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#and the other 5 moms will have to deal with the rest
this-doesnt-endd · 12 days
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I used to have a really giant family like tons of tias and tios and cousins and i say used to cause like it seems like after my grandparents died on both sides both families seemed to never speak again and i had no chance to even try and keep hold of those ties i was in elementary school watching my parents marriage crash and burn in real time dealing with major death in the family and then subsequent family abandoning me at the tender age of 11. Hell my brothers were older and jumped ship it was just me and the horrors
#my moms dad and my dads mom were like the heads of their families and they both died really close to each other#but my grandma and a tio on my moms side died within 3 days of each other after being in hospice literally 3 doors away from each other#for months and my parents both took the roles of like taking care of everything and being the descision makers cause no one else would#which im sure was super traumatizing in everyway possible but their siblings both seemed to resent them in ways#when they didnt want to be those people but had to be and they arent even the oldest siblings they are both like 3rd youngest#but like it just ruined the families and me and mom and my dad were all at the hospital or hospice center for months#we were there every day and night i remember it so much i can get anywhere in any hospital in my town using the stairwells#like i knew them that well#it also likely ruined my parents marriage which was bumpy before the intense major tragedy#which like yaknow what fair it was a lot to deal with ontop of like trying to crawl ur way out of the recession#but after all was said and done i talk to no one on my dads side i bearly talk to my older brother#and i talk to like my nina and two tias on my moms side and occassionally a few cousins#when theyre arent being fucking insane and unhinged#idk i loved having a huge family the like going to 5 houses on christmas type#going to birthdays or weddings and seeing everyone taking at least 45 mins to say bye to everyone#and now its gone and i wont ever get it back#and its by no fault of my own cause i was literally 11 and every adult decided i was gonna pay the price too#like i think abt when i get married its not gonna be what i thought itd be or when i get my first movie in theatres#im not gonna have the major family celebration ill have all my friends which im so greafull for#but its not the same yaknow#and id love to have that relatiomship with my family again but like where do u start when its been over 10+ years#like they remember 11 year old me if they remember me#and thats part of the problem#like on my moms side specifically i have some family who acts like theyve never met me before when i used to see them every weekend#and it was a major failing on my part as an 11 year old for not keeping in touch even tho we did my mom calls everyone and she tried#but people didnt want to return it#and as for my dads side its the same and if it was a moral failing for me as an 11 yr old to not reach out and they didnt like my mom much#my grandma fucking loved her but the rest of the family didnt and like i lived w my mom and was fucking 11 i couldnt go anhwhere by myself#and i didnt like not being places without a parent and i hated sleepovers i refused and they took it so personal#and they stopped talking to my dad and bad mouthed him and still do nd ill never allow that around me my dad isnt perfect but hes a good man
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luvyeni · 3 days
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❛LITTLE PINK BOOK❜ ( p. jongsong )
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p. schoolmate!jay x fem!reader w. 2.7k
warnings? — 𖦹 ( jay finding your book, your little secret pink book ) !
authors note. first full fic in a minute finally back after week, also thank you for 14k , i appreciate it🫶🏾 🤙🏾🤍
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You were the spitting image of girl next door — your dad a business man; your mother a stay at home wife, your family went to church every single sunday, greeted all the older church ladies, smiling when the pinched your cheeks, telling you you’d make a honest wife.
You upheld the same image; getting good grades, having no friends — you kept to yourself , never getting in trouble; boring goody-two shoes if you’d asked other students in your class. So when you dropped your little pink book in front of park jongsong— not noticing as you kept walking, he wasn’t even gonna bother picking it up, but he decided to do something good and return it. “hey!” you didn’t hear him, continuing on down the hall.
he hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day, so he ended up taking the book home with him, tossing it on the table, it opened wide. He didn’t expect to find anything, but he was still curious— what did a girl like you; a little church mouse write about?
Sitting on the edge of the desk, opening the book; reading off a random page — he was so shocked by the contents that he had to read the name over, making sure it was actually yours, he flipped through the pages in awe. Pages upon pages of straight porn is what jay would call it — your every dirty fantasy written down, things you did to yourself, things you want to do to other people, it was a lot — even a confession of the lost of the virginity; god he wished it was him who was the to defile you first.
“fuck.” He curse, getting hard at the words, it was so dirty — then he turned the page, and the first thing he saw just made him harder, his name, he adjusted himself , but it didn’t help as he read the page — ‘I do anything he asked me to’. You were saying that about him , you wrote about what you wanted him to do.
His hands traveled down to his pants, just has his door opened — he quickly tossed the book leaning over to cover up his hard on, his mother walking in; just in time. “you’re home?” he nodded , trying to catch his breath. “yes.”
“why do you look so nice?” he questioned. “get dressed for dinner, we’re meeting your dads new business partner for dinner at their home.” He sighed, he hated these things. “really? do I have to come?” his mom nodded. “yes you do, the y/ln’s are good people, we need to get in their good graces.” He froze at the last name. “y/ln?”
“yeah.” His mom hummed. “they have a daughter, sweet girl she does to your school, do you know her?” he shrugged, trying to keep his cool; yeah he knew you — well he thought he did. “big school probably passed her a couple times.” He said. “well she’s gonna be there tonight so dress nice.” He nodded, she walked out , closing the door leaving him alone.
He picked the book up, sitting it down on the table — finding a outfit for the night. “jay be quick we leave 5!” his mom yelled from the steps. “okay!” he stuffed the book in his pocket with a smirk on his face. “you look nice baby.” He thanked his mom. “be on your best behavior son, your father needs this deal.” He couldn’t promise anything, he definitely had other things in mind. “I promise.”
You sat on your bed, going through your homework; your door opening making you look up. “you wearing that?” your mother said, making you look down at your outfit. “well it’s just dinner with daddy’s co worker.” you said, your mother nodding opting to not fight with you. “I guess so, did you finish your homework? They should be here soon?”
“yes, im just finishing up now.” You said. “good, I’ll call you when you they get here.” She left you, closing the door. You began to put your stuff in your bag — noticing something; your little pink book, it was missing. “oh no.” you said, searching through your bag, dumping everything out — gone, it was gone. “shit.” You couldn’t even remember where you last saw it, you always kept it tight with you.
You began pacing, if anyone found out what you wrote in that book you’d be in trouble — who could even have it? Did anyone have is? If so who? All these thoughts raced through your mind, just as your mother called out for you. “dinner!” you sighed, smoothing out your skirt, you couldn’t let your parents see you shaken up, blowing out a breathe before leaving out your room.
You made your way down the steps — your mother and waiting at the bottom. “there she is, come here baby.” Your mom pulled you to her side, kissing your forehead. “mom.” You whined, the couple in front of you laughing. “these are the parks.” You held your hand out shaking both of them. “nice to meet you.”
“nice to meet you as well young lady.” The older man said. “such a pretty daughter, much prettier than you described her.” You smiled, nodding your head. “thank you ma’am.” She smiled. “our son jay is in the car, getting the gift he’ll be in soon.”
Jay? As in park jongsong? You knew him all too well, he was the subject of just about everything recently you wrote about in your journal — if he was the one to find it, you’d die.
“ah! There he is.” Mr.park called for the boy as he walked in the room, holding the bottle of wine. “sorry it took so long.” He bowed to your parents, his eyes honing in on you. “I do know you.” Your breath caught in your throat, how did he know you? He hardly paid attention to anybody else but his friends. “h-how?”
“you’re in my history class, you sit in the back quite as little mouse.” He smiled, you didn’t even notice the look in his eyes — full of hunger. “head always in a book.” Your mom slapped your arm. “I told you about that.” You hissed. “im sorry.”
“lets take a seat.” Your father guided everyone to the eating area; jay took a seat across from you— you can feel his eyes on you. You looked up, eyes locking on you— did he know? You squinted your eyes in confusion and he smiled, before turning to your father. “may i use the restroom?”
“sure son, yn could you show him?” you looked up from the empty plate. “m-me?” you said. “yes you.” You dad laughed along with the parks. “oh ye-yeah sure.” You stood up, jay mimicking you. “fo-follow me.” You walked up the steps, he followed behind you, book in his pocket — like a predator stalking his prey.
You walked to the end of the hall where the bathroom was, pushing the door open. “here you go.” You went to walk away, until he spoke up. “you really don’t know who I am?” you stopped , heart racing. “we-well we do go to the same school.” You said. “that’s it?” he said, reaching in his pocket — revealing the pink book, your heart dropping. “really?”
“h-how do you have that?” you stuttered. “oh this, you dropped it.” He said. “see I was gonna leave it, then i decided to give it back.” He said, stepping closer to you, making you take a step back. “but you didn’t answer, so I took it home — and then I got a little curious.” He said; so he did read it. “for such a cute and innocent face, you surely write about a lot of dirty thing in this notebook.”
He was now pressing you against the wall. “I also no, daddys little girl has been lying about being a virgin, seems like somebody already popped that little cherry of yours.” He smirked. “jay— princess and the things you said about me, damn.” He dry laughed. “for someone who’s never said a word to me, you surely want me to do a lot of things to you.” His hand came up to your face, caressing it. “what was it?” he teased. “let me do whatever I want to you.”
He was pressing against you, you could feel his hard on your stomach. “seems like our little church mouse is hiding many secrets.” You couldn’t get a word out, but the way his hands traveled down your body, his hand burning your exposed skin made your body tingle. “we-we have to go back down stairs.”
He smiled, stepping to the side, letting you walk past. “yeah we do, don’t want daddy to think im doing anything to his precious little girl right.?” You tried to gather yourself, panties sticking uncomfortable to your cunt as— he walked past you, whispering in your ear. “this isn’t over baby.”
You made it back to your seat before jay did, sitting down. “he’ll be down soon.” You sat down, your mom finally bringing the food from the kitchen — jay finally returning, sitting down in his seat, his eyes on you, you looked down at your plate, secretly fanning your warm face.
He didn’t make dinner easier either , using his foot to toy with you, starring at you so intensely that you would stumble over your words every time his parents would ask you a question.
“dinner was lovely, Mrs. yln.” Jay said. “thank you jay such a sweet boy.” If only she knew the thoughts he was having about her sweet daughter. “it was lovely dear, but I believe there is business to disgust.” Your dad said. “mr.park?” your dad stood. “my office?”
“Mrs. park while the men discuss business would you like some wine?” your mother asked. “sure why not, you kids can go play amongst yourselves right.” Jay laughed. “we aren’t 5.” His mom glared at him. “but im sure we can find something to do.” He turned to you, you could see his eyes full of lust. “right?”
They dismissed you both, sending you both upstairs, putting enough trust in both of you— they were wrong; the moment the door closed to your bedroom, he was grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours. “j-jay.”
“so pretty.” He whispered, holding his hands in your hand. “what do you want?” your mind went blank. “an-anything.” You whimpered. “yeah, let me do whatever I want?” his other hand coming up to his collar, undoing the tie. “yes, please ” He could see the look in your blown out eyes— you wanted this just as bad as he did. “okay little mouse.”
Taking the tie — you looked so confused. “give me your hands.” you held your hand out. “I believe this was in that little fuck book of yours.” Your ears were hot from embarrassment. “what was it? Ah I believe it said you wanted me to tie your hands behind your back and have my way with you.” He smirked, turned you around, tying your hands. “what else did you write?”
“yo-you read it didn’t you?” you whimpered, just wanting him to touch you. “yeah, but I want to hear you say it.” He said. “so, tell me baby, what did you write.” He pressed his cock against your ass. You whimpered, he left little kisses down your neck. “i-i sa-said i wanted you to fuck my face.” He smirked. “yeah you did.”
“get on your knees.” He commanded, you compiled immediately. “oh baby , it's like you’re used to this.” He tease. “almost like you’ve done this before.” Truth be told, you haven’t — you weren’t a virgin anymore, losing your virginity to you secret boyfriend months prior, but that’s it.
“i-i haven’t.” hearing that made his cock twitch. “so you were writing all those dirty things without having done any of them.” He laughed furthering your embarrassment. “don’t worry, baby I got you.” He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles, along with his underwear, his cock slapping against his stomach, it was much bigger than the ones you seen, wanting to touch but you couldn’t due to the restrictions. “give it a kiss pretty girl.”
He hissed as he felt the shortness of your lips. “fuck, now open up.” You slowly opened your mouth, letting him slide his cock into your wet cavern. “fuck, there we go.” He sighed, slowly pushing himself inside. “just be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth.”
He started off slow, just to ease you into it — speeding up his movements gradually, his tip kissing the back of your throat. “fuck your little throat is sucking me like crazy.” You began to gag around him, unable to grab his thighs, he grabbed your head to steady you. “go-gonna fuck your face.”
Using your throat, throwing his head back. “fuck , gonna cum.” groaned, pushing himself fully down your throat, groaning in pleasure as he came, filling your throat with his warm seed. “oh fuck.” He let your hair go , releasing your head — you coughed, lips swollen and wet. “so nasty.” He tapped his cock on your lips. “looked so fuck out just from sucking cock.”
Thing’s escalated from there, he pulled you up. “what else was is?” you felt him reach under your skirt. “what else did you want me to baby?” your voice was sore, legs wobbly as he pushed you on to the bed, arms still behind your back. “i-i wanted you to fuck me.”
“good girl.” he maneuvered your body into his desired position, your ass up in the air — pulling your panties down, the air hitting your cunt, you whined. “look how wet you are.” He tease your cunt with his fingers. “such a slutty pussy baby, little church mouse wants me to use her.” He slapped your ass, you yelped. “be quite unless you want mommy and daddy to hear how much of a slut you are.”
You felt him shuffling behind you, wiggling your hips. “stay still.” You felt another slap on your ass, you bit down on your plushie, moaning as you felt the warmth of his cock. “daddy would be so disappointed.” He slapped his cock on your cunt, teasing the tip of his cock into your hole. “seeing his daughter tied up — fuck!” he groaned as he fully seethed himself inside you. “j-jay.”
He was much thicker than the guy before, filling you up; moving his hips. “fuck this cunt is so fucking tight.” He squeezed your ass. “fuck!” you squealed, “jay please.” He began to move faster, grabbing your arms as he fucked into you, your shoulders were going to hurt in the morning, but you couldn’t care less with the way he was fucking you. “I should’ve known this innocent church girl was disguise.” He groaned. “that you really were a slut.”
He lifted you up by your wrist, roughly fucking into faster. “something else I read in that book.” He moaned. “you want me to make you squirt.” He cursed, his hand coming around to your clit, rubbing it. “if that’s what you want, then I want you to squirt for me.” He slapped at your cunt. “cum for me.” He whispered into your ear, your eyes rolled to the back of the head, as you came, he released your arms, letting you face plant into your pillows as he continued to plow into you.
“fuck, fuck im gonna cum, where do you want it?” he groaned. “i-inside.” Your voice muffled in the pillow. “please.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times, feeling the warmth of his cum filling you up. “fuck.” He stopped moving, his cock twitching.
He finally undid his tie from your hands, gently laying your lower body down. “good girl.” He said softly. “let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”
“jay!” you heard his mom yelling down the steps. “time to go.” He pulled the covers over your body , still holding the book in his hands. “gonna keep this pretty girl.” He smirked. “got a lot of reading to do.” He said , walking out, forgetting his tie — knowing you’d have to walk up and give it back to him, he could see your shy red face as you approach him, nervously giving him the tie back, almost made him horny again. he was determined to do everything you wanted him to do in the book.
He was gonna turn you into his perfect little slut.
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©️LUVYENI
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eddieschains · 9 months
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Dream Come True
Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader
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credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3
Word Count: 2.8k
TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!
It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.
Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.
He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.
He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.
In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.
You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.
“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.
You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.
You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.
“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.
“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.
Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”
“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.
“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.
“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.
“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.
This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.
Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.
You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”
“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”
“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.
“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.
Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”
“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”
“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.
You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”
Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.
You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.
“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”
“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.
“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.
He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.
You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.
“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”
You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”
“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.
He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.
The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.
“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.
His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.
He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.
“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.
He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.
You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.
“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.
“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.
“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.
“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”
“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.
He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.
You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.
“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.
He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.
You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.
“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.
“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.
You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”
You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”
“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.
“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”
All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”
“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.
Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.
He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.
“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.
“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”
He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”
You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.
You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.
“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.
“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.
“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”
You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”
You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”
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briarcrawford · 6 months
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Is This How You Write Romance?
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I have never written a romance; not even once. That does not mean there is anything wrong with romance stories, just that I typically am drawn to writing stories that focus on other aspects. Now, that might sound like I am being a snob, but what I really mean is that I am a simple soul; I crave action scenes. Media that is majority romance just tends to bore me.
I do want to improve as a writer, though, and that does include writing romance(as a sub-plot). It is something most people expect in stories, and, if I am honest, a part of the reason I continue to avoid it is that I have no experience writing it. So, to help me get started, I have been doing what I do best: researching.
I have been (halfheartedly, with my phone in hand) watching the odd romance movie when my mom has them on(those ultra cheesy Hallmark ones), and it seems like most romances can break down into a simple formula.
The formula is:
1. The Meet-Cute
After the viewers have had a look into the life of the main character, the meet-cute happens. This scene is most likely funny or overly dramatic.
“In film and television, a meet cute is a scene in which the two people who will form a future romantic couple meet for the first time, typically under unusual, humorous, or cute circumstances. This type of scene is a staple of romantic comedies, though it can also occur in sitcoms and even soap operas.” Wikipedia
2. Building a Connection
Scenes that gradually bring them closer; typically do to coincidences or circumstances that force them to keep meeting. These scenes are when your readers will decide if they have chemistry or not.
3. Turning to Feelings
They continue having scenes together, and show signs of mutual interest. These scenes are when readers decide if they would make a healthy couple, and romance fans start looking forward to what could happen.
4. Feelings Confirmed
Something happens (such as a rescue, or a near kiss) that makes them realize or suspect that the feelings are mutual.
5. The Test
Their relationship is tested, and they realize how much they need each other. This is normally when one side runs off, and the other chases.
Without some sort of conflict and character building, the romance may come off feeling like filler content or fan service.
6. End
All is resolved, and they are together now.
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Obvious, right? Well, the trick is to weave these into your main plot without them standing out too much.
Once you know what readers want in romance, the tricky part starts.
1. Confirm your genre.
What scenes are most important to you? If it is the romance scenes, you may want to rethink how you classify your genre. For example, there is a difference between writing a fantasy with a romance subplot, and a romance with a fantasy subplot. Deciding if you need to shift your main focus will change how much of each content makes up the percentage of your book.
2. Decide Your Goals.
What are your goals for the relationship? Sometimes, the plot points above stretch through just one book, while other times it can stretch for a whole series. If your goal is to have them get together in one book, know that you will have to deal with continuing that romance throughout the rest of the series(and adding in enough drama to keep it worth the subplot time).
3. They Should Amplify Your Main Plot.
If you have your characters become a couple in the middle of your main-plot’s climax, you risk ruining what tension you have built. Some writers do fight this and go with it anyway, though that is often because one of the love interests is almost guaranteed to die in the next scene.
Instead, consider having the relationship build at the same speed of the main plot. This is why end-of-series kisses are so popular to write.
Another popular option is to have them get together early on, but separated. That way, the hero is fighting not only to survive, but also to get back to their love.
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This is, of course, all written by someone learning, so if any of you have any tips for writing romance, please let me know! I am not planning on watching any more of those movies(sorry, mom haha), so I will take all the help I can get.
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the birthday party -
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pairing: matty healy x f!reader
content: friends to lovers, explicit consent, george is a good friend, matty eats pussy, safe sex, denise, p in v sex
wordcount: 6787
this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.
a/n: matty healy, you will always be famous <3
maybe it shouldn't bother him as much as it does. after all, it's just another day.
but it's his birthday. it's his fucking birthday, and there are no messages from you lighting up his phone.
at first, matty tried to convince himself that it was nothing. he had woken up and expected an all-caps message, only to be met with the god-awful time of 5:00 am. but it was okay - it was early, so you probably just want to wait - to ensure that he's awake to see your message. 
so he waited.
he waited through bleary eyes - surrounded by his concrete walls and his white comforter - until his alarm sounded and jerked him awake.
a rush of disappointment shattered his bones when there was no message from you. no ‘happy birthday,’ no ‘good morning,’ not even a ‘hey.’
but still, it's okay. matty went about his morning, taking phone call after phone call from family members he hadn’t heard from since last year, pretending there wasn’t a hole in his heart where you left a dent. his mom texted him once; something about going over for a party and celebrating his birthday there with his family and bandmates, and that was it.
he spends the rest of the day picking at the pancakes george made him and tries desperately to ignore your silence.
so yeah, it hurts that you didn't text him, and he's starting to think that maybe it's not okay. because you're his best friend, and you didn't even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday.
there's always been something between the two of you; dotted lines that make it hard to walk or see straight whenever you're together, usually bickering about god knows what.
george says you love him. matty flicks his forehead until he drops it.
because how could someone who loves him forget his birthday?
he feels selfish - feels like shit wishing for something other than the health and clarity he was brought up to be thankful for on his birthday. 
and you still don't text him. 
it's only a couple of hours later when george's air conditioning hits his face with full power, eyes watering slightly with the artificial wind blowing right into his cornea. they’re on the way to his mother’s house, and matty is bracing himself for the onslaught of aunts with their strong perfume and uncles with their disapproving looks. beside him, george hums from the driver’s seat, a clear indication he can sense matty's heedlessness.
"alright, that's it," george says, turning down the music dial until barely audible guitar strums resonate in the car. “you’ve been moping all day. what gives?”
matty shrugs. "nothing, mate."
"bullshit."
george’s eyes are switching between watching the road and glaring daggers into matty's.
“it’s your birthday, and you’re acting as if someone just killed your snake. so i ask again,” george mutters as he flicks on his turn signal, pulling off the freeway to evacuate the sanctum of subdued car horns and merge into the exit lane. “what gives, matty?”
"it’s not a big deal,” he starts, interrupted by the forced chuckle that resounds beside him. he continues when the light turns green, george slowly letting off the breaks as they near his mom's house.
“i mean, i guess it's just, like, i dunno. i thought that—” he cuts himself off, lost in his head. matty stumbles over his words, a mess of broken syllables as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the mop of curls.
“she hasn’t texted me today.”
it’s rushed, a lick of shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine as the frigidity of the air conditioning meets his neck. the car is cold, chilling matty's bones with gentle fragility until they freeze and shatter like glass. he bleeds shame, every ounce of blood in his body tainted with the reminder that you forgot.
george's breath hitches, and he clears his throat with a fist over his hand as the other one turns them into a familiar street.
his mother’s house appears in his peripheral vision, the front porch light emitting a timbre, yellow glow, and he can see shadows through the large kitchen window.
matty picks at his nails, messing with his fingers as george parks the car. he can feel watchful eyes on him when he stares down at his lap.
george turns in his seat so they’re forced to face each other. “she didn’t text you at all?”
“not since last night.”
he unbuckles his seatbelt and places a hand on the door handle. he's stopped, a tug to his arm keeping him in place and not permitting him to leave the car—leave the conversation.
“hey,” george starts, voice low and with a lilt of concern tracing the lone syllable. “i’m sure she’s got a good reason. she wouldn’t just forget your birthday.”
matty scoffs, shaking his head until strands of dark hair fall in his face, blowing upwards so he can see again. “what reason?”
“i don't know,” he says, all one breath and fidgety when he unbuckles his seat belt. “but whatever it is, i’m sure she has a good excuse.”
there’s a squeeze to his shoulder, warm fingers emitting heat where they touch his skin through smooth cotton.
“you’re too young to be going through a midlife crisis over the girl you love not texting you for twenty-four hours.”
matty doesn’t have the energy to argue, not when he knows that his friend is right.
so instead of arguing, he smiles and punches george in the arm for good measure before they head down the paved walkway to his childhood home.
his mother greets him first, halfway through his third knock because she expected them over earlier. despite the squint in her eyes, she pulls her son into a tight hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back.
“happy birthday, dear,” she sings, muffled by his chest as she stands nearly half a foot shorter than him.
“thanks, mum.” he smiles, moving aside so george can get engulfed in a hug.
he’s missed it here, the warmth that bubbles in his stomach when he’s around his family, a house full of love and people that he grew up with. it’s almost enough to make him forget about a certain someone who still lingers in the back of his mind like day-old leftovers.
almost.
“so!” his mother beams, stepping back and allowing the boys to remove their shoes and step deeper into the house. “everyone is already here, and they can’t wait to sing you 'happy birthday'.”
matty’s led down the hallway, following his mom into the kitchen. a rumble of deep-set voices and squeals call his name, and his head turns to watch distant relatives scramble to pull him into tight hugs.
he kisses his grandparents on the cheeks, hugs his aunt and uncles and tells his cousins that he missed them. they pass him presents like he’s five again, smaller gifts to unwrap now that he’s an adult and no longer asks for life-sized action figures. george joins him, staying close with a timid smile on his face as he mingles with matty’s family. the whole scene coaxes a content sigh to escape his lips, and he relaxes when his mom gives him another hug.
“i got you something too,” she whispers when they pull apart, leading them into the living room and passing him a glass of wine. they sit, lively music wafting through the speakers, and he smiles as he watches george twirl his cousins around. “it’s not here yet though, i’m afraid. you’ll have to wait a little longer.”
“you didn’t have to get me anything, mum,” he says through the bitter taste of merlot. 
she waves her hand dismissively. “oh stop it. you’ll love it, i promise.”
he tries to enjoy the party—really, he does. but thoughts of how much better it could be if you were here to enjoy it with him linger in the back of his mind. it’s tough to decide whether he should miss you or be mad at you. maybe he should forget you all together right now but he can’t. not when his brain is growing fuzzy and his cheeks feel warm, patches of crimson surely paint his face, thanks to the glass he downed in one go.
“matty, come do a shot with me!” 
with a huff, matty makes his way toward his friend who holds a shot glass nearly overfilled with clear liquid.
george’s grin melts away when he sees him, eyes filled with concern as he hesitantly passes the shot to matty.
“you okay, mate?”
matty clears his throat and mumbles something about allergies and how it’s stuffy in here as cool liquor spills over his fingers. george doesn’t seem to buy it, but he shrugs anyways.
he shakes off the mist clouding his brain and smirks, self-indulgence taking over his dark eyes. he clinks the glass to his friend’s, liquid sloshing off the sides before he tips it back. it burns when it runs down his throat, leaves his tongue dry in a desert of twisted intoxication he knows he’ll regret in the morning.
“shit,” george hisses through his teeth. “‘ forgot that i fuckin’ hate vodka.”
matty laughs, and there’s silence between them for a moment, then, “mate, are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause, not to be an arse, but you look fuckin’ horrible.”
exasperated, matty runs his hands through his already mussed hair.
“i’m gonna go get another drink.”
a calloused hand wraps around his wrist and stops him from pulling away. “maybe you should ease up on the booze,” george says.
“aren’t you the one that was just begging me to do shots with you?”
“that was before you turned into a sad drunk. here,” he shuffles around for a water bottle, “drink this and go get some air—maybe a smoke, too, while you’re at it.”
grinning, matty takes the water from george’ hand with a simple “thanks.” 
he sneaks away to the back porch where crickets chirp quietly in the grass—a change from the loud commotion of music and chatter.
lithe fingers bring a cigarette to chapped lips, thumb slipping on the lighter to invoke a small flicker of flames that burn the end of the bud.
with an inhale, matty wonders if his room looks the same as it did that last time he was here; if his brother had claimed any of his clothes or knick-knacks he’d left when he moved out. he wonders if you would find his room childish.
with an exhale, he wonders how his thoughts always seem to trace back to you.
“what have i told you about smoking, matthew?”
“i have a good reason.”
his mom wanders her way next to matty, leaning against the fencepost next to him. “and what might that reason be, love?”
“her,” matty breathes, the smoke from his lungs floating into the distant air. “fuck, mum. it’s always her.” he pauses to take another drag. “she hasn’t texted me all day, and i’m worried about her getting hurt or somethin’.”
denise smiles, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her turn back to the door of the house. he doesn’t follow her motions.
“i’m sure she’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, turning back. “you’ll hear from her soon.”
“but—”
she elbows matty’s side. “no ‘buts’. now, i think you should put that out and come back inside, okay? that stuff is bad for you.”
“soon,” he says, completely ignoring her request, and she sighs, giving her son a final nudge before stepping back inside. matty doesn’t spare her a glance, opting to keep his eyes trained on a black, starless sky.
the familiar buzz of red wine floats through his bloodstream, and he draws another hit into his lungs, filling the void of sadness with grey smoke. he almost thinks he’s hearing things when someone speaks from behind him.
“she’s right, y’know.”
the exhale of smoke comes out in a choked gasp, and his heart stutters, chest tightening. 
matty’s scared to turn around. scared to face the cause of his well-being, because there’s no way this can be real. his lip is worried between his teeth, hair falling into his face as he stares at the cigarette laced between his thumb and index finger.
the open wound you left in his heart this morning is sealed by the resound of your voice that echoes through the air.
he doesn’t turn around. you do it for him.
matty’s forced to face you with a pull on his arm, skin tingling where your hand rests. the cigarette is plucked from his fingers seconds after, the stub dropping to the ground where you step on it to put it out.
“hi,” you say, completely and utterly exhausted. “happy birthday.”
the closeness is suffocating.
you’re standing too close but somehow too far away, and matty would pull you into him if it weren’t for the frozen state of his bones. 
“hi,” matty breathes, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stares down at you.
it’s surreal—standing here with the lingering taste of tobacco and merlot heavy on his tongue—the gentle breeze blowing tufts of your hair.
“what are you—w-when did—” matty stutters, mind running a mile a minute, intoxicated brain took over with perplexion. he stops, takes a deep breath, and collects his thoughts. “how are you here?”
“well,” you drawl, shuffling closer to the stunned man in front of you. “your parents bought me a ticket to fly out for your birthday—per george’s request. after that, all i had to do was keep it a secret, hop on a plane, and here i am.”
“here you are?” he repeats. “you had me worried sick. you didn’t text or call—hell, you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday! you can’t—you can’t just waltz in here and pretend that everything is fine when you put me through—”
“matty,” you interrupt, grabbing his hands. “calm down for me, yeah? breathe.”
“no—what? don’t just-”
he pulls away and leans back against the fence. his hands run through his hair, fingers desperately wishing they were holding a cigarette.
“breathe, matty.” you sigh patiently. “how about you give me a tour?”
“can we just … stay here for a while?” he asks, and if there’s tension in the air, it’s ignored. “i just want to make sure i’m not dreaming, or something.”
“you dream about me?’ you tease, crossing your arms to try and shield yourself from the breeze.
dark eyes slowly meet yours.
“all the time.”
he pushes himself off the fence and steps closer to you. the boots he’s wearing give him some height, so he’s looking down at you as his hands move to push your hair back.
“tell me,” you whisper. “tell me what you dream about.”
it’s the urgent tone of your hushed voice that has matty caving—hesitancy swept away with the wind as he gives in, letting his hands trace the sides of your face.
“everything,” he admits, voice quiet and shy. “fuck, love, i dream about doing everything with you. anything and everything you’d want me to.”
you’re silent.
you’re silent, and matty is losing his mind, brain pounding against his skull. he can feel bitter bile rise up his throat, nauseous when he looks back at you—just standing there—lips parted and leaving matty to lie in the grandeur of his own self-destruction.
there’s already an apology forming on his tongue, the fingers that were wound through your hair curling away.
but you step closer and grab his hands, stopping their retreat.
“i dream about it too.”
the words take matty by surprise, the tenderness that coats the revelation alleviating the shake in his hands. he looks at you—really looks at you—and scrutinizes the expression on your face.
he finds no hint of a lie; no hint of cruel duplicity, or fraud. the truth of your words really sinks in when you drop his hands in favour of running the pad of your thumbs under charcoal eyes, ridding him of the hint of tears that start to seep from puffy eyelids.
“c’mon, matty. you can’t possibly be surprised. i mean really, i dropped everything just to see you.” your tone is gentle, but a laugh sneaks its way out of your mouth and curls around matty’s head, leaving him feeling warm.
he rolls his eyes; courage slowly washes over his bones and makes his hands move to pull you in by the waist.
“shut up and kiss me.”
you surge forward, capturing his lips on your own as your hands move from his cheeks to his hair; threading them through unruly curls. 
matty drinks in every noise you make, welcoming them as they leave him desperate. the taste of stale alcohol still lingers on his lips, but underneath the bitterness is you; sweet and human. 
he would like to pretend that he hears fireworks when your lips part, a mess of bright, colourful explosions littering the sky as he softly licks into your mouth—but that doesn’t happen.
and it’s alright. it’s completely okay because instead of the headache-inducing light and noise, there’s the muffled laughter of his friends and family, the gentle chirp of crickets, and you.
you; gasping into the kiss.
you; your hands tugging gently at his hair.
you; flush against his chest. so close that matty can feel your heartbeat melding with his.
you; jerking away so abruptly his eyes shoot open, flickering over your—now beet-red—face.
the creak of the back door had pulled you away from him, and the sight of george standing atop the welcome mat made you flush.
“um,” he says, shuffling awkwardly. “i just wanted to say ‘hi’, but i think you welcomed her home enough for the both of us.”
matty clears his throat and grins sheepishly at a very shocked george. his cheeks burn red at being caught, but he can’t really bring himself to care—not when you’re finally next to him.
george scoffs, exasperated by his love-sick friends. 
“come inside,” he urges, nodding in the direction of the house. “everyone’s excited to see her.”
matty watches as you turn back to him and give a little shrug, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth—and it’s then that he decides that he’s not done kissing you yet.
“yeah. we’ll uh—we’ll follow you.”
he leads you into the house with a hand on the small of your back, and shuts the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of lingering traffic. cheerful voices seep through the walls, and the irony of how he walked in here just a couple hours ago, saddened and heavy because of the girl who’s now looking up at him with only adoration in her eyes is not lost on matty. 
“okay, denise is in there laughing about how we all tricked you into thinking the worst, so prepare to be humiliated.”
matty hums in response, staring only at the back of your head as you follow george toward the kitchen. he reaches a hand out, grabs your arm and gently tugs you back with a finger over his lips and a wink.
“mhm,” he sings, leading you slowly towards the stairs. “sounds like fun.”
he doesn’t get the chance to watch as george turns around, already halfway up the stairs with you latched onto his arm.
“you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” george’s exasperated voice is the last thing he hears before he’s crowding you against the wall at the top of the stairs.
his lips are on yours before you get a second to breathe, a bruising hold on your waist as he pushes you into solid plaster. he keeps one hand on you while the other presses the wall beside your head, arm shaky as he leans his weight onto you.
there’s a light push to his chest, and you gasp under him as you pull back. matty has to refrain from groaning at the loss of pressure on his lips.
“my bags,” you pant, “i forgot them outside.”
a breath of laughter ghosts over your lips. “we can get them after.”
“but my clothes are gonna get wet—matty, the grass was wet.”
your words render useless as he leans down to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.
“then you can borrow some of mine,” matty mumbles, trailing his way up to your jaw to suck purple bruises into tender flesh.
at the thought of drowning in his clothes, you go lax against matty’s lips; giving in to his desperate mouth.
“okay,” you agree, and that’s all it takes for matty to recapture your mouth and let his hands wander. 
calloused, gentle hands trace the curve of your body as lithe hips press into yours. he manages to tear a hand away from you to feel for the cool metal of the familiar doorknob, twisting until the door falls open.
he tugs you in with sweet urgency, his old bedroom cast in soft light, the only luminosity coming from the moon where it seeps through the blinds.
maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, or maybe you don’t care—but matty’s grateful you don’t comment on the bowie posters that grace his walls as he pushes you into the middle of his bed.
you land with a light bounce and prop yourself up onto your elbows, a cocky grin making its way onto your face. “i’ve been here for barely twenty minutes,” you breathe, gasping when matty situates himself between your legs and pushes you higher onto the mattress. “and you already wanna tear my clothes off.”
the brunet dips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, hiking it up just a sliver to catch a glimpse of soft, smooth skin. “wanted to for a while now.”
he brings the hem of the shirt up to your lips. “bite,” he whispers, voice husky.
with the new expanse of skin exposed, matty's practically left breathless. he takes tender flesh between his teeth, laps his tongue at bare and unmarred skin, and sucks until he feels you arch your back and lean into his mouth. his hands trail the expanse of your ribs, feeling the delicate bones under his touch.
marks upon marks are added to your lower stomach, matty desperately trying to leave reminders on your abdomen. his lips work on their own accord, sucking bite after bite up your torso until he lands at the base of your bra. he looks up at you, eyes questioning. laughing softly, you sit up, gently pushing him back onto his knees. dark eyes trace your body, watching as you undo your bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, along with your shirt. 
the man in front of you sits in awe, and lets out a long sigh. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”
you’re not sure if the words were meant for you to hear, but you blush anyways, leaning back and letting your elbows hold your weight.
“do your worst, birthday boy.”
matty laughs, the happy—and somewhat shocked—noise echoes through the small bedroom and causes you to grin. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his head; lips meeting your warm skin, teeth leaving trails of bruises. 
you gasp out breathy pleas when matty flicks his tongue over the peak of your breast. “y-your—shit,” you whine, hands landing in the man’s hair, tugging at the curls harshly. “your family is downstairs, matty. what if they—ah!—hear us?"
“don’t care,” he responds, biting softly at the pink bud and rolling the other between his index and his thumb. “want this. want you.”
”fuck. i—okay, okay. you have me, matty,” you moan, pleasure dripping from your lips. “you have me.”
he surges up to kiss you again, newfound fervour in the brush of your lips as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. you still taste sweet, everything matty could ever ask for. 
“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning back on his knees and tracing patterns over your stomach, dipping his fingers into the bruised marks just to hear the masochistic whines you let out at the pain. “as pretty as you sound, i don’t want anyone hearing us.”
hearing his words over, matty backtracks, his hand stuttering over your torso.
“i mean, not that we need to like, do anything—i’m not—i don’t wanna force you into—”
your fingers wrap around his wrist, halting his ministrations to give a comforting squeeze to his skin.
“i want to,” you breathe, using your grip around his wrist to drag his hand down your stomach to rest on your belt. “i want this.”
at your words, matty rushes to tug at the buckle, effortlessly removing your belt and tossing it to the side. 
your jeans are off your hips in a second’s time, but he takes his time sliding them over your ankles, bending down to leave firm kisses on your inner thighs.
you preen under his touch, and your chest heaves as you breathe, a glistening trail of spit drying on your nipples. when the jeans are discarded and messily thrown in a pile somewhere across the tiny room, matty notices the soaked bottom of your underwear.
tracing a finger up the fabric just to watch you writhe, matty tuts. “and you thought i was eager.”
your hips jerk up in response, surprised by the soft touch. your hands fly to his hair, gripping the curls so tight that he grunts against your neck. 
“jesus.” 
“sorry! ‘m sorry,” you sob. you manage to relax your fingers, but matty shakes his head.
“don’t stop on my account.” 
you feel his fingers slide across your damp underwear, moving to mindlessly palm your thighs as he leaves burning kisses up to where you need him most. your hips rut up, chasing his hand desperately, but matty’s not having it. 
“matty, please,” you huff, tugging at his hair to try and get him where you want him.
“stop whining,” he hushes. “‘wanna take my time.”
your soft gasps and whimpers start to get to him though, and he pushes his knuckles against your pussy, forcing a shocked moan out of you. 
matty shushes you because while he is completely enamoured by each noise that escapes your lips, he isn’t too keen on one of his family members walking in to see him take you apart.
you relent, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, while matty returns to the task at hand.
“pretty,” he mumbles, slipping calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your underwear. 
he pulls to gradually reveal your soaked folds and his breath catches in his throat. at the sight, he speeds up his movements and practically rips the cloth off your legs. the material joins the jeans on the floor, and finally, he gets to see you in all your splendour.
“can i taste you?” he whispers, voice shaking. you nod, already out of it as you take the liberty of collecting all of his hair away from his face, holding it back as he works his mouth against you.
“matty, you—” you start, a hand flying from his hair to his sheets. they smell like him, but you’re trying not to think about that—trying not to think about how loopy it’s making you feel—because matty’s holding your hips up, nose bumping against your swollen clit as he tongues at your hole.
“you—” you start again, but the thought gets lost somewhere. disappears as matty does something with his tongue that makes you gasp. “jesus christ—” you huff, chest rising and falling quickly.
you get your words out before you can forget. 
“fuck,” you sigh, arching your hips into his face and tightening your fist in his hair, “you look good like this.”
the praise goes straight to his head, and he’s groaning. nodding his head into you, hitting a sweet spot and almost immediately, the hand in his hair pulls him up.
“i don’t wanna cum yet,” you say, quiet because you have to be—taking account of the people downstairs. “so just, go easy on me, okay? you’re surprisingly good at this.”
“surprisingly?” matty retorts, raising an eyebrow. 
you don’t have time to respond before he runs his teeth against your clit, and chides, “brat,” before tightening the grip his fingers have on your thighs, pushing the digits into your skin before shaking his head from side to side. you see black, your eyes clenched closed as you try and pull your thighs together, but matty pushes them open, desperately lapping at you.
his jaw aches as his mouth moves, but your pleasure is all he knows. even though you asked so nicely for matty to not yet make you cum—the question is nothing but a distant memory in the back of his mind.
he flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking—forcing a strong, white current to wash over you. your hands shoot up to cover your mouth as you arch into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as you come.
can’t talk, can’t speak.
the feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking with the effort to stay quiet; muffled whimpers sounding behind tight fingers.
you hitch your hips up, and matty’s moving with them, basically getting onto his knees to keep you close. “holy fuck,” you breathe, looking down between your tits to where he’s kissing away your slick, only letting go when you shove your hands down between your thighs, nerves shot and sensitive.
“mmh,” you whimper, clamping your thighs together, trying to calm yourself down. 
“you with me?” he asks, tucking his damp curls behind his ears. you have to laugh. have to laugh all of this pent-up emotion out as you brush stray hairs from your face.
“yeah,” you nod breathlessly. matty kisses you with a smile and you taste yourself on him. his features go goofy when he raises a brow and asks, “good?” 
“fucking amazing.”
“good,” he says again, then rolls onto his back beside you. he’s unbuttoning his shirt, saying, “i aim to please,” when you’re crawling your body up his chest and kissing the shock away from his face.
“oh fuck,” he curses, fumbling to grab a hold of you. you slide your fingers onto the side of his head and taste yourself, mixed with the feel of his swollen, curving lips as he smiles against you. desperation sweeps over you, and you cup a hand over the bulge in his pants, grinding your palm down, and matty has to focus really hard to not give into your touch.
regrettably, he pries your hand away, bringing it to his mouth and kissing each one of your fingers with sentimental ease. “wanna fuck you,” he mutters, playfully biting at your ring finger until you laugh and pull your hand away.
“come on,” you drawl, moving to sit directly on his bulge. “it’s your birthday. don’t you want me to blow you?”
you have a point, matty supposes. his birthday is supposed to be the one day of the year when he gets to be selfish, and what kind of person would he be if he passed up the opportunity to feel your lips around him? 
but you’re his gift. tasting you and making you cum from his mouth alone is a better present than he could have ever asked for, and matty thinks he can afford to be greedy tonight.
but to him, being greedy isn’t fucking your throat until pretty tears fall down your cheeks—he can do that another time. greedy, to matty, is taking another orgasm from you, just so he can hear the way his name sounds when curled around your tongue.
he makes quick work of slipping off the mattress and taking off the white button-up and trousers, leaving him in only his boxers.
“i’m not lettin’ you suck me off.” he smirks.
“what? why not?” you move to the edge of the bed, a look of confusion dancing on your features as you run a finger up matty’s exposed thigh. “don’t you want me to?”
it’s hard not to give in when you tease the waistband of his boxers, the light chatter rumbling from downstairs a distant memory as he loses himself in the feeling of cold fingers slipping under the elastic band. leaning forward, you press leisurely kisses against the brunet’s torso.
he allows you to mouth at his abdomen, welcomes the gentle bite when you pull skin between your teeth; a swirl of possessiveness ravishing deep in his bones when he realizes that you’re is trying to match the heart-shaped hickeys that taint your own body.
matty breaks out of his trance when you roll his boxers down until the cloth lies in a pile around his ankles. goosebumps rise to his skin and he can feel his legs begin to tremble.
before you have the chance to take his cock into your mouth, matty takes hold of your hair, and gently pulls you back.
“i said you’re not blowin’ me,” he mutters, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay flat on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge and chest heaving at the proximity. “i know what i want for my birthday, and it’s not that.”
with a fluid movement, he flips your positions and settles against the headboard, letting you settle on his lap. his hands explore your body, nails occasionally scratching you—making you shiver.
“i want you. i want you as mine, and i want you to ride me, right here.”
matty laughs at your wide eyes, brushes sweaty hair out of your face, and relishes in the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. he’s painfully hard, and every time you shift just a fraction of an inch, it tugs a shaky breath from his throat.
“alright,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to matty’s lips. “do you have any condoms then?”
his hand reaches out to his bedside table. “in the drawer.”
you lean to grab it for him, and matty’s kissing you the entire time. over your chest, collarbones, shoulders, and neck as you push around his drawer, saying “you have so much shit in here.”
he turns to look. turns back to your neck. “in the back,” and he’s kissing you again, palming your ass. he slides his hands lower and bumps them against your sensitive clit, making you gasp, clutching onto the wood.
matty fucking laughs.
you shake your head. “you’re an arse.”
“you’re very distracting,” he admits.
you finally find the box, and with a packet in hand, you look down to where matty’s cock lays on his stomach, a bead of precum leaking onto his abdomen. “shit, you’re big.”
matty smirks, cocky. “think you can take it?”
huffing, you slide the condom down onto him slower than necessary. his cocky smirk dies immediately when you suck your cheeks together and allow a pool of spit to spill from your lips.
“gonna try,” you say, slicking up matty’s cock with a thick coat of saliva still partially strung to your lips, the friction slow enough for him to buck his hips and try to fuck your fist to get needed stimulation. 
“tease,” he manages to choke out before you sink down onto him, hips flexing back so he slides all the way in. as soon as you bottom out, matty groans long and hard, and his head falls into the crook of your shoulder.
you don’t let him know when you’re ready, only lifting yourself up so matty can feel the drag of his cock along your insides, gasping as pleasure clouds your mind. shaky limbs help you in slamming back down, the legs of the bed creaking with the force of your bodies colliding.
”fuck,” matty moans, hands scrambling to find purchase on your waist. you sound fucked out already, blissful sighs breathed into matty’s hair. “you okay?”
you sit up again, the tip of matty’s cock catching on your folds before you lower yourself again, stuttered curses leaving your mouth.
“mhm, m’fine. y-you’re just,” you sob, trailing off and rolling your hips forward, letting matty’s cock grind against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you swallow, the sound resonating in matty’s ears as he aids your movements with a firm grip on your waist. “big.”
matty’s ego swells and he pulls you down hard on his dick, making you feel just how big he can be. it causes you to shake your head quickly.
“fuck! n-not so fast, please.”
“oh baby,” he soothes, palms sliding to grip your ass, and he uses his hold on you to fuck up into you, keeping a simple rhythm—cock hitting a part of you that makes you sob. makes you collapse against his chest, and you stuff your head into his neck and just take it.
“there?” matty asks with a twinge of something sadistic. “want me to fuck you there?”
“yeah, yeah, please—close, matty, ‘m so close.”
to try and lessen the noise, matty grabs your face and pulls you down into a bruising kiss. he swallows every sound, loving the way you struggle to kiss him back as your legs tremble.
“close already, huh?” he whispers against your lips, drinking in every soft moan that escapes your throat.
and it’s meant to be playful, something that he can tease you about later—but with the way his name is repeated in a fucked out voice, he’s sure he’ll forget to do that later.
so he relents, fucking into you with calculated thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.
your thighs ache, and the edge is so close all you can do is take what he’s giving you and whine his name pathetically.
it hits you all at once.
a white-hot heat reaches up and grabs you and you clench so fucking tight around his cock that matty falters.
he’s losing his goddamn mind. head tilted back against the headboard, he’s trying to hold back pathetic whimpers, but when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your lashes flutter shut, matty lets out a sob as he comes, rutting his hips into you as your body shakes.
your body shakes with overstimulation as matty moves you against him, milking his orgasm and running sharp nails down your sweat-ridden back. 
after the comedown, you breathe out a sigh. matty’s kissing your neck. gently pecking at the hot skin, before spreading his kisses over your jaw, towards your mouth. 
“how was that?” he asks, tracing a calloused finger over the marks that litter your body. they turn a deeper shade of purple when his touch lingers for too long, and he grins as you squirm in his grasp.
“i think you already know,” you quip, frowning.
“maybe. but i wanna hear you say it.”
you don’t dignify him with a response, instead shaking your head and lifting yourself off his cock, wincing at the sudden emptiness.
“cold?” matty asks. you nod and curl into yourself as he gets up to rummage through his old closet.
once you’re fully dressed, in clothes albeit a bit big on you, matty helps you stand from the bed and pulls you into a hug—your first proper embrace since you’ve been here—and rests his chin atop your knotted hair.
you hum into his chest, wrapping your fingers behind his back and trace swirls over his bare skin. 
“i’m glad you’re here,” he says, pressing a kiss to your crown and pulling back to find his pants. “i don’t know if i actually told you that, yet.”
“i kinda figured you were—what with how fast you stopped crying when you saw me.”
“hey,” matty points an accusatory finger at you, but there’s no malice behind it. “you can’t blame me for bein’ upset, i thought you forgot my birthday.”
together, you fix the pillows and smooth over crumpled sheets, returning the room to the way it was before the kisses, the sex, and you.
“matty, when have i ever forgotten your birthday?” 
before leaving the room, you try to smooth out your hair, carding a hand through matty’s as well so it isn’t too obvious what you’ve been doing for the last hour—though you’re sure george has a hunch.
the minute you step into the kitchen, with matty close behind, you see george down the rest of his beer and make his way over to you. 
“so,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he eyes you two up and down. “what have you guys been doin’?”
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cherrymedicine13 · 9 months
Text
Just Pretend
eddie munson x fem!reader
based on the prompt “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to do this to me.” by @novelbear
trigger warnings: lies, arguing, jason carver, fluff, angst no comfort, i think thats all
not proofread. kinda shitty writing. still working on my writing skills so kindness is always appreciated
part 2
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You never thought you’d end up like this on the night of your senior prom. Sitting in the rain crying because you found out that the last 5 months have been a total lie.
Eddie Munson. You had known each other since elementary school. Just two kids who always seemed to work on each other's last nerve. He was always stealing your jump rope or whatever toy you had at the moment, so in return you’d tug on his curls, causing him to cry out in pain. It was just how the two of you were. Your mother always fed into the bullshit narrative that “if a boy is mean to you, he probably just likes you.” No... That's not it. You two hated each other.
As you both grew older the hate faded into a general disliking. Occasionally, getting into arguments over school projects, but since you were both in high school now, you mainly kept to your own friend groups. By no means were you friends, or acquaintances even, so when Eddie had asked you out on a date, it came as a complete shock.
Approaching your locker after English with your books in hand, you notice that familiar mop of dark curls.
“Mmm, just the girl I was waiting to see.”
“What do you want, Eddie?” You let out a huff as you spin the dial on your lock, entering the combination.
“Such a peach as always, huh, sweetheart?” Ignoring his remark, you shove your books in and shut the door so you are now facing Eddie. He’s wearing that same cocky smirk he always seems to have on around you. The kind that makes his brown eyes wrinkle on the side. You’d almost find it cute if it wasn’t coming from Eddie.
“Look, Munson, I have to go, so if you’re done mess-.”
“I have a question for you.”
“What is it?” You raise your brow, curious about what he could want.
“Can I take you out on a date?” He twists the rings on his fingers. You let a chuckle fall from your lips.
“No. Not happening.” Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you walk outside to your car in the school parking lot. Eddie takes the bag off your shoulder and slides it onto his own. You side-eye him suspiciously, but say nothing. He follows beside you, his arm brushing against your own.
“Come on. Why not?” He asks, his head tilting to the side. Sliding the key into the driver's side door, you take your bag from him and toss it into the passenger seat.
“Maybe because we’ve known each other our whole lives and have never liked each other.”
“That was when we were kids. Things are different now.” He shuts your car door after you sit and buckle your seatbelt. He rests his arms on your open window, his face just a few inches from your own.
“Oh yeah? Since when? I must have missed the memo that said were suddenly best friends.” With an exaggerated huff, you turn the key in the ignition and start your beat-up car.
“Look, I know we’ve had a rocky past, but I never hated you. Can you at least think about it?” He stares at you, his eyes shining with a slight glimmer of hope.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Later that night, after telling your mom what had happened over dinner, she convinced you to at least give him a chance. So, reluctantly, you agreed. That was your first mistake.
The anxiety in your tummy is almost too much for you that you want to call Eddie and cancel the date. You’ve only ever had one short-term boyfriend and been asked out one other time just two months ago by Jason Carver, but you rejected him since you two had nothing in common and he was an asshole. He didn't take the rejection so well. Since then, you’ve mostly kept to yourself and your friends. This was still a new feeling for you and you weren’t sure how to deal with all this anxiety over a date with Eddie Munson, of all people.
Smoothing over your skirt and glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time.
“It’s just one date. It’s all gonna be fine.” You tell yourself as there’s a knock on your front door. After gathering your bag and leaving your room, you answer the door. There he is. Eddie Munson, greeting you with a warm smile. He’s cleaned himself up a bit, his hair is a little neater. You can smell his woody cologne mixed with cigarettes.
“Hi.”
“Hi. You look beautiful.” He hands you a bouquet of white daisies.
“Thanks, Eddie.” Unable to hide the blush on your cheeks, you step to the side and gesture for him to come in. “Let me just put these in some water.” After a moment of searching for a vase and adding the water, you take the fresh daises and set them inside. Taking a moment to admire the pretty flowers, you ask, “So, Munson, what are the plans for tonight?”
His hands are in the pockets of his black jeans and he gently sways back and forth in his spot.
“Uh, well, I thought we could have a little evening picnic at lovers lake. I packed some food and drinks for us. If that is okay with you?” He asks, showing slight worry.
“That sounds nice.” You smile at him genuinely.
The date went surprisingly well. You could tell that he put thought into the date and tried to make a night that you’d both enjoy. He was kind even when he teased you. He made you laugh until your stomach hurt. After a night of sitting under the stars and drinking cheap beer, he walked you to your door and gave you a kiss goodnight on the cheek. Maybe that sudden switch-up from the Eddie you’ve always known should’ve been your red flag.
These past five months with Eddie have been the best months of your life. He had asked you to be his girlfriend and since then, the pair of you have spent nearly every day together. You loved watching his d&d campaigns with the hellfire club and watching corroded coffin at the hideout. He loved spending hours watching you study and hours waiting with you during your shifts at the record store. You were falling for him hard.
After lots of convincing and explaining to Eddie that this was your senior prom and you didn't want to miss out on it even though it was kinda lame, he agreed to take you. He asked you properly in an elaborate but still very much Eddie way. You felt special. He made you feel special.
The night was finally here. You’d spent the whole day getting ready with Nancy and Robin. All of your dates had arrived at your house in suits of their own. Steve and Robin go as best friends to just have a fun night out and help keep Robin’s mind off of seeing her crush with another guy. Jonathan picking up Nancy for their second prom as a couple. And Eddie. Your sweet Eddie is here to pick you up for your last school dance. He looked beautiful. All you could do was stare at him in awe. He’s wearing an all-black suit with red trim detailing on the jacket and a red silk tie that matches your red dress.
“Wow baby, you look…. stunning,” Eddie says, smiling while he takes your hand and spins you around.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.”
Giggling, you rest your hands on his chest, pulling him by his jacket into a kiss. His ringed fingers lift your chin, leading your lips to his own.
“I got something for you.”
“Eddie, you didn't have to do that. You already spent enough money on this night, and you wouldn’t even let me help pay for it.”
“That’s because you’re my girl and I wanted to do this for you. Besides, I didn't even pay for this.” He pulls out a necklace from his pocket. It’s his red corroded coffin guitar pick with white beading. You can’t hide the smile on your face.
“You made this for me?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I thought maybe you’d like to wear it tonight?”
“Eddie! I'd love to wear it tonight. I can't believe you did this for me. Thank you.” You spin around and he moves your hair to the side. His fingers lightly brushed against your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin. He clasps the necklace around your neck and kisses the side of your cheek.
“Ready for some photos?” You smile, nodding your head yes, and lead him into your living room where all the moms are waiting to take pictures.
You guys walk into the school cafeteria hand in hand. “Will you do me the honor of giving me this dance?” He bows dramatically, extending his hand out to you.
“I’d love nothing more.” You giggle and curtsy just as dramatically as Eddie. He takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor.
You and Eddie have been dancing for several songs now. Your heels are hurting your feet and you’re both getting hot. “Want me to get us some punch?”
“Yes, please! I'll find us an empty seat.” Eddie gives you a soft gentle kiss on the lips before leaving to get your drinks.
Your feet are thankful for the few minutes of rest but a full song has gone by and Eddie still hasn't returned with your drinks. Getting worried that he might be tangled up with the jocks, you decide to go look for him. After a scan across the dance floor and checking the refreshments table, still not being able to find him, you figure maybe he's outside taking a smoke break.
Pushing open the cafeteria doors and walking down the halls, you're about to turn around the corner to the exit when you stop because of the sound of disgruntled voices. Your heart plummets at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You hide around the corner, watching just out of sight.
“What the hell, freak? You were supposed to break her heart and drop her at the start of prom. That was the deal.” Jason Carver says, pushing Eddie. Eddie shoves Jason's hands off himself.
You know they are talking about you. Who else would this be about? Tears fill your eyes, realizing that your whole relationship has been a lie. Your heart is broken. Eddie took your heart, ripped it out, and stomped all over it.
“I told you-.” the sound of beads falling across the floor cuts Eddie’s voice off. He turns around to see mascara running down your face and his guitar pick being torn from your neck and thrown at his feet. “Sweetheart, wait no-.” You avoid his eyes and push past him, ignoring his pleas.
Blinking through your tears, you push past the main doors of the school and run outside. Unsure of where to even go, your feet mindlessly carry you through the rain. Unable to hold back your sobs, you drop to the ground next to a tree in the field. The world feels like it's crashing in on you and you just want the pain to stop. The boy you fell for, the boy you loved, was using you. Everything you thought you knew was a lie. All those bright happy memories from the last five months were now tainted and all you see was black.
“Sweetheart... Please just let me explain.” Eddie’s voice appears from behind you. Getting up from the ground, you turn to face him, sadness and anger taking over.
“Explain what? You're here to tell me about how used me? How you made me fall for you just for some, what? Some twisted game between you and Jason fucking Carver?” he winces at your harsh words.
“No! It-it wasn't a game. I- I made a bet with him. He came to me and told me he had asked you out on a date and- and you said no. He didn't like that very much and he wanted to get back at you. He told me that if I get you to fall for me and break up with you on the day of prom, then he would leave me and the rest of the hellfire guys alone. Like for good. I-I just thought that we were all finally done taking his shit, and I just wanted a peaceful rest of the year for all of us. I'm so incredibly sorry.”
“So, you decided to screw me over instead? God, I can't even believe this is happening right now.” You run your hands down your face, scoffing.
“No, well, I mean yes, kinda. But this wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to do this to me.” He reaches his hands out towards you. You can barely make out the tears in his eyes because of the rain. You swat his hands away and take a few more steps back.
“What? Find out and ruin your plan? Well, too fucking bad. I found out anyway.”
“That's not it. I fell for you. I fell in love with you. I fucking love you. I was supposed to just finish this deal and live my life, but I couldn't go through with it because I love you. You made me fall for you so effortlessly. I didn't stand a chance. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you, but it was real. The love I feel for you is real. Please, believe me. Please trust that I'm telling you the truth. I love you.” There is a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, but you can't let that stop you.
“I don't think I can trust you ever again. I can't do this. I'm done. Goodbye, Eddie.” You walk away wiping the tears from your face, leaving Eddie alone in the empty field, using everything in you to not turn around and go back to him.
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sturn1olo-ffics · 5 months
Text
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- I WANNA HATE YOU SO BAD -
- Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader
- Warnings: making out, angst, pining? (if you squint), swearing, use of y/n, Chris and y/n high key hate each other; NOT PROOFREAD
- About: Y/n had always been close friends with Matt and Nick, but she always had a hatred towards Chris. That is, until everything changes one night while sleeping over at the triplets’ house.
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(Y/N’s POV):
“Hey y/n! Me, Nick, and Chris were gonna go to Top Golf later today, wanna come with?” Matt called me.
“Uh- yeah sure. What time?” I was hesitant with my answer because I know how competitive Chris gets when it comes to golf and it pisses me off.
“Probably about 5:00, I’ll text you when we’re on the way to your house… don’t worry, if Chris starts getting competitive I’ll make him leave.” He could sense the uncomfortableness in my voice.
“Alright, sounds good. Bye Matt.” I replied before ending the call after he said goodbye.
I was closest to Matt out of all three boys. We just clicked more than I did with anyone else.
I cleaned up the house and got caught up on some homework before finally deciding to get dressed.
4:30.
“Hey, we’re on the way” Matt texted.
I grabbed my stuff and turned out all the lights before heading out the door when they finally arrived.
“Y/n! What’s up??” Nick asked enthusiastically.
“Hey Nick!” I said, climbing into the backseat.
I never acknowledged Chris. It was a rare occasion that one of us actually cared to say hey to each other. I don’t even have a reason why I hate Chris so much, he just pissed me off and I never knew why. Apparently that was the same for Chris, though. Because he hated me just as much, if not more.
We got to Top Golf and started our game.
To my surprise, Chris wasn’t even being competitive tonight, which was unlike him. He was still being loud as ever, though.
“Chris would you shut the fuck up for 2 seconds so I can think-” I snapped, trying to come up with a response to my mom, who was asking when I would be flying back home next.
“Oh please y/n, like you could think anyway with your smooth brain” he rolled his eyes.
“Chris you’re the dumbest fucking person I know-” I started before I was cut off.
“Hey! Would you two stop? Chris shut the fuck up and y/n just worry about texting your mom.” Matt silenced both of us.
The rest of the night went pretty normal, Matt and I laughing over stupid things, Nick telling stories from the mall trip he and Madi had earlier, and Chris and I bickering ever so often.
Matt and I usually just hung out alone. Mainly because we were best friends, but also to prevent me and Chris from butting heads. But sometimes we wanted to do group things, so we had to deal with it.
On the way back to the boys’ house, Matt had asked if I wanted to spend the night.
Of course I said yes, we always had sleepovers and they were so much fun.
We got to their house and I changed into shorts and a t-shirt that I had left there a while back.
“I’m tired as fuck and I’m going to bed, no one disturb me please.” Nick said, walking up the stairs and into his room.
Me, Matt, and Chris sat on the couch on our phones.
“I’ll be back in a little bit, I’m gonna go shower.” Matt said, getting up and walking towards his bathroom.
I hated being alone with Chris. Even though I knew I hated him, there was always some unbreakable tension between us when we were alone.
A couple minutes passed by of us being on our phones in dead silence when Chris spoke up.
“I’m going to bed.” He groaned, getting up and walking towards the set of stairs that went down to his bedroom.
“Okay?” I replied with a sassy tone.
“Fuck are you always mad at me for anyway?” He turned around, walking back toward me.
“You just piss me off.” It was all I could think of. Like I said, I don’t really know why I even hate him.
Sometimes I look and him and think that maybe it’s my way of suppressing my real feelings because I’m scared of what could happen. But I hated admitting that, so I just went along with the fact that he pissed me off.
“Oh I piss you off?” He said, almost teasingly while continuing walking toward me. I was taken aback.
“Yeah, the fuck?” It was so obvious I was annoyed and wanted to be left alone.
“Is it because you have to look at me every day?” He teased, sitting down next to me.
“Look at what? Your ugly ass face?” I replied, desperately trying to turn the conversation into a normal one we’d have.
“Oh come on y/n. You know you love me.” He said in a low voice, placing his hand on my thigh.
“What the hell are you on about Chris-” I began before he cut me off.
“Wouldn’t it be a shame if I kissed you right now…” he smirked, tracing my jaw with his fingers.
My heart fluttered. Why? Why the fuck was this dumbass making me nervous?
“Christopher I swear to Go-” he continued interrupting me.
“Say my full name again.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear.
Where the hell was this confidence he had coming from?
“What? Christopher?” I questioned.
His eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips, which were parted already due to pure shock.
Next thing I know, he leaned in, moving his hand that rested on my thigh to my waist and the other cupping my cheek.
He placed his lips on mine, and before I could speak, our lips started moving in sync.
I practically melted into the kiss, which made Chris giggled when he pulled back before deepening the kiss.
His grip on my waist grew tighter as he guided me to straddle him on the couch.
He pulled away from my lips and began trailing sloppy kisses down my jaw and onto my neck, which definitely left marks.
I let out a small whine as he bit the skin on my neck.
“I wanna hate you so bad.” I stated, breathlessly.
“I know you do.” He pulled away from my neck, smirking.
We heard a door open, signaling Matt could walk in here at any moment, so I hopped off of Chris and he got up, walking toward his room.
“Surprised y’all didn’t kill each other in here.” Matt joked as he walked in the room.
“Yeah I’m leaving for a reason. I cannot be in her presence for too long.” Chris continued walking before turning around and winking at me without Matt noticing.
“Should’ve known nothing changed.” Matt looked down at the ground and laughed before asking if I was ready to go to bed.
I, of course, always shared a room with Matt at sleepovers because he was my best friend.
I got up and me and Matt made our way to bed.
All I can say is thank GOD I was wearing a hoodie which covered the hickies on my neck.
—————————————————————————————
A/N: I know I said this was gonna be multiple parts on the poll, but I changed my idea a little bit and it ended up just being one. If y’all want a second part, you can always send in a request with an idea for it and I’ll totally write one, but otherwise this is it. Sorry to all the Matt girls. I know, me writing so many Chris fics is killing me too, but y’all wanted them first on the poll 💔
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bqstqnbruin · 4 months
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The Party's Over, Go Home
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Hello hello here I am with my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!
I had the pleasure of writing for @sc0tters I hope you like it!
Shoutout to @kat-hearts @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby for reading through this and getting mad at me :)
This is inspired by Intrusive Thoughts by Natalie Jane, Deserve by Jake Clark, and the Gilmore Girl's episode from season 5 called The Party's Over
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, family financial issues, this is angst, the spacebar on my computer is starting to break so typos (I tried)
WC: 11k
__________________________________
“We should do something tonight.”
“I was going to go to bed early, actually.”
“You do that every night.”
“What, are you stalking me now?”
“No,” Kendyl draws out. “You stop texting me by like, 8:30 every night. Your phone is on do not disturb half an hour later. Either you’re asleep early, or you’re ignoring everyone by then.”
Ellie narrows her eyes at her coworker. They still weren’t close enough that she felt she could comfortably hang out with the people she worked with outside of the workday. She had only been at her new job for a month, still getting the hang of things, trying to get to know people and figure everything out. Spending time outside her apartment with people who were practically strangers when she could be in her warm bed with her flannel sheets that she loved more than anything on this planet? “I don’t like that you picked up on that.” 
“Well, too bad,” Kendyl says, sitting down on Ellie’s desk. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, so why not?” Ellie hesitates to answer. “If it sucks, you can go home at ten. You’ll be in bed by 10:30, two hours later than normal. And it’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow for you to use that as an excuse as to why you have to get up early, and you already told me that the only thing you planned on doing this weekend was laundry and cleaning.”
Ellie let out a long sigh. Maybe Kendyl did know her well enough to be able to call her out on her shit already. “God.”
“I don’t know if you’re religious or not to know if that’s a yes.”
“Fine,” she says, shuddering at Kendyl’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re buying at least one round and I get to leave at 9:30 if I want to.” 
“Deal.” 
Ellie’s day was full of dread, from spending the rest of work distracted about having to go out with seemingly everyone at her job, so the stress involved with getting ready and trying to look like someone who was actually 24, not the ‘1980’s power boss bitch without the hair and shoulder pads’ as Kendyl described her as multiple times, even do walking to the bar that Kendyl had picked that felt way too conveniently down the street from her apartment. 
“I’m surprised you even had someone convince you to go out,” her younger brother, Alex, says on the other end of their phone call. As soon as he saw Ellie leaving her apartment on Find My Friends, he called her panicked that something was wrong. “You never went out in college. I had to beg you to go to that one party the time I visited you.”
“That’s because you were still seventeen and Mom would have killed me if she found out you went.”
“She knew I was going to try anyway.”
“I’m going out because I was promised free drinks and the prospect of going home early if I want to. It’s not like I’m being forced to go out against my will.” 
“I promised you free drinks.” 
“Alexander.”
“Eleanor. Just be safe, ok? Let me know when you get home.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“If I were Mom, I would be yelling at you for not wearing a jacket.”
“How do you know I’m not wearing a jacket?”
“You never wear a jacket. Mom has been yelling at you about that since you were five.” 
Ellie lets out a laugh, a sudden chill coursing through her when she realizes she can see her breath. “How is Mom, have you checked in on her?’
“Yes, Ellie.”
“In person?”
“Yes, Ellie. She’s good. At least, she says she is.” 
The two of them stay on the phone in silence for a moment, knowing what he really means. Ellie and Alex hated the topic of how their mom was doing, but if they didn’t talk about it with each other, who else did they have? Their mom and Alex still live in the same area even if Alex was away at college and living in a dorm rather than with her. Ellie was on the other side of the continent now, for a job that she barely had any friends at, in a city she still barely knew, surrounded by things she wasn’t used to. 
“Hey, I’m outside the bar now, I’ll talk to you later?” she ends the call, taking in one last deep breath before heading into what she was sure was going to be 
“You came!” Kendyl yells once Ellie finally manages to get into the bar. “Here’s the first drink.”
Before Ellie could even tell Kendyl she wasn’t ready yet to start drinking, the drink was pressed to her chest and nearly spilled down the front of her. Despite it being early enough in the night that no one should be drunk by now, Kendyl and the rest of her coworkers seemed to be well on their way with Ellie needing more drinks than she could count to catch up. 
The night goes by slowly, the drinks going away fast, and Ellie sitting in the corner while her coworkers, who are obviously close, talk about a bunch of inside jokes from before she was hired that Ellie was unable to participate in.
“Remember when he ordered the wrong cake?” Wesley slurs, punching Doug in the shoulder.
“I swear she told me to say, ‘Happy Retirement,’” Douglas defends himself.
“It was my 28th birthday, not my retirement?” Hazel says, everyone except Ellie bursting into a fit of laughter.
“What about when Sammy dialed 911 during the meeting?” Kendyl adds through wheezes, the remains of her drink nearly spilling on Ellie’s shirt, again.
“It fell out of my pocket and bounced weird!”
“How does a bouncing phone dial 911?”
“That’s the set up to a bad pick up line.”
“More like the setup to a story that makes no sense,” Ellie mutters, thankful that her coworker's howling laughter was too loud to hear her.
She gets up from the table, draining her drink on her way to the bar. It was only 9:15. She promised Kendyl 15 more minutes. The least she could do was down another drink in that time before pulling her classic Irish exit to go home and get in bed. 
“Rum and coke?” she asks once she gets up to the bar, the sticky wooden counter acting as anything but inviting for her to lean on. 
“Me, too, and put it on my tab,” someone says behind her, Ellie’s face immediately turning sour at the thought of some guy buying her a drink to probably get her to hook up with him.
“My friend is paying for it, actually,” she turns to him, surprised to find a seemingly innocent-looking guy around her age and not the middle-aged gross man she thought he would be. Anything was possible, and looks can be deceiving.
“Which friend, the one who almost spilled her drink on you or the one of the ones who have been ignoring you the entire night and letting you sit in silence while they have a good time around you?”
“I already don’t like you.” 
“My friends pointed you out and said you were me when they drag me out to bars.”
“So you’re the friend who they barely know and who they only invited out of pity?”
“That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” he says, the pink rushing to his cheeks as he turns away out of embarrassment. “Sorry, um. I’m going to go sit down now.”
“You haven’t gotten your drink yet,” Ellie points out, his sudden bashfulness making Ellie soften for him. “I just moved here. I don’t really know any of them too well.”
“I know what that’s like,” he tells her, leaning against the bar. 
“You’re not from here, either?”
He shakes his head. “Born in Orlando, moved to Boston, then moved to Toronto, and kept going from there.” 
“That sounds unstable,” she says, passing one of the newly appeared glasses of alcohol to the guy in front of her.
He shrugs, lifting the drink to his lips. “Well, they say you are a product of your environment.” 
Ellie lets out a laugh, the first one that she had let out all night. “That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” she repeats, the pink returning to his cheeks again.
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”
“Depends on how long we keep talking.”
“Hopefully it lasts past tonight.”
“It can’t if you don’t tell me your name. I’m Ellie.”
“I’m Quinn.”
Ellie loses count of how many drinks Quinn gets her, how long they’re talking, and when all of her coworkers leave the bar, not even telling her that they were leaving without her. 
She could feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body, the bar getting busier the longer she and Quinn stood there. Someone shoves in between Ellie and whoever is behind her, pushing her into Quinn’s arms without her being able to catch her balance. His hand falls to the small of her back, spreading out to hold her steady. They stood there in silence, the rest of the bar a world away from them. 
“Are you ok?” Quinn whispers in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. 
Ellie stammers for a second, trying to process what just happened. The alcohol was making everything foggy, and the room starting to spin slightly around her as if Quinn was rocking her back and forth. “Um, I, yes?”
His eyes flickered down to her lips, the distance between them closing with each additional person, he was so close to kissing her. 
“I should go home,” Ellie says before he can, knowing that kissing him now would not be a good idea for either of them. 
His grip on her doesn’t relax, the disappointment Ellie expected to show up on his face not there at all. “I’m walking you home,” he tells her, slipping his hand into hers before she can protest. 
“You don’t have to do that.” 
“I want to.” 
The difference in temperature between the bar and outside hit Ellie faster than she could process it, her lack of jacket her brother had scolded her for earlier biting her in the ass harder than the cold was in the moment.
Ellie didn’t even process Quinn taking off his own coat, the one she didn’t even realize he had been wearing the entire time, and putting it around her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. 
She was on autopilot, unsure how she managed to navigate her way to her apartment when her mind was on Quinn’s body pressed against hers. She just met him. She didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know what he did for work and only knew that he had two brothers who lived in New Jersey even though that wasn’t one of the places that he mentioned living before. 
“Here,” Ellie barely gets out, surprised with herself for managing to get back to the right place. 
“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Quinn asks, shoving his hands in his pockets when he finally lets go of her. 
“No, it’s fine.” 
Ellie goes to take off the jacket and give it back to him, the warmth something her drunk self quickly realized she was going to miss. “No, keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Quinn tells her, pulling his things out of his pockets before turning away to head off.
She stands there for a few seconds, trying to process what had happened that night. 
“Wait, no,” Quinn says, appearing again in front of her. “I can’t leave without getting your number first.” 
“I couldn’t even tell you what my number is right now,” she admits, handing him her phone instead.
Quinn laughs, putting his number in. “I want to see you again, Ellie.”
She smirks at him. “We’ll see, Quinn.” 
___________________
“What do you mean you’re not bringing anyone?”
“No one said I had to bring anyone.” 
“Everyone brings someone. You have to bring a date to the holiday party.”
“Then why was one of the options on the RSVP ‘no’ to the question ‘will a guest be accompanying you?’”
Kendyl whines, earning a cringy look from Ellie. “You have no one you can bring?” 
Ellie rolls her eyes, leaning back in her desk chair. “Let’s see, I’ve been here for like, what, two months? I knew no one when I got here, I hate going out and don’t have anywhere to meet anyone, and somehow none of you here know anyone either. Who would I bring?”
“What about that guy you met at the bar that one time? I see his name popping up on your phone all the time.”
Ellie snatches her phone from her desk and holds it against her chest as Kendyl cranes her neck to see that her statement is actually fact, three messages from Quinn, a fourth appearing while they were talking. “You need to learn what a boundary is.”
“And you need to learn what the Focus feature is on your phone when you’re showing me things because his name always shows up.” 
She couldn’t invite Quinn to the party. She barely knew him, she couldn’t throw him into the party with a bunch of her coworkers who she also barely knew, putting her phone back on the desk without thinking. “He’s probably busy.”
Kendyl rolls her eyes, snatching Ellie’s phone from her desk before she can protest, fiddling with it while Ellie tries to process what could possibly be happening in front of her. “He’s not.”
“What?”
“He’s not busy.” 
“Ken, what did you do?” Kendyl hands Ellie back her phone, a quick conversation with Quinn on her screen, ‘Ellie’ asks him what he was doing the night of the holiday party and he immediately answers that he is free. “Why are you like this?” 
Kendyl shrugs, slowly backing away from Ellie’s desk. “You had fun talking to him at the bar, enough fun that he responded to you within seconds of being asked if he was free.” 
Ellie looks back at her phone as Kendyl finally leaves her alone. The whole idea of having to bring a date seemed archaic in a way that Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Why did she have to bring someone she barely knew to a party with more people she barely knew?
But she really did know Quinn better than she was letting on. She still didn’t know what he did with his life, him weirdly making her promise not to look him up, which made Ellie immediately question if he was a serial killer. He wasn’t, allegedly, but that still didn’t make sense. 
She knew that he was from the States, went to school there until he left early for whatever job he had. He has two younger brothers, and apparently is known amongst his friends for looking like he was having a nonstop existential crisis, while also being nicknamed ‘Huggy Bear.’ She also knew that he was sweet, and listened to her when she went off on a tangent about something, him following right along and matching the energy she had. She knew that she wanted to see him again every night since she had met him that first time, and that he wanted the same thing.
His name came up on her phone, a call from him. “Hi, sorry, it’s easier to talk than text right now.”
“Why are you out of breath?”
“Workout.” Must be nice to have a job where he can just go and work out in the middle of the day, Ellie thinks to herself. “So, the 18th?”
“Yeah,” Ellie lets out, suddenly nervous. It felt like she was asking him for something much more serious than just going with her to an office party. “It’s the holiday party for my company, and apparently everyone needs to bring a date.”
“And you want me to find you one?”
Ellie’s jaw drops at his comment. “No, idiot, I wanted to bring you.” 
“Oh, thank god. I was running through my friends who would go and none of them are good enough for you.”
Ellie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at his comment. Did he consider this a date? Was it a date? Was it bad if she considered it a date and he didn’t? What if he didn’t? Why was her mind running at a mile a minute while Quinn was there on the other end of her phone waiting for her to say something else? “So that’s a yes?”
“Of course, it’s a yes. It’s one of the few nights I have off, I want to spend it with you.”
The next days went by in a blur, Ellie freaking out over everything from what she was going to wear, texting and calling Quinn even more, wishing that they could see each other sooner.
“It’s not obsessive, is it?” she asks Kendyl, staring at herself in the mirror. Kendyl insisted on coming over to Ellie’s place to get ready, telling her that her roommate had their partner over that night and the last thing she needed to do was try to use the bathroom to get rid when they had a habit of taking it over for more than a few hours.
“No, El, you just like him. I think it becomes obsessive when you start to stalk him and you show up to where he works unprovoked.” 
“Why do you say that like you’ve either done that or you’ve had that happen to you?”
“I’ll let you decide which one is better. What time is Quinn coming?”
“He’s supposed to get here in ten minutes.” 
“Just breathe, El. You’re going to have fun.” Kendyl left her to finish getting herself ready, her date already waiting outside to take her to the party. They could have all gone together, as pointed out by Kendyl, but it was better to not throw Quinn directly into the fire that was her closest coworker. 
Ellie’s phone starts ringing, not checking but expecting it to be Quinn calling to tell her he was early. She pops out of her seat to head to the door, picking up the phone and answering with an excited “Hi!”
“Eleanor?” 
Ellie stops in her tracks, her mom’s voice coming over her phone speaker. “Mom?”
“Sweetie, can you do me a favor?” 
Ellie felt her heart drop to her stomach, already knowing what her mom was going to ask her. It was the same thing that her mom always asked since she first got a job when she was in high school, every time she answered the phone while she was getting her degree, no matter where Ellie was in her life, it was never a call that a mother should have to make to one of her children this often. “Mom,” she lets out, knowing that she couldn’t say no.
“Please, Eleanor. I need the money. I, I-” 
“Mom, you promised,” Ellie cuts her off, not wanting to hear anymore even though she knew her mom would keep going.
“I thought I would get a raise before they sent the eviction notice this time.”
“Mom,” Ellie says, more exasperated this time. “You have to stop doing this. You do this to me every time.” 
“Alexander can’t help this time.”
Ellie heard a knock at her door, not even processing the fact that she should be looking through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a murderer, opening it, and letting whoever it was in. Thankfully, it was Quinn, waving him in and motioning to give her a moment.
“Alex is still in college, already struggling because you’re no help. He shouldn’t have to give you anything in the first place.”
Quinn stands there, clearly uneasy at listening to only Ellie’s end of the conversation but following Ellie into her room regardless. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed while he watches Ellie continue to get ready. 
“But you said last time that I couldn’t ask you again.”
“I didn’t mean for you to ask my little brother.”
“Eleanor, please. He’ll have nowhere to come home to. I’ll have nowhere to go home to.”
“What happened to everything you had last time I asked you?”
“It went towards all of the other bills, I promise. I’ll send you every confirmation for every bill I have.” 
“You’re not lying to me this time?”
“I’m not, I swear!”
“How many months did Alex cover?”
“Only half of one month.”
“How many months are you behind?”
“I swear I used everything I had to pay-”
“Mom, how many months are you behind?” Ellie knew she was raising her voice, forgetting that Quinn was even behind her. She stopped putting her makeup on at this point, knowing that the tears that were about to fall were going to ruin what she had already on, anyway. 
“Four.”
“Fuck, Mom.”
“Please?” her mom’s voice comes through, small and on the brink of breaking. “I know I’m still paying you back from last time. But what else am I supposed to do?’
“I’m sending it now,” she tells her, hanging up before her mother could say anything else. Ellie forgot Quinn was standing there in her doorway, putting her phone down on her vanity and putting her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.
Quinn clears his throat, causing Ellie to jump. “Should I go?” he asks, creeping into her room.
Ellie wipes the tears from her cheeks, cursing herself mentally for now having to redo the makeup she already took too long to do the first time. “Uh,” she stammers, “No, no. I’ll be ready in a second.”
“Ellie,” Quinn kneels on the floor next to her, gently placing his hand on her thigh. “We don’t have to go to this.” 
“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.”
“El.” 
Ellie finally turned to him, the genuine concern on his face causing her to burst into tears. He reached up and pulled her close to him, his one hand on her back, the other holding her head on his shoulder, letting her cry on his white shirt. She hears him let out a quiet shushing noise, trying to comfort her in the way she had needed for so long. She cried for so long that she didn’t know how much time passed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers when she finally stops crying, not moving from their position. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She never told anyone about the stuff with her mom. Ellie had been holding it in for years, going from friend to friend, place to place, never letting this out with anyone who wasn’t her younger brother, the one person who would understand and who she knew also understood what it was like. 
But there was something about Quinn. She thought she could trust him, for whatever reason. She never told her ex-boyfriends in college or high school, despite the fact that this had been going on since then. 
Ellie takes in a deep breath. “The only people who know this are me, my mom, and my brother, do you understand?” she asks him, watching him nod. “It started, I think, when my dad left. I was probably 10? Alex was 6, maybe?  I don’t even remember, honestly. This probably started before Dad left, Alex and I think it’s why he left. But our mother is absolutely shit when it comes to money. Like, put us in debt every few months that then somehow fell to us as her children to bail her out.” 
“God,” Quinn lets out, Ellie continuing over him.
“I think we realized it was getting bad when she told us we were moving somewhere smaller right before I was starting high school, out of the blue, when we had already moved to ‘somewhere smaller’ three times in four years. Normally she said she had been planning it because we, of course, needed somewhere to live, and she didn’t like where we were, but that was weird. I didn’t realize it was because we had been evicted every single time until I found the seven eviction notices my second year of high school from the last three times and a notice that we were getting evicted that year, too.”
“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” he tells her, pulling her back in for a hug. 
She sighed, knowing that there was nothing more he could say. “At this point it’s normal, it’s just still frustrating when she tells me and Alex that she’s fine and that she has the money for everything, and then out of nowhere, tells us she hasn’t paid the rent for her current place in four months. Like, do you know what it’s like to have your mother owe you nearly a hundred thousand dollars because of how much she keeps needing?”
“I can’t even imagine.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. 
“I’m glad you can’t. It fucking sucks,” she says, turning back to her vanity mirror. “God, I don’t even want to go to this stupid party anymore.” 
“Hey, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay here, we can go to my place, we can go somewhere else, we can do anything.”
“We?”
“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie. I came tonight because I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn tells her, taking her hand in his. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you wherever you want.” 
“You don’t have to.”
“Ellie, I want to be with you.” 
___________________
“Kendyl, I told you, I’m hanging out with Quinn and the rest of the guys tonight.” 
“Can I please come?”
“Absolutely not.” 
“But you’re dating the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks. You have to bring your best friend along with you.” 
“Alexander can’t come tonight either.”
“Ok, rude.”
Ellie was already nervous about meeting Quinn's teammates. It had taken a while for her to wrap her head around that he was not only a hockey player, but a professional one, and the actual captain of the team. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. She had heard so much about Elias and Brock that she felt like she knew them at this point. She hadn’t even met them. As close as she had gotten to Kendyl in the last six months she spent at her job, and as much time as they spent together outside of work when she wasn’t with Quinn, she didn’t need Kendyl mixed into the group. 
“Let me meet them first, then we can talk about you meeting them, ok?” she tries to assure her, hearing a knock at her door. “I’ve gotta go, Quinn is here.”
She hangs up on Kendyl before she can protest, slightly worried that she would use the ‘Find my friends’ feature to just stalk the house they were going to and end up on the doorstep uninvited. 
“Hi,” she opens the door, stopping for a second to take him in. God, she hated how hard she fell for him in a short amount of time. He was perfect to her at that moment. 
He pulled her in for a kiss, one that made her wish they were staying in rather than heading to spend time with his friends. “Hi,” he whispers, kissing her again before pulling away. “You look amazing, as always.”
“I’m wearing jeans and a sweater,” she counters.
“And?” He could say anything to her with that stupid smile on his face and make her swoon. “Ready?”
They head out to his car, Ellie’s heart racing as they get closer and closer to Thatcher’s house. She wasn’t great with meeting large groups of people all at once, despite being in a new school nearly every year of her awkward teenage years and being forced to interact with new people every time. 
“Hey,” Quinn says, resting his hand on her thigh as he drives down the highway, giving her a gentle squeeze to try to calm her down. “You’re going to like the guys. And they’re going to love you.”
“Yeah?” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 
“How could they not?” he asks, taking her hand and bringing to his lips, his eyes glued to the road in front of them so he couldn’t see her melting at his words and his touch. “You’ll get along great with Elias.”
“He’s the one from Sweden?”
“Yeah,” Quinn tells her, pulling into the driveway of a house so massive Ellie wasn’t sure people could actually live in it. It was certainly bigger than anything she could have ever dreamed of being near, let alone being invited to. “He’s got kind of a dry humor. You’ll like him.”
Ellie takes in a deep breath, feeling incredibly inadequate just getting out of his car and standing on the pavement of a place like Thatcher’s house. Maybe she should have invited Kendyl. 
Quinn takes her hand, pulling her along to the door when everything inside her was telling her to turn around and just run. There was no way she was good enough to be in this house, not with everything in her life, not when Quinn and his teammates had everything they could possibly want at the tips of their fingers. 
He stops at the door, pulling her close to him, dropping her hand, and cupping her face to kiss her again, calming her immediately. “Hi,” he breathes when he pulls away.
“Hi again. What was that for?” she asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, sending a shiver through her entire body as he traced her sides. 
“I’m going to want to do that so many times tonight, but I know the guys will tease us for it. I’ve gotta do what I can now.” 
That shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did. He could say or do anything at this point and she would melt. 
They go inside, the house loud and full of people despite Quinn telling her that it was just supposed to be a ‘small get-together.’ Everything in the house looked expensive, Ellie’s anxiety immediately spiking. She followed Quinn blindly through the house, all of his teammates talking to him and him introducing her to all of them while she stood there nearly mute over the sheer stimulus overload that was all around her. She barely noticed the drinks that found their way in hers and Quinn's hands, drinking once she saw Quinn drinking it, as well. 
“Elias is right over here,” he whispers in her ear, his hand still in hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as he leads her off into one of the side rooms. The room was quieter, the lights dimmer, and had a lot less people than any of the other rooms. 
“You got here half an hour ago and you’re just making it in here?” one of the guys asks as she and Quinn sit next to each other on the couch. “Ellie, you have to get him to go faster through the greetings next time. I cannot be left alone with Brock for this long.”
She looks at Quinn, confused as to how they already know her name. 
“You know I have to say hi to everyone, I’m captain.”
“As captain, you should be able to do one big greeting and let that be it so you can seclude yourself in a separate room where you don’t have to talk to everyone else,” one of the other guys said.
“Every time you talk, Brock, you add more to the long list of why you would make a horrible captain.”
“I would be a great captain.” 
“Elias, Brock, jeez.” 
“You know you can’t leave us alone for too long.” 
Ellie gets lost in their conversation, not even being able to contribute to what they were saying because their verbal sparring is so fast and so specific to their history with each other, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Quinn puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He looks at her while Brock and Elias continue bickering, smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. 
The guys interrupt them, jeering and teasing them to the point where Ellie has her face buried in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to hide from the embarrassment. “So, Ellie, what do you see in El Capitan here?” Brock asks, giving the most obnoxious facial expression possible.
“You do not have to answer that,” Elias tells her. “Brock has no idea how to interact with anyone, just ignore him.”
“That’s not true.” 
“You thought a good pick up line to use on a girl was ‘you dropped something, my jaw,’ the other night and then were shocked when she just turned and walked away,” Elias says, earning a laugh from Ellie and Quinn.
“You have definitely taken a girl out on a date and then talked about yourself the entire time,” Quinn adds, Brock shrinking further into his seat. 
“You look like the kind of guy that would go to a bookstore and pretend to look lost to see if a girl would talk to you,” Ellie adds, sending the guys into a frenzy. 
“He wouldn’t have to pretend to be lost,” Elias says, poking a pouting Brock in the leg. “You should come around more, Ellie.”
“She’s spent too much time with Quinn already,” Brock whines, Quinn pulling her so she’s practically in his lap, kissing her cheek.
“I told you,” he whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I need you to come around more, too.” Ellie turns to him, her cheeks burning before they both burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible.”
The four of them fall into an easy conversation, the three boys doing everything they can to make Ellie feel included, not shying away from teasing her like they were each other earlier. She felt comfortable. 
Ellie eventually excused herself to go to the bathroom and get more drinks for her and Quinn, the alcohol finally hitting her. She barely finds her way back to the room the guys were in, Thatcher’s house seeming much bigger now that she wasn’t sober and much harder to navigate without Quinn taking her around.
She didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, standing on other side of the opening without them seeing her.
“Brock, I swear, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t be able to blow your fucking nose,” she hears Elias say, stiffling a laugh as Brock mumbles something about not meaning to spill his drink on Elias.
“Anyway,” Quinn grunts, sounding like he was getting off the floor.
“Ellie is awesome, by the way,” Elias says, Ellie sure she missed some sort of segue that could have led the conversation from Brock to Ellie.
“She’s snarky,” Brock adds, Ellie hearing a smack and Brock letting out a cough. “That’s not a bad thing.” 
“I met her by accident but I cannot think about what it would be like without her now,” she hears Quinn say, Ellie trying to figure out if she actually heard him right. That sounded like he was much more serious about her than she thought he was. 
“Woah, Quinn,” Elias says. “You met her a few months ago.”
“God, I know,” she hears Quinn let out. “But you know how you just know sometimes? You run into this person one day and they just make your life better?”
“You guys made my life worse since I met you,” Brock mutters. “I say goodnight to her every night and I can’t wait until I can say good morning to her the next day.” 
“You’re a simp.”
“Can you blame me? She’s perfect.”
Ellie finally enters the room, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t just hear everything Quinn told his friends, the ones he told her he would trust with anything. It had to mean something that they already knew who she was before coming and that he could tell them those things unprovoked.
Quinn lights up at the sight of her, giving her another kiss and wrapping his arms around her when she sits down. “You took a bit,” he comments. 
“This house is confusing,” she lies.
Elias and Brock continue to bicker while ignoring Ellie and Quinn. Ellie eventually finishes her drink, along with the third one that Brock had managed to hand off to her at some point, sinking down so her head was in Quinn’s lap.
“How often do you think about the future?”
“I mean, I’m normally thinking about what I’m making for my next meal once I finish the one I’m eating.”
Ellie groans, their hands intertwined and in constant movement, suddenly regretting how much they had both had to drink. She looks up at him, a smile on her face despite the look on his that told her he had absolutely no thoughts behind those eyes. “Like, us in the future. Our future.”
“Huh,” Quinn starts, “I don’t know. I like us right now where we are.” 
Ellie nods, trying to hide the disappointment that she felt. Why could he tell Elias and Brock what he thought about her, but not tell her? He hadn’t even called her his girlfriend to her face, yet. Were they even boyfriend and girlfriend yet? Was it too early to even ask, or should she even ask at all?
They were staying over at Thatcher’s house at this point, neither of them in the position to drive, Elias and Brock electing to stay on the couches. Quinn pulls her up and kisses her, a yawn escaping her after he pulls away. “Want to head to bed? Thatch said we can snag one of the guest rooms.”
Ellie nodded, Quinns hand in hers as he lead her down the hallway. She should be nervous, the first night they were spending together completely unplanned and in one of his teammates house instead of somewhere special. 
But it was with Quinn.
She was fine.  
___________________
“When are you going to be ready?” 
“When I am.”
“You’re taking way too long.” 
“I am not taking too long, you got ready too quickly.”
“Kendyl, I took an hour to get ready to meet Quinn and his friends, and you started getting ready before I got here,” Ellie groans, lying down on Kendyl’s bed. The group chat Ellie had with Quinn and the guys was blowing up, asking where Ellie and Kendyl were. After meeting Kendyl a while back, Quinn was convinced she would be the person to set Brock straight. Ellie wasn’t convinced, but what was the harm of introducing them?
“I’m meeting a Canuck, tonight, El, I have to look good.”
Ellie sits up, looking at Kendyl in her mirror. She knew her friend was nervous. No matter what she could say, nothing would change. “I promise you, you could wear nothing more than a trash bag and Brock would be drooling over you.” 
Kendyl took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“Ken, you’re beautiful. You’re funny. You can verbally spar with anyone to get what you want at any time. If you decide you want something to happen with Brock, there’s no way he wouldn’t agree to it.”
Kendyl nods, finally getting up and grabbing Ellie’s hand and her coat to drag her out the door. 
“Are we sure we’re going to have fun?” Kendyl asks, the shaking in her voice something Ellie had never seen before.
“You sound like me now.” It was still winter in Vancouver, the below freezing temperatures combined with the warmest bar appropriate outfits they had not enough to actually keep them warm as they walked through the city to meet all of the guys. 
“What are they like? I only know Quinn.”
Ellie has to stop and think for a moment. How did she even begin to describe them? “I think you just have to wait and see. Quinn is nothing like them.” 
“Oh, my god, you hate your boyfriend's friends.”
“No, what?” Ellie asks, unable to hide her laughter. “I really like his friends. I’m getting closer with Elias and Brock is definitely good for a laugh when you need it.” 
Kendyl nods, both of them shivering as they walk. Quinn had such a warm jacket, Ellie thought back to the night the two of them met. She wouldn’t have been able to see herlife with Quinn coming. She thought Kendyl was just an annoying coworker, Quinn would be just a hook up, and that she would end up having to move home because of her mom and Alex. She never thought it would be this. 
They get to the bar after feeling like they were walking forever, Quinn making a beeline to Ellie as soon as they made eye contact. “God, I’m happy you’re here,” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
“Wow, you’re already drunk,” she points out, trying to push him away slightly. Quinn had told her they were going into a break in the season, so getting drunk was necessary. She had seen him a little drunk, more tipsy than anything, but never like this, and never in public. “Let’s get you some water, babe.”
Quinn lets out a giggle, slinging his arm around Ellie while she focuses on him instead of getting Kendyl over to Brock. She looks around the bar for her friend, or at least one of the guys to hopefully help her make sure he doesn’t go much farther than he already was with the alcohol. 
“Ellie, right?” she hears from behind her as she sets Quinn down at the booth in the back where the rest of the guys were seated. She turns around, one of the new guys in the office standing behind her, glass of beer in hand. 
“Uh, yeah, hey. Dylan, right?”
“Declan, actually,” he corrects her, a quick apology escaping her lips. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw Kendyl over by the bar and she mentioned you were here. I wanted to say hi.”
Even though it was darker in the bar, Ellie swears she saw him blushing, fidgeting and acting nervous in front of her. The guys didn’t seem to notice she was even standing there, but Declan seemed to be trying to take in everything about her. 
“Are you here with anyone?” she asks, feeling Quinn pull her into his lap, Ellie falling without an ounce of grace down towards him. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Quinn, and some of his friends.”
“Uh, hi,” he says, Ellie feeling Quinns arms wrap tighter around her as Declan talks, “I’m here with my roommate, but I lost him about half an hour ago.” 
“You should join us then,” Quinn says, moving him and Ellie further into the booth to make room for Declan. The tone in his voice told her he really didn’t want to do that. 
Kendyl finally comes back with drinks, Quinn taking the beer that was meant for Ellie and downing it much faster than he should have. Brock was already captivated by Kendyl as soon as she sat down, Elias rolling his eyes as he was making a fool of himself, Kendyl finding it weirdly endearing.
“So, Deacon,” Quinn starts, much louder than he should have been. “How do you know my girlfriend?”
“Uh,” Declan says, as caught off guard by Quinn’s sudden shift in mood as Ellie is, “I work with her. Just started about a month ago.”
Quinn nods. “What did you do before this?”
“I was a nurse in the ICU at Vancouver General.” 
“Couldn’t handle it, Derek?” 
“Quinn, what?” Ellie scoffs. 
Declan coughs, clearly getting uncomfortable fast. “It was a lot, so no. I liked helping people, but seeing traumatic thing after traumatic thing takes a toll on you really fast. So I went back to school and ended up with Ellie and Kendyl.” 
“Ah, a college degree.” 
“Quinn,” Ellie hissed. She didn’t like where this was going, Quinn holding on to Ellie like he was marking his territory. 
“I actually don’t have my degree, yet.”
“Interesting thing to brag about?” Declan says, nervously sipping on his beer. 
“Well, it’s hard to finish when you get called up to play with the Canucks, you know?”
Declan shrugs. “Is that the CFL team? I don’t follow sports.”
Ellie gets off Quinns lap, pushing Declan aside and dragging Quinn along with her. She didn’t need to hear what Quinn was going to say next. He was starting to act like a jackass and she didn’t want to see more. 
The two of them end up outside, the cold hitting Ellie like a slap in face. “What is wrong with you? He wasn’t doing anything for you to act like that to him.”
“I don’t like him,” Quinn pouts.
“You just met him.”
“I don’t like people who are trying to take my girl.”
Ellie can’t help but scoff. “‘Take your girl?’ What, am I your property? Did you get a good dowry? How many sheep did you have to give my family in exchange for your hand?”
Quinn rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ellie.”
“No, Quinn, you come on. He wasn’t hitting on me. He doesn’t even know me to like me.”
“Of course he likes you, Ellie, look at you.” Quinn takes a step closer to her, suddenly getting softer towards her. “You’re so pretty. You’re so smart. You know what to do with everything.” 
“If he likes me, that doesn’t matter,” Ellie snaps, still annoyed with him. “I don’t like him. I like you. I’m dating you. That should be enough for you to not act like an asshole towards him.”
Quinn hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” 
“You should be saying that to him.”
The two of them stand there in the cold in silence, Ellie not wanting to budge and Quinn wanting her to go with him. “Come with me?”
Ellie bites her lip, her mood ruined because of him in just a short amount of time. “I think I’m going to go home. I’m tired, anyway.”
“Let me walk you?” Just like the night they met.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”
They stand there for another moment, Quinn making the first move to pull Ellie in for a kiss. “I love you, Ellie.”
Ellie hadn’t been thinking about love with him yet. She wasn’t there yet. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him, turning and walking away, leaving him there on the sidewalk.
___________________
“Have you ever loved anyone?” 
“Uh, you.”
“Not that kind of love, idiot.”
“Oh, um. I was in love with Tess Virtue for a while there.”
“While I get that, I still don’t mean that kind of love, Alex.” 
Alex laughs on the other end of the call, Ellie getting ready for work while he got ready for class. “El, you’re the other sister here, aren’t I supposed to be asking you this?”
Ellie and Quinn were in a weird place since Ellie left that night. She had hoped that Quinn was too drunk to remember that he had told her loved her and Ellie’s response was just to walk away. She didn’t know if she was in love with him. She knew she wanted to be with him. She didn’t know if she loved him.
“I mean,” Ellie starts, not sure where to go. 
“Are you and Quinn ok?” Ellie tells her brother everything that happened, Alex staying silent for a few seconds after she finished. “Ellie, you did this last time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Not to go psychology major on you,” Alex says, earning a groan from his sister, “But I think you’re more messed up from Dad leaving than you like to admit you are. You have what sounds like a solid relationship with this guy but you’re afraid that if you let him love you and you let yourself love him, that he’s going to leave just like Dad did. He left us with Mom and we never got that love back.” 
Ellie takes a deep breath. “Jesus. At least I know your degree is worth it.” 
“I could be wrong. I’m only six semesters into this degree, after all.”
“I hate you.” 
“I love you, too, El.” 
Everything goes back to her parents. There’s no reason she couldn’t love Quinn. 
She was in a daze on her commute to the office. Does she love him? Regardless of Alex’s psychoanalysis, even if their dad leaving them with their mom made her think anyone who would love her would leave, is she able to love him?
She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t know what it was like to love him.
“You look horrible,” Kendyl says, Declan trying not to make eye contact with her at their little desk clump, probably trying to not agree. 
“Thank you, for that,” Ellie huffs, dropping her bag on the floor before she falls into her chair. “I just had a weird morning. Don’t really want to talk about it.” 
The morning passes by in a blur, the menial tasks of her job at least giving Ellie something to take her mind off Quinn. Anytime her mind would start to wander, anytime she thought about him in any way, she would just switch back to work mode and force herself to do whatever it is she needed to do.
“Hey,” Ellie thinks she hears from behind her, someone sounding just like Quinn. She ignored it, figuring it was just her imagination and her officially losing her mind over what was going on in her relationship. “Babe?”
Ellie jumps, thoroughly surprised that Quinn was actually standing behind her. “I thought you were leaving for Florida today.”
Quinn pulls her up, kissing her hello, a soft look on his face that told Ellie that everything was ok. “We leave in a few hours, so I wanted to come by and surprise you. Do you have a minute?”
Ellie nods, following Quinn down to the lobby of the building. She knew that if she went somewhere in the office, Kendyl would probably have her ear glued to the other side of the wall of whatever room they were in to try to listen to their conversation. 
“So, you don’t love me,” Quinn lets out slowly, pausing a little between each word, breaking Ellie’s heart each time.
“God,” she lets out.
“It’s ok.” They stand in silence, what they had with each other when they first met already somehow dying off between them. “I’m ok.”
“I want to love you. You know I have other things going on that are messing with my mind. You know me.” 
Quinn rolls his eyes, Ellie taking a step back. “What, the stuff with your mom?” Ellie gives him a small nod. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Ellie,” he snaps.
Ellie recoils at his words, the person in front of her not the same one who told her would always be there for her when she needed him, that he would help if she would let him and that he wanted to be there, for her and with her, for everything. This was someone who wouldn’t do any of that. “It’s not an excuse. It’s my life, Quinn. You grew up never having to worry about coming home from school and learning that the lights were turned off, or getting scared that the heat would get cut off in the middle of the winter, or that you were two days away from living in a car,” she nearly yells at him, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry that it messed me up and I’m trying to fix it and at least be honest with you about it because I want to be with you.” 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you idiot. I want to be with you. But I don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone who stays. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who wants to stay. I think I love you, but I don’t think that my work is the place to figure it out.” 
Quinn smiles at her, hugging her and holding her tight, every part of her relaxing as he does so. “That’s all I need. That’s all I want.” 
___________________
“Ok, if we have to stay all night, then we’re ordering food.” 
“I never agreed to staying all night.” 
“Ellie, we have to get this done before we go home.”
“Yeah, but I have plans tonight. I’m not staying all night, extra pay or not.”
Declan groans, a stupid smile on his face. “Are you driving to these plans tonight?”
Ellie gets a bad feeling in her stomach, one that puts a smile on her face regardless. This project had forced them together much more often than Quinn probably would have liked if he found out. The client was demanding it be done three weeks faster than anticipated,which meant they had to get it done before Monday. “Nope. Why?” Declan gets up from the table the two of them and Kendyl are sitting at in the conference room to give them more space to spread out, running over to his desk and yanking one of the drawers open. “Dex, what are you doing?” Ellie calls.
The three of them had already been in the office much longer than everyone else, the rest of their colleagues having left early for the weekend while the three of them stayed behind.
Ellie had plans with Quinn that night for the first time in a while.
“Getting this,” Declan says, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts she was having about her relationship.
He holds up three plastic red cups and a bottle of rum, the one alcohol that Ellie could stomach without any mixer, a sociopathic tendency as Kendyl would call it. “Why is that there?” Kendyl asks.
Declan shrugs, popping open the bottle with ease and pouring way more than a single shot into each of the cups. “One of the clients gave it to me as a thank you.”
“We never get alcohol as a thank you,” Ellie scoffs, Kendyl agreeing.
“Men,” Kendyl rolls her eyes.
Declan laughs, raising his cup to Ellie and clinking it against hers, downing it in a few seconds as he watches Ellie do the same. Both of them cough, the liquid burning down their throats much more than they were expecting, neither of them breaking eye contact with each other while forgetting Kendyl was there with them. “Alright, we work until we’re done. We refill when we need to.”
Ellie smiles at him, the warmth of the alcohol already coursing through her. Her phone starts buzzing, a call coming in from someone whose contact she can’t quite make out. “No phones.”
The three of them get to work, the sun setting without them realizing it as their phones keep buzzing over and over again. They weren’t even entirely sure what the project was that their boss was asking of them, but then again, when were they ever?
They had to have been working for at least two hours straight without moving, feeling like they hadn’t even made a dent in the amount of tasks they had for the project. “I need to go home,” Kendyl groans, rubbing her hands over her face.
“We need to finish this,” Ellie points out.
“We need more alcohol.” Declan gets up, already somehow emptying the bottle into their three cups. He winks at Ellie, yet again ignoring Kendyl and sending a chill down Ellie’s spine before heading back out of the conference room without another word. 
Kendyl squeals once he’s out of earshot, shaking Ellie’s arm. “Oh, my god, he is so obsessed with you.”
“He is not,” Ellie insists, the heat running to her cheeks at the thought of her coworker liking her. She’s dating Quinn. Dating a coworker is out of the question. Dating Delcan isn’t even a thought.
“Ellie, I’m not even here when he’s around. You two are flirting so much.”
“I’m not sure you know what flirting is.”
“What about Quinn?”
Ellie’s stomach churned at his name. “Quinn and I are fine,” she tells Kendyl, trying to ignore how high her voice got involuntarily. 
“El.”
“Ken.”
“You’re lying to me.” Ellie bites her lip, hating that Kendyl knew her well enough to tell. “What’s going on with you two? You were off last time I saw you together.”
Ellie sees Declan out of the corner of her eye shifting around the desks outside the conference room. “I have no idea.” Kendyl stays silent, Ellie feeling like she has to fill the space. “We see each other less and less now, part of it because of both our jobs right now.”
“Well, that makes sense, that happens.”
“But when we do spend time together, we don’t say anything. We barely talk anymore at all. It’s like we ran out of things to say.”
“Who has nothing to say?” Declan interrupts, plopping down in his chair with another bottle of rum.
“Ellie and Quinn. Why do you have another bottle?” Kendyl asks.
“I have many bottles. Who’s Quinn?” 
“Ellie’s boyfriend.” 
Declan just nods, giving Ellie an uneasy feeling as they both take a sip of their drinks again, the eye contact between them mixed with the alcohol making her mind spin. “We’re just going through a weird phase right now. We’ll get through it.”
Kendyl recaps what Ellie told her, unprompted, to Declan, who infuriatingly just sits there, the alcohol making him look way too attractive for Ellie’s liking. “You don’t want my opinion, do you?” he asks.
“Kendyl gives me hers all the time when I don’t want it, you might as well give yours.”
“You’re both busy. That happens.”
“See?” Ellie prods Kendyl. 
“But,” Declan starts again, Kendyl sticking her tongue out at Ellie like a child, “Being busy could also mean not being willing to make time for each other.” 
Ellie took in a deep breath, hating what he was saying. It wasn’t like he said that much, but he said enough. The room suddenly felt too small, the work too overwhelming, the alcohol hitting her all at once. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, practically running out of the room. 
Are she and Quinn not making enough time for each other? Are they just ending their relationship without saying that it’s over? She didn’t think she wanted to break up with him, but at this point, what was staying with him doing for her? 
Ellie looks at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol distorting her perception of herself or if it was the mirror that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but she didn’t look like herself. She looked off. She had felt off for a while, but she had no idea why. 
Was it because of Quinn? Ellie had heard that to be loved was to be changed, but what happens when you don’t like how you’ve changed? How much should she fight to get things back to the way there were when they first started seeing each other? What has to happen for her to just give up instead?
“Hey, sorry,” Declan startles Ellie, causing her to lose her balance and stumble against the sink. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”
“No, uh,” Ellie starts, wiping a tear from her cheek she didn’t even know had fallen, “You didn’t upset me.”
“Can I ask you something?” Declan’s voice is gentle as he takes a step closer to you, waiting for her to nod. “If you aren’t happy, why are you still with him?”
Ellie shrugs, not wanting to look at him. If she looks, she’ll fall apart. “I love him. I do. He knows me better than anyone. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone outside of my family, not even Kendyl. But sometimes,” she takes in a breath, her voice shaking. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all for nothing. We have no time for each other anymore. I see Kendyl more than I see him.”
“Ellie,” he says, his voice low as he steps closer to her. She was sure he could hear her heart racing. 
She was dating Quinn.
Quinn.
“Oh, fuck,” Ellie practically yells. “What time is it?”
“Uh, 8:30.”
“Quinn was picking me up at 8:15.” Ellie runs from the bathroom, leaving Declan calling after her. She grabs her stuff from the conference room without saying a word to Kendyl. 
She hears Declan in the background, calling after her as she runs down the stairs, dropping things in the stairwell that she doesn’t bother to pick up. She was rattled, Quinn already waiting for what had now become twenty minutes without her so much as texting him back the entire time.
Declan catches up to her, everything she’s dropped in his hands when she bursts through the front door of the building, Quinn’s car at the curb with him leaning against it scrolling on his phone. He looks up, his eyes going between his disheveled girlfriend and the one guy that she talked to that he was worried about, equally out of breath and carrying her things, both of them looking panicked.
He could tell Ellie was drunk. He knew she was drinking with him.
“What is this, Ellie?” he asks, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice as best as he can.
Ellie starts stammering, the alcohol not helping her at all. “We were doing that project I told you about, we lost track of time. I know I’m late but I wasn’t looking at my phone so we could finish as fast as possible.”
Quinn takes in a deep breath, looking up to the sky so he didn’t have to see her reaction to what he was about to say. “Ellie, I know he likes you. I told you likes you the night I met him. And, I know you like him, even if you don’t realize it yet. What am I doing here?”
Ellie steps toward him, her legs starting to shake as she tried to process what he was saying. “Quinn, you’re taking me out. You said we were meeting the guys tonight.”
“No, Ellie. I am. You’re gonna stay here.You’re gonna finish the project. You’re going to spend the night with Declan. You should be with someone who has time for you.”
“Quinn.” 
“We’ve both been busy. We’ve both had way too many things going on to focus on each other. We deserve better. You deserve better.”
“Quinn,” she repeats, standing right in front of him. She reaches up to his cheek, him leaning into her touch as he finally looks at her. “What are you saying?”
“You know, Ellie.” 
They stand there, forgetting Declan behind them and ignoring the world around them. Quinn cups her cheeks, kissing her like he did the very first time. “Bye, Eleanor.”
“Bye, Quinn,” Ellie whispers, not wanting to let go. 
Everything happened so fast. Ellie stood on the curb, wanting to drop her things right on the sidewalk and chase after him as he got in his car and drove away. She didn’t move as Declan came up behind her, gently putting his arm around her to try to comfort her. She didn’t hear him say that he wanted to get her back inside so that Kendyl could be with her, so that she’d have someone she trusted to talk to after what just happened.
She just stood there. 
___________________
Quinn was miserable. The guys were all with their partners, while Quinn sat in the middle with no one by his side. All he had was the beer in front of him that he didn’t even want to drink. 
He should be happy. They were already having a great season. They had already secured a playoff spot. The team was playing to have fun and winning was coming because of it. 
Brock comes up to him with Kendyl, the two of them still going strong. Quinn liked Kendyl, but seeing her still reminded him of Ellie, even if the two of them didn’t work together anymore. 
“Come on, buck up. There are plenty of girls here that you could at least talk to,” Brock tries to encourage him.
Quinn just shrugs him off, slowly turning the glass of beer around on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to be there, but there was no way the guys would let him leave this early. 
Brock leaves to get another round of drinks, Kendyl staying behind. “She’s doing ok, you know,” she says, barely above a whisper. 
Quinn sighs. “I miss her.” 
Kendyl puts her hand on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know.”
They sit for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. What do you say to someone who was still broken over something that should have never shattered in the first place?
“Hey, isn’t that that Dexter guy you work with?” Elias comes over and asks, pointing to the other side of the bar. 
Quinn feels the air escape his lungs, Ellie and Declan together, Declan holding on to her as a guy moved past them, pressing their bodies against each other. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to drape her arms on his shoulders, getting up on her toes to kiss him, their foreheads pressed together when they pull away while they looked at each other like they were the only people in the world. 
“She’s happy,” Kendyl says. 
“She’s happier,” Quinn corrects her, his heart breaking at the fact that he couldn’t do that for her. 
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wood-white-writer · 3 months
Text
“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [9/…]
— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader
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“And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss.
Give me one good honest kiss and I’ll be alright.”
— Mitski, “Nobody”
Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader
Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.  In which there is lost affections, mentions of the past, and re-bonding over a bath. Unshared thoughts and feelings of regret return from years of negligence, and whereas some aspects remain buried, others have a chance to resurface from the depths.
Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, dual-pov (though primarily Buggy's), Buggy being a simp, implications of Buggy being a horny simp
A/N: AND HERE WE ARE! FINALLY, AFTER SO MANY WEEKS, THE NEW CHAPTER IS UP! Seriously, I want to thank you all for your immense patience and support. As I mentioned in a previous post, work has been hectic as hell and I know I wrote that this chapter would hopefully be finished last week, but life took its toll. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter, though I myself have mixed feelings about it.
INCLUDES SOME SELF-MADE SKETCHES AT THE BOTTOM, so you’re warned
The sun warms your face as you breathe in the fresh scent of the sea. You’re lounging on deck, hands folded behind your head and feet hanging over the railings in a rather peculiar position, but you’re perfectly content.
Luffy benched you for the rest of the voyage to Arlong Park, a decision you initially found insulting to no short degree. Well, maybe benched is not the right term to use, but more like “I don’t want you to die, and I think you need to relax this once”.
You had argued that no, you’re fine and the love bites Arlong left you are nothing compared to the marks Mihawk left on Zoro, and he’s still up and about as usual.
But Luffy is firm about his decision, and what the Captain says goes.
So, here you are, enjoying some quiet all while letting your wounds heal, and it seems that nothing can hope to put an end to this ambiance that is—
“HEY! THERE ‘YA ARE!”
…. You spoke too soon. Way too soon.
A shadow falls over your face like a curtain and blocks the view of the sun. A shadow belonging to - you make a lucky guess - a severed head that’s been talking for way longer than a severed head typically should, in your experience.
You open one lazy eye to pinpoint the exact perpetrator and see a bright red dot staring down at you from Usopp’s grip.
Buggy winks at you, making those mildly irritating clink-clink noises.
“I can’t stand it anymore,” Usopp grumbles. “You take him! He’s annoying and keeps telling me my nose is too long!”
“Because it is, you shidiot!”
“It’s average!”
“That’s what your mom said!”
“You keep my mom’s name out of your mouth, you psychotic, fucking—!”
“Be quiet.”
Both the clown and the slingshot simultaneously shut their mouths before things have a chance to escalate on a non-verbal scale, and you take this as a sign that your break is officially over and buried ten feet under.
Stretching your arms out loud enough to pop a few vertebrae, you shift to lean your back against the railing and give both boys an unimpressed look-over, like a disappointed mother having caught both of her children in the act of something. “It’s too early for you to be making a ruckus.”
“It’s 11 am,” Usopp points out.
“Still too early.” Deciding that you’d rather not deal with this with more effort than you’re willing to spend, you return to your previous position. “Leave the head, or don’t. Just let me rest.”
“Fine by me.”
With a thud and an “OW FUCK!”, Usopp unceremoniously drops the clown and forgoes his Buggy-sitting duties to do whatever he wants to do, leaving you to pick up the slack.
A string of curses flow from Buggy’s mouth, which you only vaguely pay attention to. There was something along the lines of “Long-nosed asshat,” and “Right on the nose”, but you abandon all interest in favor of feeling the sun on your cheek.
“So…” you hear him jump a little closer. “Alone at last.”
You don’t answer.
“What? Don’t give me that! I thought we were good!”
You remain selectively mute.
“Hey! Don’t ignore me! I don’t like it!”
“You survived it for twenty years. I’m sure you can stand it for a few more minutes.”
“…. Seriously?”
“Mhmm.”
You don’t know what possesses him, but he keeps quiet for most of the next thirty minutes, and you take the time to continue basking in the sun. 
It’s a luxury you can rarely afford, and you’ll be damned if it gets ruined now or all time, least of all by him. You’re not going to even open the can of worms that is last night’s events, so you lock it in a chest to be dug up for another day. 
Not now. It won't be that long until you reach Arlong Park, and shit will go down. This might be the only chance you get to replenish your strength and gods do you need it now more than ever.
"… Hey?” Buggy starts.
You let him decide whether to perceive your silence as an opening or a locked door.
“I’m bored.”
“Tough.”
“Can’t we do something else?”
“We could fish. Your head might serve as a good bait.” Despite yourself, your lip tugs a little in what is supposed to be a halfway smirk. The image of Buggy dangling above the shark-infested waters from a hook to his bandana would be an entertaining sight to behold.
He swallows audibly. “Was that a joke?”
“Keep bothering me and we’ll find out soon enough.”
“C’mon! Don’t be like that! Seriously, I’m bored! Ain’t much you can do when you’re just a head… except to give one, but that’s beside the point.”
Too much detailing, you think. He wants entertainment of any kind; you want peace and quiet. What to do and how to kill two birds with one stone? You open one eye and let it drift over to Buggy, who in turn is staring intently at you. 
In the sun, you make out every detail of his rugged face. His make-up’s almost wiped completely off the skin, with only remnants of the red lipstick and blue diamonds vaguely in place. His stubbles have grown slightly, given the lack of access to a barber, and if you get close enough, he probably stinks of—
A lightbulb goes off in your head. A devious one, blinking to every corner of your brain. 
Despite what anyone thinks, you’re not above being petty.
With a push, you sit up and glance over at him. “Anything?” 
Buggy raises his eyebrows and nods desperately. “Yeah! Anything! As long as I ain’t got to sit here doing naught-shit, I’m game!”
You turn to him, put each of your hands to the edges of his jaw, and lift him a little closer to you. Whether from the sun or just him alone, he’s warm and soft under your digits.
“Alright,” is all you say.
Buggy beams much like the bulb in your head, and a loud bark of laughter erupts from his mouth. You almost pity him, pity him for being oblivious to what’s to come.
But it needs to be done.
There’s no other way around it and he’s had it coming. He deserves this, you tell yourself. He deserves every inch of ruthlessness you can offer, and you’ll deliver.
————
Buggy blanches, lips wobbling in horror as he slowly glances up at you. Betrayal fills his bright-blue eyes and, for the first time since Orange Town, he sees you as the beast you both know you are. 
He’s afraid.
He’s afraid of you.
He knows you can be vindictive; he knows you can be brutal, but in all the time he’s known you, he’s never perceived you as cruel.
Maybe it’s time for him to reassess that thought.
“No,” he whispers softly. “No, please.”
Your face is blank, and cold, and he doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light or not, but there’s a shadow across your face that darkens everything but your eyes. Those bright eyes he used to hold in such high regard.
“You want my forgiveness,” you state calmly as you gradually lower him to his demise. “You have to earn it.
“Please, anything but this. I’ll do anything other than this!”
But his pleas earn no mercy from you. He wiggles in your grasp like a fish out of water, and as much as he tries to beg and move and free himself, your hold is iron incarnate.
Buggy lets out an ear-curdling scream the moment he feels the water under his neck.
“NOOOOO!”
————
Honestly, how childish, you think as you begin to soak him in the basin you procured from the kitchens. He hisses like a cat as you pour the water over his head, rinsing his hair. Try as he might, he cannot escape your grasp. 
It’s not even deep enough to reach his chin, and still, he acts like it’s acid he’s been thrown into.
But you’re determined, this has to be done.
“Oh, quit whining” you chastise, getting drops of water your way with all his scuttling. “You need this.”
“You’re gonna drown me!” he accuses.
“It’s soap and water, and it’s not even that deep.”
“You say that now, sure! But the moment you let go, plop! Oh, there goes Buggy the Clown! Taken from this world too early!”
You roll your eyes. “I’m holding you up, you’re not going to drown. Now, stop acting like a child.”
Buggy is restless and continues to thrash around for a good ten seconds more before finally relenting, a look of sour disapproval on his face. It’s so caricatured and animated that it threatens to make a suppressed chuckle leave your throat.
He still looks the same when he’s mad.
Now that he’s finally calm, you lower him so that the edge of his neck finally stands on the bottom of the basin. Then, you soak a rag and raise it towards his face.
Buggy flinches. “Can you …. Eh… leave the face?”
“There’s hardly anything there anymore, and it’ll irritate your skin if you leave it on for too long.”
“I think I can tell you what irritates me or not, like this bird bath for instance, thank you very much.” He scowls and edges further away from the wet rag. “Seriously, just leave it.”
“I’ll reapply the make-up.”
“… What?”
When you first boarded the Merry, you happened to find some leftover make-up hidden away in one of the shelves. It was strange, considering how the boat was freshly built, and imagined that one of the builders had taken some personal liberty in the large space before the project was finished.
For whatever reason, you didn’t throw it out, though you didn’t use it yourself.
If it can get him to accept the fact that he needs a wash, you’re willing to do it.
“I’ll put on your make-up if I can wash off what you currently have,” you clarify. “Deal?”
Buggy goes quiet, and his eyes widen slightly, but not out of horror or dread. It’s more like … when you catch the sight of something unexpected; a delayed reaction that stirs feelings you have yet to decipher. 
Finally, after some internal debates with himself, Buggy nods. “Fuckin’ fine then,” he utters, and despite the crudeness of his words, they’re lenient.
Content, you gently place your free hand to his left to keep him stable and use the other one to carefully drag the rag across his stained cheek. 
Buggy watches you intently through the process, never taking his eyes off you unless you’re wiping off the painted diamonds on his eyes. Your hands, for once, are soft to the touch. They’re soft for him, as though a single misplaced touch might shatter him like glass.
He used to be acquainted with the soft touches long before the cold and brutal ones. Soft fingers that pinched his cheeks as you helped apply the paint over his face. 
Soft touches against his arm when he was feeling particular for some reason, whether it was good or bad.
Your fingers intertwined with his’ as you came to terms with your captain’s death, sitting by the edge of the docks as the rain poured from above. It was cold, he was freezing, and too close to the waters for his comfort, but he wanted nothing more than to sit in the rain with you and share the heat from your fingers.
Even after everything, you’re still capable of reserving those touches for him.
After wiping the makeup completely off him, you raise the cup and fill it with water. “Close your eyes.”
He doesn’t want to, but he does and feels the water rushing down like the rain on those docks.
When he’s finally finished, you fish him up from the basin and put him down atop a soft towel on the table. Like a cat, he instinctively shakes off the residue of water, only to find you already raising a new towel towards him.
He stops moving, and you takes this as your cue to continue. You’re attentive, he notices. You wipe his face first, then his ears, then his hair. You dry it and scratch his scalp at the same time through the fabric, and he instinctively leans against your touch.
This is … nice.
“When did you cut your hair?” You ask out of the blue as you continue to dry him, making sure to leave no spot too humid.
He almost failed to catch onto your words with how at ease he is. “Hmmm?”
“You used to have long hair before,” you elaborate. “Why did you cut it?”
“…. Too much of a hassle to maintain,” he answers after some thought. “It’s hard to find the time to take care of it.”
“… I see.”
The truth is, he cut it right after he left. Not particularly clean either. You know that feeling you get when you feel like you’re losing control, and ridding yourself of any additional weight seems to relieve it? 
Well, that’s what Buggy did.
He cut it with a pair of rusty scissors, severing chunks at a time — some bigger than others — until all he was left with was pieces sticking out to each side like a madman.
It didn’t help though. It didn’t make him feel any lighter from the weight on his chest. From that gnawing feeling.
Still, he maintained the habit and got better with practice. It became more of a practical thing with time; he was a busy man, and he could do well with fewer things to get in his eyes, but it never eased the pain.
But feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze his hair, however, he feels more relieved than he’s done in the last twenty years.
After a few minutes, you remove the towel and give him a neutral one-over. It’s the first time you’ve seen him as an adult without any of that makeup, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s changed, but also how he’s not.
Even after all this time, it’s still Buggy.
Buggy sees you watching him, and he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious now that your eyes are on him without his usual armor.
But you don’t comment on it, nor show any surprise in any sense of the word. There are times when he hates your face, not because of anything superficial, but because you make it so damn challenging for him to figure out what goes in that brain of yours. He’s reminded of how you were when you were younger, how lifeless you used to be, and it feels like you’ve regressed to that state.
Another thing to add to the shitlist of things he’s regretful about.
He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something when the door suddenly bursts open. Buggy jumps whereas you merely look over your shoulder to spot Zoro standing there, his eyes narrowed between you and the clown.
Buggy frowns.
“Zoro,” you speak plainly, as if you failed to notice his annoyance towards the spectacle presented before him. “Is there anything?”
“The hell is this?” His eyes flicker between you and Buggy like it’s the worst show on earth. “What’s going on?”
“He reeked,” you explain. “I have merely been rectifying it for the sake of our noses.”
Buggy wants to argue with the statement that No, he fucking doesn’t, but he suppresses it for the sake of figuring out where this conversation’s headed.
“Since when do we make it a habit of bathing prisoners?” Zoro asks, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.
“Since when have we had prisoners?” You counter.
The swordsman scoffs. “The clown’s needed upstairs in ten.”
“Sure.”
“I’m right here, you know?”
Zoro gives him a nasty look and nothing more before heading back out the door, shutting it with a forceful thud.
“Why do you even stick around with these nobodies?!” Buggy questions. “They can’t navigate for shit, they have no sense of preservation, and they suck at fighting!”
You shift back to raise a knowing eyebrow at him. “They defeated you, didn’t they?”
“That’s—! … I was outnumbered, it wasn’t a fair fight!”
“No fights are fair in the life of piracy,” you point out. 
He bites the inside of his cheek. “All I’m saying is, you’re too powerful to be with these losers. You could join my crew! Think about it! We’d be unstoppable!”
“You mean, join the same people who locked me up and whose asses I subsequently kicked?” 
“Exactly! Don’t worry, they’ll get over it! Once they see how awesome you are, they’ll accept you with open ar—!”
“I decline.”
Buggy pauses, his enthusiasm promptly vanishing and getting replaced with bitter disappointment. “You’re not even going to consider it?”
“Why would I?” You wipe away a descending drop from his right eye. “I have no interest in joining another crew.”
“You say that, and yet here you are with these losers.”
“I was never going to stay permanently.” 
He pauses. “You weren’t?”
“I’m here for Luffy, and once I’ve decided that he can hold his own weight above the waters, I’ll leave.”
“… Where will you go? After, then?”
It takes you a moment to answer, like you don’t know the answer yourself quite yet. Your hand stills for a moment before resuming with the task at hand.
“Who knows?” You shrug. “The sea is my home. I’ve missed it, so I will remain where the waves pull me.”
That won’t do on its own. Stay with me. Buggy wants to ask, and if he had knees, he’d ask on them. Come with me. Be with me. You won’t have to be an official member of his crew; you don’t have to bend to him. You just have to stay. 
Stay with him.
That’s all he’ll ask.
Stay with him until he has the opportunity to figure out a way to make it up to you. 
Stay with him so he can compensate for the twenty years you suffered in each other’s absences.
Just stay.
“Hey.” He’s surprised by his own initiative. “Why’d you even leave your crew and stick your feet on land if you love the sea so much?”
You raise an eyebrow in question.
“I mean, you were Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, for crying out loud! You used to be legendary!” He proclaims, almost saddened by your apparent dismissal of your previous title. “You had fame, berries, a reputation that preceded everyone! Everyone feared you! Why’d you ditch all of that? Because of that rubbery prick? Because of Shanks?”
“Is that really what you want to ask me?”
“Yeah!”
You sigh through your nose and put the towel down to recline in your chair. “I didn’t become a Captain because that’s what I wanted. I became a Captain because it provided an outlet.”
“An outlet? For fucking what?”
It takes you a few seconds to finally reach a suitable response. 
“Anger,” you admit calmly, your arms crossing over your chest as the words stir on your tongue. They must taste bitter. “I was angry, and it festered every day, churning into a poisonous substance in my body. Being a captain with a crew, I could take it out on whoever I wanted. Pirate, marine, unruly crew member, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.”
It makes sense now, he thinks, the reputation you’ve garnered over the years. Beware the Beast in the East, people would chant in passing towns and harbors, like you were a ghost story. Her eyes were like swords, and her hands were twice as sharp.
There wasn’t a single place where blood didn’t paint your steps.
He never met you while you were a captain; he didn’t want to, couldn’t find it in himself to pop by even once. Still, he kept your poster hidden in the dark depths of the chest in his quarters, if only for acrimonious reminiscence. He would spend some drunken nights doing nothing but staring at it, and it was like he could feel your rage seep through the ink on the page and scorch his fingers. A reminder of what he did.
Now, looking at you and comparing you to the poster, he fails to see the resemblance. He doubts he could’ve spotted it had you reunited earlier on. Captain Cross-Hairs was sharp around the edges, with pecks of blood on her cheeks and fresh scars on her face.
He licks his lips in deliberation. “You were pissed… because of what?”
Because of me?
“I don’t know.” He watches your chest expand with your breath, mesmerized simply by watching you commit to living. There used to be a time when you didn’t. “I didn’t care about money or power. I didn’t care for much of anything, except to purge that rage from my body. I fought, and I killed. It helped, for a time; I felt satisfied, but after a while, you grow bored of eating the same meal.”
When he looked at you when you were younger, he imagined he saw the scorching sun. Burning and bright and enlightening. 
You were … everything, but he never imagined that the same fire that used to mesmerize him would burn a thousand ships in his absence. 
But he was a boy back then. He’s older now, more experienced in the ways of life, he knows better.
He knows enough.
"But the boy," you say with a certain gentleness in your voice that does not evade his notice. "He's good."
"He's weak," Buggy scoffs, feeling his belly fill with sour smoke. He recognizes the feeling. It's the feeling he got when he watched Shanks talk to you that night by the fire. The same feeling he got when he watched you stay with Shanks that day. 
"He's defeated every opponent he's come across."
"Didn't beat Arlong, though." Buggy points out with a smidgen of childish pride and smirks. "Got his ass handed to him real good if I remember correctly."
You look back at him in that narrow way you usually reserve for him when he's crossed a line, and he can already tell he fucked up.
"I watched him grow, Buggy.” You say firmly. “I was there for all of it. I watched him learn, I watched him fight, I watched him leave land. He’s not like us — he doesn’t waste time on regret. He’ll become better than we ever were.”
Buggy glowers but doesn’t say anything else, insisting on letting your words simmer in his brain until he can find the will to let them go.
You procure something from the drawers and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes it’s the make-up. With gentle hands, you lift him and place him in your lap, the brush already blue and ready.
“I’m not here to talk about what used to be,” you say. “Now hold still.”
The diamonds across his eyes come first, the brushing makes his face tickle and it’s only by sheer willpower alone that he manages to refrain from staring at you. 
“Takes us back,” he whispers and closes his eyes so that you can finish. “Doesn’t it?”
He hears something akin to a chortle that doesn’t quite reach your throat, but he considers it a small win.
“You looked a mess,” you answer. “A child could’ve done a better job than I did.”
“Wasn’t bad for your first try, though.”
Except that it was. It was pretty bad. Your hands were shaking, and you held your breath like you were afraid of making a mistake. By the time you were finished, he looked like a canvas painted by a child, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that.
He used to think that it was strange. You were skilled at nearly everything you committed yourself to, without even trying. 
When he thinks back on it, maybe it wasn’t skill; maybe it was just an ingrained fear of failure that drove you to become the best at what you did.
Then again, your worst could never be the worst in his eyes.
You finish his eyes, and when he looks up at you, he sees the same determination and focus in your eyes as he did that day. It’s the same look you have when you’re targeting something, be it an enemy or a point of interest. It’s always the same.
And he can’t look away.
You move onto the crossbones next, and he’s happy he won’t have to close his eyes for this one. He’s not certain you can pull off his iconic look, but he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.
After all, you strive for perfection. He doubts this will be an exception.
Get it? Perfection and except— You know what? Nevermind.
He can feel your attention in every stroke of the brush, feel the white paint glisten on his skin before it dries. Your warmth lingers like burning embers, he feels like getting too close will burn him, yet he wants nothing more than blisters upon his skin.
He looks at you, looks into your focused eyes, and he feels … something tightening, back where his body is. It could be his stomach, his head… other places, but he can’t tell. Arlong’s been busy abusing his body long enough that he can’t differentiate between a kick or a punch anymore.
But this isn’t Arlong.
It’s you.
He can handle a tight body if it’s because of you.
When he was young, and his body began to work in the way of a man, he would sometimes wake up and feel sweaty and … stiff. He knew enough to know what it was, to know what caused it, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation.
He knew the source of his frustrations. He knew how to alleviate them, but he didn’t. He respected you far too much to ever dare cross the threshold. He figured that simply talking to you, simply holding your hand, and being at your side would be enough. He would be content with just that.
But he watched you … develop. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He imagined feeling your flesh under his digits. The softness across your chest and hips. The warm skin. 
He looks at you now, sees the scars peeking from under your shirt, on your face, and he wants to feel the rough edges. 
Buggy gulps and he’s rather happy now that the rest of his body is not attached to him. He’s lost enough dignity as it is.
“And now, the mouth.”
Yes, he wants to touch that t—
You take the lipstick, and in a straight line, smear it across his mouth in a way that snaps him out of his thoughts. He can feel the warmth emitting from your thumb as you finish his face, and it takes him half a mind not to—
“Done.”
Disappointment lingers in the clown’s visage, and even when you present him a mirror and see the identical likeness to his wanted posters, it does not alleviate the feeling. For what it's worth, he's impressed with how far your make-up-applying skills have reached since last time. 
It's perfect.
But it means you’re done, and the nobodies require his flashy expertise to get Miss Ginger back. 
You dump the discolored water out and put the rest of the equipment away, and he feels his head weigh another ten pounds at so. He somewhat hopes it would; maybe it would be heavy enough that you wouldn’t bother carrying him up the deck?
… Oh, who is he kidding? It’s you. You won’t have any trouble in that department even if he were to weigh as much as a boulder. Ten boulders, even.
To his surprise, instead of reaching for him, you lounge back into your seat and nonchalantly cross your arms and ankles. He’s confused. Weren’t you going to go up with him already?
“If Zoro needs you, he can get you himself.”
That’s what you’ll leave it be like. He, freshly washed, dried, and painted. You, just casually sitting like you have no urgency to get back to the world.
“He’ll be pissed at you,” Buggy warns. “And probably threaten to throw you into the sea.”
You shrug, your eyes already closed, giving him no indication whatsoever that you’re particularly concerned with the veryscary swordsman. He grins with all his teeth on show.
Unfortunately, the green-haired asshole turns up not even five minutes later. All but ripping the clown by the roots of his hair and taking him away like a sack of flour. Buggy spews curses and threats, but they all fall on deaf ears.
It’s only when he’s positioned on deck that he’s finally free of his torment, if only for an hour or two. He begrudgingly instructs the long-nosed slingshot where to sail, adding a few creative insults along the way. Hey, it’s not Buggy’s fault they’re too easy to rile up.
“Is that long nose compensating for something?”
To which he earned a slap to the back of his head. From whom, he doesn’t know, but he’ll take his victories in whatever light weight they come in.
After a while, he shifts his head to eject another insult to the slingshot when he sees that you’re standing a few feet away, your arms crossed while leaning against the railing; eyes closed but face focused and attentive.
He cuts his verbal daggers down a notch.
It gets late, the sky darkens, and one after another, the crew members resign to their chambers save for the slingshot, who still insists on going for a while longer. Him, and you, surprisingly enough. 
You stay, for all of it; neither complaining nor muttering a sound. 
You're stoically positioned on the sidelines, hardly moving at all. He would've died if he'd been standing in the same position for more than one hour, but you endured a total of six without a shiver or a strain. Like a soldier in the rain. A monk in a temple of thorns. 
A beast in an empty forest, lonesome in its hunger, yet content with what content remains buried in its stomach for the time being.
Long-nosed slingshot finally calls it a night and withdraws from the steering wheel with his hands outreached for the head. Before his dirty fingers can hope to graze the magnificent head that is Buggy's, you stretch your arm out like a shield between them.
"I'll take him."
Slingshot snorts. "Really? You want to?"
"Do you want to?"
With his hands raised in mock surrender, Slingshot relents. "... Fine, be my guest."
With a nod, you take the head and retire back to your chamber on the ship. Buggy yawns in your arms, tired, but satisfied with the warmth embracing him. Your steps feel like waves with each one you take, nudging him further and further toward the edge of sleep. Only unadulterated stubbornness keeps him awake.
It darkens for a moment. When he rouses back, he feels softness underneath him. A pillow of sorts, not comforting enough to offer him sleep, but enough to keep him relaxed.
He nudges around, like a fish in a small bowl, only to find that he's not on the table, nor in a barrel, nor a bag. The surface beneath him is made of fabric, and swings with his movements. 
He's in a hammock.
More precisely, your hammock.
“Sleep.” He hears your command. 
He finally locates you, seated by the window of your cabin with your palm under your chin, staring out into the darkened ocean.
He turns, voice diluted with drowsiness. “You too…”
“Soon.”
“Now," he almost whines.
The look you give him is not any different from the kind you usually provide, but it lacks the usual undertone of annoyance. He can tell you're tired, even if you're refusing to show it. The shadows under your eyes stand out more prominently, even in the dimmed candlelight. 
With an inaudible sigh, you stand and while he expects you to move towards the hammock, he's disappointed to see you aiming towards the door instead.
"H-Hey, where are you going?"
"The kitchens," you respond. "You can sleep here for the night; I'll take the couch."
"That's not necessary!" He wiggles so that he can look at you from over the edge of the hammock, careful as not to fall from the height. A thought dawns over him, one that makes his cheeks feel warm. "We- We can share! I don't take a lot of space!"
"You still take up too much of it."
"Are you calling me fat?!"
He's almost insulted when you don't answer to contradict his assumption, yet despite the innate urge to defend his honor and spew shit at you, he decides to let it slide.
"C'mon! I promise I'll behave," he tries again. "You'll hardly notice me. Those couches suck balls anyway, so why not?"
He watches you give it some thought for probably a good two minutes. He expects you'll decline his proposition, finding that your own pride weighs more than the need for decent sleep. 
Then, you lower your shoulders in defeat and make your way over to the hammock. "Scoot over."
He obliges rather excitedly, and when he wiggles back a bit too much to make space, he can feel gravity threaten to drop him on the other side of the hammock. Before it gets to that point, you grab him by the side of his face and hold him until you can lift yourself and lay down. 
Only then do you lay him down, on the right side of your abdomen. He's mindful of the wounds that have yet to heal there, so he tries not to invade too much. Still, he can't deny, he's quite comfortable. Very comfortable. 
He's the most comfortable he's been in a long time - twenty years.
He surpasses the urge to push closer to you, share your warmth, and elects to look up at the ceiling instead.
"Hope you don't snore," he jokes, only to have a yawn follow promptly behind.
"I don't snore," you answer, deadpan. "Now go to sleep."
He's not convinced, but he doesn't comment on it. This peace hangs by a thread, and he'll be damned if it's cut short now of all times. He shuts his eyes, and in his dreams, he's presented with the sun on the blue skies above.
He feels warm all over.
----
Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23
(If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))
(Additionally, some sketches of how I imagine Cross-Hairs to look like while I’m writing.)
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nhlclover · 11 months
Text
just give me a reason | quinn hughes
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summary: your relationship hits a rocky patch and a fight tests your love.
warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of alcohol
note: based on 'just give me a reason' by p!nk. wrote this between the hours of 1 and 5 am, peak night owl behaviour. also I left the ending up for interpretation so you can imagine your own :)
word count: 2.0k
Right from the moment you met, Quinn had your heart.
With your mothers having been teammates once upon a time they decided to reunite. You were invited to the Hughes’s home and introduced to Ellen’s sons; Quinn, Jack, and Luke. You were drawn to the eldest Hughes boy immediately. Quinn was different than his brothers. While Jack and Luke were quite rambunctious, Quinn was reserved. His darker features attracted you quickly.
You guys connected that day, exchanging numbers. Quinn asked you on a date not a while later and the two of you began dating not long after that. The pair of you worked well together, your odds and ends balancing together.
You let yourself be vulnerable with Quinn. He saw the parts of you that weren’t all that pretty, the parts of you that you’d always desperately wished could be fixed. But with every touch, he fixed them.
It was your mom that warned you about being in a relationship with someone with such a profession, something she knew from first-hand experience. A profession that requires late nights, weeks out of town, and endless dedication. You assured her, and in turn, yourself, that you knew what you were getting into. You knew what dating Quinn meant, and you were willing to sacrifice a lot for him.
You had yourself convinced that it was fine. That you were okay with the “system” you and Quinn had set up.
When it began to change between the two of you, neither of you was sure of it. It was gradual and took a minute for both of you to see, but when you did it was painstakingly obvious. Empty sheets now lay between you, cold. Quinn’s loving words were now few and far between. Deep and meaningful conversations were replaced by the painfully dull small talk you’d had a million times.
Quinn’s practices began to run late as he worked on perfecting his game, followed by time at the gym spent becoming more agile and lean. Plans for date nights fizzled out, and boy's nights became more of a priority for him.
It was now painfully obvious what had happened. Somewhere along the way, hockey had become his main priority. It sits far above you. Somewhere along the way, hockey became less of his passion and more of a soul-sucking, energy-consuming task that leaves the stressed and unhappy version of Quinn behind for you to deal with. Something you can no longer withstand.
It was starting to take effect on you now and your friends noticed. It didn’t take much convincing for you to send your boyfriend a quick text while he was at a game letting him know you’d gone out for the night. You left no indication of when you’d be home because truly you didn’t know, nor did you have a plan.
Out at a downtown Vancouver bar, one you knew Quinn and his teammates would never step foot in following a game, you spilled all your repressed emotions out to your friends. You told them every detail. You weren’t sure whether you wanted advice or not but you got some anyways.
“Listen, none of these boys know you’re taken and I’m sure any one of them would be happy to take you to the men's bathroom and give you what you’ve been needing.” Your friend Alicia says.
“Absolutely not, do not cheat on him.” Your other friend Georgia says. “I think you guys just need to talk it out. I don’t think this is the end of you guys. Y’know… you’re not broken just bent.”
You contemplate Georgia’s words the rest of the night, your first drink coincidentally becoming your last. You spend the rest of the night listening to your friends' woes, babysitting them as they got drunker and drunker.
It was well past three when you sent them on their way and headed back to yours and Quinn’s.
You shoved your key in the lock, attempting to unlock an already open lock. He had left it unlocked, not knowing when you would come home. Quinn, trying to stay awake until he knew you were home safe, had only just drifted off to sleep on the couch. He jolted awake at the sound of your keys jingling around.
Eventually, you discover that the lock was already open, cursing when you enter the home. Quinn watches you take off your heeled boots, cursing once more when you roll your ankle after stumbling out of your shoes.
Quinn glances at the clock on the wall which reads quarter to four in the morning. He rubs his eyes, gets up from the couch and comes to the hall. You stay oblivious to your boyfriend, tossing your keys in the dish, and shrugging off your leather jacket onto the floor. You suddenly spot Quinn in your dark living room, leaning against the back of a lounge chair.
“Christ, Quinn. You scared me.” You say, setting your purse down on the table in the front hall.
“Where the hell were you?” He asks, his tired voice scratching your ears. You can sense the anger in his voice, but you’re slightly confused as to why.
“I was at the bar… with the girls… you knew that, Quinn.” You say, your voice coming out slightly condescending.
“Yeah, but the bars close at 3 in Vancouver.” He says, pointing to the clock. “It’s almost 4 in the goddamn morning, y/n.”
“We went out after, walked around.” You tell him. That was true. You and your friends, after getting kicked out of the bar at closing time, went walking in downtown Vancouver, before finding a park and sitting down in the play structure to vent about your problems.
Quinn groans, rubbing his face. His exhaustion is noticeable in his dark circles and drooping eyes.
“Quinn you could’ve checked my location, it’s still on for you.” You tell him.
“That’s not the point, y/n!” He exclaims. “You didn’t call, you didn't text… nothing! I didn’t know if you were safe or not or when you were gonna come home.”
A pang of guilt washes over you. You could only imagine the roles being reversed, not knowing where he was and whether or not you were going to get to sleep next to him that night or not.
“Y/n, I’ve been up all night waiting for you. And I have practice tomorrow.” He says.
The guilt that was just there washes away as he says those words. “God, enough with the fucking hockey.” You groan, walking into the bedroom.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Quinn asks, following you down the hall.
You begin to change out of your ‘going out outfit’, discarding your skirt and flimsy top to the floor. Under any other circumstance, Quinn would love to see you like this. But the anger was clouding over any other emotion he would possibly be feeling right now.
“It’s always about hockey with you Quinn!” You shout slipping into sweat shorts and a t-shirt, purposefully not putting on one of the many ones you stole from Quinn. “That’s your main fucking priority.”
“Well yeah, it’s kind of my job.” He says.
Before you can counter him, he speaks again. “You know what, I’m too fucking tired and you’re too fucking drunk for us to be arguing right now.” He says, heading over to his side of the bed.
“I am not fucking drunk.” You hiss.
“You’ve been out at a bar for the past six hours, y/n.” Quinn reminds you.
“I wasn’t drinking the whole time, dick.” You say. “I need a drink.”
You head out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. You can hear Quinns’ bare feet padding on the wooden floor, hot on your trail. “Are you serious?” He asks. You ignore him, going into your liquor cabinet, and pulling out a bottle of white wine.
“Is this a game to you?” Quinn asks, leaning on the counter.
You pause from unscrewing the cap and look up at your boyfriend. “No Quinn it’s quite the fucking opposite, I’m sick of playing fucking games.” You say.
Quinns’ brows furrow together, not understanding what you mean. Your pent-up rage, the rage that had been forming over the past few months, now was finally bubbling to the surface. It makes it hard for words to form, your little squeaks coming out with no words as you search for the right ones.
“You don’t love me anymore.” You finally manage out.
Quinns’ expression is even more confused now, but now contains a note of hurt. “What are you talking about y/n?” He asks softly. “Of course I still love you.”
Quinn reaches out for your hands but you pull away. “Quinn…when you’re not at practice or a game, you’re out with the boys. I actually cannot remember the last time we had a proper date. And- and when’s the last time you called me dreamgirl?” You ask, mentioning the pet name he would call you. “And I don’t want to break up-”
“Woah, who said anything about breaking up?” Quinn interrupts, stepping towards you.
“Quinn I feel like I’m living with a stranger!” You shout, your hands flying up. “When’s the last time you held me? Hm? When’s the last time you came home after a roadie and instantly scooped me up, carrying me to the bed? I mean, fuck, when was the last time you kissed me? And I mean really kissed me and not the sorry excuses of a peck you give me before you leave me again?”
This renders Quinn speechless as he actually tries to remember the last time you two were intimate. His teeth are grinding together, his chest going up and down with every heavy breath he takes.
“I just can’t do this anymore.” You tell him softly.
“Then tell me what you want.” He responds, matching your tone. “Do you want this to end?”
“No, god no, I already said I don’t—”
“Then what do you want, y/n?” Quinn asks, his anger reappearing. “Because I am trying so fucking hard right now. With everything! With hockey, the entire fate of the fucking franchise is on my shoulders right now. So please, tell me what it is that you want.”
“I want my boyfriend back!” You scream. Tears spill over your waterline. They stain streaks on your cheeks, landing on the hardwood beneath your feet. You step over to Quinn, standing right in front of him. He doesn’t back down like you expect him to. “I want to feel loved by the person that’s supposed to love me.”
You’re jabbing at his chest, and looking into his eyes, you notice tears beginning to form.
“I want to come home and know that you’re happy to see me. That I am a source of joy. I don’t want to have to worry about it being awkward between the two of us.” You continue, now pounding your fists on Quinns’ chest. He takes every hit allowing your anger to spill out. “I just want you to love me, that’s all I want. All I fucking want is to be loved. Please just…”
Your words melt in sobs, Quinn gripping your hands and pulling you into his chest. He holds you tightly, sobs wracking your entire body. You grip onto Quinns’ t-shirt, holding yourself steady as your knees threaten to give way. He keeps you steady, placing soft kisses on the top of your head.
The sun now started to raise on the two of you. The morning sun paints the sky a pale orange, a stark contrast to the energy within the walls of your home.
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meowsgirldrawing · 1 month
Text
Tough Week (Papa Mammon-Obey Me)
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Mammon being a good papa basically.
Word Count: 1,865
Mentions of other kids, slight poly of MC but can be interpreted as whatever wanted. Mentions of GN MC but gets called Mom
Other kids for reference- Here
Masterlist- Here
AO3 Link- Here
Summary:
Varya can feel her eye twitch, her knuckles ache from how hard she grips her cane. Her siblings all tease her in their own ways for having one at 26 but at this point, it’s her only lifeline with how utterly chaotic her siblings can be.
It's been a tough week..
Varya can feel her eye twitch, her knuckles ache from how hard she grips her cane. Her siblings all tease her in their own ways for having one at 26 but at this point, it’s her only lifeline with how utterly chaotic her siblings can be. 
It’s been a tough week.
First she finds out River and Ryder pulled Rhomb into some pranks, thus getting them all detention with her having to attend a basic hearing on their collective punishment. And on top of having to make one on the spot herself to appease Lucifer. “You’re the oldest, you have to keep them in line.” Thankfully Rhomb will be graduating soon, otherwise she might lose another decade on her life.
Adding to that, the next day she had to look for a missing Quinn, only to find him in one of the worst sets of town in the Lust ring, just ending a motorcycle race. It wouldn’t be so bad if she ended up walking in on him in a scuffle with one of the other bikers, them pissed they got beat by one of the Avatars’ kids. She’s usually fine with her siblings taking on their own battles, they need tough skin in Devildom anyway. But they just had to waste her time more by the biker making a lewd comment about her right in front of her dear, protective, little brother. 
Yeah, another punishment had to be made on the spot.
The day after that had her in the human realm with her calmer parent, MC and the youngest, Frankie. After some negotiations as usual about the human realm sending more exchange students to Devildom as per Lord Diavolo’s request, she was dragged to a party per Frankie’s request. She never minds parties, not really. Her father brought her to many in the Fall when she was around 18ish. 
Yet, her content mood went to downright sour as she noticed some human punk making too many moves on her younger sister. The men in her life were always respectful, save for some flirting in front of her and her siblings with their ‘mother’. So you can imagine how many seconds she was close to revealing her demon form. Thankfully Frankie wasn’t allowed to drink yet, because many drunk teens went on booing her, calling her names like ‘prude’ or ‘old woman’ as she yanked her sister out of the house and into her silver ride. 
Frankie’s apology hug did help lesson the headache that night but still.
Many similar instances occur for the rest of the week. The twins pulling more pranks. Ending up in an awkward position as Lucifer and Satan fought about a mundane thing. Lilly and Diavolo’s heir forcing her into an improve shopping trip despite wanting 5 minutes to herself. Having to make up more punishments when she could care less of what her siblings do for this once. And even when she got some time to herself, she had to deal with some low-life demons undermining her desperately at the casino. Unfortunately leading her to teach them why she’s considered the strongest, most powerful spawn of the Lords of Devildom. 
She’s had a tough week, and she needs a break.
Ignoring another phone call from Lucifer, Varya stuffs her DDD into her skirt pocket, slides her cane out of the passenger seat it was previously thrown carelessly into, and opens up her silver ride. 
It snaps shut with a harsh bang, and her heels click against the concrete as she makes her way to the building. Workers under her father wave or call greetings to her, used to her occasional visits, and she waves back, perhaps a bit more shortly than the wontoned. Her everyday smile a-tad tight more straight.
Through an elevator ride and passing several doors, she makes her way to the main office. Her father’s office. 
She hears his voice, deduces he’s either in a meeting or chatting up the phone by his tone, and knocks before sliding in and hanging on the side. Before she would hang outside, but right now, she needs to see him sooner.
Her back rests on the wall, her smile tight and as patient as she can make it.
“Yeah, well demand is comin’ soon with tha season so we need ta get goin’, Shilk.” Mammon’s nails tap on the desk, his wedding ring glinting in the forever red and purplish hues that filter in the giant glass. He looks up from his hard look into the client chair before him and nods his greeting. Varya bows her head lightly, her long, white hair falling over her shoulder.
“Ok, ok. I got it. I’ll have tha data send ta ya by the end of the week. Just make it snappy, Shilk.” His words pushy, but his tone a touch playful. He ends the call with a short bye, see ya later, before spinning towards his kid with a growing grin. 
“ Lil Treasure!” He smirks, “Long time no see, eh? Miss yer old man much?”
“Please.” Her eyes roll, playing his game as easy as pie. “I only came to check up on you, Mother wanted to come see you earlier this week but the exchange program discussions continues to keep them on Earth.” 
He hums, he misses his human too. Behind continuous operations of his ever-growing business and working behind the scenes for RAD, he’s barely had time to see them or their daughter. Speaking of…
“I heard you overtook a new territory this week!” He laughs, carefree as a demon can when talking about territory wars and power growth. It’s been a hot minute for himself to do so, but you don’t even have to look at the older demon to know he’s very damn proud his kid is just about following in his boots. Or Heels in her matter.
“Varya Morningstar- Daughter of Greed- overtakes the Newbon territory in a matter of 2 days, all with a winning smile present.” He recalls the headline he saw, whistling at the end.
 “Someone must’ve pissed you off.” Her eyes squint and join her smirk at his snicker.
“Well, I suppose when someone stares at your upper chest area a little too much while simultaneously telling you that betting your worth is the utmost impossible, it can be noted as irritating.” Her sharp canines shine. 
“That’s my girl!” He cheers, wondering closer. “Don’t let anyone tell you shit, yer my kid after all!”
Varya’s expression doesn’t fall but Mammon still notices anyway, “I hope I could always do so..yet it seems only Lucifer could continue to do so.”
A flash of understanding comes across his face as his head tilts. He doesn’t come across as pitiful, she may be his daughter but she was raised around the Avatar of Pride, but his hand comes to her shoulder, his brow sad/solemnly amused. “He’s really wailing into ya, aint he?”
“As if dealing with my siblings isn’t enough cannon fodder.” Her smile stays up as her shoulders tense, “I understand I am the eldest, but I can’t control every action they make. I haven’t a clue as to why he expects the opposite.”
“That’s Lucifer for ya, kiddo.” His thumb rubs light circles into her half-jacket. “Always wants people on their best behavior, even tried havin’ yer mom help out but they ended up just indulging in us more times than many.”
“But they are all of age now.” It’s rare to see his kid so upset, for years she always had a vacant expression on her face, and it wasn’t until she became older did she start having a smile everywhere, even when she was as pissed as an unsatisfied tyrant. It was her tool against fellow demons, what helped her use her ability as the eldest spawn of the 7 Lords of Devildom and rise to power on her own. People can’t tell how or what she plans, feels, anything. 
But Mammon knows, possibly the only one after his human that does. 
She’s had a tough week.
And now the cracks are finally making their way to the surface. Her smile is tight, no joy present. 
“Frankie may be in her mid teens, but she is old enough and smart enough to know how to handle herself!” Her voice wavers, not loud, at the end. “Why….why must I be the one to keep their un-needed leash? Why must I be turnin’ and throwin’ what I need to do for the day to the wind just to stop some silly prank the boys wanna do? They’ll learn why not to do it, right?”
She breathes, usually blue eyes flaring gold for a second. 
She turns silent then lifts to pinch her brow. “Apologies, Father, I came to take a breather but not to-”
Now he acts, now he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his chest. “Oh shut it. Yer tired and you got a right to rant.” She tries to push back, not allowing such a ‘weak’ moment but Mammon doesn’t let her. If anything, he pulls her tighter, hand on her head, carding his fingers into her ponytail with a snicker. 
“Father-”
“Shushshushshush” His fingers emaphzie his motion, twirling strands or two, messing it from it’s pristine, soft and straight line down her back. “My baby needs a break-”
“Father!” Her cheeks flush, claws digging into his jacket. Her eyes, one closed from being squished into his chest, beat wide at the door. A tinge of fear stomachs. “The door-”
“It’s locked.” He huffs, his blue iris rolling, and he hooks his chin on her head, “Just breathe and hug yer old man, will ya? It’s awkward with yer hands all dangling like they are now.”
Theres a moment pausing the scene, her staring at the door, the more demonic side of her yelling at her to push him and off an leave! He’s useless! To go back to her newly established territory and start working again. Demons don’t cry!
Then there’s the small human part of her, tiny and hidden away, only meant for rare moments. Rare moments like this one..
She takes in a breath, sharp and cold numbing. 
Then melts. 
Her body goes from straight, rigid, awkwardly tight in Mammon’s hold to a full damn puddle, swift and flashing from one to the other like the transition between 5 year old her holding her 1st little brother for the first time of many to the 26 year old self who’s constantly being batted every which way and that, all while holding her greatest, carefully constructed weapon up high for everyone to see.
Even that falls too, especially that. Her smile drifts until the expensive jacket Mammon adorns wipes it away and welcomes her spilling tears instead.
Mammon has a smile that isn’t full of joy but still as kind, pressing a small kiss to her matching hair and planting his cheek into it. He sways them back and forth as Varya silently unravels, hands clutching his back, claws digging deep but thankfully not tearing.
Varya’s had a tough week. But at least she has her dad’s hugs to break that fall.
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honestlyspookytyphoon · 5 months
Text
Then why are you here?
Summary: Y/N attends the national premiere of a sports documentary and Charles cannot help but fall for her. But does Y/N feel the same?
Word count: +/- 1.2k
Author’s note: I gave the story a little twist, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language so sorry for any bad writing and spelling mistakes. It took longer than expected, but work was a pain…
Warning: None, I guess?  
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It was a rainy and cold evening in November. The street were covered in darkness, although it was just over 5 p.m. The thermometer outside the pharmacy a little further down the street indicated 9°C, which was a normal temperature this time of year in other parts of Europe but it was highly uncommon in the small Mediterranean princedom.
Charles sighed. After a long and exhausting day, he wanted nothing more than to stay home and enjoy the comfortable warmth and quietness of his own apartment. But he could not because, tonight, the Ferrari documentary premiered in Monaco. It was a beautiful documentary about the history of Ferrari in F1, starting with the introduction of the legendary Italian brand to racing and over the numerous WDC’s and successes to the rather saddening truth of today.
Charles usually did not mind attending official events, especially when they were this close to his home. He was proud to be a Ferrari driver and held font memories of his time as member of the Ferrari Driver Academy. He never had to worry about what he should wear, practically having an Armani suit for every day of the year. He never had to worry about not knowing anyone or feeling out of place, since it were mostly him and Carlos people were waiting for.
Of course, the 2023 was not going great at all, but Charles knew how to put things into perspective. It sucked, sure, but every F1 team has had one or more seasons in which things did not go well and Charles had been through worse in his life. Also, the PR team of Ferrari had made clear to the press that tonight should be about the rich history of the brand and that questions about the ongoing season could be asked at other times.
Then why was Charles not so keen on getting ready?
He could blame it on the fact that his mom and brothers would not be there. He could blame it on the weather or the rigorous training Mattia had put him through today. He could blame it on the lack of rest he has had recently, that the constant travelling got to him. Deep down, however, Charles knew the real reason and he almost felt pathetic about it. Tonight would just be another event he attends alone, without a plus one. Charles normally did not mind being single that much – he had a great circle of family and friends – but at nights like this, he did.
It was during moments like this that he wanted to be more like Pierre. His best friend, but also the biggest Casanova he knew. Ever since childhood, Charles and Pierre both have had a more than fair share of female attention but both coped with it differently.
Charles has always been the serious one, the one being in long-term relationships. Charles met beautiful women every day, but he did not go any further unless he knew it could be more. Pierre, however, was the complete opposite. He was the textbook definition of a player and never hesitated to use his fame and money to get the girl he wanted. Like yesterday, when he texted Charles that he fixed a date for tonight. He met her in a club and sealed the deal less than one hour in. “It could be a fling, it could be more, but whatever it is, we at least had a fun time together”, Pierre said. And sometimes, Charles wished he could look at it the same way.
The alarm beeped. 6 p.m. Time to get ready.
.....
The red carpet went better than expected and the documentary was beautiful. Now that the press and fans were gone, Charles felt like he could finally relax. He went to the bar to get a drink for him and Sebastian when he spotted her.
She caught his eye already earlier that night, when he saw her searching for her seat. Charles thought she was stunning. She was wearing a black silk blouse, dark green wide leg trousers and a pair of solid black heels, adding a good 7 cm to her height if Charles had to guess. He liked that she did not wear any red, as almost all of the other guests did. She had finished off her look with some subtle jewellery and her hair was styled in a messy bun, which accentuated her gorgeous facial features. He got himself wondering who she was, as the after-party was F1-exclusive and he was sure that he would have remembered meeting her at the track.
During his conversation with Sebastian, he could not focus; she was all he could think of. When Charles once again nodded at the wrong time, Sebastian had enough. “Oh god, Charles, just go”, he snickered, “instead of standing here, pretending to be interested in my stories. Ask for her name. She is here alone it seems, and I am sure she would like to talk to you. So…”  Charles even did not wait for Sebastian to finish his sentence.
“Hi”, Charles said.
“Oh, hi”, she answered.
A solid 30 seconds past without Charles saying anything. Y/N started to think that he had mistaken her for somebody else.
“I am sorry. Are you looking for someone else?”, she asked.
“No”, Charles replied, “I…I wanted to meet you, actually.”
“Really? Okay.”
“Yeah, it’s just…this after-party is exclusively for people linked to F1 and I haven’t seen you before, that’s all”, he rambled. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Dammit
“You’re right”, she admitted, “I have nothing to do with F1 actually…or not for now, at least.”
Charles was visibly confused. “Then why are you here?” A pause. “I am sorry, that came out wrong”.
“It’s fine. I am an acoustical engineer and Mr. Vaseur invited me to see if I have any interest in joining the team in Maranello. Instead of telling me why to choose for Ferrari, he suggested that I came to watch the documentary”, she said, “and I’ll admit that I am impressed.”
“My name is Y/N by the way. Very nice to meet you, Charles”, she reached out her hand, “I am a fan.”
“Nice to meet you to, Y/N, and I am glad to hear that!”  He could feel his mojo coming back.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“The drinks are free here, Charles”, she laughed, “but I would love to have a drink with you.”
Charles and Y/N continued to talk for the rest of night.
.....
“And that, Y/D/N, is how I met your mother”, Charles said, tickling the belly of his newborn daughter who was lying in his arms.
 “Oh god, Charles”, Y/N chuckled, “She is just 2 months old. She doesn’t get it.”
“I don’t care, Y/N, I like the story and she does too. Look how calm she is!” he said.
“It seems to me that you are the only one not enjoying it”, he hinted, “and I am offended, Y/N!”
Charles brought his hand to his chest, faking to be heartbroken.
“You know I love it, Charles. And you know I love you, too, so much”, Y/N said, draping her arms around his shoulders.
“What will you do when Y/D/N is all grown up and doesn’t want to hear the story anymore, like never?”, Y/N teased.
“She won’t. But if she would…”, Charles said, turning his head to face his beautiful wife, “I guess we’ll have to make another mini-us to pass the story onto.”
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Note
How would the male companions go about helping/comforting a tav who’s “monthly visitor” came to town during their journey??
A/N: The timing of this ask is impeccable because guess what I just got? Lol. But seriously I would be mad as hell in the 5 or 6 days I’m supposed to stop my mind flayer parasite AND save the universe I ALSO had to deal with cramping and bleeding. Nu-uh. Nope. Sign me the fuck out. Goodbye cruel world, I would be DONE. 
TW: Mentions of Menstruation; Blood 
Tried to keep this Tav as Gender Neutral as possible so that it could apply to anyone who menstruates.  <3 
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Male BG3 Companions Helping Tav w/ Their Period
⭐ Astarion: 
He probably notices it before Tav does
Of course, he offers to help “clean up” ;) (this may or may not get him a kick in the balls)
No, but seriously, if he and Tav are in a relationship, he’d have no qualms going down there himself every so often to “alleviate” some symptoms. That is, of course, if Tav would go for that kind of thing. Astarion won’t keep pushing it if Tav says “no”. He respects the hard boundaries Tav gives him. 
Of course, he teases Tav a bit. Not horribly, and it’s all in good fun. But enough to let Tav know that this matter doesn’t disgust or upset him in the slightest. It’s blood for devil's sake! What creature would be better prepared to handle it than him?
If any of Tav’s clothes end up stained or they end up bleeding through them, Astarion has just the thing to take the stains out. Turns out, knowing how to get blood out of most fabrics is quite beneficial knowledge in the vampire community. Plus he has an instinct for knowing where the best tailors and seamstresses in Baldur’s Gate are. Should Tav need an emergency change of clothes, he knows just the place! 
Then again, Astarion himself has no problem with the blood stains. After all, they’re traveling around killing monsters for gods sake! If anyone has a nasty comment about how much blood either he or Tav is drenched in, they better be damn quick on their feet. His arrows can shoot pretty far. ;P
As far as cramps or pain goes, if his previous, ahem, suggestion was shot down, he’ll make sure Tav takes a moment here and there to rest. He might even bother Gale, demanding some sort of heat pack. Scratch that. He’s most definitely harassing Gale for some sort of heating pack spell. 
If Gale refuses, he might even try and figure out how to fix one himself. Granted fire and vampires aren't the best of friends, but Tav is the only one in the last two-hundred-plus years to see him as a person. A little scorching here and there means nothing if Astarion can let Tav know how much he values them. 
🔮 Gale: 
He’s clueless, okay? Tav would have to outright tell him. I mean yes, he was raised by a single mom, but she didn’t exactly share the details of this stuff with him. And it never came up all the years he was with Mystra because goddesses don’t exactly reproduce the way other Faerun humanoids do! Please forgive him, he really does want to learn.
He immediately offers to find a spell or potion to either pause or skip this one altogether. He gets that Tav may want to opt out of dealing with it for the time being, seeing as the two of them have much more pressing matters to attend to. 
He’ll cast it himself if Tav wishes. Or he’ll find another trustworthy wizard to recommend. Although he does prefer to do it himself, he understands Tav might be uncomfortable with the thought of their new partner doing such a thing for them. His entire life has been spent studying magic, so of course he immediately thinks to use that to remedy any problem Tav has. 
Nevertheless, should Tav choose to deal with it in the old-fashioned non-magical way, he’s perfectly accepting of that as well. He’ll enquire about which local herbs are suitable for such applications, possibly even soliciting the help of an herbalist or surgeon. 
Gale wants to give Tav as many options for comfort as possible. If Tav’s concern is about heavy bleeding, he looks for answers on natural remedies to lighten the flow. Or he may even speak with a midwife about the best clothes and absorbent materials to use in the coming days.  
As awkward as he can be in social situations, he’s oddly great in this endeavor. He treats it the way he would a Weave experiment- with an open mind and curiosity. At the end of the day what matters is Tav knows how much Gale admires and respects them. And that he doesn’t think of them any less for having this bodily function. If anything, he admires Tav more for being so forthcoming. It’s an ask that actually strengthens his and Tav’s relationship. 
🗡 Wyll: 
Wyll probably shies away from it the most. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Tav in any way he can, it’s just that he’s a gentleman, and to his knowledge, speaking of certain subjects with the one you like, isn’t something a well-behaved gentleman would do. That being said, a true gentleman is always prepared to put away their discomfort in order to aid their friends, so that’s exactly what he does. 
He enlists the help of Shadowheart almost immediately. He knows realistically, there are others he could ask (midwives, doctors, healers), but Shadowheart is an ally and a Cleric to boot. So her skills as well as her knowledge may very well come in handy. 
He’ll go along with whatever Tav decides, but he, like Gale, recommends Tav either suspend or skip this round. He thinks it wise to have all their wits about them for the battles ahead. With demons like Mizora and Raphael running about, none of them can afford to get distracted. Again, if Tav chooses to push through it, he’ll be kind and supportive, and request Shadowheart’s healing in subduing some of the more troublesome symptoms. But deep down, he’s happier should Tav decide to use magic or spells to resolve the issue for the time being. 
And then, Wyll goes all out in preparation for the next one. Once their fight is won, he can turn his attention back to his family- his Father, and of course, Tav. He makes sure his family home has a room for them, customized in many ways to Tav’s liking. Wyll has their favorite color blanket, a soft pillow, their favorite flavor tea in an enchanted flask to keep it just the perfect temperature… the list goes on and on. 
He loves Tav so much. He just wants them to be comfortable, and to feel safe to express whatever feelings they have. After all, Tav is the best thing to ever happen to him. 
🌱 Halsin: 
The nice thing about him being ‘one with nature’ is that he has no unease regarding the subject. He is an archdruid, and some three-hundred years old at that- believe me, there’s very little Tav’s body could throw at him that he’s not ready to receive. 
Out of all the companions, Halsin is the one most likely to not immediately suggest using magical means to pause or skip it. Instead, he has more natural aids at the ready- herbs, teas, heat packs, massages, and well, yes, even that. ;)
The difference between Halsin suggesting it and Astarion suggesting it, however, is that Halsin’s motivations are more focused on what he can do for Tav and their body; they’re not based on the idea of mutual satisfaction. Halsin has had countless lovers and years to understand pleasure. He knows you take turns giving, and he’s well very versed in that. 
Or if Tav isn't up for that, he'll offer to shift into a cat and rest on their abdomen, using his body heat to lessen Tav’s cramps. 
He’s also the most ‘normal’ when it comes to continuing their journey. He won’t make a habit of fussing over Tav unless they specifically request him to do so. Periods, however annoying and painful, are a part of life, of nature. Halsin believes it best to learn how to accept nature, and live in harmony with it, rather than try and prevent it. 
If Tav does want to explore other means of stopping this particular cycle, however, Halsin will help them any way he can, even if he doesn’t think it very wise to mess with the flow of nature like that. As a druid healer himself, he knows a few things or too about reproductive spells. He can make it so the symptoms lessen, or temporarily subside until their perilous journey has come to a close. 
Halsin may not want to settle for a single lover, but out of all of them, Tav seems to shine the brightest. He would do anything within his power to aid them. 
Bonus! 💪 Minsc (and 🐹 Boo!): 
He offers to fight it lol. Just straight up. 
“What is this thing causing you stress? Tell Minsc where it is so he can destroy it for you!” 
Boo basically has to be the one in charge of the situation, but then again, what’s new? 
Boo finds the supplies Tav might need, and directs Minsc to them. Boo also directs Minsc towards either Shadowheart or Halsin, because they’re better suited for dealing with these sorts of things. 
Once Minsc understands what Tav meant, he apologizes with a bouquet of wildflowers he picked. 
And by ‘picked’ I mean mostly smooshed before ripping their roots out of the ground.  
He's really trying okay, give the man some credit.
And give Boo treats to thank him for his service.
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5 times Steph and Eddie refer to each other as husband and wife +1 time they make it official
Part 1 (also on ao3 here)
...............................................
Stevie probably should have shut this all down weeks ago.
The kids have been calling her mom since before she even came out to them, so she’s admittedly kind of given up on stopping that one. The problem is now they’ve gotten Eddie in on it.
Well, Eddie’s not calling her mom. If he started doing that, she thinks she’d no longer be fit for public. She’d have to crawl in a hole and never come out, like how old cats sometimes wander away to die alone, except she’d be dying not of old age but of the mortification of an unrequited crush. So luckily, that isn’t happening.
But now, as she arrives at the Wheelers’ house to pick up the kids after a D&D session, she’s forced to confront the fact that Eddie calling her mom is not apparently the worst thing that could come of this whole thing.
It starts when she’s getting on Dustin’s case about leaving his shit all over the basement. These kids treat every space they’re in like they own it, but Stevie is very aware how hard Karen had to work to convince Ted to let Eddie host Hellfire here, and she’s not about to let that hard work go to waste just because the kids left the basement a bomb site.
Dustin rolls his eyes at her nagging, lets out a long-suffering sigh and a “Yes, mom,” and Stevie has barely finished giving him an obligatory sisterly noogie before things get out of hand.
“If Stevie’s our mom, does that make Eddie our dad?” Lucas says, casually, completely unaware that putting ‘Eddie’ and ‘dad’ in the same sentence has just completely broken Stevie’s brain.
Eddie, though. Eddie smells blood in the water. He’s got that look on his face, that one Stevie usually loves, the one he always gets right before he commits to a bit with overdramatic vigour.
Sure enough, Eddie immediately prostrates himself over the couch, hand to his forehead, looking the picture of a lovelorn idiot. “Stevie,” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “It’s just been so hard, raising our kids alone since the divorce.”
Stevie scoffs. “You’re raising our kids? You get them for a few hours once a week, pretty sure I’m the one shuttling their ungrateful asses to and from school every day.”
“Ungrateful?” Dustin splutters, as if he doesn’t show up at Stevie’s door at entirely random times of the day and demands she drive him to whatever nerd shit he’s got going on next.
“You’re right, that’s unfair,” she says, and then before anyone can get a word in: “You’re lovely, Will, always so polite. But the rest of you little shits. Ungrateful.”
Will smiles serenely as his friends immediately erupt into complaints, and Eddie ignores them all to prostrate himself at Stevie’s feet.
“I know I haven’t been around often, but baby, won’t you give me another chance?”
Stevie thinks she’d probably give Eddie anything he asked for, as long as he’s asking on his knees before her. It’s definitely a good look for him, and it’s only the clamour of the kids around her that keeps her face from going bright red.
She’s gotta play it cool here. Roll with the ridiculousness, always the best way to deal with Eddie, to keep him grinning at her like that, his whole face lit up like sunshine.
“Well…” she says, pretending to think it over, like she wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat if he asked for real. That would be a bit much, given they’ve only known each other for a year and some change. “I suppose… although I’m not seeing a ring.”
Eddie grins like she’s fallen into some trap, and immediately slides the ring off his right hand- her favourite one with the big round stone in the middle that she likes to play with sometimes when they’re smoking together- and holds it up to her, a challenge in his eyes. Well. Only way out is through. She holds out her hand for him, the left one, and he slides the ring gently onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly.
“There you go,” he says, softly. His eyes are so warm, like pools of melted chocolate, and Stevie feels like she might drown in them. Her whole world has narrowed to the man on his knees before her- she’s distantly aware of the kids around them losing their minds (she’s pretty sure Mike is gagging, but that’s so far from her mind right now it might as well be happening on a different planet).
Eddie smiles up at her. “There’s my wife.”
“Your wife,” she whispers, unbearably fond. Stevie wants to hear him call her that for the rest of her life.
This really isn’t helping with her crush.
Sound filters in slowly, the world around them coming back in with the hushed whispers of the kids. Honestly, they’re quieter than she thought they’d be after this display, although the way Mike is rubbing his ribs suggests that this peace was hard won. They round the kids up pretty easily after that, with surprisingly little complaining as Stevie harangues them into cleaning up their shit. Eddie helps, occasionally glancing up at Stevie and looking quickly away with a fierce blush.
Later, after Stevie’s dropped off most of the kids and it’s only her and Will left in the car, riding home in silence as Stevie fiddles with the ring still on her finger, she tries not to read too much into everything that just happened. Will isn’t helping.
“So,” he says, in that sly, quiet way of his. “How long have you and Eddie been together?”
Stevie splutters. “That’s not- we’re not together. That was just- you know how Eddie is, he’s… theatrical.”
Will hums noncommittally. “He is. I don’t think that’s what that was, though. You like him, right?”
If this was any of the kids other than Will, Stevie thinks she’d deny it. God knows Dustin couldn’t be trusted with that information. But Will, quiet, sensitive Will- she thinks he’d get it.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I really do. But it’s not- he doesn’t like me like that.”
She pulls up to the Byers’ house and parks the car in the drive. They both sit for a moment, basking in the silence. After a moment, Will suddenly leans over the gearshift, wrapping Stevie up in a weird, slightly uncomfortable hug. It feels nice.
“For what it’s worth,” he says as he pulls back and opens his door, “he looked really happy when he called you his wife. Even Eddie’s not that good of an actor.”
With that, he gently closes the car door behind him. Stevie watches as he runs up to his front door, and waves when Joyce comes out to greet him.
She drives most of the way home on autopilot, fiddling with the ring on her finger and thinking of Eddie’s face as he’d placed it on her hand. His gentle smile, his warm, chocolate eyes, full of something like love. His fingers had been rough with callouses as they’d brushed against hers, but still soft in a way that had nothing to do with his skin.
Maybe, she thinks, as she enters her quiet mausoleum of a house. Just maybe.
She goes to sleep that night, alone in her bed, with her last sight before unconsciousness being that of a gleaming ring on her left finger, and dreams of a husband who loves her.
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leftrightnomin · 5 months
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Please, Sir! || Yuta Nakamoto
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Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto x Reader
Summary: You found yourself sitting at the dinner table of the Nakamoto household. Rest assured that you are safe for the night. Maybe.
Genre: Smut, Rated R (18+), Bestfriend's Dad x Reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it up, ppl), Cheating (Yuta is married), Praise kink, Begging, Degradation, Fingering, Lots of dirty talking, Size kink, Oral sex (nky receiving), Dumbification,
A/N: Hi, did anyone miss me? Well, here's a little something for all of you. Enjoy!
~ • ~ •~ • ~ •~ • ~ •~ • ~
You had been trying to avoid going to the Nakamoto’s home. You were trying to avoid conflict with your best friend's smoking-hot father, Yuta. It wasn't like you were always around their home, Giselle lived in her own apartment. For that reason, you were thankful. When you were younger and in college you would often go over for dinner with Giselle or she’d go to your family’s house. But it wasn’t necessary anymore. You were both grown adults now with 9 to 5 jobs to attend to.
This time, however, Julia A.K.A Mrs. Nakamoto was throwing a small dinner party for their family, close friends, and relatives. Apparently, Mr. Nakamoto got promoted at his company and from what you heard, the newly acquired title comes with a six-figure salary. A big deal really. Giselle had told you that her mom and dad wanted you there.
Of course, your father would want me there. You thought.
It wouldn't be an actual crisis if you and Yuta weren't indulging in each other's warmth behind closed doors, away from his family's eyes. Or anyone at all. You'd have to be playing the poker face like crazy at the dinner table to protect what you and Yuta shared. Certainly, you wouldn’t do anything with him with all the people around.
But still, you are sure that you will be having a hard time pretending. Not now and obviously not sooner. Not when you've had a taste of the great Yuta Nakamoto. You were in for a long night now that you knew what he was like, how good he was, how wild he could get, and just how hot and filthy he could be.
You made the choice to use a panty liner solely because you thought it would be handy. Having your panties wet and also probably your pants or anything to show through your clothing wouldn't look good. You didn't anticipate needing it, but you were also aware of how frail you had become from a quick glimpse of Mr. Nakamoto.
If he even extended his hug or spoke to you in a deep, seductive voice or if he smiled too broadly while flashing those dimples, you were pretty well doomed. So, yes, for practical reasons, merely a just-in-case moment, you wore pantyliners.
You were picked up by Giselle as scheduled. The trip to The Nakamotos' home took close to 30 minutes.
"Are you alright?" Giselle maintained her focus on the road. She detected something about you. She simply had no idea what.
"Yeah. No doubt. Why?"
"You've been quiet since you got in my car. It reminds me of when we first met in junior high or worse," she chuckled as she hastily cast a short glance your way.
Prior to her arrival, you made an effort to relax. You calmed your stiff body and mind through meditation, chamomile tea, and a bite of dried ginger. You practiced some meditative yoga while listening to soothing background music. And you thought it was beneficial.
But as soon as Yuta's text message chimed into your phone, your pulse shot up and you started to sweat heavily. All that effort you put into calming yourself was for nothing.
He didn't say anything other than that he was anticipating seeing you after asking you if you were still coming. There it was. His communications contained nothing sexually explicit or provocative. Without trying, he did that to you. Hence the need for wearing pantyliners was a must.
You shook your head and laughed at your friend's remark. "No, I'm alright. Just worn out. Last night at the restaurant was a long one. Not exactly a lie, but I had barely arrived home by midnight."
And that appeared to be a suitable response. Giselle didn't inquire more about your strange behavior that evening at least.
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There were Yuta's brother and his wife. The parents, husband, and cousin of Mrs. Nakamoto, a friend from down the street and a neighbor. Then, you and Giselle. That's it.
A delightful modest supper with dessert was served along with drinks. some musical selections. It was lovely to see everyone chatting while outside. However, you were agitated and making an effort to force yourself to stop staring at the man of the moment. Your cheeks and neck warmed up each time your sight met his, sending shivers down your spine.
Control yourself, Y/N.
It's a celebratory dinner for Pete's sake.
You shouldn't even be thinking of it.
You got along well with Yuta over dinner. He treated you as the best friend of his daughter. It was good yet at the same time you detested it.
You wished you could join everyone else in laughing at his jokes while sitting on his lap and encircling his shoulders. You desired to boldly kiss him in front of his crowd and hold his hand. But it was clear that wouldn't happen.
The man's wife was always close by. And after all, he was only secretly yours. With the door locked, in your apartment, and covered in fabrics. He was only yours in the absence of sight and hearing of others.
At supper, you barely gave him a glance as you were eating. Not even when he was speaking to everyone and expressing gratitude for their attendance. You restrained yourself from glancing at his face. You admired how his eyes sparkled and how his lips twitched, how he made motions with his hands and ringed fingers while he spoke, and most importantly, his smile. You knew it would only cause you trouble if you did.
At the conclusion of his little thank-you speech, he turned to face you and raised his glass. Along with the others, you raised yours skyward before taking a sip collectively eyes fixed on him. Even if it just lasted a few seconds, it made you warm. Hot enough to have your thighs pressed closely together beneath your white linen dress.
When everyone was mingling and strolling around the backyard, Yuta had the chance to walk up to you.
He placed his hand on your bare shoulder and whispered into your ear, "I missed you, sweetheart."
All of your encounters with her took place there at your residence. He sometimes spends a night there and even a whole full day.
However, you were scheduled to work and cover for a few servers who couldn't arrive for whatever reason because you had been busy. Additionally, Yuta was absent for nearly a week due to a business trip. Typically, you and Yuta met once a week at most. He hadn't spent any time in your bed in a few weeks.
It's true—you really did miss him.
"Do not leave until you and I are able to have a chat."
He squeezed at your exposed skin as he emphasized the word chat, and as he started to leave, he glanced down at you and winked.
A panty liner was indeed required.
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You assisted Giselle in replenishing some of the empty bottles and replacing the cooler's ice. You made an effort to keep busy and avoid thinking about what Yuta wanted to "chat" about. Or suppose "chat" was a code word for something different.
At the gathering, a neighbor approached you and entertained you with his jokes. He appeared to be friendly and outgoing with everyone. You could understand his invitation and the Nakamoto's preference for him as a close friend. He was extremely hilarious. In fact, chatting to him and hearing his outrageous college narrative got you thinking back to your own experience while making you giggle. He assisted you in temporarily forgetting about your small taboo affair. He temporarily distracted you from Yuta.
Yet, Yuta didn't like how you and Johnny were laughing.
You were smiling when Johnny gently took hold of your forearm and moved in to speak to you. And so, when the man stood right next to you and your new friend, the brief respite you got from thinking about Yuta and swooning over him abruptly ended.
"Y/N, I need your assistance with something," He furrowed his brow and indicated the home, "Would you help me, please?"
Oh.
You took a breath and nodded, "Sure, Mr. Nakamoto."
You gave Johnny a courteous grin and walked with the broad-shouldered guy into his house.
Yuta escorted you upstairs and into a spacious bathroom which was never used in silence. He quickly ushered you inside and secured the door with a click sound of the door lock. He undid the cuffs from his pale pink button-up shirt while you watched in silence, then raised his eyes to meet yours as he rolled the material up his forearms.
"Isn't Johnny a great guy?" Yuta finally spoke up, leaning against the wide vanity sink with the wall-length mirror opposite him and crossing his arms over his wide chest.
"Yeah," you smiled sheepishly as you nodded, "He is nice. Funny too."
Yuta pursed his lips and slowly scanned your figure, taking you in.
He had seen your attire and had daringly glanced at you all evening, but he was unable to hold his stare for very long. Hence, nothing he experienced was gratifying. It wasn't enough to allow himself to see your ass's curvature or the point where your neck and jaw connected. He was now relieved that he was finally able to get the close look at you that he had been craving for all night.
"What were you two discussing?" Yuta jutted out his hips and displayed his stunning bulge for you as he uncrossed his arms and placed his palms on the marble top of the vanity behind him.
Acting with knowledge, I see.
"Well, sir, absolutely nothing actually. He was relating stories to me from his time in university. We were exchanging stories from college."
"Yeah? Did you discover after that the two of you have a lot in something in common?" He furrowed his brow.
You glanced briefly at his crotch before returning to his face. It was an uninvited glance. He saw where your eyes wandered, and even though you didn't mean to, it made him smile.
"No. Not really," you thought as you reciprocated his sly grin with your own and crossed your arms over your chest.
Over the months, you had grown to know him a little, and this small detail about him straight away made you feel at peace. He liked playing with you, teasing and building up your hunger for his heat.
"Why do you have a lot of questions about Johnny? Are you perhaps interested in him?" You crack a joke.
"No, I'm not," said Yuta, cocking his head and widening his grin. "Come, move closer."
You took the few sluggish steps necessary to narrow the distance between you two while biting your lip and uncrossing your arms. Your hips aligned with his as soon as you were within arm's reach of him.
"I'm just worried that I haven't been able to fuck you in what?" He then pulled you into him by your waist and said, "A span of three weeks?"
You chuckled softly and nodded, "Almost, 18 days to be exact."
Yuta smirked, "Counting the days without my cock are you?"
You placed your arms around his shoulders, saying, "Yes," with a big smile and a giggle. "I missed you so much, Mr. Nakamoto."
Yuta admired your lips briefly before returning her attention to your eyes, "Unfortunately, the house is crowded with visitors."
You frowned, "I'll be quiet, Sir. I promise."
"I bet you'd love for me to bend you over so I can fuck you right now in this bathroom, wouldn't you?" Yuta murmured in a low, raspy voice as he moved one of his hands up to your face and thumbed over your cheekbone.
You quickly separated your lips while nodding, "Yes, please, Sir. "
Yuta scolded, "So filthy. So fucking desperate. Do you need me that much, baby?" As you reached your tongue out to taste it, his thumb lightly touched your bottom lip.
You looked at his eyes with lust and a hint of greed. You needed his cock so bad. You wailed as you attempted to encircle his thumb with your lips, but he quickly withdrew his hand from your grasp. He was suddenly slipping between your legs and was pulling you such that you were pulled up onto the counter.
"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" he asks as his palms go underneath your dress and grab hold of your thighs.
Your words were breaths, "This morning."
"Really, how horrible was it? You don't seem to be content with anything. You used your fingers, right?"
"Yes, Sir. I used my clit sucker, too," you grinned and ran your fingers down his chest, "Pretended it was you between my legs."
Despite how cool he was behaving, you could see his dick hardening in his trousers and knew he was getting turned on.
"And you're still in such need? Does your little pussy require a lot of care or are you just pure filthy greedy for it?
"A little bit of both, Sir, " You let out a heavy breathe.
"I bet you're drenched as hell."
You gasped as you saw what he was about to find as his hands traveled upward toward your panties. Your wet underwear liner. Hardly that, seductive.
He stopped with a perplexed expression when his index finger touched the crotch of your pants. It felt unique not typical.
"Are you perhaps on your period, angel?" He said as he examined your underwear by pushing your legs apart and removing your dress.
When he ran his fingers down the edge of the cotton in your panty liner, he recognized what it was which earned you a light frustrated groan.
"No," you jerked your head. "It was only for keeping dry."
Yuta licked his lips and poked his middle finger beneath the crotch of your pants, and when he grasped what you meant, his eyebrows went up. Your underwear was dry, but the liner was sodden. As he kissed your lips, his fingers found your crease and softly played with it.
Both his fingers and the kiss were gentle and easy. He massaged your soaking pussy lips while you whimpered and ran your hands through his hair.
He kissed you briefly before removing his hands from your underwear and saying, "Like I said, our home is crowded with people."
"I bet your wet pussy would feel fantastic wrapped around my cock, right now," he kissed you soft lips once again. "I'm going to fuck my fist tonight thinking about how wet you got for me before I even touched you, princess."
"Please, Sir. Please." Angry, you yanked at his hands and begged, "I'll keep quiet, I promise. We can do it silently. I just —,"
You let your head down and closed your eyes tightly from too much need and frustration.
He raised you chin so that you could meet his equally lustful eyes, "Wow. Look at you. So frustrated and needy."
"I don’t know baby," you felt his hands on your thighs again. "I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He squeezed your thighs, his eyes growing darker and the bulge under his pants, pushing hard at his zipper.
“Please, fuck me, Mr. Nakamoto,"
"You’re the only one that can satisfy me,”
"I really need your cock,"
You were practically a mess by the time, begging so desperately for what you've been need the past eighteen days.
Yuta let out a laugh through his nose and shook his head, “Although that's a fact, I still think it's just too risky.”
Although he held your thighs firmly in place and used his pink tongue to moisten his lips as he peered down at your cleavage, his body language belied what he had just stated.
You were aware of the risk as well. However, you had another thought. You'd already politely asked him even added a please. He just wanted to continue acting as though he didn't care about you. He wanted you to beg for him.
And you did. Like a whore thirsty for cock, you desperately did.
"I want your cock, Mr. Nakamoto,"
"I don't think a toy will do for tonight,"
"I really fucking need your cock,"
He knew he had the upper hand, "You're gonna have to be patient little one."
You figured he'd hear you pleading with him once more. Of course, with a bargain in mind.
"Sir, I cannot wait now. It hurts," you pouted.
You brought his hand back to your front and held it in place, "Feel me, Mr. Nakamoto. Feel my aching clit hungry for your touch."
He shut his eyes and clinched his jaw as you stared. He was aware that you were playing with him to get what you want. After all, he was already wrapped around your tiny little fingers.
"Oh my sweet, sweet princess,"
"Would Johnny reject my request if I made it?" You asked with a raised brow as your last attempt of seducing him.
"You are such a fucking brat, princess," he shook his head, eyes glaring intensely at yours.
His comments sounded mean but they sounded so good to your ears. Accompanied with a smirk on his flushed face, he pulled your pants with its liner down your legs, tossing it onto the floor, and immediately undid his pants, pulling his cock out from the front of his briefs.
When you first saw his girthy, warm cock unconstrained, you couldn't help but groan. You moved to the edge and positioned your bare feet on the counter top so you were spread out and readily available for him to access as you reached down to touch him. Ready for him to ruin.
"Is this what you were hungry for?" Yuta already had lust in his eyes, His gaze was heavy as he eyed you and cupped his cock in his hand while holding his tip to your wet hole and asking,
"Mhmm," you hummed as you felt the tip of his pulsating cock.
"Wanted to be fucked by a married man in the guest bathroom?"
Fuck, his voice sounds so good.
"Wanted to get with my daughter and wife merely down there?"
So fucking good.
"Wanted me to fuck you with a house full of strangers wondering where I am?" Yuta's strong voice eventually broke through your tight muscle as he spoke lowly into your ear.
"Fuck, yes please, Sir." You desperately nodded, "I don't care if there's people downstairs. All I want is your cock."
"You better be true to your word, sweetheart." Yuta warned you. "Be quiet or else, I'll stop."
"Yes… yes," you mumbled as gently as you could and clung to his shoulders to keep yourself steady, as you gasped at the way his huge cock started to push past your soft and wet walls.
Yuta watched as his cock gently dipped inside your pussy and heaved a trembling breath mingled with a gasp. You were already so drenched in your own juice that Yuta could hear when he pulled back an inch before diving in even deeper.
"Fuck!"
"Can't help myself, Y/N. You're pussy is choking my cock so deliciously."
He started to push and cant his hips, sinking so far into your cunt that each time he came to the bottom, his balls hit you "My sweet girl is doing such an excellent job taking me in."
Yuta pushes in accompanied with either a soft groan or a whimper.
"Ugh, so tight sweetheart,"
Thrusts in.
"Fuck, yes,"
Pulls out.
"Ooh, more please,"
In.
"So good,"
Out.
You were relieved that the only sounds were gasps, pants, and the sound of a pussy being pounded.
Yuta leaned in so he could reach for your lips and fuck you slowly, trying his best to minimize the sound of skin sticking and slapping while you clung tightly to his shoulders.
Your limbs were starting to tire, and your head was spinning from too much pleasure. Your thighs were kept wide by Yuta's painful yet pleasurable grip.
"Fuck, Yuta," You gasped as he released one of your thighs and put his thumb to your clit exactly as you needed, "Right there, Mr. Nakamoto. Don't stop, please!"
This was one of the things you couldn't resist. He always understood your needs perfectly.
"Here?" He smirked as he started to lose rhythm while fucking into you. "Do I make you feel good, baby? Are you gonna come for me?"
"Oh fuck yes," you covered your mouth in an attempt to silence your moans. "So good, Mr. Nakamoto. You're cock fills so fucking good."
Your stomach started to burn and your thighs began trembling as Yuta's lips remained over your mouth and he kept rocking his hips in. You sobbed into his mouth and tightened your hold on his shoulders.
"Such desperate little whore you are," Yuta himself said in a tense, labored voice as he felt his balls contract. "Couldn't even wait for a couple more days,"
He always met his demise too quickly thanks to you. He felt like he was a horny teenager once again every time he was with you. There is no turning back when it comes to you. Your immaculate, tight and slick pussy, complete with bedroom eyes and full lips — he wanted it. He had a similar burning desire for you. He desperately need you.
“Desperate for you, Mr. Nakamoto," You panted and felt the hot decadence of your insides begin to unfurl as Yuta’s thumb expertly rubbed and circled your clit. "Want you so bad. I'll let you ruin me all day and all night."
He sensed you starting to close in on him and, anticipating your climax, "M'coming, Mr. Nakamoto. So fucking close, fuck!"
"Come for me, sweetheart," he covered your mouth with his. "Come all over my hard cock."
You saw stars and writhed onto his thumb as he continued to thrust into you with deep, powerful strokes while he kissed you hungrily. He was couldn't help himself back either at each twitch your cunt made and the slick noises of your pouring orgasm.
"Fuck, baby. I'm gonna come,"
"Come inside me, Sir," you caressed his hair as you came down your own high, "Give it all to me."
"Fuck," He rutted into you forcefully while panting into your mouth, shoving himself so deeply that his come could adequately coat every part of your body. "Oh, feels so good, Y/N."
He slowly drew away from you and then fucked himself back into you until he was balls-deep in you, all of his juices smothered your warm walls.
He pulled your legs up over his hips as he leaned in to kiss you, removing his thumb from your overstimulated clit and placing both hands on your thighs. His cock was still pulsing as he came down, and as he pressed his mouth against yours.
You laughed in his face, "Mr. Nakamoto, we were both desperate for release."
Knowing that he was in the same situation as you made you smile.
You finally dropped your legs as Yuta gently hissed at how sensitive he felt as he pushed himself away from the kiss. It wasn't the same, despite the fact that he had been torturing himself with thoughts of you every night. He desired your pussy to be content, just as you desired for his cock.
Not only his cock, either.
Him.
Mr. Nakamoto was essential.
It started to become an obsession. Your obsession.
Yuta brought his finger up to your lips after dragging it along the area where his come was starting to escape from you. He smiled at your greed as you quickly sucked his warm sperm from his fingers.
Your cheek was lovingly stroked by his knuckles as he said, "You are my sweet daughter, aren't you?"
You chuckled and gave him a sly smile, "You're just too hard to resist, Sir."
"What day off are you taking next?"
"Wednesday. Why?" You gave him an expectant smile.
"Stay free on that day." He handed you your underwear and casually stated, "I'm coming over," before pulling his pants back up.
"What if I already had plans that day?" You hopped down from the counter while grinning as your panties were being dragged up your legs.
He encircled you, palms flat on the vanity counter on either side of your hips lightly pinning you against the counter, "Cancel them."
Why would you refuse? You couldn't even though you should. You even loved to tease him a little, but you weren't going to anyhow. With him, you can never say no. It's the same way as he could never resist you.
"Okay. Fine. My scheduled has been moved, Sir. Considering how lost and hopeless you are without me."
Yuta shook his head and laughed through his nose, "Such a mouthy brat."
He gave you one final kiss before straightening himself up in the mirror and exiting the bathroom as if he hadn't just screwed his daughter's best friend while his spouse and other relatives were present.
You groaned and smiled as you turned to face the mirror. Such a mistake. But he was in such excellent spirits.
And even though he was married, you were well aware that he belonged to you.
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seungtothecheol · 1 month
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tony (wen junhui (jun) x gn!reader)
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Part of my Valentines Special!
PAIRING: wen junhui (jun) x gn!reader
GENRE: fluff, fake dating,
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
WARNINGS: mutual pining (not much), slight sexual themes(??), kissing
SUMMARY: You may have told your friend group you had a boyfriend to stop the relentless allegations against you.
AUTHORS NOTE: IM BACK HAHAH FHSDJ ANYWAYS HI GUYSS SORRY FOR JUST LEAVING LMAO HOPE YALL ENJOY THIS :))
Previous Member | Valentine Special Masterlist | Next Member
TAGLIST: @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan (leave a comment, dm or ask to be added!)
"junnie,"
you say as you and your best friend jun cuddle on the couch and watch a movie in your shared apartment.
"yes?"
"you know i love you, right?"
"yes..."
"and i'd do anything for you?"
"uhm, sure?"
"and you love me?"
"yes?"
"and you'd do anything for me?"
jun sighs.
"y/n, what's your point?"
"will you be my boyfriend?"
"that's a bit straightforward. i feel like we missed a lot of stages." jun say as you sigh. "fake boyfriend. i may have told my friend group i was dating you."
you rest your head on his shoulder. "oh." he sounded.. almost disappointed? "well then what do i get?"
"you get to have me as your partner. for a while." he chuckles and you lift your head to look at him with a frown. "what's so funny?"
jun just smirks. "sure. i'll be your fake boyfriend. you have to buy me boba for a week though."
"hmm. deal." you hold out your hand to him and he shakes it firmly. "when do i have to meet your friends?"
"tomorrow." you say sheepishly. "that soon?" jun is slightly taken aback. you nod. "you're lucky i'm free tomorrow." he boops your nose.
you giggle. "you're the best bestfriend ever!" you snuggle into him more. "sure am." he fluffs your hair slightly before you both eventually fall asleep.
tomorrow rolls around too fast and you and jun are both getting ready to meet up with your friends.
"y/n, do you think they will believe us?" jun asks, putting on a hat. "uh, yeah. probably. hopefully they don't say anything too embarrassing though."
jun thinks about what you said but doesn't question it.
"valerie says she's going to pick us up from your apartment to go to the arcade." you say, showing jun the text on your group chat with your friend group.
jun nods. "sounds good. remind me, who are we meeting again?"
"okay, so, valerie is blonde with hazel eyes, a bit shorter than me and very bright. trish is around my height with brown hair and blue eyes and she's more reserved but when she opens up, she is also very bubbly. lastly there is liqin with black hair and black eyes, she's only slightly shorter than you and she's the mom of the group."
jun looks at you fondly as you list all your friends in concentration. "when's valerie going to come?" he asks while putting some jewellery on.
"in like, 5 minutes." you reply as you watch him put on as silver ring. "that one is pretty." you say, making jun smile. "this?" he says pointing at his fingers.
you nod shyly as jun walks over to where you're standing and gently grabs your hands. "i have another one." he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a matching ring before slotting it onto your middle finger.
"thank you jun. it's so cute." you wrap your arms around his middle and he reciprocates the hug, patting your back slightly.
suddenly, the doorbell rings and you seperate from each other because of the noise. you run to open his apartment door and see one of your best friends and her boyfriend standing there.
"y/n!" you hear valerie exclaim. "i'm so glad you let us meet your mysterious boyfriend." valerie giggles along with her boyfriend, seokmin.
"speaking of, where is he?" seokmin says, opening the door a bit wider. as if on cue, jun walks up to behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist making you blush slightly.
"hey, baby." he kisses the top of your head before turning to your friends. "it's nice to meet you. i'm jun." he smiles and valerie and seokmin both stare at him in awe.
"i already like you, jun. i can't believe y/n didn't tell us about you sooner." valerie shakes her head at you and you let out a huff of disapproval.
"we only started dating like, 2 weeks ago, val."
"yeah but you said he was your best friend before that. and you finally conf-" you slap your hand over her mouth. "what was that for?"
"i don't know what you're talking about."
"okay let's just go, shall we?"
thank the lord for seokmin.
you finally got the arcade after what seemed like way too long. you immediately spot liqin and trish with trish's boyfriend soonyoung. valerie waves to them as you both run up to them.
liqin and trish both eye jun down. "so this is your boyfriend, y/n?" trish says, gesturing at jun. you nod. jun's hand gravitates towards yours before holding onto it and intertwining your fingers together.
"hmm." liqin says with a questioning expression. "i see. i'm glad that you finally stopped hiding your true feelings, babe." liqin sends you a warm smile before gently patting your head.
"let's just go inside." you say as all of you make your way into the arcade.
true feelings?
jun thought to himself.
what true feelings? could they possibly like me back?
he gets snapped out of his thought by you dragging him to a claw machine. "i bet you can't win that one for me, junnie." you point to a cute, pink dinosaur plush.
"i bet i can." jun sends you a cute smile, making you giggle. "i'd like to see you try."
it took him 12 tries to get the dinosaur. you had gotten bored of watching him trying for the toy dinosaur so you went to shoot some hoops with liqin when you see a very happy jun running towards you, pink dinosaur in hand.
"look! i got it!" you giggle at his antics and pull him into a hug. "how much money did you blow on that machine?"
"we don't talk about that. here's your plushie." jun pulls away from you and hands you the plush. you hug it to your chest and smile widely. "thank you so much, babe! i'm gonna name it... tony!"
liqin watches your interaction fondly. "i'm glad you're with him, y/n. you seem happy." she adds and then walks away to join trish and valerie.
your cheeks burn as you look away from jun. "come on, let's go." jun drags you by the wrist, taking you towards the group.
you all collectively decide to get pizza at the pizza store right next to the arcade.
"so, how did you and jun confess?"
trish pipes up as she munches on her pizza while you all sit in a large booth. "i..uhm.." you begin, not knowing what to say having forgotten to discuss this with his prior.
"oh, i confessed to them." jun says. everyone ooh's as jun laughs and begins to continue. "we just naturally ended up together i guess. i knew i love them and i'm glad they feel the same."
"awwww. y'all are so cute together, y/n." valerie begins. "you know, i was surprised you were the one who confessed. i thought it would be y/n. they've liked you for so long." she giggles before taking a sip of her drink.
you freeze.
why would she mention your super huge crush on your best friend? your eyes go big and turn towards jun who's smirking and raising an eyebrow.
you bite your lip as the conversation slowly morphs into whether pineapples belong on pizza or not.
you can't focus on anything for the rest of the evening and just kind of zone out.
when valerie drops the both of you off to jun's place, she gives you the "use protection" talk. "i know, val, i know. we will use a condom, i'm sure."
"i'm just looking out for your safety, y/n." valerie replies.
you're sure jun can hear the conversation you are having. "have a good evening, babe. we should all hang out again soon!" valerie says as you give her a hug. "yes we should! let's organise it sometime."
valerie nods before taking off with seokmin. you shut the door and turn around to jun who is staring at you with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face.
"so i've heard you've had a a crush on me for a few years?" he smirks and you freeze again. jun takes a few steps towards you.
"it..it's not..." you try to explain yourself but you can't get the words out. you sigh.
"look, jun. i know you don't feel the same way so i understand if you don't want to be friends with me anymore and-"
"who said i don't feel the same way?" he interrupts as his hands make their way to your hips, steadying your body. "i like you too, y/n."
you both lean in slowly, his lips makeing their way to yours as your hands grip onto his shirt. you could feel the smile on his lips as he pulls your body closer to his.
the kiss was short but gave you major butterflies nonetheless.
you pull away to look at jun. "so..."
"so..."
"wanna be my boyfriend?"
jun nods, chuckling. "definitely. maybe you'll finally take up my offer on moving in."
you laugh wholeheartedly. "yeah."
a/n: hi :)
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