 

“so beautiful… so fuckin’ beautiful angel, can… can i keep going?”

you whimper and wordlessly nod again, brain unable to give him a verbal response. he grunts, joining you back on the couch by getting in between your legs. 

“tell me when…” he whispers, aligning himself with your hole before pressing his fat cock into you. “fuck, so tight…”

the burning stretch of your walls opening to take him makes your head spin a bit. no matter how many times he fucks you, it always hurts.

at first, at least, because now he’s balls deep in your pulsing cunt and all you can feel is blinding pleasure. the burn and stretch have subsided and your brain has turned to complete and utter mush. 

you clench around him tightly and he has to ask, “are you good, baby?”

you dumbly nod– it’s all you can do– but mingyu can’t help but feel more anxiety fill his body. you’ve barely said any words to him and it makes him worry that you won’t forgive him. 

you moan when his cock leaves just for it to suddenly fill you back up with a single, sharp thrust. this is how it starts before he’s moving faster and faster. 

words still fail to leave your mouth, just cute gasps and clipped moans, but mingyu can’t seem to stop breathy apologies from leaving his own. “‘m sorry… you know that right, angel? ‘m so sorry.”

and your eyes just roll back, ignoring his apologies as you’re all consumed by his massive cock fucking in and out of you. mindless babbles escape your lips and it’s not till then does mingyu realize how brainless you’ve become. 

it makes his heart clench. you’ve never gotten like this for him before and he knows it’s a result of being left to your own devices for far too long. he knows he hasn’t been there for you, knows you haven’t been able to cum properly in god knows how long and it hurts him. it hurts him so fucking bad.

and, to be transparent, he’s missed you more than you know.

his hand finds your abdomen, pressing down so he can feel himself thrusting into you. in doing so, his thumb reaches your clit and this seems to bring some life to you. “gyu!” you cry. “feels s’good!”

he lets out an elated chuckle at the sound of your voice, “yeah? it feels good, angel?”

and it’s almost like you read his mind with your next words. “s-so good, m-missed you.” 

a guttural groan erupts in his throat and he starts to fuck you harder– to fuck you deeper– and the thumb on your clit moves quicker, effectively stimulating the swollen bud. “me too– fuck, missed you so much. missed fucking this pretty pussy so much, baby, you don’t even know.”

your face pinches together in pleasure and you clamp his dick harder at the affirmation. “i-i’m–” you let out a gaspy whine and mingyu knows exactly what it means.

“gonna cum?” he finishes your broken sentence. 

you nod eagerly, eyebrows knit together as you feel the formed knot in your tummy get tighter and tighter. “gyu–”

he shushes, thrusts growing erratic. his voice is hot and breathy and you can tell, just by the sound of it, he’s just as close as you are. “just cum for me, baby– need you to let go ‘n cum all over my cock. you can do it.” 

you cry, body going taut as you cream all over him, pussy trapping him between your pulsing, velvet walls. mindlessly, you babble out some words that he can barely make out, but the second he hears those three words– i love you, said in your cute, pitchy voice– his worries wash away. 

he’s overcome by love and the feeling of you gripping him for dear life and the only thing he can do is press his hips flush against yours and fill you up the way he knows you need. his cum paints your walls, fulfilling the craving you didn’t even know you had. 

“god,” he moans, panting out, cock still twitching between your spasming walls. “please forgive me, angel. i promise i’ll be better ‘n make more time for you”

part of your mind finds its way back to you after a few seconds and you can’t help but giggle at his words. “i forgave you after you kissed me, babe.”

he smiles, large hands caressing your body, “really?”

you hum, hazy eyes taking him in, “mmh, you’re really hard to be mad at, you know that, right?”

“good ‘cus i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“well, then don’t do stupid things.”

he whines, “baby, you know that’s impossible for me, stupidity is practically in my dna.”

you giggle at the joke. “i know… but… i won’t be so nice to you next time you decided to hang out with wonwoo instead of taking me out.”

“you can be as mean to me as you want, baby, but i swear, i’ll never stand you up ever again.”

“good.” you smile back at him. “now… maybe you can prove how sorry you are again? in my bed this time?”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers. 

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus. 

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you. 

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question. 

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway. 

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly. 

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you. 

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.” 

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate. 

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?” 

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with. 

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid- 

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before. 

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up. 

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared. 

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something. 

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.” 

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness. 

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.” 

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen? 

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different. 

He really needed a cigarette right about now. 

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him. 

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched. 

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing. 

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat. 

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen. 

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay. 

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town. 

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag. 

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy. 

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much. 

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right? 

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in. 

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.” 

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked. 

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed. 

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!” 

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room. 

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.” 

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm. 

“And what plans would that be?” he asked. 

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. 

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet. 

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.” 

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food. 

“Friend’s house.” 

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin. 

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before. 

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.” 

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character. 

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do. 

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out. 

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response. 

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star. 

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him. 

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you. 

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.   

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog. 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled. 

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?” 

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.” 

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally. 

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked. 

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before. 

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher. 

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige. 

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape. 

Then you started laughing. A lot. 

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question. 

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down. 

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table. 

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting? 

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked. 

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.” 

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!” 

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!” 

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it. 

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot. 

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway. 

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?” 

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered. 

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern. 

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.” 

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?” 

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected. 

“And green.”

“And green.” 

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months. 

“What’s real to you?” 

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that. 

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it. 

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.” 

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?” 

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.” 

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again. 

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded. 

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?” 

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Extremely.” 

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent. 

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this. 

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.” 

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day. 

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”  

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first. 

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back. 

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

[mattscoquette]

𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬/𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 - 𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉..a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor

cursing, very very slight mentions of a panic attack, mentions of kissing, mentions of drinking

3.2k words

introduction 1 2 3 4 6 7

addilyn richardson,

had been absolutely grinding out this science project. she and matt had been working together a little more than a week, and were currently five days away from its due date. not only did they have to create the marble run, but they had to also complete a five page packet along with it, and present their project together in front of the class. addilyn was sitting across from matt, hunched over her worksheet as matt glued pieces of the project together.

“it’s getting kind of late, addy, why don’t we pick up tomorrow?” matt suggested to her. she looked up at him with tired eyes. since that one weird night the previous week, matt had starting acting nicer. at first it started with matt inviting addilyn out to lunch after the hockey game. then he started saying hi to her in science. the absolute cherry on top was when he offered her a ride yesterday morning.

addilyn walked outside, instantly being met with the brisk morning air. boston winters were hardcore, and the heavy wind was only making it worse. wrapping her coat around her frame tighter, addilyn braced herself for the walk up the block to wait for the bus. she walked down the driveway, stopping when she heard her name being called. she looked up as matt walked over to her. he was bundled up in a north face jacket, a pink tint across his cheeks and nose as he shivered.

“it’s too cold for you to walk addy, let me give you a ride.” that was the first time he called her addy. at first, he wouldn’t even call her by her name, only saying things like “tell her to do this” to his brothers if they were around. if they weren’t, then he’d call her addilyn, saying it always with an annoyed tone. but today he called her by her nickname, and it made her heart skip a beat. he offered her a soft smile and she returned it, nodding quickly. she climbed into the back seat next to nick, chatting with him the whole way to school.

she looked over at the clock the sat above the stove. it was 9:45, but she was determined to get more of this assignment done. she only lived next door, after all, and she needed to make sure they got a perfect score on their project. “i’m okay matt, i think i just need a quick break.”

he nodded, offering her a water, and let her excuse herself to go into nick’s room. nick was sat atop his bed, scrolling on his phone when she walked in.

“hey girl,” he smiled at her, “how’s it going out there?”

“okay, i think.” she yawned, stretching her arms and legs out. they’d been working since they got home from school, only taking a short break a few hours ago when chris came barging into the kitchen, asking matt to drive him to get food. “i’m a little tired, though.”

“yeah it’s late, you leaving soon?” nick asked.

addilyn shrugged. “we still have more we need to do. i’m okay going home a little late. the walk isn’t far.”

nick laughed. “why don’t you come sit? we can take a break and watch a quick episode of rupaul or something.”

the tired girl nodded, sitting down next to nick. he got up momentarily to switch off his overhead lights, turning on the soft fairy lights above his bed instead. he climbed back into his bed next to addilyn, turning on the t.v. at a low volume. the change in ambiance of nick’s bedroom made addilyn all-the-more tired, and she rested his head onto his shoulder.

resting my eyes for five minutes won’t hurt, right? she thought as she closed her eyes.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

both addilyn and nick jolted awake about an hour later to the sound of matt pounding on the door. he’d gone on his phone when addilyn was in nick’s room, not noticing how much time had gone by until chris came down to say goodnight.

addilyn sat up, shaking nick to also get up, and walked over to the door to let matt in. she took in the sight in front of her. his hair was messy, as per usual, and he’d switched out his pair of blue jeans from earlier to a pair of red and black plaid pajama pants. he wore a grey hoodie with his school’s logo on the front, a number 4 on the side of his sleeve underneath his last name. he looked good. “sorry,” he apologized quickly, realizing how loud his knocking was.

“what time is it?” they both heard nick call out from the bed, sitting up to turn off the show they fell asleep watching.

“almost 11:30,” matt replied, looking at nick. he turned back to addilyn “i packed all your stuff up, i didn’t think you’d wanna get back to work.”

she smiled, thanking him for the gesture, as she felt a knot in her stomach. she’d been feeling that a lot around matt lately and she didn’t know why. maybe it was because he was acting nice. or maybe it’s because in the week she’s spent with him, she’d realized she was maybe starting to catch feelings.

it was a monday night, and addilyn was over at matt’s to work on the project. he was wearing a navy blue hoodie that made his eyes look even more blue, and he was currently laughing at an anecdote addilyn was telling him. she smiled brightly at him, laughing along with the boy.

he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, immediately breaking out into laughter again as he looked up and met her eyes.

his laugh is so cute, she thought. she looked down at her lap away from matt, trying to push her thoughts into the back of her head.

“you’re really funny, addilyn,” matt told her softly, wiping tears from his eyes. she looked over to him to find him already staring at her.

she looked at his face, trying to read it. she wasn’t the type to normally confuse niceness with having a crush on someone, but something with matt felt different. when nick or chris talked to her, she didn’t get dizzy when they would smile at her, or accidentally brush hands. but she felt it all with matt.

“what are you looking at?” he smiled, leaning forward across the table slightly as his eyes flicked between both of hers. she could’ve sworn he glanced at her lips.

addilyn was feeling bold. “you.” she replied.

he shook his head, smiling softly, and then leaning back against his chair. “we should get back to work.”

“addy,” nick said from his bed, breaking addilyn away from her thoughts. she blinked up at matt as he smiled down at her.

there’s that feeling again.

“do you wanna spend the night? i know you only live next door but i feel bad making you walk back over so late.” nick asked her, walking over to where she was.

“are you sure?” she breathed, “i feel bad.”

“don’t,” nick replied, “i have pajama bottoms and a hoodie you can wear. it’s no problem really.” he smiled kindly at her. she broke her gaze away from matt, looking to nick.

“okay,” she nodded, “i’ll let my mom know.”

addilyn turned back to look at matt. “i’ll go get you your backpack and stuff,” he told her softly, “wait here.”

“i got it, don’t worry.” she told him, brushing past him in the door way as he looked at her go. she heard footsteps trailing behind her. she turned around to find matt following her into the kitchen.

“i need to get my stuff too.” he told her. she nodded softly, trying to keep her cool and act normal.

they made their way to the table, matt collecting all of his belonging he left out on the table. addilyn’s notes and books were all packed away neatly in her bag, which matt had left on the chair for her. she offered to help matt clean, but he just smiled at her.

“i can do it, you go to bed, you worked too hard today.” he laughed, handing her bag to her. his fingers brushed against hers, lingering there for just a second. she felt her cheeks heat up as she took the bag. she looked down at her feet, knowing for sure her face was a bright crimson color. suddenly the room in the air felt thick, and she became hyper aware of matt’s presence in front of her. was he standing this close the entire time? she looked up at him, to find him already looking at her.

“goodnight matt.” she whispered, afraid if she spoke any louder it would break the atmosphere around them. he was standing so close to her, she wondered if he was able to hear her heart beating out of her chest. a smile ghosted across his face, and for half of a second addilyn thought he would lean down and kiss her.

he didn’t, though, only softly replying “goodnight addy.”

she turned on her heel, making her way back into nicks room quickly. she found a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms and a large hoodie folded neatly on nick’s bed, where he was sat. “you can go change in the bathroom, i left a spare toothbrush in there for you too.”

she thanked him, collecting the clothes and walking into the bathroom. she changed quickly, then paused to look at herself in the mirror as she began brushing her teeth. did matt even like her, or was he only acting this way because she was friends with his brothers? that had to have been the reason. there was no way he felt the same about her. but she couldn't help but think about the way he was looking at her in the kitchen, and how his hand lingered over hers. she sighed, turning off the water and going back into nick’s room. he was already under the blankets, lights off, and scrolling on his phone. he turned it off, turning to face her as addilyn got into the bed.

“our first sleepover,” nick sang, “this is so fun!”

addilyn laughed, making herself comfortable. she loved being friends with nick. they’d only been hanging out for less than two weeks, but they both connected so easily with one another. they both understood one another, and enjoyed the company of each other. nick loved having someone other than his brothers or his teammates to talk to, and addilyn just loved having someone to talk to. “i know.”

despite how tired the girl was when she entered the room, the two teenagers were suddenly wide awake, talking about anything and everything with one another.

“if you had to fight any animal with your bare hands, what would you fight?” nick asked, staring at the ceiling.

“what?” addilyn laughed, looking over at him.

the later and later it got, the more and more they opened up. it was currently 1:30 in the morning, and they were both deep in conversation about nick’s coming out.

“i can’t believe i thought i liked my friend when it was really her boyfriend i liked.” nick told her.

addilyn shook her head. “yeah, that’s kinda crazy.”

“have you ever liked one of your friends?” nick asked, sitting up slightly. she looked up at him, thinking.

she hadn’t had many friends her whole life. she had a couple close people that she’d talk to in class, but never close enough to ever hang out with or talk to outside of school. the only people she talked to outside of school were nick and chris. her mind suddenly went to matt. “i don’t think i have.”

“really?” nick asked her in disbelief. “you’ve never thought someone you hung out with was cute or anything?”

matt.

“no.”

“addy, come on, there’s no way.” nick sighed, laying back down.

“well, maybe.” she felt her voice trail off. she couldn’t tell nick. she wasn’t even sure for herself if she liked matt or if she was just confused. he and chris were the closest thing addilyn had to real friends, and she didn’t want to throw it all away by telling nick she caught feelings for his brother.

“oh my god, tell me!” nick whisper-shouted in excitement, sitting back up again. addilyn laughed and shook her head.

“okay, okay, let me guess.” nick offered, thinking about the boys in the classes they shared together. “david, from art?” addilyn shook her had no.

“liam?” he tried again. she shook her head once more. nick named just about every boy in their class, even began to name random people addilyn didn’t even know that well.

“do i know him?” nick asked.

“yeah,” she breathed quietly.

nick looked at her inquisitively. “it’s not chris, is it?”

“no, no way.” addilyn shook her head. “he’s just my friend, i promise.”

nick looked at her once more, as if he looked hard enough he'd be able to read her mind. he paused, silence falling over the both of them.

his eyes went wide. “matt?”

addilyn stayed quiet. she opened her mouth, then closed it. she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

“addy,” nick said, “do you like matt?”

“i don’t know.” she whispered, turning away from him. he sat up to meet her eyes. “maybe.” he gave her a look once more. “yes.”

she braced herself for the anger. the disappointment. something. but nick just smiled at her. “that’s so exciting!”

she looked at him dumbfounded. “what?”

“i’m serious,” nick started, “you’re so fun to be around, there’s no way he doesn’t like you back. i’ve noticed he’s been acting nicer to you.”

addilyn continued looking at nick like he was crazy. “there’s no way.” she laughed, pulling the covers over herself. “i’m tired, nick, i’m going to bed.”

he laughed, wishing her a goodnight, assuring her once again he didn’t care if she liked his brother, and that he was happy for her. soon after, she heard his soft snores, singling he was asleep. addilyn, however, continued to lay awake, thinking about what she told nick. she couldn’t believe herself, normally she would keep her feelings in, but something in her was off. she wasn’t even sure why she liked matt so much. she barely even knew him, and he didn’t start acting nice to her until a week into their project. it was a small crush, it meant nothing. it wasn’t worth risking her friendship for. she suddenly felt her chest tighten and the instant feeling like she couldn’t breathe. she closed her eyes as the air around her grew thick.

you’re fine. she told herself. nick isn’t mad. you can tell him tomorrow you were kidding. everything will be normal again after the project is done.

she glanced over at nick, making sure he was asleep before she slipped out of bed. she couldn’t lay in her friend's room any longer knowing matt was only down the hall. she softly tore a piece of paper, writing nick a quick note, praying he wouldn’t wake in the middle of the night, and would only see it when he woke up in the morning.

went home to shower and change before school, see you in art!

<3 addy

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

matthew sturniolo,

slept for maybe three hours that night. he couldn’t sleep in his room knowing addilyn was only down the hall. he kept replaying the way their hands brushed as he gave her the backpack earlier.

he felt his fingers lightly graze hers as he passed her the bag. he let them linger for a moment, hoping she wouldn’t notice. she looked down at her feet quickly, taking the bag from matt. their bodies were nearly pressed up against one another. all he wanted was for her to look at him. as if she read his mind, she looked up with a shy smile across her crimson red face. he so badly wanted to close the small gap between them and smash his lips against hers. he didn’t though, only whispering a soft goodnight as he watch her go into nicks room.

he hadn’t stopped thinking of her since his dream. he was obsessed with everything she did. the way she’d twirl her pencil between her pointer and thumb, or the way her brows furrowed as she read. he kept trying to distract himself as he thought about her.

matt had known who she was for a long time, despite addilyn being an “always in the background” kind of person. but the second she stepped foot in his kitchen that day she came over for dinner with her family, he knew it was over.

matt was in the kitchen with chris and nick, arguing about something dumb when she got there. he opened his mouth to say something back to chris, when nick nudged him altering him they had company. matt looked up at addilyn as she stood shyly in the kitchen. chris walked over to introduce himself as matt just started at her. she wore a white cotton dress that hugged her in all the right places, and beat up white chuck taylor’s. matt knew exactly who she was, but he didn’t remember her always looking this pretty.

“i’m chris,” his brother said, sticking out his hand.

she replied to him so softly matt barely heard her. “addilyn.” her voice sounded like honey. matt just looked at her again, before deciding to open his mouth and say “i can’t hear her.”

as matt laid in bed, he stared out his window into her empty bedroom thinking about why he was so mean to her. maybe it was because he liked her the whole time and didn’t want to admit it. sure, she was beautiful, but she wasn’t the kind of girl matt would typically go for. that’s why he was so attracted to her. she was so unlike anyone he’d been with. any girl he’s ever met at a party had been the same. they all seemed to have had the same lives, matt would listen to them talk, then he would tell about himself. that he’s a triplet and he plays hockey and lacrosse with his brothers. that he’s lived in boston his whole life and he loved the outdoors. and that’s how it went every time.

addilyn was different. she didn’t care he was popular, or that he played sports. she was just her normal, quiet, typical self. she wasn’t throwing herself at him, and matt saw her as somewhat unattainable. matt often mistook his attraction to her for a disliking. he felt so guilty about it, but he thought if he was mean, she’d leave him alone and wouldn’t try to get with him. he mentally cursed himself for acting the way he does. if she was already out of his reach, why would he try to drive her even further away?

but that dream he had fucked him up bad. every night since then, he’s thought about it. how soft her hands felt in his, how delicate her voice spoke. how good she kissed him. he wondered if she’d ever kissed a boy before. he secretly hoped she hadn’t, he wanted to be her first. he’d be gentle with her, not rushing her into anything. he’s kissed girls before, but it was always drunk at some party. he never actually liked the girls he kissed, he just wanted them in the moment. and when the moment was over, he went back to his friends and did whatever he was doing before. but addilyn was different, he wanted to kiss her anywhere he could, not just while he was drinking at some random's party.

the light in addilyn’s room turned on, snapping matt out of his daydream. he saw her walk into her room wearing nicks pajamas, walking over to her blinds to close them. he was confused why she walked home, but let it slip his mind. although he knew she couldn’t see him that well, he pretended to sleep anyway knowing she would look into his room. had he not closed his eyes, he would’ve seen the lingering look addilyn gave into his room before she closed her blinds.

© mattscoquette

𝐚/𝐧: thank u so so much for 170 followers <333 the fact u guys r liking this series warms my heart so much bc i was SO nervous to post. this story only has two parts left after this :( that being said, my reqs are open if anyone wants to leave anything b/c i'm not planning on writing anymore stories atm so i have more time to write little oneshots or hcs or whatever, just lmk! as always if anyone wants to join my taglist pls lmk and i hope u all enjoy:)

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[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 7 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: I’m back baby! Thank you guys for waiting <3

W/C: 4.611

part six

"I won't look. Don't trust me at all, do you?" I mutter to Amira after taking my top off, grabbing the shirt she's handing me with my eyes closed.

"You'll like it. It's a part of my surprise." She sighs, helping me pull the shirt down my body without my makeup getting on the collar.

"Can I look now?" I ask, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Yeah, turn around."

I turn, looking in the mirror. I stay quiet for a moment, then gasp in surprise.

"What? An England kit? Why are you making me betray Spain?" I attempt to joke, looking at her.

"Like you didn't live here for so many years." She scoffs, pushing me.

"I'm just kidding. Why the kit, though?" I ask, fixing the material in the mirror.

"Ta da!" She exclaims, I look back at her, frowning in confusion when she starts waving two keycards in my face. My hands fly to take one and I read it quickly.

"No, way! You got tickets for the England vs. Australia friendly?"

"Yeah, got them a couple days ago." She replies, and I eye her suspiciously.

"Oh- mister Trent got them for you? Guess he really likes you." I tease, watching her become more and more flustered.

"Shut up- he gave them to show his appreciation."

"Yeah, you want to believe that? You'll be upgraded to wag in a few weeks, trust." I add, laughing at her annoyed expression.

"Aren't you and Jude a thing?" She accuses, putting on her own kit. Finally, she grabs her handbag and car keys off her desk.

I register her words a little too late, but my head whips around in disgust.

"Over my dead body."

"You both were cute last time." She mumbles, both of us walking up to her parked car.

"Absolutely not." I state firmly, immediately connecting my phone to the car.

"Oh, how the tables have turned.." She whispers, but I hear her clearly. I send her a glare, though my glare gets even more intense when she pulls out her strawberry and mango-flavored vape.

"Put that thing away, now!"

"I just realized how different watching a game feels when I'm not working." I say, admiring the full Wembley Stadium. We had finally arrived at our seats, and the view was perfect. Looking around, I do recognize some people, realizing this was probably the family section.

"Turn that working brain of yours off and enjoy. Look, it's starting!" Amira nags, wrapping her arm around mine in excitement.

I chuckle at her, deciding to just enjoy the match. Watching both England's and Australia's teams move around the pitch. Halftime comes around and ends quickly, making way for an opportunity for England. Grealish kicks the ball against the post, missing a chance and making us cringe, but we burst into cheers when Watkins manages to try again and scores.

The match ends with a 1-0 for England. When the whistle is blown, we sit down again. We'd stood up near full time, anticipating a last-minute goal from Australia. It was a friendly, we knew that, but making it exciting was so much more fun than just sitting there and watching the game.

"What now? Is your man coming here?" I ask, fixing my shirt and smiling cheekily at Amira.

"He said he will- after freshening up. Let's wait." She tells me, patting my thigh.

"Didn't even deny that he's your man?" I tease, watching her roll her eyes.

We're interrupted a couple minutes later. I hear someone shout her name, watching both Trent and Jude walk over to our seats. Trent greets us in a friendly manner, while Jude stands next to him like he was forced to come up.

I slowly allow Trent and Amira to have a private conversation, and my eyes land on Jude when they walk away to have some more privacy.

"What are you doing here? And what's with the kit?" He asks, arms crossed.

I scoff, mirroring his body language. Looking him up and down. 

"Can't attend a match now? Don't worry, I was over the moon since you weren't playing." I retort, being petty.

I watch him roll his eyes, his expression changing for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates for a moment.

"Who's on your back?"

"What?"

"Your shirt number."

"I don't know- who?" I ask, turning around, confused, when I hear a sudden chuckle.

"Who's on the back?" I ask, trying to see with my phone camera, frowning at his smug face. What the hell was his problem?

I take a picture, turning to face him again as I click on the picture, freezing when I see Jude's last name and number. My expression falters, and I use all my strength to keep my composure.

Amira, you fucking witch..

"Think you're obsessed with me." He whispers, leaning in. I lean back immediately, like he's some highly infectious disease.

"You're sick, Bellingham. It’s just your name, calm down..”

I reply, annoyed at the fact that I couldn't take the shirt off or put my jacket on since I left it in the car.

He goes to say something else, but he's cut off when I hear a familiar voice call out to him. Both of us turning around to see his mom, her eyes lighting up with warmth when she recognizes me.

"Mrs. Bellingham.." I greet, permanent smile plastered on my face when she walks up to us. I notice both her- husband and youngest son behind her. 

How could I not recognize his dad and brother?

This past summer, my entire social media feed was plastered with photos of Jude and his family on their first day. Not to forget the fact that I was literally behind the camera when the pictures were taken.

She pulls me into an embrace, her arms wrapping around me warmly. The musky and orange blossom scent of her perfume greets me, and it smells like the most expensive bottle of YSL 'Libre' I have ever smelled.

"How nice is it to see you here. Are you off due to international break?"

"Yes, I thought I'd come visit family and friends out here..." I trail off, my eyes darting to her husband next to her. She notices the hesitation in my voice and introduces us to each other.

"I’m Mark, nice to meet you. I have heard some good things about you. I've also had some contact with your father on some legal matters over in Spain. Good man he is.." He shakes my hand firmly, a very kind smile on his face.

"Thank you, I hope he's been a great help to your family.."

I immediately switch my speech. Trying to sound totally different from the tone I had used with Jude.

"Oh right, this is our youngest son. Jobe.." Denise begins, pushing her son towards me.

I press my lips together to stifle a chuckle, awkwardly shaking the teenage boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you. Hope you're a better football player than your older brother over here?"

I say, pointing a thumb at Jude. It sounds like a joke, but when I glance at Jude, he's giving me the nastiest look when his parents aren't watching. Jobe has only muttered one or two words, but has probably already been nicer to me than his brother has ever been to me.

Jobe only replies with a small smile, so I look up at his parents.

"You must be proud.."

"Of course, equally proud of our two boys.."

Mark replies, holding his son's shoulders. I chuckle, looking at Denise when she speaks.

"Did you enjoy the game? Must be a change of scenery.."

"Oh- yeah, felt weird not working during a game. It was nice though, I was invited by a friend-"

I trail off, looking around to see Amira, noticing her giggle and chat with Trent a couple seats away.

"But she seems busy.." I laugh, they follow my line of sight and chuckle, nodding in acknowledgment.

"You're also wearing an England kit.." His dad notices, pointing to my shirt.

"Jude's, I presume?" His mom asks, making me nod. I turn, giving them a quick look at the "Bellingham" and number 10 on my back.

I'm wearing their last name on my back, that is really weird, if given some thought..

"A gift too.." I smile, facing them again.

I notice that they all glance at Jude for a moment before Denise speaks up again.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? A small appreciation for helping Jude out with his Spanish and adjusting in Madrid."

Damn, how close did they think we were?

Lovely, very nice of her, but that would be a masterclass in awkwardness.

"That's incredibly kind of you, Mrs Bellingham, but I'm sure you don't get many dinners together as a family. So, I don't want to inconvenience your family. Besides, I've got some dinner reservations with my high school friends.."

Her expression immediately turns into an understanding one. I thank her once again for the invitation, holding her hand to convey my appreciation. Finishing our chat, I grab my bag from my seat, pulling it on my shoulder.

"I've got to go, roads will be busy.."

"Right, why don't you accompany y/n down, son?" Mark says, throwing his son a look.

I dart my eyes to Jude, his expression falters before he nods, listening to his dad.

I quickly bid them farewell, walking down alongside Jude.

"You didn't even jump in to save me once.” I mutter, grabbing my phone out of my handbag. Checking for any messages from Amira. 

Where did this little minx go?

"I was struggling to breathe when my mum invited you for dinner. Kept my mouth shut with difficulty.."

"How helpful.” I scoff, biting my lip in anticipation as we wait in front of Amira's car. The grey Audi A5 easily recognizable next to all the expensive sports cars.

"You can leave, you know.." I break the silence, looking up at Jude, resting my weight against the car door.

The alarm won't go off, right?

"You think my mom is going to be happy when I leave you here alone?" He asks, scrolling through his phone.

I sigh, sending one last threatening text message to Amira before shoving my phone in my pocket. An awkward silence ensues before I break it again.

"So, are you actually going to play next Tuesday against Italy?" I ask, giving him a skeptical look.

"Why? Want to see me play?" He smirks, putting his hand in the pocket of his blue sweatpants.

"Is that a genuine question? Obviously not.." I answer, furrowing my brows.

He scoffs, poking his tongue through his cheek. Looking me up and down.

"Why would I voluntarily come to see you?" I add, widening my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. 

"Your friend will probably come, with the way we're waiting for her and Trent.."

I look around the empty parking lot, was this a camera prank?

What the hell were these two doing anyway?

Speaking of the minx, she finally appears a good ten minutes later. I could've sworn if she didnt have a deep skin tone, she'd probably be as red as a tomato. Because, honey she looked flustered.

I raise my brows at her- disheveled appearance, instinctively giving Jude a knowing look.

Though, my look of scrutiny stops when I realize those two were onto some- freaky shit. Seems like Jude realizes at the same time, because, he too looks away from me.

"I'm leaving.." He quickly blurts, walking away without looking back. I watch his figure disappear, snapped out of my trance when Amira taps me.

"What the fuck? What did you two do?!" I ask, laughing loudly. Sure, I was annoyed that I had to wait for her, but my best friend's happiness was more important.

"Get in the car! I've got to tell you every single detail.."

"What's it called again?" I turn to Amira, asking her about the name of the venue we're supposed to go to.

I had been in London for a couple of days now. From family dinners to meeting up with high school classmates, all of it kept me busy. Everything had been very fun and memorable so far.

Last night, England played their match against Italy for the EURO qualifiers. I couldn't lie, the 3-1 win for England was very satisfying, especially when watching live from Wembley Stadium.

Right now, Amira and I are in the car. Getting driven to the restaurant or bar - Trent had invited us to. A small gathering to close off international break, if you could call it that.

Small or big party, Amira and I had to look our best. For obvious reasons, I am wearing the black mini-dress I had tried on in Amira's office.

"Novikov Restaurant & Bar.." She mutters, touching her lipgloss up while looking at her phone camera.

"You ever been?" I ask, equally fidgety with my appearance.

"Yes, nice place, but we'll probably go clubbing after."

I raise my eyebrows at her, sighing, before leaning against her shoulder.

"Will you keep me from getting drunk?"

"Can't save you, darling.."

Yeah, y/n is an absolutely a goner. Everyone within meters of her is aware of it, though to her, her limit has not even been reached yet.

She throws her head back as she downs another shot of- she doesn't even know. She took and gulped down anything that was handed to her by her best friend.

All she knows is- it burns in the back of her throat- like a fucking bitch. She doesn't even stop to think about why she's doing it, all she's been wanting to do, is take her mind off work and university. The opportunity was presented to her in a shot glass, and who would refuse?

A smart, responsible person, probably...

"Go dance with him.." y/n mutters, wiping the spilled and dribbling alcohol off her chin. Eagerly pushing her friend in Trent's direction.

The football player had invited the both of them for a reason, and to drunk y/n this was a good opportunity to play Cupido.

"No! I want to dance with you." Her friend replies, grabbing y/n's wrist.

"Go! You can dance with me anytime, go now!" She ushers, pushing Amira away with all the strength in her arms.

She giggles to herself when she notices Trent grab Amira's hand, feeling like her mission was partially accomplished.

Though, her happiness is short-lived when she curses herself. Her feet were practically going numb due to the stilettos her stylist bestie had forced her to wear.

To forget the uncomfortable feeling, she decided to get another drink. She clutches onto her handbag, starting to walk- or stumble towards the bartender.

She knew how to have fun on her own, there was no problem in that regard.

"Oh, fuck- sorry.." She slurs, looking up when her forehead collides with a hard chest. She makes immediate eye contact with a completely sober Jude, he raises a questioning brow, taking her disheveled appearance in.

"I take it back.." She loudly says, pushing past him to get to the bar. Loud music drums into her ears, causing her senses to tingle.

She's about to order a drink, but before she has the opportunity to speak, she's rudely interrupted by someone.

"A whisky neat, for the beauty here.." Someone says, she turns her head in a flash. Fucking pissed, a man dared to speak for her and over her.

It's a young man, around her age- slightly older judging from his appearance. His brown hair is slicked back with an estimated ten kilograms of hairgel, along with the tackiest combination of a white button-down and- skinny jeans.

"No, thank you!" y/n replies waving her hand and shouting over the loud music. She blinks a multitude of times, trying to clear her vision and mind.

"What'd ya mean, luv? Not suited to your taste?"

"I'm not interested.." She says, turning away from him and ordering her own drink. Fidgeting with the clasp of her bag and pulling bills out of her wallet.

"Oh, come on. Can't you see how much of a catch I am?" the douchebag insists, pointing up and down his frame.

She rolls her eyes at the words. This time her eyes might stay there permanently because the stranger continues repeating the corniest of words.

"No, thank you.." She repeats, taking a huge gulp of her pink Cosmo, looking away, and continuing to ignore him.

Should she start barking like a rabid dog to scare him off?

"Come on, babygirl... Would it hurt to smile for me?”

She almost chokes on her drink at the words. Eyes hazy and unfocused, one thing she's sure of- this man is about to get a taste of her leather handbag.

"Does it look like I'm interested?!" Her voice isn't loud, though her tone is sharp and full of irritation. She takes a step back, giving him the most repulsed look.

"I like my women feisty and alluring like you.." The guys persist, placing a nasty hand on her hip, a little too close to her backside.

"Get your filthy hand off me.." She demands, the grip on her glass tightening. Her brows furrow and her mood drops tremendously fast.

"Your words are sharp, but your body seems to be enjoying this. Let loose for me, sweetheart. Won’t ya?” His breath reeks of the most pungent alcohol she’s ever smelled, and his hand keeps inching closer to her bottom.

'Oh, fuck no' she thinks, placing the glass on the bar table. Readjusting her grip on her bag.

"Can you fuckin' let go of her?" She hears a loud voice say, Brum accent thick, but it's already too late.

She moves her handbag behind her, creating a good distance for maximum impact, before using all her force to hit the guy square in the face. The contact makes a loud noise, and surprisingly enough, it's detectable over the insanely loud music.

The guy immediately retreats, stumbling a couple steps back in shock. He cradles his head, screams of agony leaving his disgustingly filthy mouth.

"I said no- didn't I? Are you fucking deaf?!" She curses, temperature rising as she breathes in harshly. She can't even register what's happening- but he deserved it and had it coming.

"Let’s go..” A familiar voice exclaims, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the restroom. He pulls her into the unisex section, locking the door behind them.

She struggles against him, her heels tripping and scratching against the floor. The now blood-stained handbag slips out of her hand, dropping to the floor.

"Let me go! You fucking creep! I swear, I'll bite it off!" She shouts, eyes shut tightly, as she hits his rock-hard chest multiple times. Hand squeezed up in a tight fist as she keeps trying to get out of his hold.

"y/n!" He shouts, trying to get her to look at him. He doesn't know the full story of what happened. All he saw was the guy touching her, putting his hands on her, and he was sent flying with a blow to the face.

Jude is impressed, though that's not his main thought or concern when y/n is fighting him as if he's the guy who was bothering her.

She’s drunk, but still recognizes his voice. The way he pronounces her name, not with venom and hatred per usual. No, instead, with the upmost panic and concern. He wants to snap her out of it, back to reality, back to him.

Her eyes snap open, arms held tightly by Jude. His fingers digging into her skin. Both of his hands keeping her up and steady.

"Jude?" She mumbles, looking up at him with the widest eyes imaginable. Her mascara running down her hot and sweaty face. Her favorite lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth.

"It's me, you're good." He replies, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. His voice softens, lowering to a gentle decibel. Unlike the booming and ear-deafening music and conversations outside of the enclosed space they're in.

"Sit.." he gestures, pointing to the restroom countertop. She looks up, blinking repeatedly, she's not thinking of sitting when her mind and thoughts are still hazy and in fight or flight mode.

"Can I lift you up?" Jude suddenly asks, his hands leaving her arms. It sends a surge of extra adrenaline through her body, but she nods absentmindedly, looking away.

Jude takes a deep breath, hands reaching to the back of her thighs. He lifts her up easily, placing her on the countertop. His biceps flex under his sleeves, a frustrated noise leaving his lips.

y/n sniffles, the shock of it all sobering her up a bit. She raises her head, looking up at him. He stands in front of her, practically in between her legs.

He looks away, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and handing it to her.

"Here, wipe your- nose.." He mumbles, watching her. He walks away and grabs her bag off the floor, meticulously wiping the blood away with a dampened paper towel.

"Fucking bastard.." Jude mutters underneath his breath, venom on the tip of his tongue, as anger rushes through his veins. Though, y/n had practically handled it all on her own. Even in her drunk- mess of a state, she’d managed to break the lowlife’s nose and his ego.

The only thing that kept him from running out and breaking the bastard’s limb was the image of him already suffering and withering on the ground. Bloody, broken nose making him look so pathetic and disgusting, like the person he genuinely is.

y/n wipes her nose, eyes wet and irritated. The pounding in her head seems to increase as she struggles to hold her tears back. Although, she’d kept sort of calm in the moment, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could stand up for herself, that was no problem. It was the fact that she wasn’t fully coherent, which made her feel absolute terror in the moment.

All of the mixed emotions and alcohol make the nauseating feeling in her chest and stomach worse. Her eyes flutter for a moment, and she gags, clamping her hand over her mouth.

The noise alerts Jude, it takes him out of his murderous and aggressive thoughts. He looks up, immediately holding his hands out to her.

"Are you going to be sick?" He asks, eyebrows raised. She nods, hand still clasped around her mouth. Her mouth salivates, an imminent sign of needing to puke. It prompts Jude to help her down the countertop, his hands on both of her sides.

When her feet hit the floor, she practically leaps over to the toilet, retching and heaving over the toilet bowl. A warm hand is placed on her nape and forehead, trying to put pressure on those parts to stabilize her.

A choked sob leaves her dry lips, sweat beginning to glisten on her forehead. There was nothing she hated more than throwing up, the way it made her feel weak and out of control was an absolute nightmare to her.

"It's alright.." She hears, the soft whisper reaching her thumping ears. She takes a breath, squeezing her eyes tightly before heaving again. Her body shakes as all fluids leave her stomach, and the pungent smell of stomach acid makes her condition even worse.

It's all a blur, like a foggy fever dream. The only thing she can register are the sweet words reaching her burning ears. Full of reassurance and gentleness while she felt like she was losing her mind in the moment.

I hold back a gasp as my eyes land on the photo on my Instagram feed. I immediately sit up from my chair. My jaw slacks open as I read the caption.

"Jude Bellingham and alleged girlfriend spotted getting cozy after Australia friendly."

"The 20-year-old Madrid star seemed pretty happy to see his name and number on her shirt. The moment was captured by attendees, who provided us with pictures of the athlete's parents and his alleged lover having a seemingly very nice conversation. It seems like Mrs. and Mr. Bellingham approve."

"The identity of the young woman hasn't been revealed or confirmed as of yet. With some speculation about her father having close ties to Real Madrid CF."

I resist the urge to cry my eyes out at the association and immediately stand up from my desk. Practically skipping steps when running down the stairs, almost running into a group of fellow staff members.

My eyes dart around the cafeteria to spot the douche I needed to find. I make a beeline towards him as I watch him interact with the other players.

"I'm sorry, guys. I need him for a quick moment."

I say not waiting for anyone to answer. I grab onto Jude's upper arm and drag him out of the cafeteria. I hear some teasing whistles behind us, but I ignore them as I pull him into one of the small meditation rooms.

"What are you even doing-" he begins, but I cut him off as I shove my phone into his face. Showing him the photos and the caption which will probably keep me up tonight.

"What the fuck is this, huh?" I ask, raising my brows. Analyzing his facial expression as I fold my arms defensively.

I expect him to frown, get angry, get upset, but instead-

He fucking smirks, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. He snatches my phone, fingers tapping to read the comments on the post.

"Really? Is this a laughing matter to you?" I exclaim, ready to have a mental breakdown, while he just continues scrolling through the comments, starting to read them out loud.

"Not his usual type."

"He can do better."

I grunt, snatching my phone out of his hands, annoyed.

"I can play this game too, idiot!" I say, scrolling through the comments as well.

"He must be crazy, she's too pretty for him." I begin, passive aggressively reading positive comments about myself. I look up at him, watching him roll his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pocket.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?" I say, turning my phone off.

"What can I do about it?"

"This is your fault? If you weren't annoying me with your stupid antics, they wouldn't have made these speculations."

"You engaged in my 'stupid antics'!"

"Ugh- just send a cease and desist letter or something!"

"It's an Instagram gossip page, not a damn newspaper!"

I huff in annoyance, pacing around the small room.

"Can't you like- deny rumors?"

"I'm a football player, not a reality TV personality! They speculate about everything in my life already. Why would I deny them this time around?"

"Is that a question you really want an answer to?"

"Come on! What bad does it do you to be tied to me? Only good if you ask me.." He shrugs, and I don't miss the smirk on his face.

"Never mind, I'll ask my dad to handle it!" I say, walking past him to push the door open. I close my eyes in annoyance when it doesn't budge.

"You need to pull.." I hear Jude speak, the smile on his face practically audible from behind me.

"Fuck off.." I mutter seething in anger, pushing the door open and leaving him behind in the meditation room.

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person i’ve ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10

CHAPTER 7

Chapter summary: injuries and jealousy

Chapter notes: thank so much for all the suggestions! already had this written but tweaked to include one. hope you enjoy xx

Smut

As the days and weeks passed it was harder and harder for Lucy to keep this hidden from her teammates. She wasn’t a natural at keeping secrets, and there was only so many ways she could reject Mapi’s relentless offers of another tattooed friend for her to date.

The two right backs called each other nearly every night, knowing it was about to become extremely difficult to hide with Ona going to the Chelsea game and having to spend time with both Lucy and her Spanish teammates afterwards. They had zero clue how they were going to navigate that one.

The game only a few days away, Jana and Salma were in the changing room discussing match tickets in earshot of Lucy.

“So I asked her if she wanted me to get her tickets to the game on Saturday but she said she’s already got some,” Jana continued. “Did you get her them? I need to make sure she’s in the family area so my mum will have someone she knows there.”

The group around Jana all shook their heads.

So Jana turned to the rest of the room, announcing, “did any of you get Ona tickets to the game on Saturday?”

“Not me” chimed out from different parts of the changing room as they all looked at each other.

She was in the family area, but Lucy was going to keep quiet and no one was really looking at her, they wouldn’t think to. Apart from Keira and Alexia but they would have never said anything.

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Alexia suggested.

Jana sighed, “I did, she’s aired my messages, must have lost her phone again.”

Lucy chuckled in her head, knowing full well Ona’s phone was alive and well as they were messaging each other 10 minutes ago.

Jana huffed and stropped out to training.

As the last two out onto the pitch, Alexia matched Lucy’s pace. “She’s sitting in the family area yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool I’ll let Jana know, can’t have her sulking all day,” Alexia said, “you know everyone’s going to find out on Saturday.”

Before Lucy had time to respond, Alexia had jogged off to catch up with Jana.

She knew her captain was probably right, but the barça girls were still more Ona’s friends than Lucy’s. She would wait for the younger girl to be ready to tell them, not putting any pressure on. Lucy could keep her mouth shut.

////

As the Barcelona coach pulled into Stamford Bridge, the day had finally arrived and crowds were starting to build. Lucy looked out the window to see as many “Bronze” shirts as she did Chelsea or other Barça ones, giving her the warmest welcome when she jumped off.

Ona was already at Stamford Bridge, excitement building as she chatted to a lot of familiar faces, mingling with the friends and family of her Spain teammates.

She had been so looking forward to being reunited with Lucy but also to watch her play, never having actually watched her from the stands, she couldn’t wait to fan girl.

The Spaniard loved that she wasn’t the only Lucy fan, with Bronze shirts everywhere! She proudly took photos of any in her eye line. If anything it made Ona feel even luckier to be with her.

Just watching Lucy warm up was adorable, in a world of her own, and then sweetly swinging the arm of her young mascot, Ona was well and truly swooning.

As the game kicked off Ona felt similar rush from watching Lucy play as when roles were reversed a few weeks ago. The number 15 won every duel, was first to each ball, and even made an insane goal line clearance, Ona was in awe. Mesmerised enough that she even felt it lower down, knowing exactly where her hand would be right now if she wasn’t sat next to Jana’s mum.

So transfixed by the game and the girl, she nearly missed what Alexia’s sister was up to a couple rows in front of her. Nearly missed, but not quite.

Scrolling through TikTok, Ona could easily recognise these as Lucy edits, she’d seen most of them before herself. Some were thirstier than others but video after video was just Lucy.

Ona knew that either Sofia had literally searched “Lucy Bronze edits” or her algorithm was just pure Lucy. Whichever was true, Ona’s blood was boiling, completely taking over her as she lost all focus of the game, pissed off that this girl, a beautiful girl at that, was thirsting over her Lucy.

With her eyes off the game and burning a whole in the back of Sofia’s head, the younger girl didn’t see Lucy go down until the whistle drew her attention back to the pitch.

“Shit, what happened?” Ona asked Jana’s mum next to her. Medical staff were surrounding Lucy now as play was paused.

“I didn’t see properly but she went down holding her knee.”

Fuuuuuck, Ona thought, knowing exactly what this meant. Lucy wasn’t one to require treatment or stay down this long if it wasn’t serious. Ona was panicking.

Lucy limped off the pitch and straight into the changing room, leaving Ona feeling helpless and biting her nails for the last 30 minutes of the game until the full time whistle went and Lucy reappeared, not walking right as she made her way onto the pitch to congratulate her teammates and commiserate with her Chelsea friends.

Rather than going round the pitch to see fans as she usually did, the English girl hobbled back down the tunnel. She couldn’t bring herself to wave up at the family area, worrying Ona further, who was ignoring the congratulatory hugs to try and read the expression of the older girl for something, anything.

//

The Man U player was feeling incredibly anxious as she waited for Lucy in the hospitality restaurant that all the family and friends were told to wait in. She was temporarily distracted as the Barcelona players gradually started to make their way into the room, giving her mini reunions with the girls she’s known for years.

As more and more players came in, the English girl never appeared. The Spaniard couldn’t wait any longer.

Ona - all good?

Lucy - sorry, medics are taking their sweet time on my knee.

Lucy - can you go to the lifts? I’ll send someone to get you.

Ona discreetly made her way out, not noticed by the rest of the room who were digging in to some post game burgers.

//

“Shit,” Ona said as she entered the room to see Lucy sat up on the medical bed with an insane amount of ice around her knee.

“Not as bad as it looks,” Lucy lied, getting an eye roll from Peter the physio.

Peter picked up one of the ice packs to take a look at the knee in question.

“Ok you need to stay here a little longer, I’ll go and get you both a plate of food from upstairs.”

Lucy wasn’t particularly hungry but she wasn’t going to argue with him offering to leave the room.

The second he was out the room, Ona was by her side, leaning down to kiss her lips gently.

“You were so good, and crazy hot,” Ona said, moving some of the sweaty hair out of Lucy’s face while staring into those mesmerising green eyes.

“Thanks bonita,” Lucy said, blushing while pulling the Spaniard down into another kiss, more passionate this time.

“You have fun with Jana’s mum?”

Ona nodded, rubbing circles in Lucy’s palm.

“Mm yeah,” Ona started, pretending she had just remembered something when really it had been at the back of her mind for the past hour. “And I was sat a couple of rows behind a whole other kind of Lucy show.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucy asked, curious.

“Yeah, more of a TikTok edits type of show,” Ona continued, “Alexia’s sister spent most of the second half glued to her phone watching sexy videos of you.”

Lucy grimaced slightly and Ona noticed.

“What’s that look?” Ona asked.

“I do kind of know Sofia,” Lucy admitted, feeling incredibly awkward, looking down at her hands that Ona was still playing with.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm, we hooked up a few times last year,” Lucy said, now looking up at Ona, not knowing what her reaction would be.

“Oh really? A few?” Ona asked. Lucy had mentioned in one of their late night phone calls that she’d not exactly been a nun since her break up, so that wasn’t surprising. But Ona had got the impression they were all one time things.

“Yeah, a couple parties and couple booty calls, never anything close to serious.”

“How did it end?” Ona asked, she had quite a lot of questions but wasn’t going to ask them, she knew the answers would only feed her jealousy.

“I mean it never really started but I guess the nail in the coffin was when this one girl nearly vomitted on me at a wedding and the other girls suddenly didn’t matter,” Lucy said. She was trying to be cheeky but it didn’t come out as anything but adorable, earning her a playful shoulder shove from Ona.

Before Ona could say anything back, Peter returned with the burgers. Killing the mood but, unlike Lucy, the younger girl was starving so she wouldn’t complain.

“So I have to get a scan tomorrow,” Lucy said to Ona, changing the subject. “Sorry I know we had fun weekend plans.”

“That’s ok, we can still have fun in a hospital waiting room,” Ona said, unwrapping the foil round her burger, the older girl loving that it didn’t even cross the Spaniard’s mind to not be at the hospital with her. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Well the girls have booked out a part of the hotel for a little fiesta, so we could go to that for a bit so you get to spend more time with that lot, and then we can just hang,” Lucy said with a knowing smile, both girls fully intending to minimise the party time and maximise the “hang” time, but they couldn’t say that in front of Peter.

///

The party was one of the more low key ones for the Barça girls. After all they were still in season and under the watchful eye of their coaches.

Sub groups had formed around the room, which was scattered with tables holding bottles of Prosecco and beer.

Ona and Lucy spent the evening at a safe distance from each other. They knew they’d have the rest of the weekend together so this temporary time on other sides of the room wasn’t a big deal.

They still stole glances and smiles, unable to stop their eyes from wandering to the other every few minutes. That’s why it wasn’t hard for Ona to spot another brunette making her way towards Lucy.

“Sofia, hey,” Lucy said giving her ex-fuck buddy a quick hug.

The younger Putellas held onto Lucy’s arms a second longer than needed. “Hola Lucia, it’s been a while.”

Lucy laughed awkwardly, she didn’t really want to have this chat with Ona nearby, but she’d never be rude enough to just dismiss her. “It has, how have you been?”

“Yeah really good, I just got a promotion at work, and bought my own flat!” Sofia said.

“Wow congrats, look at you go!” Lucy said, honestly happy for the girl. While their connection wasn’t the deepest it wasn’t as if they ended on bad terms or anything. Sofia was just a sweetheart.

Sofia leaned down slightly to stroke Lucy’s bandaged knee, “how is it?”

As platonic and friendly as the conversation felt for Lucy, it looked the opposite to Ona from across the room, who’s eyes were narrowing in on the pair, ignoring Jana and Mapi yapping beside her, not that they noticed.

She stared as Sofia kept touching Lucy’s arm, laughing excessively loudly at anything Lucy said, starting to whisper in Lucy’s ear instead of speaking from a normal distance.

It felt like the temperature in the room had just gone up by 20 degrees as jealousy took over her.

Lucy’s reaction to all this certainly didn’t cause this to cool.

The older girl laughed back, she grinned, she chatted, looking carefree and relaxed. Well carefree and relaxed until she caught Ona’s eyes on her.

Lucy had never seen her look like that before. She stepped back on instinct, reestablishing some distance between her and Sofia.

She recognised the anger, she recognised the lust, but the two in combination was new. Whatever that look was, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t excite her, looking deep into her.

The temperature of the room was now 20 degrees hotter for both of them.

Now Ona had Lucy’s full attention, she couldn’t stop her feet from marching over to the pair.

“Oh hi Ona, are-“ Sofia started, but before another word could be uttered , Ona was barging Sofia out the way and latching her mouths onto Lucy’s, instantly forcing her tongue in.

Once Lucy had got over the initial shock she joined in on the messy kiss. With the younger girl keeping her close with hands on either side of the English girl’s head. Lucy used her hands to grab Ona’s arse, squeezing hard enough to spur on the lust and energy flowing through them.

Meanwhile, they’d obviously attracted the attention of others in the room.

Jana’s jaw dropped to the floor, tapping Mapi incessantly to get her to turn around, who followed suit with the jaw dropping.

“What the actual fuck? Those two? I can’t believe Lucy is the person Ona’s obsessed with,” Jana says, having been on the receiving end of many of Ona’s ramblings about the nameless girl she was seeing.

“Well that explains all the extra Spanish classes she’s been begging for,” Mapi had said, shoving her girlfriend, “see Ingrid, I told you she wasn’t trying to steal me from you.”

Ingrid wrapped a hand round Mapi’s waist, giving it a squeeze. She was relieved her girl wasn’t going to be stolen by the Lucy Bronze but also finding it hard not to be turned on by the steamy kiss in front of her.

Apart from those 3 and Sofia, who was frozen in shock, the rest of the room were too distracted by their own conversations to notice, but they would surely know soon enough now the team’s chattiest members had seen.

Ona pulled back from the kiss, a smug smile on her face as she turned to Sofia, giving a “yeah, sorry” before taking Lucy’s hand and leading them out the room, not giving Lucy’s head time to catch up as she hobbled after her.

After entering the lift, instead of jumping back to Lucy and picking up where they left off, Ona gasped in realisation of what she had just done.

“Shit Lucy,” the Spaniard said, “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry I should have asked you before kissing you in front of everyone.”

Lucy was still in shock herself, not really computing what had just happened and why it had happened. All she did know was that she was very into it.

“Shh, come back here,” Lucy said, pulling Ona over to her, who quickly forgot what she was sorry about, pushing the older girl up against the lift mirror and reattaching their lips.

Ona took complete control of the kiss, sucking her tongue, fingers tangled in her hair.

The lift pinged at their floor and Ona resumed her position of dragging Lucy around by the hand.

The younger girl walked straight into their room and over to the bed, ordering Lucy to lay down. They’d be limited on positions with Lucy’s knee, but the Spaniard had plenty of ideas.

Pushing Lucy onto her back and climbing on top, Ona started sucking on the older girl’s neck.

Lucy moaned loudly as she felt the brunette leave marks all over her neck, loving this side of Ona.

“Oh my god,” Lucy uttered out between moans.

“Gonna mark you up and show that bitch you’re all mine,” Ona whispered into Lucy’s neck, sending the older girl’s head into orbit.

Between head spins it dawned on Lucy, that look she didn’t recognise Ona serving her, the reason for the public kiss bombardment, it was all jealousy.

This perfect, beautiful girl was jealous of someone else. If she wasn’t so turned on, she’d laugh.

Once Ona had finished her attack on Lucy’s neck, she made her way down the older girl’s chest and torso, discarding tops and bras as she went, leaving deep red marks everywhere her mouth went.

In a complete change of attitude, the Spaniard switched from possessive to caring mode. She looked up at Lucy to sense any hesitation as she gradually brought her trousers down her legs, not wanting to disturb the knee strapping.

“You ok?” Ona asked, noticing Lucy wincing as the trousers went past her knee.

“Yeah, all good, knee just hurting a bit.”

It wasn’t just hurting a bit, it was throbbing, the pain killers were wearing off. But Lucy was desperate for that not to stop the Ona show that she was living for.

“We don’t have to do this,” Ona said. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t want to hurt her.

Lucy wracked her brain, thinking of what they could do that could still let Ona get this jealous rage out but also not require Lucy to mess up her knee further.

Then it came to her. “You don’t have to say yes but d’you wanna sit on my face?”

“Oh my god,” Ona said, feeling her knickers get soaked at the offer alone.

The way the younger girl quickly ripped all her clothes off gave Lucy the answer she was waiting for, putting a pillow under her head as she shifted herself up the bed.

Ona followed her, crawling up the bed until their lips met again. “I can’t wait to ride your beautiful face,” she whispered in Lucy’s ear, pulling a delicious moan from the girl beneath her.

“Did you ever do this with Sofia?” Ona asked as she repositioned herself, legs straddling Lucy’s face.

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the timing of that question coming as she had the world’s best view of Ona, admiring her as she was absolutely dripping.

“Did you?” Ona asked, more forcefully this time.

Lucy thought about her next words very carefully, “you don’t want the answer.”

That was all it took for Ona, pushing herself down onto Lucy’s face.

Taken aback at the speed and force, Lucy grabbed Ona’s arse to establish some stability, not able to resist squeezing it. She pushed her tongue flat to Ona’s pussy, licking up her folds as the Spaniard shuddered above her.

The Spaniard, feeling the control over Lucy that she wanted, grabbed onto the headboard as she started fucking herself on Lucy’s face.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Ona screamed as Lucy’s tongue destroyed her, causing her to rock even harder, getting everything she needed from Lucy’s mouth while the older girl’s hands ground at her arse.

Lucy tilted her head so her nose to get better friction on Ona’s clit, knowing exactly what the girl needed.

“Oh my god. Your mouth. Never stop,” Ona said, rapidly approaching her high.

Lucy pushed Ona up slightly, enabling herself to breathe for a second and assure the younger girl, “it’s your mouth, and this is my pussy.”

Ona let out an earth shattering moan, Lucy’s words were exactly what her jealous ass needed to hear as the older girl continued to fuck her with her tongue.

Lucy could feel Ona was close, drowning in her wetness, so she sucked on her clit, sending the younger girl hurtling into her orgasm.

Ona cried out again, continuing to rock herself on Lucy’s mouth as the older girl helped her through her high, swallowing everything she could before Ona couldn’t take anymore, lifting herself off Lucy’s face, collapsing next to her.

“Wow,” Ona said, panting, absolutely exhausted.

Lucy wiped Ona’s juices off her face, also panting as she rolled on her side to face the Spaniard.

She held the younger girls face lightly, turning it to face her, looking deep into each other’s completed fucked out eyes.

“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about, right?” Lucy asked. She was grateful for Ona’s jealous side when it led to that, but she had no intention of letting that jealousy carry on any longer.

Ona hummed, staring into Lucy’s warm, reassuring eyes.

Lucy continued, not satisfied that Ona was sufficiently reassured, “in case it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I only want you.”

Ona sighed, it was exactly what she needed to hear and she knew she had been behaving a little extra.

“It’s just not the nicest thing to see,” Ona admitted, “like girl stop drooling over my girlfriend.”

Ona didn’t notice the slip of tongue, but Lucy absolutely did, eyes opening wide in shock.

“What?” Ona asked in response to Lucy’s raised eyebrows, really not computing what had just come out her mouth, until she did.

“Oh shit!” the younger girl said, hand clasping her mouth.

“Your guuuuuuuuurlfriend?” Lucy teased, trying to pull Ona’s hand away from her face.

The Spaniard’s cheeks turned a bright crimson, not made better by being teased.

“Ughh,” Ona said, pushing Lucy away as she tried to tickle her through the teasing coos. “Stop, I take it back.”

“You don’t wanna be my girlfriend?” Lucy said, teasing tone still there but sticking her lower lip out to pout.

Ona shook her head, “no thank you.”

“Suit yourself, shall we head back to the party and see if anyone else will be my girlfriend,” Lucy smirked.

The English girl was absolutely loving this, while the Spaniard was hating it.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Ona said, knowing she was lying but Lucy just knew how to get under her skin.

Too shattered to continue teasing, Lucy dragged Ona towards her by the hips, kissing her gently before pulling back.

“Forgive me Oni,” Lucy pleaded in her cutest voice possible as she placed the younger girl’s hair behind her ears. “I think of you as my girlfriend any way. I was just waiting on you.”

Ona found it impressive how Lucy could go from being the most annoying person on the planet one minute, to the sweetest the next.

“You don’t need to wait, I’m right here with you,” Ona said, bringing Lucy’s fingers up to kiss each of them softly. “And I don’t want to hide it from our friends either.”

“Well I think the hiding it may be out the window now, but I’d like that a lot,” Lucy said, voice starting to drag slightly as the tiredness took over.

“And I especially don’t want to hide it from any of our flirty friends,” Ona said, pushing herself up and straddling Lucy, knees either side of the older girl’s hips.

Suddenly Lucy felt a rush of energy at a naked Ona on top of her. Linking a hand behind Ona’s neck she pulled the younger girl in for a messier kiss, gearing up for round 2.

////