#then when she came back in middle school ? didn’t try to be my friend again? then embarrassed and teased me? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andvys · 7 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 11

Warnings: none really, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader punching someone....

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve watches you from afar, confused about your relationship with the metalhead.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: @mysticmunson you're always my biggest help and inspiration, thank you, angel🤍

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“Will you hold still?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Why are you so shaky?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You drop the eyeshadow brush on the desk and put your hand on your hip, sighing as you look at Chrissy who looks more nervous than ever. She is still wearing a hoodie, the cheer uniform is hanging over the back of your chair. You have been trying to do her eye makeup for the past twenty minutes.

“Lay down.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, confusion takes over her face, “why?”

“Because I can’t work like this, you keep fidgeting – seriously, what’s up? You are never this nervous.”

You and Chrissy always get ready together whenever there’s a basketball game. Usually she does her makeup herself but tonight she asked you to do it, she wanted something similar like you, just with more color.

She seemed happy and excited when she came over but now she seems like a nervous mess. Every time you move closer to her, she starts fidgeting, it’s not the first time you had noticed her doing that. You have noticed a lot in the past three months.

Heather and Chrissy kept being secretive, oftentimes you would catch them whispering before they’d notice you in the room, they share glances that you don’t understand. They still make you feel left out. You confronted them a while back but neither of them gave you any answers to your questions, it upset you and it caused you to distance yourself from them a little.

They had started to make you feel the way he made you feel. The constant lies, the whispers and them going behind your back had gotten to you. It triggered some feelings that you thought you had left in the past.

They were upset when you stopped answering their phone calls and when you would cancel plans but you couldn’t be around them when they refused to talk about the very obvious issues they had with you. You would never drop the friendship, you would never leave them behind, they mean too much to you to just kick them out of your life but you needed some distance, for your sake.

You made a new friend, Robin Buckley. Eddie introduced you to her back in January, they had been friends since middle school – back when he was still a theater kid.

You instantly hit it off with her, she is nice and she is very different from Chrissy and Heather, which is why she didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with them yet. It’s a miracle that she gave you a chance considering that ‘popular’ people make her feel extremely anxious and uncomfortable – which you can understand now that you see things from a different perspective.

To most people, you are still the ‘the queen of Hawkins High’ but to some you are one of the freaks now. They glare at you, they whisper about you, they call you names and point their fingers at you, especially when they see you with Eddie, who feels guilty about the treatment you are getting from some of the people that used to be in your friend group when you were still with Steve. You don’t care though.

You don’t care what other people think of you.

But you do care what your friends think about you, your friends who still keep secrets.

“Yeah Chrissy, why are you so nervous?” Eddie chuckles as he looks up from his magazine, glancing at the two of you. Wiggling his eyebrows at her. She glares at him and rolls her eyes, which only makes him chuckle again.

Eddie knows why she is so nervous, it’s obvious why – well, it’s obvious to everyone but you. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. The subtle glares and the attitude he sometimes gets from the usually nice cheerleader isn’t because she doesn’t like him, it’s because she is jealous of him. Because she likes you.

And she knows that he knows, she realized it after he started teasing her with small comments and the smug looks he would throw at her when he’d catch her checking you out. At first, she was scared. Scared that he would tell you something that she had been trying to hide for so long. Eddie promised not to tell though.

Chrissy lies down, a small huff leaves her lips. You get on the bed and scoot closer to her, reaching for the eyeshadow brush, you dip it into the blue eyeshadow before you lean down.

She is looking at you – staring at you.

“Close your eyes,” you chuckle.

“O-Oh right,” she whispers and closes her eyes.

Eddie puts the magazine down, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm behind his head. He looks at you, you are already wearing your uniform, your hair and makeup is already done. He watches the way you bend down to get closer to Chrissy, your skirt rides up a little, exposing your spandex and more of your skin. He really really doesn’t want to look at you in that way but he can’t look away either.

You are his friend and he really loves your friendship and how easy things are between the two of you but you are beautiful.

And you are sexy.

You suddenly turn around and glance at him, you catch him staring at you. Eddie’s eyes widen but he plays it cool, smirking at you. Your eyes flash with amusement, you raise your brows at him, a smirk tugs at your lips.

“Stop staring, Munson.”

Eddie gives you a cocky grin, “I can’t look away from a beautiful sunset.”

You furrow your brows and a laugh escapes your lips, you shake your head at him, “what does that even mean, you dork?”

You turn back around, still smiling. Chrissy snorts at his words.

“Okay, tell any sane person to look away from two cheerleaders straddling,” he says.

“Eddie!” Chrissy mumbles, opening her eyes to look at you with a disapproving frown.

You grab one of your pillows and turn around, throwing it at him, “perv!” You laugh.

He catches it and presses it against his chest, he smirks at you, “can you do my eyeshadow too, sweetheart?” He jokes.

“Shut up,” you chuckle as you turn back around. You reach for your makeup bag and look for the glitter you bought when you went shopping with Robin, yesterday.

Chrissy leans on her elbows, she glances at Eddie who is checking you out again and then her eyes move back to you. She can see the shine in your eyes, the smile that you are trying to bite back, the flustered look on your face.

It annoys her.

Eddie is amazing and with him, you would actually be in good hands. He is a much better person than Steve ever was. He wouldn’t hurt you, especially not the way he did. Eddie makes you smile, he spends more time with you than Steve did, he buys you little presents that he surprises you with, all the time. He takes you out on dates that ‘clearly’ aren’t dates because you are just friends. Eddie comes to basketball games – he comes to basketball games, just for you.

Eddie would be a good boyfriend, there is no doubt about that. She is not sure if you like each other or not but it seems like it. She should be happy for you and she should support it but the green eyed monster inside of her just refuses to let her be happy for you.

“Are you excited for the party?”

Chrissy snaps out of her thoughts, she looks into your eyes again and nods.

“Are you gonna wear the dress you bought?”

She closes her eyes again when you lean back in with the brush. She feels your fingertips on her cheek when you tilt her face to the side. She takes in a shaky breath.

“Should I?”

You hum.

“You look pretty in it.”

She smiles at your words, “I do?”

“Yes, you always do, Chris.”

She blushes and her smile grows bigger, “thank you,” she whispers.

You smile down at her, “you’re welcome.”

After you finish her makeup, Chrissy takes her uniform and goes into your bathroom to get changed. You clean up the small mess and put away all the makeup and the brushes, you grab your favorite lipstick and walk over to the mirror, you can feel his eyes on you as you start applying the lipstick. A smile tugs at your lips, you glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the same smile as you.

“What?”

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck, “nothing.”

You furrow your brows, you smack your lips together and look at your reflection one more time before you turn around to face him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs and gets up from the chair, he grabs the green hair bow and walks towards you.

“I like watching you get ready,” he says.

“You do?” You smile.

He nods, “mhmm.”

He stops in front of you and looks down at you as he holds up the green hair bow, “turn around.”

You turn around, facing the mirror again. He steps closer to you. You can smell his cologne, it’s a new one. It smells even better than the previous one he used. The smell of smoke always lingers around him though, nothing can hide the smell – not the cologne, not the aftershave, not his shampoo which surprisingly smells like apples, not the cinnamon from his favorite gum.

Eddie’s hands are gentle, his brows are furrowed in concentration, he presses his lips together as he puts the bow in your hair.

Something about this makes you giggle. Eddie being in your bedroom isn’t unusual but him helping you get ready for the game, putting a bow in your hair is very unusual.

His eyes flash with amusement as he raises his head to look at your reflection in the mirror, “what’s so funny?”

You shrug and continue watching him, “just you helping me get ready for a laundry basket game.”

He snorts.

“I’m helping you get ready for your performance and I’m only going there for you, sweets.”

Your heart warms at his words.

“And then you’re also coming to the bonfire party with me.”

“With you.” He nods.

“Alright, I’m done,” he grins and flicks your ponytail before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder, causing you to giggle again.

You grab his forearms and lean back.

“Do you hug all your friends that way?”

He chuckles and pulls you even closer, “nah only the special ones, babe,” he smirks and buries his face in your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume and body wash.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, “how many special ones are there?”

“Just one.”

You narrow your eyes as you turn to look at him, he smirks at you still.

“You’re my very special one.”

He isn’t joking about that, despite the teasing look on his face, he is saying the truth. You are special to Eddie. You haven’t been friends for that long, you started talking last summer, back in august but you have only gotten really close after your breakup with Steve. It feels like you have been friends for much longer than that though. The moment you first started hanging out, you instantly got attached to each other. Not a single day goes by when you don’t spend time together, he loves being with you and you love being with him.

Things feel natural, easy and just good when you are with each other.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. Sometimes that’s enough.

A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. His smile grows as well and before you know it, you both start laughing for no reason.

Chrissy walks back into the room to see you in his embrace. She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She clears her throat.

You and Eddie look away from each other, the smile still ever present on your faces. You don’t notice the jealousy or the bitterness on her face. He does.

“Can we go?”

You glance at Eddie who nods at you with a shrug. He is definitely not excited for the game, you told him that he doesn’t have to go but he claimed that he wants to go, for you.

You smile at them both, “let’s go!”

Things between Steve and Billy were tense all night. You could tell from the moment they walked out into the gym, the glares they sent each other were more intense than usual, they wouldn’t pass on any opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other and not to mention Steve’s bleeding nose, he tried to hide it but he kept wiping his nose and you noticed the blood on the back of his hand.

He looked angry and frustrated. You noticed it, right away.

She didn’t.

Despite the tension and the weird energy that surrounded one of the best players on the team, they still won against the opposing team and took another win home, which of course has to be celebrated.

Lovers Lake is filled with people, the bonfire party that had been planned for weeks is in full swing, loud music is sounding through the speakers, the smell of burning wood mixed with the smell of the crisp spring air brings you comfort. The cold months are over and the warm weather is finally approaching.

The beer you have been drinking all night makes you feel a little tipsy but you feel calm and the stars in the sky make you smile as you lay on the grass with Eddie. He lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air.

You turn your head and look around, a few people are sitting by the fire. You see Chrissy and Heather talking to a few girls from the cheer squad. You see Nancy sitting on a log with Jonathan, they are both laughing, leaning closer to each other, Steve is sitting on a different log, he is holding a red solo cup in his hand, he looks into the fire with a dull look on his face.

You raise your brows, you look at the three of them. Odd. Shouldn’t he be the one next to her? Shouldn’t he be the one whispering to her? Shouldn’t he be the one making her laugh?

“Do you think there’s more out there?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention away from him.

“Hmm?”

Eddie repeats his question and you turn back to look at him, he is pointing up at the sky, “like aliens and shit.”

You scoot closer to him, looking at the way he squints his eyes as he smokes.

“Hmm, maybe,” you shrug, “I think there’s more than just aliens though.”

“Oh, do you?” He asks, turning to face you, “tell me more.”

“I think there’s other universes.”

He raises his brows, waiting for you to explain more.

“I think there are different worlds, different versions of us – like, maybe there's a version of us fighting interdimensional monsters right now,” you joke, which he seems to love.

His eyes light up at your words and he laughs.

“Maybe we are slaying a dark wizard right now – what was his name again, Vecman? You know the one from your new campaign?”

Eddie laughs loudly and he shakes his head, “it’s Vecna, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and snort.

“Right, we are killing Vecna, right now.”

“Are we normal humans or?”

“No, we have superpowers.”

“What kind of superpowers?”

You put your finger on your chin and look up, “hmm… you got super strength, super speed,” you pause and look into his eyes, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight, his eyes are dark. Your eyes widen, “you’re a vampire!”

His jaw drops, his eyes widen, “I’m a vampire?”

“Yes!”

“That means I had to die – wait! Did you bring me back from the dead? You know, since you’re a witch?”

"Absolutely,” you giggle.

“That’s so sick, sweetheart.”

“Right?”

You both giggle as you stare at each other. His eyes fall to the chain around your neck, the one that he had put on you earlier tonight. He reaches his hand out and touches it.

“Maybe we are both rockstars in a different world.”

“Both of us?” You laugh, “I can see you being a rockstar but me?”

“Hush. You are helping me write songs and you can play guitar now – well a little, never as good as me but yeah,” he says, cockily. Smirking at you.

You shake your head, snorting at his words.

“Maybe you are my groupie.”

“You wish!” You slap his shoulder, making him laugh again.

“Okay okay, not a groupie – you are the lead singer and I’m the sexy guitarist.”

“Mhmm.”

You lie back again and look up at the stars, a grin takes over your face, “or maybe you are my groupie.”

“Oh absolutely, I’d totally be your groupie if you were a rockstar, y/n.”

You and Eddie are in your own little world, you always are. You don’t care about anything or anyone else when you are with each other. The rest of the world melts away when you spend time together.

You don’t care about the people around you or the awful music that one of the jocks picked out, the prying eyes of the judging girls from the cheer squad. You just don’t care about anything.

You don’t even notice the curious eyes of your ex boyfriend but Eddie does, after you get up to get a new drink. His eyes find a sulking Steve Harrington, who is still sitting by the fire. His girlfriend is long gone and so is her friend, Eddie doesn’t bother to look around for them. He keeps his eyes on Steve, watching the way his eyes follow you. Eddie wonders why he looks so miserable, because of Nancy and Jonathan or because of you? It seems to be the latter, he could be looking for her but instead he is watching you.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, how stupid can someone be? He wonders.

Suddenly, Steve straightens his back and his expression changes from miserable to curious and tense? He turns his head, looking right at him. Eddie raises his brows when he finds himself locking eyes with him. Steve looks confused, his eyes flicker back and forth between you and him.

Eddie follows his gaze to see what confuses him so much. He is looking at you and at the guy who is shamelessly checking you out as you laugh at something he said to you.

Eddie snorts. Of course. If there is one thing that he got used to when going out with you then it’s you being hit on, every damn time.

The guy is tall, probably taller than him. His shoulders are broad beneath the flannel, it’s clear that he’s some sort of athlete. He looks familiar but Eddie doesn’t recognize him.

Curiously, Eddie watches the interaction from afar, sipping his beer.

You are holding a drink in your hand, you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. Eddie can see the smile on your face, you nod to whatever he is saying to you. He steps closer to you, pretending not to hear you properly, he leans closer and licks his lips when he looks down your shirt.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “douchebag.”

The music is loud but he still hears the approaching footsteps, narrowing his eyes, he almost laughs in surprise when he sees Steve. Getting up, he dusts the grass off of his jeans and finishes his drink.

Steve stops in front of him, when Eddie sees the look of disbelief on his face, he almost bursts out laughing.

“I’m not selling tonight,” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows at his words, “I don’t wanna buy anything.”

“Oh, to what do I owe you the pleasure then, King Steve?” Eddie asks, mockingly. He expects Steve to look annoyed but he doesn’t, just very confused.

“You’re not gonna do anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, his brows draw together and he tilts his head in question.

“What do you mean?”

Steve raises his hand, pointing his finger at you and the guy who is now holding his hand out to you – you are writing something on his palm, presumably your number.

Eddie rolls his eyes again.

“This guy is flirting with her,” Steve mumbles.

“I’m not her keeper.”

Now he looks even more confused, if he didn’t look so serious, Eddie would have laughed. But then he realizes why he looks at him so shocked. Steve must think that you and Eddie are dating and he doesn’t understand how he as your ‘boyfriend’ just lets you flirt with some other guy.

Steve sighs, he turns around. Eddie watches the way he stares the guy down, a look of distaste appears on his face.

“That’s Ray, he used to be the captain of the basketball team. I always hated that guy.” Steve mumbles.

That’s a lie. Steve used to look up to him, when he was a freshman in high school and he was new on the team, Ray had seemed like the coolest guy around, he was the most popular guy at school, the girls loved him, the boys wanted to be like him and so did Steve until he became popular too and he realized that he could be even better than him. Ray was just a popular guy but Steve Harrington became the King of the school.

A title he used to be so proud of is just an embarrassing part of his past now.

Steve is certain that you and Eddie are dating. He could just ask to be sure but he thinks that it’s too obvious. You are dating. But why are you flirting with the former captain of the basketball team? Why are you writing your number on his hand? Are you in an open relationship with Eddie?

An open relationship is something you never approved of, you always made that very clear, not that Steve suggested something like this. Tommy always joked about it to Carol and you looked disgusted and always voiced your opinions on it.

What happened?

Did the hurt change you so much?

Ray walks away from you and you turn around, walking back to Eddie when someone else steps in front of you and both Eddie and Steve sigh in annoyance.

Billy Hargrove. Always there to ruin the night.

“Getting bored of the freak?”

The smile on your face falls, a sour expression takes over and you tense up. You can’t stand Billy. Not only does he keep trying to get in your pants while he has a thing going on with your friend, he also keeps insulting Eddie and picking fights with Steve, which shouldn’t be any of your concerns but something tells you that Steve’s bleeding nose and the bruise on Billy’s jaw has got something to do with you.

“Fuck off, Billy,” you mumble, trying to move past him. He doesn’t let you. He steps in front of you and chuckles.

“Don’t be like that, baby.”

You scrunch your face up in disgust, “don’t call me that.”

His eyes move up and down, he looks at your exposed skin and you suddenly regret wearing a low cut shirt.

“Ray Parker, huh?” He smirks, licking his lips, “going for the jocks again? The freak ain’t doing a good job at satisfying you? You know, you can just come to me instead of going for some retired team captain.”

“Jesus, shut up, Billy.”

Billy chuckles, his eyes twinkle with lust as he continues to stare at you, “when will you stop playing hard to get? We both know that you will end up under me at some point.”

If you didn’t feel disgusted by him already, you would definitely be now. Anger rushes through you and you roll your eyes.

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove.”

"Oh, I will."

You clench your jaw as you look into his blue eyes. You hate the cocky look on his face, the self assured expression that he always has. The smirk that he wears. God, you want to punch him.

You go to walk past him and surprisingly, he lets you walk away this time but then he says something that makes your blood boil.

“Yeah be a good girl and run back to the freak, no one else will fuck that loser.”

You halt in your tracks and you clench your fists. You had always been protective over your friends but especially him. Eddie may be good at pretending that the bullying doesn’t get to him, he learned to ignore them or to throw some punchlines back but you are not going to stand by and watch how others degrade and belittle him.

You turn back around and his smirk grows when he notices how angry you look.

“I never thought you’d be into some trailer trash a–”

You never punched someone before but you always wanted to know what it feels like to slam your fist into someone’s face, someone that you can’t stand. You didn’t think that it would hurt so bad but the look on his face and the bruise that he will wear later on, makes it all worth it.

His head snaps to the side and he looks stunned for a moment.

You hear the gasps around you, the chuckles from a few boys.

A part of you expects him to hit you back, you are no stranger to his anger issues. The reaction you get isn’t one that you expected though. He furrows his brows and suddenly he bursts into laughter, his eyes flash with amusement and his pupils dilate even further.

You want to punch him again.

“Shit baby, I’m even more into you now,” he smirks.

A groan of disgust falls from your lips and you turn around to leave before he can do or say anything else.

Eddie and Steve stand there with stunned looks on their faces. Eddie looks impressed and proud, a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to see tonight, this wasn’t one of them. The feeling that rushes through him is intense.

You should have punched him a long time ago.

“That’s kinda hot.”

Eddie snorts at Steve’s words.

Yeah, it was hot.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, smirking as you walk back to him. He sees the way your eyes flash with confusion when you notice Steve next to him. “I didn’t know you had such a mean right hook.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. You don't even acknowledge him.

“He had that coming.”

Eddie throws his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily, not caring that your ex boyfriend is staring.

“That’s my girl.”

He wonders what Billy said to you to make you this mad.

“You gonna hit me next, big girl?” Eddie jokes.

You giggle, biting down on your lip, you look into Eddie’s amused eyes, completely dismissing his presence. You pull away from him, he looks at you curiously, eyeing the smugness in your eyes. Before he can react, you reach your arm behind him and slap his ass.

Eddie’s jaw drops at the smack he received, he snorts at your action, squinting his eyes at you, he tries to give you a mean look which only makes you giggle again. You step back when you realize what he’s about to do. Just as he tries to swat your ass, you run off, giggling.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run after you, trying to catch you. Your laughter is loud as you run away from him, pushing past the groups of people as you near the forest.

Steve's brows are still raised and his face is still stunned.

Many emotions went through him today; anger, sadness, irritation, jealousy but mostly confusion.

He watches Eddie grabbing you from behind, he hears your squeal and he sees the way Eddie kisses your cheek, again.

He blinks and forces himself to look away, only now noticing how wrong it still feels to see you with him.

But it's not wrong, right?

It's not wrong because you aren't his anymore.

He let go of you because you had asked him to, because he loves her, because he wants to spend his life with her.

He still has love for you, he always will but you are a part of his past now, a past that keeps calling him. The past that keeps haunting him in his mind and in his dreams.

Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he stares at the telephone on his nightstand and he wonders what it would be like to call you, to hear your voice again, to ask you how you are doing, to ask if you are happy with the life you are living now that you are strangers to each other.

Sometimes he wants to call but he never does. You won't pick up the phone. He is sure of that.

But, if you called, he would pick up the phone, anytime, without hesitation.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @hellfire--cult @screammunson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie @somethingvicked

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

1K notes · View notes

inzaynety · 2 months

Text

surprise? ⤫

➢ summary: no one expected yuuta to have a girlfriend

➢ content: yuuta x fem!reader; 2535 words; fluff; yuuta’s ability to pull girls is questioned 😪; sukuna hitting on you too ig

➢ notes: this is a rewrite from my old blog and it’s pretty refreshing to do one ngl, hopefully this reads a little better

Nobara sits leisurely on the lounge room’s couch with her fellow first years, watching as the second years huddle over a puzzle one had dug up from underneath their bed. At first she was staring into nothing thinking about when her next shopping trip would be and how she would drag the other two to carry her bags (they would go anyway, they had no choice when it came to her), but somehow her eyes land on the one upperclassman she doesn’t know all that much about.

Sure, she’s spent time with Toge, Panda, and of course Maki, but she had only known Yuuta for a few weeks after his return to Tokyo Jujutsu High. Nobara likes to watch and observe people, and there was something about him that sort of bugged her.

The reason? No clue.

“Careful. Think too hard and you’ll get hurt,” Megumi comments while Itadori snickers, Nobara glaring at the both of them without missing a beat.

“Shut up. I was wondering if you guys think Okkotsu-senpai’s attractive.” The two boys look at her and then each other in confusion. She realizes that they’re probably not the best people to ask, their obvious and painful pining in the way of everything else, but objectively speaking she would try to gauge Okkotsu’s status. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, quite easy on the eyes, but he was a little awkward.

“Why’re you thinking about that?” Itadori’s tone isn’t condescending–just questioning. He too had some reservations about the upperclassman, considering their first meeting to not be so ideal. His complete 180 in personality did cause a bit of whiplash.

“Not sure, I mean, look at him.” The three direct their eyes to the special grade and he’s sitting in the middle of the others as they argue over the missing pieces that happened to disappear when nearing the end of the puzzle. He isn’t saying anything and only laughing along as his friends are exasperated with each other. His flustered face also seems to be his brand as that’s all Nobara’s been seeing.

Heck, the other day they bumped into each other and he was stuttering out apologies when they barely brushed shoulders. A single paper from her arms fell on the floor from the wind let in by the open window.

“He has no game. I’m betting on that right now.”

“Okay, I bet he does!” Itadori always bet on the opposite.

“You’re gonna lose, loser!”

“Nuh-uh, bigger loser!”

As Nobara and Itadori start their bickering yet again, Fushiguro thinks back to his morning. He could have slept in.

–

The first and second years are near the track continuing their training to finish off the day, but they got distracted and now Toge and Itadori were being swung in a circle by Panda.

“Maki-sannn,” Nobara drawls, leaning on the upperclassman as they sit on the steps watching the others. Maki hums in acknowledgement. “Do you know if Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?” The older girl snorts and doesn’t hide her disbelief at her question.

“Of course not. Have you seen the guy?”

“But I thought Inumaki-senpai said you thought he was–”

“That was a stupid question. He asked a stupid question.”

Nobara leaves it at that and now it has Maki thinking about it.

–

Maki doesn’t find herself walking around the school that often if not for entering and exiting the school with Toge and Panda, or heading towards the track for training. But the latter didn’t need to go as far as the front gates. Honestly, it was a nice day and it would have been a waste to sit around inside even if it were just a few minutes.

Though, she wasn’t expecting to see anyone else.

Gojo would have told them if a representative of the higher ups, or the higher ups themselves, would show up just so he could inform them to say Gojo-sensei’s not here or Sensei said to leave him alone. He found childish pride in the fact that his students could be the ones to stop those old geezers from interfering with his daily life, but it was at their expense so it usually ends with He’s just outside the door or Sensei! Get out from under the table!

But you didn’t look like them. If anything, Maki could deduce you were probably around her age but not before her eyes almost bulged out of her sockets upon registering who exactly it was she was looking at. While she didn’t know who you were, she didn’t mind it at that exact moment. One for a second though.

Your expression was cold and stoic, not unlike their very own Fushiguro, but when your eyes meet hers, it’s replaced with a youthful cheerfulness that Maki swore she needed to cover her eyes from the brightness.

“Hello,” you wave from the entrance. You thought it would have been a little rude to step in and walk around without a clue of where to go, so you opted for standing by while waiting for someone to arrive. In hindsight, maybe a surprise visit wasn’t the best idea.

Your greeting was nice enough, if not a little nervous from the way you looked her up and down. Though, she wouldn’t deny that she gave you another once over herself. Her gaze was intense but it was hard to distinguish it from judging or curiosity. To save the awkwardness and soon to come silence, you introduce yourself and state that you were looking for someone.

“A student? Or Gojo?” You laugh a little at the mention of the older special grade. He was quite a handful for every sorcerer who ever came across him. Maki’s eyes narrow and you’re a bit intimidated.

“I’m looking for–”

“Kugisaki, come back! I need that!” Maki groans at the sound of the rowdy first years and whips her head over to see Nobara running with one of Itadori’s shoes, waving it in the air as she spewed out complaints of her own.

“You lost my limited edition faux fur gloves! I’m not giving this back until you can find it!”

Maki gestures for you to follow her and you oblige while watching the two have their fun. You could tell she wasn’t all that annoyed by them but you assumed it must be to keep up appearances.

“Reminds me of the first years back at my school,” you laugh and that’s when your walking companion starts asking you a few questions.

On the short walk from the front to the building, she was able to get your name and occupation. It turned out that you were attending another school besides the one in Kyoto, which explained why you hadn’t been there for the exchange events, and were in the process of promoting another grade up. You don’t miss how her eyes dart back and forth from in front of her to your face.

Anyone would have been able to say that you were attractive, you were never short of getting compliments when going out, and maybe she’s spent too much time with her teacher. He prided himself in his looks and while you were in the same boat, maybe she was just glad you didn’t flaunt it. It was refreshing and maybe it was alright to sneak a few glances here and there.

When you finally reach the main building she’s forgotten the most important question you got interrupted in answering.

“By the way, who was it you were looking for again–”

“You’re an idiot!”

“I already told you I was sorry!” It was the two again and this time they came barreling from the other entrance from where you and Maki came from. The short haired girl had her arm wrapped around the boy’s throat, rubbing the top of his head vigorously with her fist.

You eye Maki who still didn’t look amused and only then did you notice there were more students in the room and they were staring right at you. Raising a hand you wave at them…and a panda. It seemed they meant to welcome back their classmate but were surprised to see you accompanying her. Turning back to the scene in front of you, it was suddenly silent and you were the center of attention.

“So Maki,” the panda says, “who’s your new friend? Hi, I’m Panda.” Fitting.

Introducing yourself, you receive a monotime hello in response. However, their town doesn’t match their expressions; their attention is definitely not on something, or someone, else. Maki notices this and pinches the bridge of her nose before pointing at everyone.

“Emo’s Megumi, pinky’s Itadori, Nobara, and Toge.” There’s a quiet murmur of emo and pinky from their respective parties. Your eyes land on the most familiar one in the room, giving a kind smile and wave to Inumaki who seems to have kept his attention on you.

“Kombu.” He waves back and makes a motion to jab a finger down the hallway, giving you a message everyone else was unsure of. You nod in response after figuring it.

“You guys know each other?” Itadori speaks up as he just manages to get out of Nobara’s hold.

“Was it Toge you were looking for–” Maki is interrupted when Nobara stalks up to you. Her expression is unreadable but there is an undeniable sparkle in her eyes.

“Hi–”

“You’re very pretty, did you know that?” She says out of the blue and it was so sudden you couldn’t help but feel warm in your face.

“Thank you,” you say and she seemed pleased with the response. Again, probably thankful you were full of yourself like a certain blue-eyed, white-haired man. “ I hope you guys don’t mind if I wait here?” It’s more of a question to make sure you’re not pressuring them. A stranger coming in out of nowhere is strange, but the students don’t seem to be opposed to it from their quick responses.

“No, no!”

“Definitely not!”

“Yeah, you can stay.”

“We still don’t know who she’s waiting for. But yeah”

“Shake.”

Within seconds, you’re swept onto the couch and in between the first duo you saw. They’re asking you just general questions, Panda, Nobara, and Toge, even though he already knows you, listening with their full attention. Even Fushiguro’s paying less and less attention to his phone and subtly looking over at you at periodic intervals.

All is well and good; you feel like you’re making more new friends, but a new question pops up: “Hey, you single?” Everyone stops and heads turn to Itadori who looks just as shocked as they do. He’s already one step ahead though, a hand slapped over his cheek to cover the mouth that had popped out.

You stare confused for a moment before snapping your fingers. “You’re the Sukuna guy!” You inwardly recoil from your choice of words but Itadori doesn’t look at all bothered by them. In fact, he’s giddy that you know who he is even if it’s in a not-so-favorable-way. It is a little concerning though when he places his hand down and there’s a smirk on the mouth on his cheek, mouthing some words you would rather not remember.

“Okay,” Maki stands up and directs her attention right at you, “before I can get interrupted again,” her glare is directed particularly at the first years. Megumi mutters a what did I do under his breath but is shut up by her look, “who’s the person you’re looking for?”

“Oh!” You beam upon remembering the purpose for your visit. “I’m visiting–Yuu!” You jump up from your spot upon seeing a familiar figure walking down the hall. You waste no time in throwing yourself in his arms when he passes the doorway and he laughs, wrapping them around you to bring you into a tighter hug. You stay like that for a bit, matching bright smiles on both of your faces.

“I missed you, angel,” He says fondly and you smile up at him.

“What the hell?” It’s only then you both remember the audience and Yutta freezes, turning his head slowly to catch their faces. Itadori (and Sukuna), Nobara, and Panda have their jaws to the floor while Maki and Megumi are conflicted on whether to feel surprised or not.

Only then does Maki remember Nobara’s question from earlier in the week.

The only one not shocked is Inumaki who was sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed. He nods his head to gesture to his friend to explain. “Tuna mayo.” The others stare at him.

“You knew?” He nods. He did want to poke fun and try not to reveal the truth after hearing around that Yuuta could in no way get a girl. He wanted to laugh and reveal it in a note or something but everyone’s surprise was too good to pass up. It was only a few months ago that his close friend introduced you, but that didn’t mean his initial surprise waned. Sometimes he thinks it’s a joke until Yuuta gets a text from you.

“Mentaiko.”

“Ah,” Yuuta finally speaks up, “she’s my girlfriend?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” He flinches at the voices of Maki and Nobara, but to be fair, everyone else in the room was more or less wanting to know how the hell he managed to get someone like you.

“No offense, Okkotsu-senpai,” Nobara starts, pointing at him, “but she’s gorgeous. How?”

“W-What do you mean how?” He was indeed a little offended by the disbelief he sees and from his side you let out a laugh in amusement at the whole situation. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the most bold or confrontational outside of sorcery settings, he was a bit timid and shy but he always meant well. Even now his hold on you hasn’t left, hands resting on your waist as more comments of confusion dart out from his friends.

You take it upon yourself to hold one of his hands and bring it up to your face, kissing his palm. “Because he’s Yuuta.” It’s pretty cheesy but the way you look at him which has the others mostly putting to rest their questions. Yuuta’s face reddens before he takes a hold of that same hand you grasped him with, pulling you along to his room.

“It was nice meeting you all!” You call back, their presence slowly drowned out by the both of you, all unintentionally as you catch him up on the promotion and whatever else. Yuuta just likes hearing you talk.

The others could do nothing but wave in your direction as you went.

–

Bonus:

After retreating to his room, the rest sat there without uttering a word, mindlessly playing cards as they gathered their thoughts. They’re only brought out of them when footsteps are heard down the other hall and come to a stop in the room.

“What’s going on here?”

“Sensei,” Itadori calls out, “did you know that Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?”

“She was hot.” He slaps his cheek again.

From the look on Gojo’s face, he didn’t. And none of them wasted the opportunity to follow him as he made it a mission to knock down Yuuta’s door to meet you too.

#okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fics #jjk scenarios #okkotsu yuuta #fics

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heesdreamer · 1 year

Text

skin on skin

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader

GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader

WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read

WC ➩ 20.4k (😵‍💫)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

Not until it was skin on skin.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #jake x reader #sunghoon enhypen #jake drabbles #jake au #jake smut #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake sim #enhypen smut

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heavyhitterheaux · 4 months

Text

Drive Safe (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Buckle up, and I hope you enjoy 😘💕

Synopsis: Jack wants that old thing back, but definitely doesn't go about it in the right way, eventually leaving you upset with him when all is said and done

Pairing: Ex-husband!Jack Harlow x Ex-wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Do not engage if you are underage

So that no one gets confused, this happens in an alternate universe where First Lady actually did file for divorce from Jack. The timeline is a little different as well.

It was around 1 AM when your phone rang and you immediately rolled your eyes because you knew who it was.

The special ringtone that you still hadn't changed because you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. At least not yet anyway.

Your ex-husband.

You had never thought in a million years that you would be divorced from your high school sweetheart, but here you were.

The last straw that broke the camel's back was him not fully being supportive of you as your own career was taking off. Time and time again, he would disappoint you and disrespect you and you came to the conclusion that this wasn't the same person that you married and that person you had fallen in love with when you were fifteen was long gone. T here were rumors circulating about him cheating on you with your close friend Taylor Rooks, but he denied it until he was blue in the face that he would never step out on you and hasn’s stepped out on you for the entire time that you were in a relationship.

The two of you had been fully separated for a year and a half, but the divorce got finalized a few months ago.

When you told him that you wanted a divorce, at first he welcomed the idea and you remember how badly it hurt to see his reaction, acting as if he didn’t want to try to do anything to fix it. But then a week later, he called you on facetime bawling his eyes out with snot running down his face and begging you not to.

At first PG was trying to stay out of it and remain neutral, but they then began to take sides and expressed that you were a difficult person to work with and be around which you were extremely hurt by since you would do anything for them and in short, ended up cutting them off. However, you honestly thought it was because of their loyalty to Jack since they had known him longer.

You were still the first lady of Private Garden and Jack had told you that it would never change no matter what had happened between the two of you.

However, when it came to Urban he was trying to do everything he possibly could for the two of you to get back together, but you wouldn't budge. He was basically stuck in the middle and he wanted out. Jack would blame you and you would blame Jack all while Urban was simply trying to keep the peace.

The one person that you shouldn't have been surprised by was Neelam, but you still were. You found out that she was rejoicing because of the divorce since she felt that you had been holding Jack back from the beginning and knew after the two of you made up that she still didn't like you despite her actions showing something different.

She actually tried to call you to plead her case, but in your mind the damage had already been done.

As much as Clay would joke around about you divorcing Jack, it hit him like a ton of bricks when the news actually broke and was genuinely upset. The first thing he did was call you to make sure that you were okay because he knew how Jack had been treating you for those last few months and he didn’t like it one bit.

But, you weren't going back on your word no matter what. Then when you found out you were pregnant with not only one baby, but three, Jack pleaded with you once again to take him back, but you still refused. Deep down, you knew that you still loved him, but you didn't think that you were in love with him anymore. The two of you definitely shouldn't have been sleeping together while going through the divorce so you were definitely both surprised when it happened.

Or were you just lying to yourself?

Now you were about three months along and needed all the sleep that you could get, but obviously that didn't matter to him. It had taken you forever to get comfortable and he was about to get an earful from you.

“Jackman, it is one in the morning. What do you want?” You asked while finally rolling over and answering your phone.

“I know. I'm sorry to call you this late, but I didn't check on you earlier like I promised. Are you okay? How are the babies?”

“You mean to tell me this couldn't wait? Sweet gesture I admit but we're fine and trying to sleep.”

“No, I needed to check on my girl. Can you come to the studio real quick?”

“Are you…? Jackman, are you deaf? And I'm not your girl anymore. We have literally been divorced for four months now.”

“Please baby.” Jack pleaded once again and all you did was throw your head back in frustration.

“You have lost the right to call me that.”

“I… just for a little bit? I'm working on something and want you to hear it.”

“How do you even know I'm in Louisville?”

“Because you still share your location with me or did you forget?”

Well fuck.

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I'm staying for an hour and you better not be on no bullshit and waste my time.”

“I promise it'll be worthwhile.”

Once you got to the studio and made your way inside, you were surprised to see him in there by himself. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately turned around to greet you.

He caught you off guard by bringing you into a hug and kissing your forehead. He looked so good, but you knew better. You promised yourself that you wouldn't get roped back in.

Besides, you were already pregnant.

“It's good to see you.”

“Jackman, you saw me three days ago at my doctor's appointment. Can you just play me the song so that I can go home and sleep?”

“Damn, okay. I forgot how impatient your ass was sometimes.”

“Hmm, my impatient ass put up with your bullshit for an entire year, so I would rethink that statement if I were you.” You said while rolling your eyes and all he did was sigh.

“I didn't ask you to come here to fight with you.” He said pulling the chair out so that you could sit down.

“Let's hear it then. What's it called?”

“Lovin’ On Me.” He answered as he sat down next to you.

You sat there in silence as you listened to it and you can admit that you definitely liked it. Once it was finished, he simply turned to you to ask you what you thought about it.

“Sooo, what do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Any suggestions or anything I could do better?”

“No, I like it just the way it is. It'll definitely chart. Now was that all? Can I leave?” You asked as you tried to get up, but he immediately stopped you by pulling you into his lap.

“Hold on, what are you in such a rush for? I just want to talk. You got someone else waiting in my spot in your bed?”

“I…. Talk about what?”

“How I've been wanting for us to try this again. You know I still love you.” He replied as he kissed your cheek and all you did was sigh.

“The ink isn't even dry on the damn divorce papers.”

“I… Look, I promise that things will be different. You know you're my favorite girl to be around.”

“Oh, so you have other ones? Like Taylor for example?”

“Y/N, please. I've been fucking miserable without you and for the last damn time I did NOT cheat on you especially with one of your best friends.”

“And who's fault is that? And I don’t know if I’ll ever believe you.”

“I know I have no one to blame but myself and I take full responsibility for it.”

“Hmm, that's a first.”

“Can we stop with the sarcasm for a minute?”

You turned to look at him and simply nodded your head.

“I want to prove it to you if you give me the chance. You don't have to give me an answer right now, but just think about it. Can you at least do that for me, pretty girl?”

You knew when he called you ‘pretty girl’ that it was over and that you could feel yourself about to fold.

All you did was nod your head as Jack leaned in to bring his lips to yours to capture you into a kiss and you couldn’t help but to kiss him back. He then deepened it and slipped his hand into your leggings and slowly began to rub small circles on the outside of your thong that you were wearing.

“Look how wet you are for me. No one can get you wet like I do. You want me to take care of that for you?”

All you did was whimper in response and he simply smirked before letting out a small laugh.

“I take that as a yes. Spread your legs for me baby and let me work.”

You immediately obliged as he now slowly started to massage your clit before slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

“Shiiit.”

“Shh, we have to be quiet. Be a good girl for me.” Jack said as he then added another finger and increased his pace of them pumping in and out of you while placing kisses along your neck.

It wasn't long before you hit your peak and released all over his fingers and he immediately put them in his mouth. He let you ride out your high before he began tugging on your leggings.

“Take these off. I want to see that pretty pussy that I missed so much.”

Once you did, he carried you over to the couch that was in the corner of the studio and laid you down while slowly climbing on top of you.

“Let me taste you first.” Was all he had to say before he parted your legs.

You simply peeled off your shirt while throwing it across the room and Jack took notice that you didn't have on a bra as your pierced nipples were on full display.

“Damn, a sight that I never get tired of.” He quietly said before hovering over you and placing one of them in his mouth and sucking lightly making you moan.

“I can't wait to see how full they'll get in a few months.” He whispered as he then began to suck harder as he rolled the other one through his fingers.

Hearing your moans and whimpers underneath him was bringing Jack satisfaction in knowing that he could still have this effect on you. Even though it's only been a few months, this is the longest amount of time that the two of you had spent with one another besides the time that the triplets were conceived.

He quickly switched to the other one as you were trying to reach your hand down to massage your clit, but he quickly pushed your hand away.

“I'll suck your clit in a minute, be patient. I want to take all of this in.”

If you were only wet before, you knew that there was now a waterfall between your legs. Jack continued with his task of sucking on your left nipple when out of nowhere another orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making him smirk.

“You know good and damn well I'm the only one who has this effect on you and can fuck you this good. Now let me eat my favorite meal.” Was all you heard before you felt him take one long lick across your folds making you moan.

“And you better stay still.”

As Jack continued pleasuring you, you felt him slip two fingers into you before sucking on your clit as promised and making you gasp.

“Ooohh, fuckkkk.” You exclaimed as you grabbed a handful of Jack’s hair to pull him closer. He wasn't letting up and you knew good and damn well that he was nowhere near done with you.

The familiar feeling was building in your stomach and you knew that you were close.

“Baby, I…”

“Oh, now I'm your baby because I'm making you feel good?” Jack asked as he smirked before focusing back on you.

You didn't even have time to answer him before you ended up squirting all over his face making you gasp, but he still continued to suck on your clit as you were trying to catch your breath.

“Yes, that's my good girl. You gonna to do it again for me? You gonna squirt all over my face?” Jack asked as his mouth went back on you and all you could do was nod to answer him. He now had a hold on both of your legs to pull you closer to him if that was possible.

Not even three minutes had passed before you once again squirted all over his face and Jack had to reach up to cover your mouth with his hand in order for you to keep quiet.

He was getting bricked up by the moment with hearing your whimpers and moans for him and knew that he needed relief and needed it fast. He undid his pants and got his boxer briefs down in record time and was simply stroking himself as he peered down at you.

You reached up in order to take him in your mouth but he simply shook his head no and gently pushed you back down.

“You ready, princess?” He asked you and you simply nodded.

“I asked you a question so you need to open up your mouth and tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“You want daddy to fuck you? You sure?” Jack asked while smirking and you were close to rolling your eyes, but if you would have done so, he would have dragged this out even longer.

“Yes. You already interrupted my sleep so it's the least that you can do.”

“Hmm, fair enough.” Jack answered you as he laughed.

Jack slowly slid into you bottoming out as he let out a loud moan and series of curses.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel around me.”

It took you a second to adjust and he gave you a few moments before he started to move. But he didn’t do so without your permission.

“Move.”

“Don't have to tell me twice.” Was all he said before you felt nice, slow, and deep strokes but you knew that this wasn't going to last long. Sure enough Jack then placed your legs on his shoulders and began pounding into you.

“That's my good girl. Look at you taking all this dick. You missed me didn't you? Even if you say no, your body is saying otherwise.”

“Mmm, baby.” Was all you could breathe out before you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck and now your noses were touching. He simply caught you in a kiss as he continued to pound into you.

“Open your pretty mouth.” He whispered as he broke the kiss and you happily obliged as he then spit in your mouth and quickly swallowed.

“Good girl.” Jack breathed out before placing his right hand on your neck and squeezing while keeping his same pace.

“Who fucks you as good as me, princess? Huh?”

“No one.” You quickly breathed out as Jack was now massaging your clit.

“And don’t you ever fucking forget it. This pussy is mine and mine only. You understand?” Jack asked and when you didn't answer, he squeezed your neck tighter, but not tight enough for it to hurt so that you would answer him.

“I thought I asked you a question. I need to hear you say that it's mine.”

“It's yours, just let me cum damn it!”

Your orgasm then hit you and you felt as if you were seeing stars as you laid underneath Jack whimpering. You felt him then begin to move again before he asked you to open your mouth.

“You want me to cum in that pretty mouth? Open wide for me baby. Fuck I'm close. Play with your clit for me.”

You did as you were told before you sat up and before you could take him in your mouth, cum started releasing and you quickly licked it up. Once you were done, you took him in your mouth and got the rest of it like he asked.

Once he pulled himself from your mouth, he reached down to kiss you before laying down on top of you.

“Damn, I missed this and I missed you.” Jack quietly said as you were drawing small circles on his back.

“I missed you too.”

The two of you were quiet before he spoke up again.

“Just take your time and think about what I said. No rush. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

“Okay.”

After simply laying with Jack for about another hour or so, he helped you get dressed before walking you out to your car and placing another kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and your lips last.

“I love you.” He breathed out, but when you started to speak, he cut you off.

“If you're not ready to say it yet, it's fine. But my feelings towards you haven't changed. I know it might take a while if we actually do this again.”

“Just give me some time.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” Jack replied as he helped you step up into your G Wagon that he had bought you for Valentine’s Day two years ago.

“How about a goodnight kiss before you leave?” He asked while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh but you soon caved.

“Drive safe and let me know when you get home.”

—-

The two of you had been spending more and more time together as he was working on his new album and a lot of that time was either spent in the studio or with him fucking your brains out. Over the course of the next few months, you decided to let Jack move back in with you and kept it quiet because the last thing you would ever ask was for someone’s opinion about it. You were two adults who could do what you both wanted.

It was early in the day and Jack had mentioned about him wanting to go to the studio early so that he could come back and spend time with you seeing as your due date was getting closer.

He was currently begging you for more kisses even though you had given him several already.

“Jackman, I have been giving you kisses for close to thirty minutes. You should have been left.” You said as he was now kissing down your neck and attempting to lift up your shirt.

“Just a few more.”

“I’ll be here when you come back! I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Last time you told me that, you ended up divorcing me.”

“Don’t push it. Now do you want kisses or not?” You replied as you eyed him.

“Yes, please.”

You reached up to place several kisses on his lips and he eagerly kissed you back. When the two of you broke apart, he simply placed another one on the tip of your nose before smiling at you.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

“And call me if you need or want anything. Like food, something to drink, my dick. You know, the usual.”

“BYE JACKMAN.”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!”

You saw to it that he got in his car before you decided to go upstairs and into the nursery to start folding up clothes for the triplets. You couldn’t exactly bend down in order to get them in the last drawer in the dresser and would have to wait for Jack, but you were still on a mission to do what you could in the meantime so that there was less to do later.

As you were folding one of the last onesies, you suddenly got a facetime call from Taylor and you immediately answered.

The two of you had only spoken through text when the news broke since there had been rumors surrounding her and Jack. In your heart of hearts, you don’t think that she would betray you in that matter, but you weren’t sure considering how PG ended up treating you when they found out that you had filed for divorce.

“Hey.” You heard her say as you moved all of the neatly folded clothes to the left of you.

“Hi.”

“So, how are you? How have you been? What’s new? I miss you and I’m worried about you.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking my ex-husband that?” You immediately shot at her and all she did was sigh.

“Y/N, please. I would never hurt you like that. Both of you mean a lot to me and I would never want to be the cause of two of my closest friends’ marriage ending. I would never lie to you, I can promise you that nothing happened. He did see me that night because he was crying his eyes out and bawling over you because at that point, he knew it was inevitable and that you were going to file for divorce.”

“Then why didn’t he simply tell me that?” You asked her, but all you got was a shrug in response.

“I guess because he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to change your mind.”

“Hmm.”

“If I may ask, how are the two of you? I heard that some reconciliation may be happening?”

“Um, it’s… I guess you can call it that. Just taking it slow and steady at the moment despite me knowing him since I was fourteen. It just got to the point where I didn’t recognize the person that I had married and I wanted out.”

“That’s fair, but I have another question.”

“Yes?”

“When you do have the babies seeing as the two of you are officially divorced, are you going to file for full custody?”

“What? Why?”

“Well, Jack is always busy and always on the go. That just seems to make more sense to me. This is not me trying to get you to one up Jack. I’m thinking of the kids.”

“Taylor, do you not realize how messy that could get? I mean thank goodness the divorce wasn’t because he basically gave me everything but to keep his kids from him?”

“You aren’t keeping him from them, it was just a suggestion so that they could grow up in a stable environment. That’s all. I meant no harm by it. Even if you two are on good terms now, you never know what could happen.”

What you didn’t know was that Jack had forgotten his phone charger and came back to the house to get it from your shared bedroom. He didn’t expect to hear a snippet of your conversation with Taylor and her basically suggesting that you file for full custody but he also didn’t hear you disagree with her. This obviously made him feel some type of way and immediately felt like these last few months had been a waste of time if this was what you were going to do all along. Bottom line was that he couldn't trust you and he was determined to hurt you first before you hurt him.

Something had been bothering Jack for the last few days and despite him saying that he was okay and that it was nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help but to feel uneasy. He had been spending less and less time with you and you made it a point to bring it up tonight before the two of you went to bed. He was spending longer hours at the studio than before which you understood since his album was getting closer to dropping, but something didn’t feel right.

That was where he was currently when you got a notification on your phone saying that he had posted a new reel for a song entitled “Drive Safe.” You admit that you were excited seeing as that was what he would always tell you before the two of you parted ways, but it took a turn for the worst as you started listening to it and scrolling through the comments.

liked by urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, shloob_, privategarden, and 1,283,743 others

jackharlow: drive safe prod by 2forwoyne

jackharlowsource: the dynamic duo is back! colebennett: neelam ain't a fan of her neelamthadhani: Mhmmm jackandy/naremyparents: all I know is this better not be about y/ninsta urbandjack25: um if I was this girl, I would be throwing up right about now quiiso: absolute fireeee allthingsy/n: hmm well we known neelam never liked y/n so there's that y/ninsta: oh lol 🙃 urbandjack25: ahhhh shit here we go jackharlow: y/ninsta got something to say sweetheart? y/ninsta: jackharlow don't bother coming home is all I'm going to say jackharlowsource: WAIT ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER? SOMEONE FILL ME IN. I'M LOST. allthingsy/n: I knew it was about her. jack is always fucking something up. I hope she gets with Dua, Clay, Giveon, Drake, or Bryson.

When you heard the door open downstairs, you flew down the steps so that you could be face to face with him.

“JACKMAN, are you fucking serious? You plead and beg practically on your fucking knees for me to take you back and this is how you act? You write a song about me and make me feel like shit? That’s really what you think of me? The person who was once your wife?”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS GOING TO FILE FOR FULL CUSTODY. BUT NOT IF I FUCKING DO IT FIRST.”

“What?! Where did you even get that from?”

“I heard you talking with Taylor! I forgot my phone charger and came back to get it and I overheard you two.”

All you could do was stare at him as he was now red in the face and fuming.

“Oh, don’t have much to say now do we?” He asked and you simply laughed to yourself.

“Then you obviously didn’t hear the part of the conversation where I disagreed with her and I said that it would get messy and that I would never do anything to keep you from your children.”

“Wait, what?”

“She was the one who suggested it, saying that it would be a more stable environment for them to grow up in one place.”

“Oh….”

“And I told her no.”

“Umm…”

“Jackman, get out.”

“I… wait….”

“What am I waiting for? You fucking embarassed me with that song and this isn’t the first time that you’ve embarrassed me in front of the entire world. The dead giveaway was saying Neelam doesn’t like her and telling me to drive safe. That’s what you would always tell me any time we leave each other. You took shots at me left and right and the sad part is because of who I am, you fucking know that I would do anything for you but I don’t get that same treatment in return. But now, we are not EVER getting married again. If you cannot simply come to me and ask me about something for clarification then we don’t need to be together.”

“Baby, I can fix this. Just let me fix it.”

“How? Fucking how, Jackman? The song has been released and it’s out for the world to see. There’s no coming back from that.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I bet you are.” You replied with tears pricking the corner of your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

“I just need…”

“No. You don’t need another chance. We are done here. Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house. At this rate because of what you pulled, you’ll be lucky if I even let you in the delivery room. Do not call me, do not text me, do not DM me, do not send a fucking carrier pigeon to get a message across to me. We.are.done. Done for good this time. And because of what you did, I just might file for full custody since our children don’t know how immature their father is. And on that note, good night and good day to you.”

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powderblueblood · 5 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FIVE — CHEERLEADERS MAKE BAD NEIGHBORS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: after you get kicked off the cheerleading squad by an enraged tina, you're stranded in a rainstorm of biblical proprtions- and the only safe haven is eddie munson's trailer. fuck. content warnings: MINORS DNI I'M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU HERE- male masturbation, sexualized language, some mild objectification, cursing, smoking, drinking, drug mention, reader backstory (i do it for the plot the plot the plot), steve harrington cameo, reader is a pretentious bitch word count: 10.1k

Dear reader, Joan Didion said something because Joan Didion is always saying something. Particularly to me. She comes at me hard, smacking me in the back of the head with perfect clarity and I have not gotten around to not resenting her for it yet.

‘I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.’

Joan Didion probably did not have to stay on nodding terms with a girl she used to be in order to score a cheerleading scholarship because her family blitzed her college fund on ill-chosen legal advice.

But she’s got a point.

You remember that day with perfect clarity.

Middle school had been a lesson in elocution, thanks to your then-best friend Phoebe’s older sister Casey. Phoebe was a relic of your former life– a bookish indoor kid with Coke bottle glasses, a slight stammer and a distinct lack of style. Despite this, you loved Phoebe and she loved you. But more than that, more than anything, you loved that Phoebe had an older sister.

A cool older sister.

Casey was popular in the best way, which is to say that she wasn’t showy about it but she wasn’t humble either. By recognizing the power of being hot and likeable, she knew nothing could ever touch her.

You wanted to be just like that.

You remember the first time Casey told you you’ve got potential. Her hand-me-downs were a little too big for Phoebe, because Casey had boobs and Phoebe’s hadn’t come in yet. Even as a pre-teen, you knew an opportunity when you saw it. Can I try that top? And you did, flipping your hair and adjusting yourself in the mirror just like you’d watched Casey do a hundred times, sitting on her bedroom floor and soaking up her knowledge while Phoebe moaned and sulked about being bored.

Check you out, hot stuff, Casey had smirked, but not in a way where you felt stupid. You’ve got potential.

The shirt didn’t feel entirely right on you, but the way Casey regarded you did.

Fast forward– your first day of freshman year. You were in the parking lot, stepping out of the passenger side of Casey’s car. Phoebe slid out of the back seat, shoulders slumped forward. You were dressed in an outfit that you and Casey spent hours agonizing over the night before–first impressions are everything, girl–while, again, Phoebe looked on glaring.

Come meet some of the crew, Casey said, pointedly to you and not to Phoebe.

Hey– I thought were were going to find our homerooms together, Phoebe protested, grabbing you by the elbow. She knew she wasn’t invited. And she didn’t care– she’d never cared for Casey and her ‘airhead ways’, as she so derisively called them.

Yeah, girl! you affirmed, a note-perfect impression of her older sister. Phoebe’s big eyes flared with disbelief. You’d spent junior high carefully studying Casey’s every movement, absorbing and adopting her behaviors as your own. Stella Adler would have loved your ass. Don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?

Make a move, freshman! Casey yelled, and you came trotting after her. There would be no catching up later, and you knew that. You bit back the sinking in your stomach with a Bonne Bell-glossed smile.

Look, I love my sister, Casey murmured, but I’m glad that you’re my little freshman experiment, ‘kay? You are way more fun that Phoebs and her goddamn library card.

You nodded, wordlessly grateful. Way more fun. The older girl confiding in you like this made you feel warm, included, grown-up. But not quite so grown-up that you remembered to watch where you were going– the laces of your left Chuck Taylor All-Stars came undone, sending you tripping– tripping–

Oof! Right into the muscular arms of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington and his autumn colored eyes, his swathe of hair that seemed to grow more voluminous the more girls he flirted with, his shock of grown-up cologne and his perfect, perfect, perfect smile.

But it wasn’t just Steve Harrington. It was also all the surrounding popular kids that had already made a name for themselves coming up alongside you in middle school–Tina, Carol and her boyfriend Tommy Hagan–mingling with the older kids.

You okay? Steve asked, his voice all breathy and cute the way boys voices are when they’re halfway making fun of you.

Uh-huh, you nodded, lashes fluttering like crazy as you wracked your brain for something smart to say.

Let me help you out here.

Then Steve did something you never thought possible, something right out of your daydreams. He got down on one knee and started to re-tie your shoe.

Better watch yourself, Lacy, he said, tightening the bunny ears, gazing right up at you, Wiping out on the first day is not a good look.

Lacy. Lacy. Your heartbeat quickened at the nickname, hammering like hummingbird wings. It was the greatest thing you’d ever heard– it makes you feel fresh. New. Seen for the first time. Seen by Steve Harrington for the first time.

Can you blame me? you said before you knew you were saying it; a common occurrence with you, You’re just too easy to fall for, Harrington.

You drawled out too easy like you’re making fun of him, which of course you weren’t, because he’s Steve Harrington and you would never– but it earned some warm guffaws from the surrounding kids and a little ugh, please, from Tommy Hagan.

Hagan’s something else. Hagan’s hated you since day dot, and you him. You remember his merciless teasing of some kid during Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party, the last boy-girl party of your middle school careers, goading that they were too chicken to go into the closet with you for Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Steve grinned at you, eyebrows quirking upward. A fizzing feeling ran through your sternum and you felt like you might faint. Casey threw an arm around your shoulder, a magnet for attention. Well, it looks like some of you already know my little Lacy! You guys better be fuckin’ cool to her, okay, or else you’ve got me to answer to.

You smiled up at her, the older sister you’d always prayed for, and she looked impressed with you. That’s all you wanted. That’s all you craved. That, and for Steve Harrington and everybody else to never quit calling you Lacy.

And they didn’t.

Everything you’d gleaned from Casey equipped you to cruise through freshman year with no speedbumps, no checkpoints– you knew exactly how to wear your hair, how to flirt, how not to flirt, what not to eat, who not to be seen with… and even better than that, these people really took a shine to you. The girls especially.

Hawkins isn’t kind to teenage girls. It’s heavy with passive-aggressive Midwestern sensibility, with all the backwards, misogynistic attitude that comes along with that. It’s not overt, it’s insidious. It makes sense that these girls were scared. Few women make it out of here, and look at the ones that don’t. Their mothers. Your mother.

But what was even scarier was to want something more. To strive for better and be met with the begrudgery of your attempt. To think about life outside the snowglobe of this wicked little town.

That's the thing with wanting. It doesn’t leave you alone. It gnaws at you while you zone out in the cafeteria, churning around with the half fat yogurt in your stomach. It finds you in the middle of the night, awake on the floor of your friend Carol’s room after an evening of pounding secret wine coolers and picking apart the rest of the Hawkins student body for their flaws and faults, looking around at your friends and thinking,

God, I fucking hate these people. God, I’ve got to get out.

And you were working on it. Like a motherfucker, you were working on it– perfect grades, perfect attendance, the perfect extracurriculars in an excruciating balancing act with your demanding social life. Keep your record spotless and you could fly the coop to any college you wanted.

One such extracurricular was–is cheerleading. And god, you were great. You’re a flyer, one of the shining, pretty faces responsible for revving up the Hawkins Tigers and their adoring fans. Given your propensity for perfectionism, it’s an obvious position for you. Tina, the reigning captain of the cheer squad, had even taken you under her wing and spit shined up your back handsprings when you tried out as a freshman. Tina had a prior career as a child gymnast, making her a shoo-in for the title come senior year. And here she is now, hollering you all into formation.

It’s Thursday, and it’s still the week from hell. You had almost forgot about cheer practice, but here you are, in your green and white and gold, ponytail too tight and bruise fading out. The tension between you and Tina casts a thick haze over the gym, the other, less-clued-in members of the squad not exactly knowing where to look.

It probably wasn’t fair, outing Tina and her indiscretion with Hagan like that. But you felt like a cornered animal. It was all you could do, after all of them subtly chipping away at you for weeks when you’d done nothing but be there for them. Wiped their tears.

Bought their crabs lotion, in Tina’s case.

“Sloppy, Lacy! Again!” She’s drilling you like you’ve never been drilled before. Each twist and flip you perform, she finds something wrong with it– and you can’t even tell her she’s wrong. You have gotten sloppy, because your head’s not in the game. While cheerleading was a social and athletic high at one time, it wasn’t high on your list of priorities right now. Dismounting your bases and tugging your ponytail ever tighter over your skull, you stalk towards her.

“Alright, Tina!” you yell, bubbling over with frustration. “How about you just drop the Russian gym coach bit and tell me what I’m doing wrong? Or is yelling at me all you got?”

She does her best attempt at a withering glare. You can’t help but think it looks like something she learned from you. “How about I show you instead?”

Tina shoulder checks you, hard, and calls to one of the underclassmen. A mousy sophomore with sandy bangs and blazing Bambi eyes. This kid looks terrified, and knowing Tina’s reputation, she should be. “Cunningham! You’re up!”

Chrissy Cunningham. Right. Heir to the throne of Hawkins High. You don’t think you’ve heard her speak more than a couple of words and most of those have been in response to her Aryan meathead boyfriend, Jason Carver.

But for what Cunningham lacks in vocal force, she makes up for in aerodynamics. This girl makes a basket toss look like ballet, ponytail pirouetting as she lands in the bases’ arms. Every move, faultless. She’s locked in.

“That is what I want. What I don’t want, Lacy, is a flyer that looks like she’s losing control of her rectum mid-toss,” Tina hollers. “We all know how crucial this weekend is. Not just for us, but for the Tigers, too. Right? So that means the last thing we need is dead weight dragging us down.” She locks her laserlike stare on you. “Right?”

The squad mumbles in the affirmative. Chrissy Cunningham visibly gulps.

And you? A knife slices right through you, cold and exacting. You almost gag, trying to swallow through your thickening throat. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You tell me, Lace. You’re the one that knows everything.”

You don’t waste a second of time trying to counter-argue, because you can’t be sure it won’t end in your limbs flailing, trying to smash Tina’s head against the waxed floorboards of the gym. Instead, you grab your bag. You give the squad a grimacing nod and head to heave the double doors open.

The sound of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor makes you want to tear your shoes off and throw them through a window, just to watch the glass shatter.

You really never thought of yourself as a violent person, not until– everything happened.

But now, god, now you just want to punch and tear and rip everything apart. This slow burn of your social status, your friends, your tether to reality as you know it slipping away is torturous. You’d rather burn it all up than let it swallow you whole.

Standing on the front steps of the school, your eyes automatically dart to the parking lot.

It’s not there. He’s not there.

And why would he be? you think, starting in the direction of the trailer park. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in the record store, leaving him hanging with his hands behind his back and his mouth in that grin.

There was a reason for that. Call it post-high clarity or something else, but you knew right then you needed to focus the fuck up. Quit acting out because of your daddy’s mistakes and prove all of these shitheels wrong once and for all.

Blend in. Stop causing trouble. Fall in line and study hard and cheer harder and get the hell out of dodge once you get your hands on that high school diploma. By whatever means necessary. Those means really did not include hanging out with Eddie Munson for even a second longer than you already had.

–which is a nice thought and all, but Tina really shit all over that one with this shedding the dead weight move.

The clouds above you carry the most pathetic of pathetic fallacies, gray and pregnant with rain that starts to hit you square on the crown of your head in fat, heavy drops. You’re still fifteen minutes from the trailer park, at least, and you don’t have a raincoat. You don’t have an umbrella. And you don’t fucking care.

You stomp up the dirt drive leading into Forest Hills, the pleats of your green skirt heavy with water, your cheerleader’s cardigan weighing down your shoulders. Your white knee-high socks are flecked with mud and getting dirtier with every sloppy step. And the rain, the relentless relentless rain, is streaming into your eyes, streaming mascara with it.

You gasp against the cold of the downpour as you approach your trailer– and a glowing yellow light catches in your peripheral vision. His bedroom, the one you can see into from your bedroom. Though you try not to look. And sometimes you fail.

You don’t see much, when you do look. It’s mostly his hunching figure, bent over his guitar or some binder or book or map or figurine. But he always seems calmer, the frenetic energy he wears around like chainmail finally falling to the floor. Watching him like that makes you want to breathe a sigh of relief right along with him, just to see if you’d feel similarly. Calmer.

Calm is not how you feel right now, wiping the rain from your face as you dig in your bag for your keys. Once, twice, thrice they slip out of your hands, and on the fourth try, you finally get them in the door. And then– the key strains in the lock. Come on. This door has always been unnecessarily sticky, but this wasn’t really the time– you push and you push the silver key to the left with no give.

Was your mom in there? Had she left her key in the door by accident before she went on another overnighter with Prince Valium? “Mom! Mom!” you yell, hammering on the door. No dice. You pull at the key again, and pull and pull and–

Snap.

You shudder, a full body shake that’s only partially down to the rainwater that’s soaked you right to the bone marrow. The key has snapped off in the lock, leaving you standing there with a useless silver nub.

“Fuck!” you holler, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck! Fucking–shit!”

Your fists go straight to the side of the trailer, banging one after the other against the metallic veneer. You don’t care that it hurts your knuckles, you want it to dent or crack or something, you want to not feel so impotent and fucking useless, but here you are!

“Hey! Asshole!”

Your head whips around, heavy, sodden ponytail smacking you in the face.

Eddie Munson is leaning out his bedroom window, barely visible through the downpour.

“Keep it down! You’re in a residential goddamn area!” He’s not smiling that shiteating smile. He’s not even grinning. He’s just glowering at you, which is the look you’re most accustomed to seeing him wear. Even so, it feels– it feels– it makes you feel worse.

“Fuck you!” you scream across to him, “Who died and made you the fucking neighborhood watch?!”

“Go inside, you lunatic!”

“My fucking– my key broke off, dickhead!”

That makes his brow loosen a little bit. You just stand there, gasping in the rain. And then he disappears from the window–

–only to fling open the front door of his trailer.

“Come on,” he grumbles, massaging the space between his eyebrows like he can’t believe what he’s fucking doing.

“No.”

“What? Cut the shit, Lacy, come inside.”

“No! I don’t want to!”

Munson’s face opens up in an expression of sheer incredulity– and you partially can’t believe yourself either. What is it about him that just makes you shove and shove and shove, unable to let him win– or in this case, unable to let him help?

“Fine! Fucking drown out there for all I care!” The trailer door slams.

Your teeth have started to chatter, and your options from here on out are… walk or hitch your way back to town and drag your sodden ass somewhere there’s a phone where you then call your mom and pray she’ll pick up (she won’t) and tell her about the lock and try to tell her about the cheerleading squad and pray she’ll understand how upset you are (she won’t) and how much of an awful spiral this whole year has become and it’s not even Christmas yet and–

The trailer door swings back open.

Eddie Munson comes stalking out into the rain, white Reeboks splattering mud everywhere. He’s wearing that shirt from his Dungeons and Dragons club, the one with the big fucking smug Satan splayed across it and you wonder, did he model that after himself?

“What’s your fucking problem?” he asks, point blank. It feels like he’s aiming something at you.

“I’m having a shitty fucking day!” you scream in response, making that dog belonging to that red headed kid sister of Billy Hargrove’s yap somewhere in the distance. “And I keep telling you, I don’t need your fucking–”

“Help? Right!” he scoffs, loud and indignant, crossing his arms across his chest. The fabric of the ringer tee is changing color before your eyes, clinging to him. “You don’t need my help yet you always take it, you don’t wanna be seen with me yet you end up at my lunch table, in my van, smoking my weed– you know, it may shock you but I’m not exactly thrilled to be seen with you either, Lacy! I mean, playing chauffeur to a grade A certified bitch that wouldn’t give me the time of day unless she was desperate? Who stood by and let her shitty friends, who aren’t even her friends anymore, make mine and my friends’ life a living hell for how many years? What kind of an asshole does that make me? How pathetic is that?”

The way he spits the word bitch– it was different from the way he said it in the record store. There, it felt like a come-on. A compliment. Here, it feels like a curse. But oh, he doesn’t stop there! You are rooted to the spot, an unmoving target for his justified rage.

“You can’t even play ignorant, y’know, because I’ve seen you. You’re smarter than them. You know how godawful those people are–Harrington, Carver, Carol, fucking Hagan worst of all–and you just let ‘em run. Because you needed that status, you needed to be the most evil fucking twat at the twat table, and for what? They left you, Lacy! They all left you!”

You’re not sure at what point in his speech you started sobbing but at its crescendo, you yelp. It’s a high, pathetic sound you wish you could stuff back inside your throat and hopefully choke yourself with. See, you know all these things. You’ve told them to yourself in your most honest moments, of which there are not many, but having Eddie Munson lay them out for you in the pouring rain– it’s horrible. You’re horrible.

Eddie’s arms move from where they were bound on his chest. Okay, that was an outburst, sure, but he didn’t mean to make you cry. And you’re like, really crying. He can’t stand it when girls cry, and you, in particular–you, having never displayed much emotion beyond bemusement and annoyance and mild disgust toward him–is especially frightening.

And then you let out this scream. It comes right from the center of your chest, rumbling and primal and visceral and real. It’s a real noise, not one you put careful, curative thought into, tuning it just right before you let it out. Because in this instance, he’s right! You’ve worked so hard, and for what! For fucking nothing! For it to blow up in your face! So you let out another howl– and it feels so, so good. A feeling of satisfaction, more than a feeling of relief–

–so Eddie screams too. God, that feels fantastic.

His is heavier than yours, obviously, because he’s a guy and he probably screams as a hobby in whatever metal band he supposedly plays in. But you like that sound. You like the way it seems to ring off the exteriors of the trailer, ricocheting around like a pinball in its machine.

A couple more painful sobs escape you, and Eddie’s taking tentative steps toward you, like you’re a snarling animal he’s trying to coax.

In ways, you are, but that’s because you feel hunted. You have to blink, through tears and through rain, but you see that his shirt is so soaked that it’s see-through. You can see a vague suggestion of a tattoo on his chest. You see that he’s fighting a smile.

This is so stupid. This is so ridiculous, that you could make a noise like that and completely short circuit the white hot anger he was spewing at you.

“Come inside,” he breathes, a little less than a foot of space between you, “You lunatic.”

Your head, so heavy on your neck, so heavy from crying, so heavy from carrying your spiteful brain around, falls against his chest.

“Uhh…” Eddie mumbles, hands hovering behind your back, not sure if he’s supposed to embrace you or if you’re about to rip his heart out of his chest. Either could be true.

You know what you’d prefer.

You’re positive he doesn’t here you exhale into his chest, into the mouth of the cartoon Satan, into the thrum of his jumping heartbeat. Sorry. I’m really… I’m so sorry.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “hey. Shit.” His hand finally rests in between your shoulder blades. You let him guide you inside, and he even picks up the book bag you had thrown in the mud. You reach, try to grab it from him, but he yanks it out of your grasp. Half teasing, half assuring you that it’s okay.

A squeaky, squelching silence settles between you two as you stand in his doorway. You’re creating a puddle near some old work boots. You wonder if they’re his– you’ve never seen him not wear those Reeboks.

“So… welcome,” he cringes, emitting a pitchy, awkward laugh. You follow him through to the kitchenette, which is identical to your kitchenette, except every surface is not covered in legal correspondence or empty wine bottles or too-expensive tchotchkes. The light in here seems dimmer, warmer. There’s a distinct aroma of stale cigarette smoke and old coffee, which you breathe in deep. “Sorry for the mess–”

“It’s fine. It’s good mess,” you say, a little distant. You peer around the place like you’re in a gallery.

“Good mess?” he queries, crossing to the kitchen sink where he attempts to wring his shirt out by hand– still wearing it.

“Lived-in mess,” you say. What you mean is, it doesn’t look like a mausoleum of a life someone left behind. A storage locker. A haphazard sarcophagus. Before you moved to the trailer, your house was so clean– that was a whole other problem. The same tchotchkes that are scattered on your counter were kept behind glass, only touched when your mother polished them, the only housework she ever did. You stare at a collection of trucker hats nailed along the living room wall, the shelf of novelty mugs that accompanies them.

“Living in mess? What is that, like living in filth? You better start showing this fine abode some respect before–”

“Lived. In. Munson, I said, lived in if you would just listen– it’s good, it’s fine. It’s n-nice.”

It’s warm in the trailer, you can tell, but you’re shivering. You bear down in your body, jaw all set so your teeth don’t start chattering again, but he hears it in your voice.

“Uh-oh,” he says, somehow not at all betraying any signs of being out in the freezing rain except for being entirely soaked. You bet his skin is still running hot, like you felt through his shirt, like you felt grabbing his wrist. “Star cheerleader’s coming down with a case of hypothermia. Right before the big game!”

He slaps his hands to his cheeks in mock horror.

“I’m–” you’re about to tell him a couple things; one, that you’re fine which would be stupid, because you are so clearly not fine; two, you’re not the star cheerleader anymore; and a third, forgotten thing. “--cold,” is what you settle on. It sounds small, vulnerable.

Eddie holds his breath for a second. You sound so delicate. Hard, terrible you.

“No, sure, of course you are,” he fumbles. The way his wet hair has flattened to his skull makes him look younger– exposing a nervous boy behind the metalhead posturing. “You can– take a shower. If you want. To warm up.”

Take a shower. In Eddie Munson’s trailer. Your eyelids flutter closed, taking on their own vibrations from the wracking of your body. This is a hell of my own making. “Yes. Sure. Thank you.”

“I can also,” he starts, crossing the kitchen again and knocking something over on his way– it just clatters to the floor, whatever it was, and he lets it, like he’s used to leaving crashing sounds in his wake. “I can take your clothes if you want. Put ‘em in the washer.”

You hesitate a beat, then follow him down a hallway.

“I probably have something you can wear,” he says. There’s a note in his tone that’s high and nervous. “You’re for sure gonna hate it, but hey– beats freezing to death.”

“Just barely,” you murmur.

“Huh?”

“This, uh– this is dry-clean only,” you correct yourself, gesturing to the uniform.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course. Only the best for the pom-pom shakers.”

He ducks into a room that must be his bedroom, but you don’t follow him. Instead, you linger in the hallway, near the dingy bathroom, staring at the corn themed wall calendar. Going into his bedroom feels too personal– too intimate, as if preparing to take a shower in Eddie Munson’s trailer only to change into his clothes isn’t intimate.

“I figured,” he says, emerging from the bedroom with clothes and a towel in hand, “since you like all that rinky-dinky-tinkly garbage, you wouldn’t hate wearing a Stooges shirt.”

“I–” the shirt is soft under your wrinkled fingers, as are the boxers he passes off to you. Boxers. You hold them up between your forefinger and thumb, stepping into the bathroom. “These are clean, right?”

Eddie stares at you for a second– then leans his head into the bathroom and shakes his sopping locks at you, just like a dog. You let out a shriek that he thinks almost sounds like an involuntary giggle. I’ll take it.

“No comment!” And he slams the door on you.

Then you’re standing. In Eddie Munson’s trailer. In Eddie Munson’s bathroom. Holding his old Stooges shirt and his boxers, with mascara running down your face.

You pinch yourself, hard, just in case.

The shower heats up quick–quicker than yours, you notice–and you rest your head against the tile as the steam swirls up around you. This is so weird. This is so fucking weird, and you can’t scrub away the weirdness fast enough. There’s not enough Irish Spring in the world. You reach into the shower caddy to replace the bottle and notice something familiar– wait, that’s–

Wait.

Do you and Eddie Munson use the same brand of shampoo?

You had to switch from your favorite to the best that the Big Buy had to offer, given the change in your personal means, and this was the top score in terms of quality. Eddie Munson apparently agrees– but better yet, you realize as a grin spreads across your face, Munson uses women’s shampoo.

It’s nice to have a fresh piece of arsenal to aim at him once you get out of the shower.

Toweling off and changing, you do give the boxers a wary sniff before you put them on– but luckily, they smell like generic detergent and aren’t stiff in any way. So you slide them on.

They fit snugly– naturally, given he’s all sinewy and you have hips. He is really sinewy, now that you think about it.

His wrist wasn’t bony, but it was active. Tendons flexing under the thin, soaked layer of his shirt. You wonder, absently, was that a tattoo you saw. What is it. What does it look like. Is it shitty. It’s his, so it’s probably shitty, but I want to see it. Does he have any more.

You shiver, slipping the Stooges t-shirt on, and blame your hardening nipples on the cold.

The cheer outfit is another problem. You emerge from the bathroom, clutching the still-sodden uniform with Eddie’s– Munson’s towel thrown over your shoulder.

“Do you have, like, a garbage bag or something?” you ask, eyes rising to look at him where he stands in the doorframe of his room. He’s still in his soaked clothes.

He takes a second to answer you, and when he does, his voice is all thick. Avoiding eye contact.

“Suuure,” and he disappears and reappears with a plastic bag, quick as a blink.

“Thanks.” You dump the uniform, sneakers and all, into the bag and make for the door.

“Hey, it’s still raining–” his voice follows you, as if you hadn’t heard the raindrop gunshots hitting the trailer roof.

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. You yank Munson’s door open and fling the garbage bag outside. It lands squarely between your trailer and his.

Munson appears over your shoulder, looking out at the garbage bag. His face is twisted in confusion, concern, curiosity.

“I got kicked off,” you explain, plain as biscuits.

“Off the pom pom squad?” he whispers, eyes flaring in surprise that you think might actually be real. You’re looking at his lashes again, fanning around the almost-perfect circles of his eye sockets.

“The very same.”

“Escándalo. What happened?”

“How about you go and shower first,” you suggest, poking a finger into his chest. He makes a little breathy noise, a little ‘unh’, that you don’t… hate. “Can’t have the star dork of the make believe board game club catch his death, can we?”

“Anything happens to me and you’re the prime suspect, babe,” he grins and snaps the towel off your shoulder.

“Hey!”

“This is the last clean one. What am I, a fuckin’ Rockefeller?”

Christ, he wants to jerk off into this towel but he knows that’s weird. That’s perverted. That’s fucked up. That’s everything everyone says about him and that’s everything you make him feel.

So he strips, turns the hot water to scalding and furiously rubs one out down the drain. One, because he feels bizarre about leaving you alone among all of his things for too long and two, because hot water is in short supply.

And three, because he’s achingly rock hard at the sight of you in his boxers, tossing your cheerleading outfit into the mud and the wet.

The metaphors. The implications. The feeling of your forehead against his chest. The stab of your finger in his sternum.

He cums jaggedly, almost silently, with his mouth rammed against his forearm.

If you heard him– God, you’d be so nasty about it. God, he’d never live it down. God, he’d love to know what you’d say.

He makes damn quick work of sudsing up and rinsing down, wrapping a towel around his waist– only to run into you as he’s coming out of the bathroom.

You stare. You stare at him, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and all the blood drains away from his brain. Again.

“Stare much?” he sneers, but only just about. Because his first instinct is to drop the towel and give you an eyeful. See what you’d do– hopefully something with your mouth. God, he hopes it’d be something with your mouth.

“Where are your smokes?” you snap back. “I know you have some.”

“Kitchen. There’s probably–,” he needs you to stop looking at him like that; like you’re going to snap his neck, “--kitchen.”

Eddie slams his bedroom door and smacks his face with three quick strikes. “Come on, man! Get it together!”

Because it’s go time.

He has to formulate some kind of plan.

He hadn’t exactly thought ahead when he invited you inside–or, demanded you come inside–and since you now had no place to go and Wayne had specifically told him not to go near you and your boobs were stretching out his dad’s old Stooges t-shirt…

Christ.

He’s entirely, massively, completely at a loss. Eddie paces around the room like an animal in panic, grabbing a Scorpion shirt and some worn flannel pants as he goes.

“Like, I’m supposed to go out there and do what? Ask her to hang out? Fucking paint her nails, read Cosmo? Study?! Jesus!” he angrily mumbles to his reflection, tearing the towel away and tugging his t-shirt over his sopping hair. “Hey, Lacy, you wanna beer? Who am I, Steve fucking Harrington? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ, dude!”

“Munson. Are you talking to me in there?” He hears your voice from a minute distance away– see, that’s the thing about trailers. Small space, thin walls, and Eddie Munson’s voice travels at super speed.

He stops, seizing, cringing, shoulders hitching up to his ears.

That was not enough time to formulate a plan.

Eddie, jankily tugging his pants on, sweeps out to the kitchenette area like something is chasing him and stops dead when he sees you. You haven’t trashed the place. You haven’t even tried to stick your head in the oven, two things he was kind of concerned about given the way you were wailing outside.

You’re standing in the middle of the room with your hip cocked out, smoking a stolen cigarette and studying his uncle’s trucker hat collection.

All the air in the room seems to orbit around you like a tornado in slow motion.

How is it that you make an old shirt and boxers look like a skirt set? How is it that you can be sobbing your lungs out one minute, then the picture of poise and sophistication the next?

All that air and none left for Eddie to take a breath.

“Hey, Lacy,” he strains, “you wanna beer?”

“What,” you purr– like, he’s so sure that you actually purr, “You mean you’re all out of Sancerre?”

He does not know what the hell that is, but he can only assume it’s some rich people bullshit– and he’s relieved. You’re mocking him. At least that’s some tether to normalcy. She’s baa-aack.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not entirely meaning it, but if he beams right at you he’s going to give the game away.

“Think fast!” He tosses a can of the cheapest beer available at the Big Buy your way and you just about catch it, hands above your head and the cigarette dangling out of your mouth like Keith Richards.

“God, Munson,” you mumble around the filter, “What kept you off the basketball team?”

“Half a brain and a big dick,” he smirks, cracking the pull top and snatching the soft pack of cigarettes you’d left on the countertop. You cross from the living room, propping yourself up on the counter stool in a fluid movement that can only be described as feline.

“Well, we sure can account for one of those things,” you say, ashing with your right hand and tapping at your temple with your left.

“And the other?” Eddie asks, voice dropping a mocking octave.

“I’d sooner drink arsenic than find out.”

He raises his beer can to you. “In that case, cheers!”

Your mouth twists around a smile and Eddie can see you’re fighting hard to keep it at bay. And that you’re losing. You tip your beer to your lips and he braces his elbows on the counter, looking around for a lighter. He spots a Bic, but the trigger won’t light it– just sparks, no flame.

“That thing’s dead,” you say, “I lit this off the toaster.”

“Oh! Right,” Eddie goes to turn, but something chilly snaps to his forearm. Your fingers. Damn. What is it with you? Circulation thing or what?

“Don’t do that,” you shake your head. “I don’t trust you not to burn the whole trailer down.”

“This is my trailer, y’know.”

“Yeah, and I’m in it. So burn it down on your own time.”

You motion for him to light his cigarette off the half-burned length of yours and Eddie tentatively places the filter between his lips. You prop yourself up on the stool, ass raised from the seat, leaning toward him. He leans in too and you cup that little hand with the perfectly painted fingers around the cigarettes. Like you’re whispering a secret. You look down, focusing on making fire, but Eddie’s eyes follow the tiny crease of your brow, the slope of your nose. The little wipe of mascara still underneath your eye.

Tips touch and Eddie inhales just as you do. The cherried ends of the smokes glow orange and you pull back and Eddie just stays there a moment, frozen with the now-lit ember hanging out of his mouth.

You pull back and inhale that smoke like one of those chicks from those black and white movies Wayne is always watching. You exhale all daintily, in one perfect clouding stream. You’re all– you’re so–...

“Fucked,” you groan, shoving the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I am so fucked.”

Eddie finally tugs the cigarette from his mouth, filter gone a little soft with the low-level salivating he’d been doing. “Oh. The cheerleader shit?”

“Yes, Munson. The cheerleader shit.”

“What happened, anyway?” He resumes the position of being elbow-up on the countertop, which incidentally brings him a little bit closer to you. Incidentally. “You crack some skulls this time?”

“Huh,” you chuckle emptily, “Almost. Um, Tina more or less took me out at the knees. Which, I understand of course. If I were her, I would have obliterated me, but–”

“You’re not her, and it doesn’t feel awesome to be on the other end of obliterated,” Eddie nods, giving you a squint-eyed pout of mock-sympathy. “Poor Lacy. Getting shitkicked by the consequences of her own actions.”

Thunk! You punch him in the shoulder, which hurts and he gasps, but it’s so funny and categorically unladylike coming from you. These little peals of violence that keep coming off you are a seemingly bottomless source of amusement for him.

She’s so funny-looking when she’s mad.

“Fuck off!” you bark, as if reading him like a goddamn horoscope, but there’s a glimmer to your narrowed stare. “I got replaced by a sophomore, as if I needed an insult topping on that injury shitshake.”

“Oh, she Old Yeller’d your ass!” Eddie gasps again, chuckling heartily, “Took you out back and–” He mimes blowing your brains right out, nailing you right through the forehead. You stare at him square, unimpressed. “Who usurped ya?”

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

Oh. Well, isn’t that interesting. Eddie’s lips flatten into a straight line and he makes a little mmh sound. And you pick up on that immediately, being that you’re annoyingly perceptive.

“Munson! Come on!”

“What? Whaaat? I didn’t say anything!”

“That’s a child.”

“That is a sophomore and you said so yourself. Besides…” he trails off, pointedly crushing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray until it’s oversquished. “...we have history.”

If his cigarette extinguishing was pointed, yours is needle sharp with the way you crush it into the ashtray right next to the remnants of his.

“Go on,” you hum, just like you did in the van that last night. I really wanna know. It’s conspiratorial and intoxicating and makes it feel like you’re on his side, which you know he’s not but it’s so, so tasty to think that for a second you might be.

Is this how you make everyone feel? Lull ‘em into a false sense of security? Hoard your ammo and go apeshit later?

Eddie draws back, nearly congratulating himself for doing so. “That’s for me to know, and you to die ignorant.”

The way your lips pop open is almost too good, your little doll face turning to a mask of betrayal too quick for you to hide it. Too quick for you to be all like fine! Keep it to yourself! You’re both totally irrelevant anyway! or whatever other bitchy retort you’re bound to come up with.

“Wow. Well, if that holds any water, Carver’ll shit,” you start, sipping on your beer, “His little virgin Mary deflowered by the devil’s first alternate.”

“Hey, I never said–!” Fuck. Fuck! How do you do that! Eddie pinches his lips together as you smirk over the rim of the beer can, all stuck under your gaze. Fly in the spider’s web.

“A-ha,” you say, irritatingly smoothly. “So nothing happened. She’s just spank bank material.”

“Didn’t– say that either,” Eddie mumbles, mind going annoyingly blank under your rapid fire tearing and the inebriating way you’re delivering it. He hates this and he has no intention of telling you to stop. The duality of man.

“Didn’t not say that, though.”

“You oughta be a lawyer,” he tells you, swigging deep, “the way you find a loophole in everything.”

“The way you want me to get you off, you mean.”

You come out with that, something so incendiary, oh-so-casually and slip off your seat. She can’t just do that. You’re padding around the living room again, bare footed and small-looking, but Eddie’s staring at you like you’re a hand grenade with the pin missing that also has the secret to everlasting life inside. Terrified. Fascinated.

A little stiff.

“What?” he breathes, but doesn’t really want you to answer the question.

And you don’t, you just keep looking around the living room with your arms crossed over your chest. “You need money to be a lawyer, Munson. To go to law school. To go to any school. And I don’t have that. And I foolishly figured getting a cheerleading scholarship would be a cinch of a backup plan, and now I can’t do that either.”

“What are you looking for?” he asks, finally willing his dick down and his legs to work, rounding into the living room with you.

“Your, like… stereo, or record player, or something,” you murmur, smoothing down his boxers over your hips. “It’s too quiet in here.”

Eddie blinks. What should really happen is he should say, no, stay out here in the silence, you insolent wench. Think on your crimes. Reflect. Repent. Stop being such a bossy little ballbreaker and give my balls a break.

“Room. Uh– it’s in my room,” is what he says instead.

“‘kay,” is all you say with a little shrug of your shoulder, grabbing your can from the counter and padding down the hallway toward that same bedroom. His bedroom. Eddie Munson’s bedroom with his bed and his shit in it. “Let’s go.”

How irregular does your heartbeat have to get before you classify it as a cardiac event?

There’s only so many times you can flagellate yourself with the ol’ what the fuck are you doing thing before it becomes redundant.

Songs get overplayed, nail polish color gets overused, trends die. Things become redundant all the time, and you discard them.

The notion of what the fuck are you doing in Eddie Munson’s trailer in Eddie Munson’s boxers walking towards Eddie Munson’s bedroom has become redundant because you simply are doing all those things. Not much point in questioning them. The chips have fallen.

An eerie calm had come over you when he was in the shower and you were staring at all of these trucker hats on the wall– if the insanity is temporary, you might as well lean into it. You can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped. Might as well get comfortable.

“God, this place is filthy, Munson.” You, with your arms still bound across your chest, toe a discarded t-shirt out of your path as you move into the bedroom with that same reserved interest of a gallery-goer. The place is cluttered, posters and flyers and doodles torn out of notebooks tacked up on the wall in total disarray. Every surface area is covered in what could be organized chaos, but knowing Munson the little that you do, you doubt it.

To test the theory, you ask, “Where are your records? Tapes, anything?”

But he’s just lingering in the doorway, chewing on the end of a lock of hair. Watching you stand in the middle of the room with astronaut eyes, unblinking. It’s kind of– sweet, in a deeply unnerving way. He looks like a kid.

Your brow furrows, grimace turning your lips into a point.

“Fine. Ogle me like a goddamn lobotomy patient, then.”

You resume your perusing of his things, when you spot the most precious piece of hardware hanging by the mirror. A marbled black and red body fashioned into nasty spikes. You reach out to give the strings an aimless thrum but your wrist is rapidly snatched away.

“Nuh-uh. That’s where I draw the line,” Munson says, shuffling you away from the guitar like a security guard. A flash of something as your calves hit his mattress– him shepherding you toward your own bed, you drunk out of your gourd. “Siddown.”

And you sit, bouncing against the sinking mattress on impact. Rubbing at the spot on your wrist that his fingers had been squeezing. Staring up at him glowering down at you. “Ow.”

And Munson, it turns out, knows where everything is in his nuclear fallout of a room. He shoves a shoebox of tapes into your hands and nudges a bigger milk crate full of records nearer to you with his foot.

“Knock yourself out,” he huffs, flinging himself face-down on the mattress next to you. You jerk; always the court jester, this guy. “Not that you’re gonna find anything you want to listen to.”

A scoff flies out of your mouth before you’ve got a chance to suppress it– he’s gotta know, right? He’s gotta know he can’t just say shit like that to you without you fully activating that I can do anything you can do better–backwards–bleeding–in heels chip in your brain. You’ll show him. There’s nothing that matters to you more in the world right now than showing him.

Though, rattling through his box of tapes, each one bearing a different variation of hot chick and the Devil artwork, you’ve got your work cut out for you. W.A.S.P. Mercyful Fate. Dirty Rotten Imbeciles. Witchfinder General. Some band that’s literally just called Loudness, for Chrissake. As you flick and flick, hope wavering, one catches your eye. There’s a jump in your throat. Scrawled letterhead against a draped satin background. A photo of something you always figured was a headless marble statue, though you could never be sure.

“Why do you have this?”

No response from the corpse of Munson, presumably smothered by his own comforter.

“Hey!” you tap the back of his skull with the plastic casing. One eye appears, glaring up at you from the mattress. Rattle rattle goes the Cocteau Twins tape as you shake it in its case. “Thought this was haunted doll music.”

“Ow.” Munson slowly raises himself onto his elbows, looking like he’s about to start kicking his legs in the air behind him. Twirling his hair around his finger. A grin is edging onto his lips, lips he’s pulling strands of hair away from.

“Sometimes the five finger discount chooses you.”

A feeling akin to heat spreads rights across your breastbone. You want to pry, secretly. You want an explanation. Why would you take that? Do you like me, or something? But asking speaks it into existence, and the insanity is temporary, and you’re so waiting for dawn to break on it so you can resume some hobbled together semblance of a normal existence.

One that doesn’t include Eddie Munson stealing tapes that make you feel ticklish in order to, I don’t know, listen to them on his own so he can feel ticklish too.

He hadn’t listened to it, for the record. Not all the way through, at least.

He’d gotten as far as track two and had to switch it off, ejecting it out of the tape deck of his van with such speed that he was sure it’d shoot clean through the doors in the back. Too close, too real. That had veered a little out of the lane of objectifying you as someone whose crotch he maybe wanted to bury his face in and a little into the lane of you being like, a person. With feelings.

The events of tonight aren’t helping that case. He hoped that lying face down for as long as he possibly could might let them just unfold around him, like he’d roll over and you’d just be gone, no evidence left behind except for your hair in the drain.

But you demand attention. Eddie might be obvious, but you demand attention. His attention, at least.

He grabs the tape from you. “We’re not listenin’ to that bullshit. Try again.”

“Fine!” you snap, but there’s this irritating bemusement dancing around your face.

You lean forward from your spot on the mattress and tug the milk crate between your calves. Now, this is more your lane– in here, Munson’s got the classics. Or as close to the classics as he will deign to recognise. Zeppelin, Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Blue Öyster Cult– the combination of which you have something borderline mean to say about, but you’ll leave that ‘til later. You dig around, and then.

And then. Hello there, handsome.

In your hands are twelve inches of beauty, belonging to a grisly-voiced Tom Waits. Blue Valentine. Straight to the record player with this old bastard.

“People give this record too much shit,” you remark, and Eddie watches you as you tentatively lift a sock off the turntable. Yeah, he’ll cop to it, he doesn’t take such good care of some of his gear, but sometimes his brain behaves like a police scanner. Lotta channels operating at once. Anyway. Doesn’t matter. He’s watching you lift the needle onto the vinyl right now. “People say that this is a mediocre addition to the oeuvre, but what is mediocre about this–!”

Rousing strings seep from the stereo speakers– it’s Waits’ cover of Somewhere from West Side Story. Eddie knows it within the first half a second because, and now he’ll never admit it since he knows you like it so much, he has played this album to death.

Somewhere around the halfway mark of Christmas Card For a Hooker in Minneapolis, the record will skip because it's scratched. Or well-loved, if you ask Eddie.

“Fucking Robert Christgau thinks he’s being funny, doing this, y’know,” you sneer, examining the record sleeve as if you hadn’t seen it thirty thousand times before. Your copy had been lost in the move, among a number of your little sonic secrets. The records you’d keep to listen to by yourself, lying on your bedroom floor. “As if the whole core of Tom Waits’ whole thing isn’t heartache, the sentimentality of what-if. What if we could, what if life wasn’t garbage. That’s sentimentality, right there. It’s West Side Story, I mean, c'mon. Tom Waits is singing to us with his heart on his sleeve, but Christgau wants to suddenly be pedantic, turn around and be like, it’s a vaudeville act! because Waits sometimes also wears his dick on his sleeve.”

It’s a tirade you’ve often repeated to yourself, in your diary or alone in your room, pretending like you’re on a panel, pretending like you’re Susan Sontag and people actually give a shit what you actually have to say. You can’t exactly figure why you’ve said it again now. Maybe because you always found the strings on this song too much to bear without emoting, and you’re already vulnerable and tired.

Munson, for his part, has flipped over onto his back on the mattress. “Who?” he drones.

“Robert Christgau,” you say, momentarily distracted by the way his shirt has rucked up around his belly. No six pack. Some meat there. Tendons, like you’d noticed before. “Just one of the most seminal rock writers of our time.”

You have a well-thumbed copy of his Record Guide: Rock Albums of the Seventies somewhere in a still-unpacked box.

Munson has a happy trail that curls like brushstrokes.

“You fucking trifler,” you grumble.

His face takes on that terrible look that he’d given you in the record store, all enraptured and cloudy at the corners of his eyes. Looking at you from where he leans on his elbows, one knee propped up, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. You want to shove it back down.

And see what he’ll do about that.

“How do you know all this shit?” he asks. Eddie can’t help this. He can’t help that he keeps changing his channel about you (again, police scanner) because one second you’ll be such a massive pain in the ass, then the next, you’ll say something so clever that it’ll make him want to vomit.

“I like music,” you say, flatly. You give it to him straight, because you suddenly feel searched. You clutch Waitsy’s printed face to your chest in an effort of self-defense. “And I like… words. Kind of makes sense that I would enjoy music journalism, if you’re not totally stupid.”

“I’m only a little stupid.”

“Debatable.”

“Wait, but I mean–” and he’s gearing up, because Eddie is about to ask you a real question. Something that’s been on his mind, the more ice shavings he can tear off of you. Considering you, all three dimensions of you– four, if you add in how much you like to punch him and stuff. “You’re like, incredibly smart, right.”

“Yes.”

“Like, perfect grades.”

“Almost. Save Kaminsky, because he can’t teach for shit and he can’t grade for piss.”

“And you’re a cheerleader… like, an important one?”

“Artist formerly known as, but yes.”

“And you’re on the newspaper.”

“Very perceptive, aren't we.”

“You’re also popular– or, yeah, were. You party and stuff. You’re always hanging out with those assholes who don’t do half the shit that you do.”

“Are you closing in on a point here, Munson?”

“How?” he nearly whispers, tone close to dreamy. “You’ve gotta have like, body doubles running around or something because no human person could possibly have that much time in the day. How the fuck did you do all that and also be running around ready to cite, like, an issue of the New Yorker from 1975, and not go completely insane?”

How do you know I’m not completely insane. Because, if he had ever witnessed how Jekyll and Hyde you could get, smacking the shit out of yourself with your hairbrush before you could turn on and be Lacy the cheerleader, Lacy the hot chick, Lacy the playground bitch, he would think you are totally insane.

You answer him half-straight this time.

“Diet pills.”

This makes him sit up, and makes you take a couple of steps back towards the bed. You flop down, tossing the Blue Valentine sleeve to the side.

“Diet pills,” he repeats.

“Oohhh, yes,” you nod, drawing the shape of the cylindrical pills on his comforter with your finger. You don’t really want to look up at him. “Rainbow diet pills. Soon as I hit my menses, I started lifting them from my mom.”

“Isn’t that stuff illegal?” Eddie murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, mimicking your criss-cross applesauce seating position. “It’s basically speed, right?”

“Said the drug dealer,” a snort bursts from you. You’ve moved your fidgeting, starting to braid your half-damp hair. “And it is. It’s fully speed. I was doing baby Valley of the Dolls at age thirteen.”

“That is fucked up, Lacy.”

“Yeah. Well. I'm a little fucked up, or haven't you heard?”

“There’s been rumblings.” Eddie watches your fingers work, weaving locks of hair, one over the other. He’s never braided his hair. He wonders what it might look like. You come to the end and twist it around your finger, at a loss for a hair tie. He sticks a finger under his leather and silver bracelet, digging out an elastic he keeps handy, just in case. There are a lot of times that Eddie needs to yank his hair out of his face just to focus. “Here.”

You mouth a silent thanks and wind the elastic around the tuft of hair. Tom Waits whines away about rain washing memories from the sidewalks and you feel weirdly… at ease. You’ve shared a couple of rainbow diet pills with Nicole and Carol (Tina doesn’t mess with amphetamines, a consummate athlete), but you’ve never had anyone ask you how you’ve managed to be the person you’re pretending to be.

To put the clues together about your impossible do-it-all identity.

And not react in disgust when he finds out you’re fallible.

“Hey,” Eddie says. Something about hearing you rattle off, not sniping for once, saying something real… it eased the heartburn. It has loosened his tension around you, a little. He figures it’s his turn to say something real. “I’m sorry I called you evil.”

Most evil twat at the twat table, you nearly correct. “You had grounds.”

“No, no, I didn’t. You–” this is actually harder for him to get out than he thought, “You’re trying. You’re trying really hard to make the best of a messed up situation, and maybe I should’ve seen that– but I didn’t, because it’s high school, and it’s dumb, and I’m trying too, and we’re all trying, just to survive this messed up microcosm of the world– and– and–" He huffs. It's you gazing at him this time. Eyes sparkling in the half-light cast by his bedside lamp. You're... really pretty. "Jesus, can you just forgive me so I can stop talking?”

“That’s a first,” you say. “Microcosm is a five dollar vocab word, Eddie.”

The way you say his name. “I’m a changed man.”

“Can you use adulation in a sentence next?” Your big grin is devastating.

He leans right into you, dastardly looking suddenly. “Is this provocation getting you hot, you psycho?”

Fingertips braced over your knees, your torso keening just the right amount of degrees to favor him, your stare making an unsubtle job of darting from Eddie’s lashes to his lips to his lashes to his lips…

“Maybe.” A beat. A heavy beat. “What are you gonna do about it?”

In any other world, with any other person, the wanting would completely make sense. Wanting him to say nothing more and just do, to plant a big, ringed hand either side of your hips and pull you into his lap. To crush his lips against yours. To dig his hands into your thighs, to wind your fingers into his hair. To feel the chill of silver traveling up, under the back of your borrowed shirt, to press down onto him and–

Hey Charlie, I almost went crazy-ayzy-ayzy-ayzy-ay–

Eddie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t mean to, but his head snaps away from you just as the record starts to skip.

Then the door slams.

Fuck.

“Ed?”

Wayne.

He totally forgot to formulate that plan.

author's notes: ZOOWEE MAMA HOW WE FEELING ARE YOU STILL WITH ME longest chapter in the fic so far. thanks for keepin up. i love you, let's not waste any time, i don't think i've got a lot of notes for you this go around but i love you - there is nothing more secretly pretentious teenage girl than loving joan didion and susan sontag (i know this because i was her, i am her to this day in fragments) but particularly joan didion on keeping a notebook really sticks to one's ribs. this is not the last joan didion ref in this fic, sorry for being unbearable - stella adler, the mother of method acting - steve harrington being the originator of the nickname lacy is a tribute to him showing signs of being a goofy motherfucker from day dot. please see this post. it was always there, we just couldn't see it in freshman year because of all the hairspray - what's going on with tommy hagan? does anyone really care but me, probably not. but for those that are keeping tick on the timeline (don't)- he got held back senior year, hence why he did not graduate with steve and is in the same grade as eddie, lacy, carol, et al. - WICKED LITTLE TOWN!!!! - the stooges t-shirt is yet another flight of icarus pick; al wears a stooges shirt and i creamed because i love the stooges. let's listen to one of my favorites - loudness are a metal band from osaka, japan! they got signed to an american label in 1985, but how did eddie munson get that tape in hawkins, indiana in 1984? well, my theory is that eddie loves music and jerry from main street vinyl loves benzos. a trade's a trade's a trade. - reader, you are an 18y/o girl who thinks you're better than everyone. of course you're stealing lester bangs' opinions on blue oyster cult and making them your own - and shitting on robert christgau bc you've got a wetty for tom waits - also, here is tom waits' cover of somewhere! my theory on eddie being a tom waits fan-- of course he is, that man looks and sounds like billy goat gruff and is a storytella just like eddie is. he would especially be into his later stuff, like the megalithic orphans album. y'all remember this song from shrek 2 - rainbow diet pills were a real insane thing! this seems more accessible than adderall for the time period, which modern!lacy would certainly have been abusing - for the time that's in it, let me present tom waits' anti-christmas song, christmas card from a hooker in minneapolis my loves, if you've still stuck with me this far, i thank you greatly. i know i'm nutso but i'm having fun writing this fic. i would've been writing it if nobody was reading, but it's a billion times better now that you are. reblogs are always appreciated, and the inbox is always open to chat shit ♡

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder

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joshlmbrt · 3 months

Text

Beautiful Boy. truck driver!dad! e. munson x mom!reader.

w; this one is long - i apologize, r is intended as a female but i try to be nondescript as best as i could ( i use the pronouns she/her BUT you can always change if you’d like <3 ), i don’t know much about soccer so pls ignore how i absolutely demolish it, mentions of cheating - not eddie, jason is mean - as always - but this time it’s uncalled for, chance is non-verbal, little injury, eddie absolutely loses it in front of parents and kids - but it’s needed honestly, eddie’s self-deprecating thoughts, fluff ending

thank you @reidsbtch & @officerrrfriendly for beta reading !!! i love u both.

an; thought about this little idea and i love the idea of truck driver!eddie so im continuing the alt au! i hope you guys love him just as much as i do 🧸 (if u seen the post ab me taking a small break - no u didn’t … jk, after this i won’t post for a while </3 just wanted to post this.)

Eddie hated being around people.

Not just people. But people he knew and went to school with - the ones that called him a freak.

Although, Eddie had found you and he was the first one out of anyone - when he finally put his mind to it and graduated - to get married.

So, everyone who made fun of him, suck it!

“Hun, can you get his duffel bag out, please?” You slip out of the car, opening the back door. Sometimes he missed his van - the one you despised and desperately told him to trade in for this mini van - but then he realizes how much it actually came in handy.

You hold Chance’s hand when he hops out of the car, kneeling down and tying his shoes. Whenever Eddie would tie them, he would immediately walk away and find you, wordlessly holding his foot out - Eddie never got them tight enough. They would always untie in the middle of the game.

“You’re gonna do so good, baby! I just know it.” You switch to tie the other shoe. Eddie circles around the car after locking it, placing a hand on Chance’s head.

“Absolutely. He’s a Munson.” He smirks down at the boy. It took a little time for Eddie to realize that being a part of the Munson Bloodline wasn’t all bad like people had made him believe.

Sometimes they would lose - but in the long run, they somehow always win in the end.

His win - you and Chance.

There’s a whistle that had been directed towards the small group of you, Chance, and himself. It caused Eddie to look up quickly. It wasn’t the type of whistle to catch someone’s attention that you had been friends with for a while - no - it was a whistle little boys did when they seen a woman they thought was pretty.

“Oh, my bad.” The smirk was familiar and made Eddie’s blood run hot.

Jason Carver.

Divorced three times and had two kids (They both are the same age - you can be sure what had happened there and why they both are the same age) . He's married again, but she’s at the car getting the chairs out and small cooler with capri-sun’s for the little tots and beer for Jason.

It wasn’t allowed, but it was Jason Carver, and sometimes someone’s privilege was so blindingly noticeable.

You peek up at Eddie, watching as his jaw clenches. “Eds,” You say. “Eddie,” He finally looks down at you. You shake your head. “He’s not worth it. Don’t waste your breath.”

He can distinctly hear Julia - his new wife who was most likely about to hit him with divorce papers - complain as she shoves the chairs into his arms. His eyes peek up, watching as they both walk away. He only nods, looking back down at you.

“Breathe, Eds.”

And suddenly, he could breathe again. There was a shudder to the first breath he took - but it felt nice. Rather than holding it in anger until he passed out.

You give him a small smile before fixing Chance’s green shirt. You press a quick kiss to his forehead, standing and holding a hand out for him. He immediately slips his hand into yours, following you towards the field.

Eddie glances around, scratching at his neck when he passes a group of people who peaked in high school - better known as the basketball and football team.

There were a couple of them that were fine - not as rude. And he was sure that the whispers he heard wasn’t about him in particular, but there’s some side of him that feels as if the hushed conversation was about him - or worse, his little mini me.

Chance had been quiet. He doesn’t know why or if it will ever change - a part of him hopes it does because he wants to hear his tiny voice. But if it never changed, Eddie would still love him either way.

And if anyone - including a kid - said anything about it, he’s not afraid to go to jail after knocking out some teeth and lose his job over it.

He drops the duffel bag, kneeling down in front of Chance. “Remember what I told you?” He tilts his head. “This is supposed to be fun, just remember that.”

Chance smiles and nods. He looked grown - the tooth that he had lost making a slow comeback.

“Now, go get them, Champ.” He stands, clapping as he runs to meet the rest of his team.

You peek over at him, smiling softly with a fluttering heart and pink cheeks. He peeks over at you, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and crossing his arms over his chest, lifting a brow at you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckles a bit nervously. He still gets a bit nervous when you stare at him like you’re falling in love all over again - which you are, even more than before.

Of course, Eddie’s had relationships - even situationships - and even if they didn’t last that long, he always felt confident in the relationship, never boyish and giggly to where he could swing his feet like a school girl.

But with you, he feels shy, excited, nervous, and loved.

You shrug, slipping your arms around his, resting your chin on his bicep. “I just think you’re so handsome.”

He flushes and suddenly feels hot in the cool air. “Even with this scuff.”

“Especially with the scuff,” You grin. “And I thought I wouldn’t like your haircut, but I do.”

“I’m glad,” He nods, leaning over and pressing one, two, three pecks against your forehead. “It was just getting in the way when I would roll the windows down to smoke,” His scruff tickles against your forehead. “Especially when I would forget or loose the rubber band.”

You nod a bit and lift up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to go get the mini cooler out of the car.”

“I can do that.”

“No, I got it. Stay here and make sure no one gets our spot.”

He smirks. “Yeah, because you’ll end up feeling bad for someone and move.”

You roll your eyes and pat his bottom before walking off. He smiles and turns back, watching as they Hawkins and the other team - Defenders - give high-fives before the game starts.

“So, Munson,” He feels someone brush up against his side, his nails dig into his skin that was covered by his black sweatshirt. “How’s the married life?”

“You mean the same married life I’ve been in for 5 years now?” Eddie rocks on his heels. He doesn’t know if that would help, but he’s hoping it does so he doesn’t cause a scene in front of all the kids and parents who already judge him enough even if he’s not that same, hyperactive person anymore.

“It’s wonderful. How about your third wife? Or… is it the fourth?” He wonders out loud. Jason chuckles, blue eyes turning to stare daggers into the side of his face. “Or do you already have the fourth one picked out?”

“You’re such a-”

“Hi, Mr. Carver,” You cut the conversation short. You didn’t like Jason at all, but it’s better to kill him with kindness than to egg him on with words. “Seems like James and Aj are getting the hang of soccer.”

He watches as you bend at the waist, Eddie moving slightly to cover where ever his eyes might land, pinky circling into the belt loop of your jeans.

Jason rolls his eyes at that, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Learned from the best,” He nods. “What about Chance? Since… Eddie’s gone most of the time.”

“Dustin, Lucas, or Steve comes and practices with him. Jonathan does sometimes as well, and Robin,” You shrug. “He has a bunch of people who help him.”

“I bet it gets lonely sometimes.” Eddie’s ears ring when he hears the words and the whistle blow.

“What?”

“You know… When Eddie’s gone. How many days is he gone?”

You lift a brow, eyes staying on Chance’s jersey. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You step closer when you feel Eddie’s finger tug on the belt loop of your jeans.

“Well… I could keep you company sometime, you know,” He tilts his head. “It’s not okay for Chance to have a father that disappears a couple of days and then pops back up for a day.” There’s a pause. You both were going to ignore him.

Jason is the type of guy who wouldn’t back out of an argument until there’s a physical altercation between him and whoever falls into his trap. Eddie knows this because it’s happened before.

Jason wouldn’t stop pestering him - and the next day after seeing his father on the news for a physical altercation, breaking-an-entering, DUI, and Drug Holding, it only made it worse.

“Looks like you might actually have something to look forward too - seeing your Daddy behind bars when you get locked up with him.”

He can’t remember when his fist went flying and when it broke Jason’s nose, but after that, Jason would say something’s and Eddie would retaliate with words.

Jason would back down because he remembered the pain that the rings had caused and the cracking noise he had heard.

But now, he didn’t seem to remember what that felt like - and maybe he needed to be reminded.

“Maybe that’s why he’s a bit slow.” Especially now when he said those words. Jason Carver officially sealed his fate.

“What did you just say?” Eddie turns to him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Jason shrugs. But he did. “Just… you know, he doesn’t talk. He’s not that smart with his-”

“You don't want to finish that sentence, Carver,” Eddie grits out. There’s a hot flash that keeps going down his whole body, the feeling of breaking that nose again, ruining the nose job he had to have because of his rings. “You remember what happened before. I’d hate to ruin the nose job you had to have in 10th grade. Then you’d have to spend another thousand just to get it busted again.”

Jason’s brows shoot up, a small teasing smirk on his face. He notices some parents’ eyes looking at them. Eddie’s voice had raised a smidge and he didn’t even notice.

“Is that a threat, Munson?”

“Try promise, Carver,” His eyes narrow at him. “You peaked in high school and can’t let it go. You even work there.”

Jason’s jaw clenches at that. “I didn’t-”

“You did,” Eddie cuts him off. There’s a small smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips knowing he’s got under his skin now. “You just don’t want to admit it. And it’s honestly sad. So, what you’re going to do right now is turn around, walk away from my wife, and stop talking about my son. Because it won’t be pretty if you don’t.”

“Eddie.” Your hand grips his arm. He looks at you and shakes his head before looking at Jason.

Jason clicks his tongue, darting his eyes out at the field as he nods a bit. You look between the two. “Alright… I’ll let you win this one,” He hums, hands on his hips. “Because at least my kid isn’t a freak.”

Eddie flinches at the word, fist clenching at the usage and who it was shot at. He wouldn’t have minded if it was meant towards himself, but his kid? One who couldn’t even defend himself?

His hands land on his chest, pushing him away. Jason stumbles on his Nike’s. “Carver, I mean it. Walk away before you say something you’ll regret. I’m so close to beating you into the ground.”

Jason stares at him and he believes him. Eddie’s staring at him with eyes that were dark, his hands balled into fists at his side - so tight that his knuckles were white.

Jason’s eyes glances over at you. And just because he needs to get in the last words so his ego isn’t hurt and knocked down a couple of steps, “Call me if you ever get lonely, babygirl.” His lips pucker and smack together before he gives Eddie one last grin, turning around.

Eddie almost swings at the back of his head to knock him off guard, his arm raising. You grab his arm, pulling it down quickly. “Not worth it,” You say, hand resting between his shoulder blades. “He’s not worth going to jail, Eds.”

Eddie watches as he makes his way towards Julia, plopping down into his fold out chair. He grabs the can, taking a gulp and wiping at the corner of his mouth where some had slipped. His blue eyes turn and meet Eddie’s, a small smile that curls at his lips.

“Just one punch?”

“No,” You turn him towards you. “He’s just trying to get a raise out of you and it’s working - don’t let him win this time like he always does.”

Eddie glances around, eyes meeting with some of the parents that quickly look away. His eyes then connect with yours and suddenly he feels his inside soften and his face slowly release its tension, the lines disappearing from his face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

He opens his mouth but is cut off by the whistle, eyes cutting over to the field. He sees number 8 sitting on the ground, his heart dropping.

His mind was wondering else where and his son is hurt.

He’s walking out onto the field before his mind even registers what his feet are doing and kneeling down. Chance had tears rolling down his cheeks, his small hands covering his knee.

“Hey, Champ,” His heart breaks at the sight of his watery eyes when they quickly dart up at him before looking back down at his hands. He flinches when he feels your hand on his back, rubbing up and down. “Can mommy and I take a look?” He whispers.

He feels a bit claustrophobic when he feels the two coaches looming over his shoulders along with the small kids staring at him.

Chance nods slightly, removing his hands from his knee. Eddie’s hand reaches out and holds his leg, looking at the scratches. “Looks like you just need a quick wipe and bandaid.”

Chance sniffs and slowly stands, bending his leg.

“You wanna wait til we get home? I accidentally forgot the first aid at home.” The little boy nods, sniffling again.

Eddie reaches up and wipes away his tears softly. “You’re so brave. I’m proud of you.”

This causes Chance to smile, cheeks lifting a bit. Eddie gives him a swift peck to the top of his head before standing. “Go get ‘em.” Chance nods quickly.

Eddie grabs your hand, walking off the field and standing on the sidelines again. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Eds?” He hums a bit. “I love you.”

He smiles a bit, nodding. “I love you.”

⭒

Eddie plops down on the bed, rubbing at his face. Chance’s knee was taken care of, a fresh shower, some nuggets, then he was out like a light when his little head hit the pillow.

Eddie feels like he could pass out when his own head hits the pillow, but there’s a feeling that keeps tugging at his chest.

He doesn’t know if it’s anger, sadness, or confusion.

anger because he couldn’t put Jason Carver into place like he absolutely wanted to. Anger because he missed half of Chance’s game because of him.

Sadness because Chance has to deal with people already laughing at him - it’s much worse when a grown up does it.

Confusion because he doesn’t know what he did in wrong his life to deserve what people say about him and his family.

Eddie always felt like he was nice enough - not judging others and including them in a conversation when he felt as if they weren’t being heard or he noticed the look on their face when they felt left out of the conversation.

And there’s a constant nagging in his mind that he always hears in his subconscious.

You’re not cut out to be a father - you’re going to go downhill soon.

And the worse part about it, he actually believes he’s going to go down hill. His father once was a nice man, caring. Then Wayne said when his mom got sick, he turned bitter and mean.

And the worse part about that was she got sick when she was pregnant with Eddie. So that bitterness was because of Eddie.

Edward Munson - the person who caused people to feel bitter when he showed his face. The person who only seemed to give people bad luck when he showed up.

Sarah, his mother who was a soft person with kind words, should’ve saved herself. Not him. She should be here. Then maybe his dad would’ve been okay.

Everyone would’ve been okay.

“Babe?” He blinks, glancing at you. He didn’t realize that you had finished getting ready for bed and had snuggled under the covers. He hums slightly. You frown, lifting your hand and wiping at the tears that he didn’t realize had fallen.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on in your mind?” Your thumb traces over his cheekbone. You pay attention to the scar he has nearing his eye. He shakes his head a bit, lip quivering.

He’s afraid that if he talks, it will cause him to sob, then if he sobs, he’ll wake up Chance. He’s already had a rough day today and he needed his sleep.

You frown and move closer to him, pressing a kiss next to his eye, they flutter closer. “Whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t true,” You whisper. “I know you and I know that you’re very hard on yourself - and you shouldn’t be. You know why?”

He turns his head to stare at you, shaking his head a bit.

Your hand splays out against his cheek. “Because you, Eddie, are the absolute best person I know with the biggest heart. And I’m so proud of how far you’ve come and achieved.”

He smiles, although it’s a bit shaky. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You shrug, nudging your nose against his softly. “Just being the absolute best version of you.”

🎸 eddie tags; @lavendermunson, @hazydespair, @whisperingwillowxox

thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, requests, likes, & feedback is always welcomed, encouraged, & deeply appreciated. 🧸

#cherry writes ✿#dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn x reader

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rosie-writings · 2 months

Text

Driven by Holy Force

Summary: You had been friends with Sam and Colby since middle school, and it took the success of both of your channels for you to realize that only Sam could satisfy you.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Drunken sex (consentual), Sam x Reader smut, Lovelorn Bitter-sweetness all around— I’m not responsible for the fuzzy feels

Words: 5.6k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Mine’ by Sleep Token

The last time I stepped foot in this club, I was a shaking horrifyingly new green bean to the party space full of established content creators.

Now I couldn’t keep up with the amount of greetings and glances that shot my way. I kept a smile pulled at my painted lips even though I shook to my core. My heart raced under my ribs, and I desperately needed a drink in my hands to hide behind. I needed an anchor, I needed a place to stay comfortable and out of the spotlight tonight, I needed someone—to find something—

Maybe it had been months now—years—since I gained my own separate platform and business apart from my best friends, but I still felt dependent on them. I remember Sam and Colby posting these dumb videos back in high school and I roasted their asses for being dipshits on the internet.

I guess it paid off considering the room they gave to me in their new house. My room in their new house was bigger than my downtown apartment.

When they told me they were moving to LA, I remember standing shell shocked with questions. For how long? Why? Will I see them again—And then they asked me to live with them.

How much audacity did two boys have in order to ask the younger girl who followed them around like a lost puppy more often than not to move across the country with them?

They didn’t ask without giving me the ultimatum that I had to focus on my own content and actually post a video more often than every six months. I agreed because who wouldn’t try it out at least once? I was only nineteen so if it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t have wasted precious time. This was the time to bulldoze my way through questionable opportunities. Technically we were all kids still; they were 21, nearly 22, and I was told that girls’ brains don’t turn on until they are 24 and boys’ brains don’t turn on period.

I just didn’t expect for my channel to blow up alongside them. If they hit a milestone, I hit it six months later.

Now I was 24. They were 27. And life was still on an incline.

Everyday I was stunned by the achievements I somehow made. Perhaps authenticity and the exploitment of embarrassing universal experiences were things people my age really did want. I grew up imagining living the perfect life alongside the perfectly polished A list celebrities. I was nowhere near that and somehow, I had it so much better.

The major issue that I collided head on going 120 miles per hour wasn’t a massive internet scandal like I expected, but it was the way my stomach flipped when Sam looked at me from across the room.

Call it an overworked brain, call it a lack of sleep, or call it a lovelorn heart that was too afraid of being thrown away; whatever it was, it was out for blood. It made home in the fascia of my body.

God, nothing came of us in our past lives. Not when we found each other between classes in middle school. Not when we skipped school and whispered in the dark alleys of abandoned buildings. Not even when we woke up under the same roof like we always wanted. It was now. Now after the success, after the hard work.

We were stable.

Suddenly I had time. Suddenly I had some leeway where if something blew up in flames, I would be alright.

Now I was feeling risky, and somehow my stomach caught onto it.

”Oh my god, finally.” I heard the voice pierce through the thoughts I couldn’t shake myself. I turned to a red drink pressed to my nose. I grabbed it before it spilled down my front. “She wins a Streamy and suddenly is fashionably late.” I burst out laughing and hid my blush with my hand.

”Tara, shut the hell up.” She grabbed my wrist and that was when I found my anchor.

She led me to the table our friends parked at, and I sucked down the drink by the time we greeted each other. Two shots down and we gossiped like it was the end of the world. It felt like it. The colors in the dark room illuminated their eyes and sparkles in their eye make up, and I wondered if every night would feel like this as long as they were around.

It took years, but here I was finally surrounded by girls who accepted me, who I didn’t need to pretend around.

The problem was, they saw right through me.

“Oh my god!” Vereena gasped and raised her hand towards me. I turned to her in expectation. “I forgot to say—I saw you and Sam out on what, like Tuesday night or something?” My face flared at the name and my heart skipped a beat because yeah, we did do something on Tuesday night. To be fair, Colby was stressed sick and lying in bed all night trying to schedule meetings. He told us to leave him the fuck alone because if we stayed in the house, we all knew we would coax him into having fun like swimming in the pool at 2am in the dead of winter.

”You—What?” I laughed. “Stalking me, are you?”

“Me and Tara literally were meeting up,” she said as she lifted her hand to her. Tara laughed as she agreed with her and shook her head to intervene. “We stopped at the Trader Joe’s right there on the—the—and you guys were—“

”She’s right, I totally forgot. We got stuff for an apartment clean out night, and you and Sam were getting dinner or something.” I glared at Tara for egging this on.

”Colby needed us out of the house so we just got some food before we saw some friends—Why are you weaponizing this?”

”I’m not weaponizing,” she burst out laughing. “I’m just saying what a coincidence.” That toothy smirk and interlaced fingers made my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“You’re an idiot. We literally aren’t—“

“No one said anything about dating,” Tara said as she sipped her drink with raised brows. “Why did Colby even need you gone?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, Tar—“

“Uh no?” I laughed. “He was literally freaking out about getting shit done, I don’t fucking know—“

“Oh!” Tara gasped. “Speaking of—“

I stood straight as I felt arms around me. They came from around my neck and rested in front of me, face pressed against mine.

“Speaking of? What the hell does that mean?” Sam’s voice is loud in my ear and I drowned in it.

“Oh you know, just talking about Colby’s meltdown earlier this week,” Tara replied.

“Whoa, excuse me,” he said from behind Tara. She looked back at him with a laugh. “I literally was actually working unlike these bafoons.”

Good thing Sam pulled away and hugged the other girls at the table or else I would have collapsed.

“Oh so what you're saying is you kicked them out so they could go on a date, right?”

“What—“ Colby asked, completely taken off guard. “No? They got dinner then grabbed stuff for us to watch movies and actually chill. What do you mean date?”

“Oh my god Tara, you’re being weird,” I said, but as I looked at her, she shook her head with that pesky smile. I decided to interrogate her sometime before the night was over.

“How was last night?” Sam asked as he made his way back to me. I stayed with my best friend overnight after the party at her house because she was utterly blacked out. I was as well—don’t get me wrong—but she had a different kind of black out in her system.

“It was great, I don’t remember anything.”

“Jesus fuck,” he laughed. “At least you’re here in one piece—“ I didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed up and down my body. “—and she’s not, like, dead, yeah?”

“Yeah Sam, literally—I think we slept all day and Tara was the one who called us both over and over to make sure we were up before everyone came to get us ready.”

“You look really nice,” he said immediately after. My smile dropped.

“Thanks, you do too.”

And he pulled his hand away from my back; his palm grazed my arm as he stepped back. I didn’t realize he even held me there.

“I’m getting drinks, do you want something?”

“Yeah, whatever is fine.” He nodded and took other people’s drink orders before retreating to the bar.

I stood in disbelief that Tara said that. To Colby’s face as well. Now I retraced every step I took with Sam; perhaps it could have been taken like we were dating.

But we all knew we weren’t. We had been best friends since middle school. It was clear; none of us liked each other like that. That was how we stayed together for so long without heartbreak or problems.

So I wouldn’t allow it to be a problem, no, this feeling in my stomach might have confirmed Tara’s words, but it didn’t matter.

The words would never leave my mouth.

Colby caught himself in conversation a few tables over, and I stayed with Tara and our friends at the table for only a few more moments until Sam came back and slid me a drink.

Of course it was the drink I always ordered for myself. I didn’t have to ask for it anymore; obviously he had known it forever now. Tara eyed the drink, my face, the drink…

Sam left without a word and mingled with the same group Colby was in.

It got out of hand now, I knew, and Tara’s words made it much more tangible than it had to be. No one had said anything to my face—nor their faces—yet, and for it to happen so suddenly and during a time of weakness nearly broke me.

But how could I not let my body not react when I looked up and saw Sam as he spoke and laughed with friends? He looked too good tonight, he always did, but I never chalked it up to be this kind of good. His glasses, his hair, his face; so familiar but so different. Then his eyes caught mine. Fuck. Too pretty, too blue in the lights; his head leaned to the side in question.

I hardly finished two drinks but they had to have done something to me because what were these thoughts?

“You good?” I felt a hand on my arm.

“Totally! I was thinking that I’m bored,” I said as I looked at the girls.

“We’re waiting for a couple more then we were going to party, I promise!”

“You would be pregaming at the game wouldn’t you?” Vereena jeered, and while Tara glared at her, I laughed and grabbed my drink.

“When we’re ready, come and get me.”

“Sure thing!”

Who else was I to go to than the boys?

But Sam turned around and walked towards me before he noticed I was headed to them. I paused, and when he turned, he gasped and halted right in front of me.

“Oh hi,” he said quickly. “I was about to go so hi to some people, but—“

“Alright, I was just—“

“It’s fine, I haven’t seen you for like two days.” His arm linked around my neck and I rolled my eyes.

“Please, it was a night.”

“In the morning it will be two days.”

“Well, aren't you keeping track.”

“No,” he dragged out bashfully. We walked haphazardly from our friends and deeper into the club where the lights were far and few between and the music was louder until I felt it reverberating my teeth.

“Tara said I fuck ton,” he laughed.

“What are you talking about?” I shouted over the music. We caved into each other, my hand linked with his that was over my shoulder.

“She made fun of us being on a date right in front of Colby.” I looked at him with crazy eyes.

“What are you talking about? So we were on a date?” THat was when he smiled so wide his face flushed.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Nothing?” I gasped. “I mean, I don’t blame her, it was feeling kind of date-ish.”

“If you think that was a date then maybe you need to be shown what a real one is.” We stopped walking and I looked back at him with a smile fallen face.

“And you would be the one to show me?”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to have this discussion.” His smile was long gone as well. We faced each other, so close that with one deep breath we would touch.

“I didn’t realize there was a discussion we needed to have.” He shook his head in defeat.

He took a deep breath then stepped away.

“Sam—“

“I don’t—You don’t—“

“I know,” I said firmly without breaking eye contact. “I know.” I repeated with more assurance than I ever felt before.

A second.

Another.

He inched closer.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile and he didn’t look away. I swallowed down nothing—my tongue was so dry—but I looked back at him nonetheless. And then his hand came up and touched my face as if he couldn’t resist it. My hand held his wrist just in case he was an idiot and pulled away.

“You’re so dumb, such an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot?” I gasped. “You are! You’re the one who won’t look away from me and then have the audacity to call me an idiot when you want to kiss me so bad.” That cracked a small smile from him.

“No, I mean, in all places, you decide to let me kiss you for the first time in a dark club away from all our friends?”

“God, and we aren’t even drunk. What is wrong with us?”

He smiled widely before he grabbed my face with two hands and pulled me into a kiss.

Of course I held onto both of his wrists now—just in case he was an idiot for a second time since everyone knew he was—but this only caused him to step deeper into me and knock me off balance. I gasped against him only for his tongue to divide my lips and taste what was behind.

“Sam,” I gasped his name against his mouth and he only hummed into me. One of his hands fell down and held my waist—tugging, grasping for something—and my arm wrapped around his neck. Fuck, he couldn’t get close enough to me.

My heart stopped the second he moaned into me. I could barely hear it, but I felt it in my mouth, on his skin. He kissed me like he meant it. I would taste him, feel it for days, and even if I wanted to forget, I knew the numbness of my tongue would itch for more and more—

“Oh my god—“ I leapt from him faster than how this all started. He too looked back to the voice, Tara, and he smiled widely. “I fucking knew it you motherfuckers, gaslighters if I’ve ever known them, and you damn well know I do—“

“Tara, chill,” I laughed. “If it makes you feel better, it was the first time that happened.”

She gasped with wide eyes.

“ShIt, sorry I—“

“You’re fine,” Sam laughed. His fingers tangled with mine. “We were just coming back, actually.”

“We were?” I whispered as we followed Tara back to the tables.

“Shit,” he expelled and looked at me with a look I hadn’t seen from those familiar eyes. “What else did you want from me?”

I looked straight ahead even though I knew his eyes were hooked on me.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Whatever—Whatever you could think of I guess.” He sucked in a breath and neither of us said a word until we joined with our friends again.

His grip on my hand tightened exponentially.

“Someone get these jackasses more drinks since they clearly haven’t had enough to chill,” Tara said. I glared at her and Sam walked up to Colby. My heart was in my throat at that point. There was something about Tara spilling the beans to our friends about our kiss mixed with the sight of Colby locking eyes with mine and them slowly widening when he realized.

His lips ever so slowly parted and he smiled with a shaking of the head.

“Fucking knew it,” he said. I didn’t hear him, but I read his lips and Sam shoved him back as he walked past him for a drink. Colby and I stepped closer together as a smile pulled at my mouth and he laughed loudly. “You are so fucking dumb,” he laughed still, and his hands raised in self defense as I wanted at him.

“I’m not dumb; he is.”

“Do you know how hard it is to read you? You literally say and do four different things. You had the poor man pining for years.”

“And I was supposed to know that? Maybe if he just sucked it up and kissed me—“

“Jesus fuck, just blame everything on me, what don’t you? If you want me to kiss you that bad—“

I choked on myself as Sam grabbed me and kissed me there in front of everyone. I swore I combusted the moment I heard my friends get loud, and Sam smiled into this kiss. Of course I pushed him off way too fast for him, but he accepted it.

He didn’t let go of my hand.

He didn’t let go of it all night.

We partied, drank, sang, and talked until we forgot time existed. I couldn’t get this fuzzy ringing out of my head either. I did shots with the girls, Sam got me another drink, and if fourteen year old me knew where I was that night, she probably would have spontaneously combusted.

Because Sam? No way.

No fucking way.

But I kissed him, tasted him, and drank with him and sat on his lap like it had been normal for years.

Perhaps it should have been

I grew antsy.

I couldn’t think straight and I toppled over my shoes. When did they get so tall? And when did it get cold?

We were outside, we were on our way home. Not home. Colby spoke to Sam and it felt like they schemed something behind my back, they always did that, didn’t they? Sam shook his head and I was about to ask him what was up until Colby slipped him the hotel room key card.

Oh.

That’s what was going on.

And he got into a separate Uber.

Sam and I were alone.

No amount of training could have gotten my heart strong enough to handle this night. I hoped the Uber driver didn’t hear its pattering in its place, if it was even there anymore.

Sam’s arm was behind me and I leaned into him; I didn’t know what to say because then the entire world could hear. Suddenly it was as if every word I could possibly say was for Sam and Sam’s ears only.

His voice broke a thank you as we left. Thank god whatever hotel they booked for tonight was close to the club. Did that mean Colby went home? No, he got into that Uber, right. And he followed two girls in, there was a fourth person I thought. I didn’t remember shit—

The closing of the hotel room silenced my busy brain.

Sam pinned me to the door and it was all blood and guts from there.

I memorized the way he tasted as if to make up for lost time, and his hands did the same on my skin. I was so cold, so hot at the same time that he warmed me but sent chills down every inch.

”Holy shit, you’ve driven me so fucking crazy for so long. I didn’t think this—“ Sam couldn’t waste another second of empty air.

A noise yanked from the back of my throat when his arm latched under my leg and pulled it up. My jaw dropped when he rolled his hips into mine and I could have blacked out. Maybe it was the alcohol that amplified my senses, but either way Sam’s touch was enough for me to lose it.

”Can—Can feel you through your jeans,” I whined. I didn’t know what I said, I just needed.

”Yeah baby? I won’t—fuck—won’t even make it to the bed—“

”Need you now.”

He watched me intently when his hand slipped down and palmed at my underwear. I flinched because they must have been disgusting after so long—

He had a visceral reaction.

His moans cut straight to where he touched me, and I pulled him closer, closer.

”Please.”

”No need to beg.” His voice was gentle.

Fingers moved my underwear to the side and he teased me once as if to ready me, but there was no use.

”Holy shit,” he moaned yet again when two fingers immediately slipped into me. “You’ve wanted it for so long, haven’t you? You’re already ready.”

”I thought you were going to touch me after you kissed me the first time.” He choked a laugh.

”Yeah and then make not only our first kiss but our first time together be in a club? Absolutely not.”

”Oh so you planned to torture me like this?”

“I mean look at you; you’re writhing for me like I’m never going to touch you.”

”Just please—“ My head hit the door when he furiously tapped the spot inside of me. The leg that supported me caved, and he pinned me harder to the door. And that was when his mouth latched to my skin. I didn’t care. I wanted to wake up and see the red angry bruises from the night before.

Wanted the world to see them.

”Sam, I swear to god, just get inside of me.”

”Fuck,” he groaned against my skin. “Okay, okay.”

“Holy shit—Oh fuck oh fuck,” I gasped in anticipation. He moaned as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans and didn’t waste any time removing any of our clothes—

I held my breath when he filled me to the brim. He paused. I felt his breath stop as well. My entire body shook with the adrenaline that he caused, and for a second I wondered if some people were genuinely made for others.

“Shit, look at me, look at me,” he said. His voice had been deathly quiet since the moment we stepped foot behind this door. His hand latched to my throat and pushed it to the wall. And as he stared deep in my eyes like he did at the club when he kissed me for the first time, he thrusted into me once, twice—

I had to close my eyes or else he would have killed me.

“Fuck! Sam please just—You feel—“

“Feel so fucking good, oh my god,” he finally moaned louder. His head tossed back. My hand caved over his hand that pinned down my waist tightly. He sped up, everything felt faster and faster, more intense.

“Fuck me, oh god, fuck me Sam. I need you so hard—“

“I know, baby, I know.” He gasped under his breath as he gained better leverage of my leg that he held over his elbow.

This time, he knocked the breath out of me.

“Holy fuck—yes, yes, yes,” I moaned and more inaudible words poured from me. I was inconsolable. I couldn’t control anything that came from my mouth anymore.

And I thought I was the one we had to worry about being too loud; his moans mixed with mine in the hot air between us, and I swallowed them down with every distracted and messy kiss.

”You—Ugh,” he groaned loudly and tossed his head back. I watched in disbelief as that beautiful face twisted with a pleasure I could only imagine before. “I’m so obsessed with you holy shit.”

”Bed, please, need it hard.”

”Okay—“ I bit my lip to distract myself from the empty feeling when he pulled out of me. His hands grabbed me with a fervor they never had and I gave him control as he yanked me around and towards the unused bed.

I knew he tried to throw me down, but I didn’t let go of him and forced him down on top of me. I caught him in a kiss, and a whine broke from him as if he never thought he could touch me like this. I knew. I could tell; I could read him like a child’s book.

“Off,” he demanded, and that was all it took. I helped him yank off the black tank that was a bit too tight already. I didn’t dare try to help him with my skirt; clearly he wanted all of me to undress, to undo, by himself.

As he took off my clothes, he kissed down my body, and I scooted back and properly lay on the pillows. I needed some kind of support—another kind of anchor—because this new side of Sam was something I almost didn’t handle. He almost shot me through the atmosphere with an adrenaline fueled pleasure that was so foreign to me.

“Taste so good,” he quietly hummed in between kisses.

”Haven’t really tasted me yet,” I gasped with my hands tangled in his hair. He’s hooked his head as his fingers slid my underwear off completely.

“Just your skin is enough—“

But it wasn’t all.

I had to bite the back of my hand when his tongue pressed against me. One of his hands held down my hips as the other shoved a thigh back.

“Sam—“ I cried and he moaned against me and tasted me, pleased me, more and more. It was like he couldn’t get enough; I couldn’t get enough, and he needed to give me everything until I was satisfied.

Could I ever be satisfied by him? I was selfish. I needed all of him all the time forever, maybe then I would be satisfied.

”Ugh! Oh my god, please,” I broke.

”Please what?” Fuck that sweet voice. Maybe he would never get the chance to satisfy me, he would kill me first. His finger tips ever so lightly swirled against me where his tongue made disgustingly wet, and his eyes flashed up at me with a look that made me forget every word I learned.

”Please—Hands, I need you—“

”I know that, how do you want me?”

”Fuck—You know!”

”Want you to tell me.” Another whine escaped me as he kitten-licked me once, twice. “Say it.”

”Fingers! I need your fingers inside me, please. Finger me and—oh fuck!” It was incredibly slow, I know that, but the intensity washed over me like a wildfire when two fingers pushed inside. The confidence in his touches alone were what sent me spiraling.

”And what?” Another noise came from me. I didn’t know where that gentle confidence came from. Did his other girlfriends get this? What about me? Mine. He was mine now and no one else’s.

”Need your tongue, please. Put your mouth on me.” The sentence still hung in the air when he dived back into me. This time he used his arm against my lower stomach to pin me down from writhing. I don’t remember what I said; I couldn’t hear the words that poured from my aching throat. All I knew was that it was enough for him to keep going and going until tears blurred my vision. “Sam, please. Please, I‘m—“

”You what, baby?” That fucking teasing.

”I’m going to cum.”

”Oh,” he said as if he didn’t already know that. And he sat up to his knees; his eyes watched his hand as it lazily fell down the work he did on me.

”No please! I want—“‘

“I know it feels good,” he cut me off. “But I want things too and if I’m not inside of you again literally this second I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Something nasty in me wanted to find out what he would do.

”Then hurry.” I sat up and fumbled with the top two buttons of his shirt so that I could at least slip it off his head, and he worked his jeans off.

”Holy fuck just—oh god—just stop,” he demanded and grabbed my wrist. “Lay down.”

“Sam, come on,” I whined through gritted teeth.

Finally he kicked his jeans and underwear to the floor.

”The amount of times I’ve imagined you in my bed is—is unreal,” he said quietly as he crawled over me. My stomach dropped.

”Then why did you have so many girls?” A disgusted laugh broke from his mouth.

“‘Cause you didn’t want me—at least I thought. And how was I supposed to ruin what we had?”

“You wouldn’t have,” I gasped as he slid teased me up and down with his tip. My head shoved deepening into the pillows and I needed a break from watching him or else I would have passed out.

“I didn’t know.”

“But how?”

“How didn’t you?” The grit in his voice tied my throat in a knot and he firmly pushed into me. He didn’t give me any room to run away—not like I would have—but he pinned my thighs back. I had to take what he gave me. Good thing I wanted nothing less.

��How didn’t you?” I shouted back.

That was when he wrapped his hand around my throat and actually pinned me down. My hand held onto his wrist and he came nose to nose with me.

”Wanted you so bad—holy shit—wanted you for so long—“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence, he needed his mouth on mine. I drank him down like he was the last water on earth and I hadn’t drank in weeks. He tasted like heaven in my mouth, and I wished I could feel more and more of him. I knew him all too well, and now I wanted to know him in every way physically possible.

“You don’t even know,” he laughed when he pulled away. A gasp shoved out of me when he linked my leg over his arm. I tried to listen to him, but how could I when he was so infinitely deep in me I didn’t have any more capacity for words. “Literally—I literally imagined it was you when I kissed other girls. Pretended I fucked you and not them. Fuck, it was never enough.”

”Sam,” I gasped at the confession. What was I supposed to say to that? The tears really never cleared up. Not with the unreal stimulation, not with the desperate confessions falling off his sweet tongue. “Wanted you. I was so mad—“ He cut me off with more kisses.

There was enough time to talk later. Right now he decided he needed to kiss it all away and make up for what we lost.

I lost track of time. Any amount could have passed and it would have felt the same. Maybe he fucked me so hard I would feel him for days, but never would this feel like only that. He was more than that, and I should have accepted it long ago. It must have always been there, because two years of living together wouldn’t have brought these feelings, no. I must have wanted him before. Before everything.

“Oh my god,” he gasped for breath. “I love you so much, shit I love you.”

”I love you too, you know I have.” He nodded.

”So close,” he whispered this time. That haze in his eyes gave it away.

“I know, inside of me. I need your cum in me.”

”Are—fuck—Are you sure? You—You aren’t on birth control—“

“I don't care, I'll deal with that later.”

“Fuck, you’re really going to kill me, aren’t you?” I couldn’t say anything else, and I smiled from the over abundance of butterflies in my stomach from his words.

”Fuck—I’m coming,” I gasped. I don’t know where it came from. It was like only he had an on and off switch for me.

”Yeah? With me then, baby.”

I couldn’t even kiss him as I hit my high. It more so grabbed me by the throat and had a death wish for me. We moaned into open mouthed kisses; clearly he was too overcome to kiss me back as well. I held onto him like I was scared he would fall away from me, but how could that ever happen?

He got even closer to me, and pushed me down as tightly as he could. My hand tangled in his hair, nails leave their marks on his skin.

I wanted to live in this silence between us; make it my permanent home. There was nowhere else I wanted to be, and there was no more longing in my tired heart. How stupid I felt. Hopefully he felt the same.

Kisses trailed up my neck. I was lost in the feeling of his gentle touches across my skin. Thankfully he didn’t make a move to get off of me because I didn’t have the strength to fight him to stay down on me.

And I don’t know what came over me, the words just tumbled out.

"I don't think I can settle with just dating you," I mumbled. Sam stared back at me in anticipation. My heart skipped beats like a rock across the top of slick still water.

"What are you saying?" His words were careful.

"Even if we got married, calling you my husband wouldn't amount to what you mean to me, what you are to me."

"Not even marriage is good enough for you," he sighed. I laughed at his artificial annoyance. "Of course I'd be stuck with the one insatiable person alive."

I grabbed his face with my hands.

"You're the only one who's satiated me. What we are doesn’t. The only way I'd be satiated without you deep inside me is the promise that we would be together even after this lifetime." I don’t think he blinked. He stared at me, lips parted with bated breath. Even as we laid connected still, and it was so far past the point of being disgusting, he pushed against me harder.

"Fuck, you’re the beginning and end of me."

A/N: Requests are open

Love, Rosie

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #minors dni #18+ only

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londonharrington · 2 years

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i think he knows | eddie munson x fem!reader

Y/N likes Eddie. Eddie likes Y/N. Dustin doesn’t like what is happening.

notes: based on a request. henderson!reader. eddie being a cutie. dustin being annoying. part 2: paper rings

i want you, bless my soul, and i ain't gotta tell him, i think he knows

It was 7:00 pm. Y/N leaned on her car door as she waited for Dustin and Mike to come out of their Hellfire session. She thought that they’re running late again.

To be honest, the main reason why Y/N continues to volunteer to pick Dustin and his friends up at this time of night was because of Eddie Munson.

Eddie freaking Munson. Where does she begin? Despite all of the mean and spiteful things being said to him, all Y/N can see was the nice things about him. His beautiful brown eyes, unruly long hair that seems to be all over the place, his contagious laugh, and his disregard for society’s norms, which made him one hundred times more attractive to Y/N.

Suddenly, she heard loud laughing near the doors. She looked up and saw Dustin, Mike, Eddie, along with their fellow clubmates getting out of the campus premises, nudging one another whilst walking.

“Hey, Y/N! You’ve been here a while?” Dustin shouted, running up to his sister.

“No, I’ve been here for five minutes only, Dusty,” she replied, messing up his hair in the process.

“Dusty, huh?” somebody suddenly chided. Y/N was about to reply when she saw it was Eddie. Suddenly, she forgot how to speak and she started sweating profusely.

Little did she know, Eddie was feeling the same exact thing. He was sweating really hard and was trying to keep his cool in front of Y/N.

He liked her ever since they were in middle school, when Y/N chased around some of Eddie’s bullies with a baseball bat for saying stupid shit about Eddie. From then on he was hooked on her.

Eddie always struggled to be calm and keep his chill around Y/N. Always wanting to just hug her and repeatedly kiss her all over her beautiful face. But of course he needed to restraint himself. So he had to settle in longing glances and shy little smiled in passing.

Things got better in Eddie’s favor when Dustin joined Hellfire. Eddie finally had a wingman to help him with Y/N. But Dustin ultimately refused. Said that she’s way out of his league or some type of bullshit just to keep him away from Y/N.

“Can we go to dinner now?” Dustin suddenly asked, not paying attention to Eddie.

“Sure. Mike, you’re coming with us, right?” Y/N asked as Mike nodded. “How about you Eddie? Do you want to join us?”

Y/N did not know where this newfound confidence of asking him to dinner came from but she glad it suddenly came.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he also nodded his head repeatedly, making Y/N laugh as Dustin just sighed.

“I call shotgun!” Eddie suddenly shouted as he pushed Dustin to the side, leaving the boy confused and making Y/N laugh even more. Dustin flipped Eddie the bird as he got into the backseat along with Mike.

♡ ♡ ♡

“And he got nightmares for the entire week after watching The Shining!” Y/N exclaimed as Eddie and Mike laughed while Dustin just grumbled.

The four of them were done with dinner and the topic of conversation the four of them had was Dustin.

Dustin and Mike continued walking as Eddie stopped Y/N, “Hey, we should do this again sometime. You know, just the two of us,”

“Asking me on a date, Eddie?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve liked you since middle school. I even asked Dustin to set me up with you! I mean he said no,” he said laughing.

“That piece of shit. He knows I like you too. Wonder why he didn’t say anything,” Y/N said, grabbing a pen from her pocket as she grabbed Eddie’s hand, writing her number, “But I agree, we should do this again some time. Call me so we can plan this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, feeling all flustered.

Dustin looked at the window and saw the two talking. He shouted for the two to get in the car since he need to use the bathroom. The two rushed back as Dustin shook his head with a little smile on his face.

With any luck, Eddie will become Dustin’s brother-in-law. He just needs to wait.

♡ ♡ ♡

taglist in the reblog

add yourself to my taglist

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things imagine #st4 imagine

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neil-writes-fics · 3 months

Text

My Adoring Phantom - Part 1

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ on repeat: Doomsday - Lizzy McAlpine

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 1,232

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ trigger warnings: death, lowkey stalking

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: Reader dies and meets Wally + the rest of them

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

August 9th, 2012. First day of your freshman year. Your day starts off in your English class. Your outfit consists of a thrifted sweater, with a sherpa lined denim jacket on top. Your black stockings cling to your legs under your green corduroy pencil skirt. To top off the outfit, your feet are covered with a pair of old worn out converse, black leg warmers overlapping on the top of the shoes.

As you make your way to class, you get a sudden chill. You shake it off, continuing to walk. That sudden chill was Wally.

When he saw you, he audibly said “Oh my god.”

Then he started following you. He followed you from class to class, going as far as to sit in on a couple of them just to stare at you. He walked you to class every single day, knowing you weren’t even aware of his existence. But he didn’t care, he got to see you and that’s what mattered to him. He enjoyed spending time with you, even if it was one sided.

Then May rolled around, and the school year ended, and Wally was alone. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

August 9th, 2013. First day of your sophomore year. The same thing happens all over again, rinse and repeat with your junior year, and now your senior year.

It was January 1st, 2016. Five more months, and he would never see you again.

He is snapped out of his memories by the voice of Charley.

“You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?” Charley registers what's going on, realizing his friend is still swooning.

“Yeah. I can’t help it!” Wally leaned forward on the bleachers, resting his elbows on his knees and lightly intertwining his fingers.

“There's a very unlikely chance that she’s gonna-” Charley begins, but is cut off in the middle of his sentence by an ear piercing scream. The two ghost boys share a look, and begin searching for where the sound came from.

First, they found Rhonda, who was in the exact same boat as them. The first thing she said upon seeing them was,

“Did you guys hear that?”

Then they figured it would be a good idea to see where the massive mob of students were heading. That would most likely provide answers.

As they come across the scene it is not pretty. As it had turned out, the ‘very unlikely chance’ -in Charleys words- of Y/n’s death, had in fact happened. She had a similar story to Charleys, having died from being allergic to something. Apparently it was a bad allergy too, her body was almost unrecognizable.

Soon after they arrive, they spot a very frantic, panicked looking girl. She notices them looking at her and immediately runs to them.

“Can you see me?” She’s borderline yelling as she says this, her eyes wide and full of uncertainty. Wally lets himself take the sight of her in. She’s there. And she can see and hear him.

“Sure can, cherrypop.” Rhonda is the first to speak out of the three. Wally quickly steps forward.

“Ignore her, she’s like that all the time.” He rolls his eyes as he extends a hand to you.

“Wally Clark. Resident jock.” He flashes his toothy grin at you. You look puzzled for a second, then a look of horror and realization comes across your face.

“You’re.. Wally Clark? As in, died on the football field in ‘83 Wally Clark?” You look at Rhonda, registering who she is.

“And you’re…” You grab your hair, pulling at it lightly.

“This cannot be happening!” You take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” You stare down Wally as you ask this, him being the only one you’ve really spoken to.

“You betcha.” He awkwardly shoves his hands in his letterman jacket pockets.

Once the four of you got back to the group, it had gotten around there was a new ghost. You’re greeted by Dawn and Mr. Martin as soon as you walk in. You all sit down, Wally grabbing a new chair for you almost immediately. When you sit down, a million questions are thrown at you.

“Whats your name?”

“How old are you?”

“How did you die?” And many more follow after.

“Guys maybe uh, chill a little.” Wally chuckles as he sees your discomfort.

“She seems a bit overwhelmed.” Oh what three and a half years of observation will teach you about someone. Wally knows everything about you there is to know. He stole your diary (“It’s not technically stealing.” was how he rationalized it to himself.) and has read it cover to cover at least three times. He had been watching you since the moment he saw you. He knew your body language. You glance at him with a small smile, silently thanking him.

“I’m Y/n,” You begin slowly, cautious at first.

“I was turning 18 in a week, but not anymore I guess. I died from an allergic reaction to blueberries. Someone put them in my food without telling me, I guess, and before I knew it I was here.” You tell your story, eyes not leaving from your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“So it was murder?” Rhonda asks, not beating around the bush whatsoever.

“Maybe- I don't know, I don't really care.” You shrugged your shoulders,

“I’m dead now, either way.”

The group seemed to be surprised by how fast you had accepted your death.

“Okay! Movie night anyone?” Mr. Martin hurriedly tried to move along the session.

As night rolled around, you tugged on Wally’s sleeve lightly. You being 5'3 and him being 6’3, he had to look down slightly to talk to you.

“What’s up?” He perks up as soon as he sees you.

“Where do I sleep?” You ask the question very quietly, as if you’re scared of him.

“Well, we don’t have to sleep, it comes with the territory of being undead. But if you want to,” He gestures towards the exit of the gym. As you walk down the hall with him, you realize something.

“My backpack! Stay right here!” You exclaim, and run to the cafeteria. Luckily, when you arrived it was there, safe and sound. You sighed with relief. Then you quickly ran back to Wally, who stood waiting for you. He led you to the teachers lounge, where there was a couch.

“It’s not much, but it’s something.” He smiles a little while he says this, playing with the gold chain around his neck. This was the first time you had realized it was even there.

“Thank you, Wally. For everything. You’ve been really nice today.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He was stunned for a split second, but quickly hugged you back.

“Of course, I want to make sure you’re comfortable here.” You let go of him after a couple seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well, good night.” You get up on your tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek, ushering him out of the teachers lounge as soon as your lips disconnect from his face.

Wally walked away calmly for a second, then when he was sure he was out of your line of sight, he let his excitement grow. He ran down the halls, jumping to slap every door frame and doing heel clicks.

#writers #writers of tumblr #fic writing #my writing #school spirits #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you

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companionjones · 1 year

Text

Love is in the Air (Why Didn’t You Tell Me?)

Pairing: Beck Oliver x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Victorious (Nickelodeon)

Summary: Based on the episode of Victorious “Beggin’ on Your Knees,” where you take the place of Tori. Some things are changed.

Warnings: None that I can think of

Y/n=Your name

W/n=Wrong name

*******

Love was in the air at Hollywood Arts, and you absolutely hated it. You sat on the stairs in the main hallway and watched all the main couples of the school go about their day.

Trina came into view. She was running after Jade. “Babe! I said I was sorry!”

Jade’s jaw tightened as she turned back around to her girlfriend. “You walked in on my auditions!”

“I’m sorry! You know how I get! I see an opportunity and I just gotta take it. Y’know?”

Her words didn’t soothe Jade’s anger. “My audition isn’t your opportunity!”

Trina paused for a moment. “Well, yeah. I know that now...Listen what if I buy you those new scissors you wanted?”

That seemed to immediately resolve a lot of Jade’s resentment. “...The ones that are diamond encrusted?”

“The very same,” Trina nodded. “Do you like me again?”

Jade took a step up to Trina, took her hand, and kissed her cheek. “Maybe...”

The two walked off together.

“Whatcha doin’?” Beck was suddenly looming over you.

You turned around to look at him. “Wallowing in my loneliness.” You turned back around and rested your head on your hands.

“...That sounds like fun,” Beck responded, not knowing what else to say.

“Robbie!!! Robbie!!!” Cat burst onto the scene by running down the stairs and screaming bloody murder for Robbie. She reached the middle of the main hallway and released her loudest scream yet. “ROBBIE SHAPIRO!!!”

The boy came sprinting into view on Cat’s right. “What? What is it? Everyone’s telling me you’re looking for me, Cat. Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Cat answered, much calmer than before.

“Then what is it?” Robbie asked, still very concerned.

Cat’s response was simple: “I missed you.” She then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Robbie’s torso.

Robbie let his head rest on top of hers. Probably to equally revel in her cuteness and insanity. “I...I missed you too, sweetheart...But next time, maybe try calling me on the phone...” His voice trailed off as he and Cat walked away.

“Hey, guys.” Tori approached you and Beck, hand-in-hand with André.

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Here we go. Yet another couple to rub their happiness in my face.”

“I’m sorry?” Tori wasn’t sure if she should’ve apologised for her happiness.

“What’s with the sour attitude?” André wondered. When he and Tori came to a stop, he traded holding hands with her with putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Nothing’s up. Right, Y/n?” Beck answered for you. Before you could respond to Beck, he asked the three of you, “You guys wanna get lunch?”

Both Tori and André nodded. “Sure.”

Beck grabbed your hand. “You’re coming too. C’mon.” He dragged you along with him.

Outside, you were mainly focusing on your food, which was why you didn’t notice, at first, a guy walk up next to you. When you did notice him, you saw that he wasn’t just a guy, he was Ryder Daniels, a senior. A really hot senior at that. He was talking to you.

“Hey. It’s W/n, right?”

“Y/n.” Beck corrected without looking up from his meal.

Ryder cleared his throat. “Y/n, right. How are you doing?”

“I-I’m doing okay...How are you?”

Ryder smiled at you. “I’m good. So, Y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?”

You felt your eyes widen. “With me?”

Vaguely, you heard Beck go, “With her?”

Ryder gave a weird look to Beck. “Yeah...” He turned back to you. “What do you think?”

“Uh, s-sure.” You had to physically push the word out.

“Great.” Ryder grinned and walked away.

“Great!” you called after him, then turned back to your friends. “What just happened?”

Tori was the first to answer. “What do you think just happened? You got a date!”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes!” André congratulated you. “Be happy, Y/n!”

You were pretty sure that was what you were feeling. Your heart wouldn’t slow down to tell you anything else.

That night, you had just finished a pretty fun night with Ryder. You couldn’t believe it, but you were pretty sure you had just fallen into your first relationship.

There was a knock at your door.

You walked toward it, confused. “Ryder? Did you forget something?” You opened your door to find not Ryder. “Beck?”

“I don’t like this.” He came marching into your home.

Your confusion only grew. “Don’t like what?”

He jumped onto another subject. “How was your date?”

“It went fine. We’re doing the Full Moon Jam together. Is this what you’re upset about?” you wondered.

Beck’s jaw clenched. “Maybe.”

“Why?” You were flabbergast.

He thought for a second. “I don’t-I don’t know, but I just don’t like the idea of you with someone else--”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shrieked. “All this time, I’ve been alone, Beck. So I swear to god, if you tell me you like me now--”

“I don’t like you!” he shouted back. “I just don’t want to see you with him! I don’t want to see you with anyone unless it’s m--” Beck immediately stopped talking as realisation dawned on his face.

“...Get out,” was all you had to say.

Beck hung his head as he followed your order.

And just like that, you were left alone.

The next day, you were excited to see Ryder again. You were excited to see anyone that could distract you from Beck. You decided to meet Ryder at his locker.

You were about to round the corner when you heard Ryder talking to one of his friends.

“Hey, Ryder. Congratulations! I heard you’re dating that one girl--What is it--W/n?”

“Yeah. Only until she gets me an A on this Full Moon Jam assignment. Then you can have her.”

That was all it took to have you booking it in the other direction.

You weren’t sure how many hours you spent in the janitor’s closet, but you were pretty sure you’d heard the bell ring three times. You weren’t willing to do the math.

Suddenly, the door to the closet burst open. “There you are!” Beck called out, relieved. “Jesus, I’ve got everyone looking for you, y’know...Y/n?”

“He’s using me,” you tearfully informed, “He’s using me to get a good grade on the Full Moon Jam assignment, then he’s gonna dump me.”

Beck didn’t know what to say, “Oh, Y/n.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You sprung to your feet.

He thought you were talking about Ryder. “I didn’t know--”

“Not about him. Why didn’t you tell me you liked me before all this mess?”

Beck was ashamed. “I didn’t know about that either until Ryder asked you out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me--?” Your sobs cut you off. You started crumpling into yourself until Beck enveloped you in a hug.

For some reason, life didn’t seem so bad anymore. You hugged him back. The tears kept falling.

“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” Beck whispered, “Whether I have you or not. No one will ever treat you like this again--”

You kissed him.

It was an intense kiss. Beck roughly backed you against some drawers, and you forcefully ran your fingers through Beck’s hair.

Eventually, you two had to part for air, and you just smiled.

“What’s the smile about?” Beck asked. His expression matched yours.

“Oh, a few things,” you answered teasingly. You kissed him again. “I think I know how to get revenge on Ryder, and I’m gonna need your help.

“Anything,” Beck promised you.

“Good,” you grinned, and kissed him again.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

#beck #beck x reader #beck oliver #beck oliver x reader #victorious #victorious nickelodeon #avan jogia #companion jones #love is in the air (why didn't you tell me?)#love is in the air #why didn't you tell me

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paper-crab · 5 months

Text

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

summary: letters to your past crushes get out and its a whole mess, based on the movie/book, yadayada

warnings: swearing, cliché, very rushed

wc: 6914

ignore any grammar mistakes it’s too long for me to reread and if it doesn’t flow smoothly i’m so sorry i rushed it so bad

Writing letters was an emotional release; something healthy to pass the time, and look back on later.

That’s why you’d written a series of letters, spanning from 3rd grade to now- senior year. They were intimate letters, ones you wrote to get your mind off of a crush you’d gained, so when you’d looked for the box to add a new letter and couldn’t find it, you freaked out.

Luckily, younger you was only able to get her hands on two addresses.

Unfortunately, those addresses were the two worst ones you could have gotten. Everybody else had either moved, or come out. They were irrelevant.

Who had gotten the letters, however, were not irrelevant: your school's player, and your best friend's boyfriend. You were fully in panic mode now, how are you supposed to recover from that? You can only contemplate your options for so long before anxiety eats at you. Maybe if you skipped a week or so of school it would blow over.

“Yeah, not happening. Rise and shine.”

You groan. “Dad, you don’t understand. This could ruin my life, I might actually die.”

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to grovel and pick up the pieces of your pride.

In order to avoid your friend's boyfriend, you need to avoid her, which means you’re walking around school alone. You know you’ll need to have that awkward conversation, telling him ‘I liked you when you were just my childhood best friend- those feelings have passed’, but you also know that you are going to avoid it for as long as humanly possible. Asserting yourself was never really your strong suit.

You had grown up next door to her boyfriend, and fell out of touch with him in middle school. While he was blossoming as a social butterfly, you lurked in the background, like a moth drawn to his effervescent light. Like the sun, the light was too hot for you to stay in, and you stopped talking until mid junior year when your friend had reintroduced you.

The other letter, the heartthrob, had been a lot kinder in middle school. You’d heard some not-so-kind stories about him recently though, and they were the exact opposite of the kid, Matt, that you knew.

You hadn’t been particularly close or anything, only exchanging a few words in your 7th grade math class, but you were infatuated with him. When you were younger, he hardly talked, but lacrosse had brought him out of his shell; the shell you’d never managed to crack- or rather the cocoon you’d never emerged from.

Matt probably didn’t know your name, even though you’d boldly signed it in your letter, so you were confident he wouldn’t find you. It’d be just another day for him, hopefully.

Your friend's boyfriend, on the other hand, was constantly with you. He lived right next door to you, and you felt like it was impossible to avoid him. You’d try to get through the school day without an encounter, then lock yourself in your room to never be seen again.

The first couple periods you had? Had gone off without a hitch. Then you hit lunch, and even if you tried, you couldn’t run from your friend forever. She found you, her boyfriend trailing behind.

“I missed you this morning!” She tells you, reaching to give you a hug. You don’t do much but nervously laugh, pulling away from her. “Yeah, I came late.” You lied.

“Ugh I wish, I’m going to get lunch, you coming with?” She says, more to her boyfriend than you. He shakes his head, “I’m good.”

“Alright, be back in a minute!”

“Can we ta-”

You cut him off immediately, nervous laughter coming back. “I have a test to study for, so I’m going to the library, sorry. We’ll catch up later. He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it himself.

After excusing yourself, you make a beeline for the library, seeking a moment of respite. The library turns out not to offer that much solace either, because you see Matt’s two brothers enter, meaning he can’t be far behind. When he rounds the corner, his eyes land on you, lighting up slightly. You see him excuse himself from his brothers, and you immediately stand and run out of there, muttering “Nope, no, no,” under your breath. The sound of you slamming the library door open definitely isn’t quiet.

You can’t help but begin to panic, packing up your things and abruptly running out of the school, through the parking lot, and jumping into your car. If studying wasn’t how you were going to escape the situation, avoiding lunch apparently was. It’s tempting, incredibly so, to skip the rest of your day, but you know you’d be in so much trouble. You can’t handle that right now.

You head back in and continue your day, just praying, wishing, dreaming that you won’t encounter the two people you don’t want to see most- but now you’re seeing them out of the corner of your eye in every passing period; and you can’t even confide in the one person you most want to.

The school day ending feels like your saving grace. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically, from running away from your friend and her boyfriend, and narrowly avoiding Matt didn’t help.

You walk out of the school, into the parking lot towards the direction of your car, ready to be done with the day.

In highschool, you’re never done.

Your friend's boyfriend is leaning against your car, looking around for you, arms crossed. You make a sharp left, in the direction of the lacrosse field and bleachers. You’re not really thinking about it when you do it, it’s just the closest shelter, other than walking back in the hellhole that is the school.

You make your way onto the bleachers mindlessly, trying not to think about the events of today. You set your backpack next to you, not realizing there’s an unexpected guest making his way up to the top of the bleachers where you sat.

“Hi.” You jump, startled by the sudden voice as he sits next to you. You recognize that voice, obviously, so you flinch before turning to him. “Y/n, right?”

You nod, not sure how to continue this. There’s a plethora of things he could say, and you’d rather not hear any of them. Matt taps his fingers on the bleachers, waiting for you to acknowledge that he’s said anything; when you realize you nod.

“Look,” he starts, and that’s never a good sign, “Your letter was really kind and whatever, but I just broke up with my girlfriend. I’m not really ready for anything serious, so if you’re looking for casual-”

“I wrote that in 7th grade.”

“Oh.” He says, scratching his head. “Why’d you send the letter then?” You look to your left, spotting your friend's boyfriend walking towards you, and you panic.

“Kiss me,”

“Okay.” He shrugs, grabbing you. His eyes are closed, but you don’t bother closing yours. You’re a bit busy glancing in the direction of your other victim, and when you watch his face fall as he turns back around, you finally close your eyes. “Not that I’m mad about it, but what just happened?”

“It’s really hard to explain, but you’re not the only one that got a letter. The other person is my best friends boyfriend,”

“Damn. That’s low of you, and I’m not special? My feelings are hurt.” He smiles a little bit, trying to ease your tense expression. “I wrote his before I ever wrote yours, and before they knew each other. I can’t talk to him, though, and if she ever finds out, it'll break her heart.”

“Okay, respect. I gotta get to practice, but I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You want to say no, but you don’t. He did just do you a big favor after all. “Yeah, see you then.”

He sticks to his words, finding you in the library the next day. His mouth twists into a grin when he sees you, and he shuffles over holding eye contact with you.

“Hey,” He says, slightly whispering. It might be lunch, but the librarian is still strict. She wants to preserve the quiet atmosphere of the room, in which you can only hear the sound of flipping pages and an occasional murmur. “Mind if I join?” He settles in next to you.

“Uhm.. listen,” You say, launching into a monologue, “about the whole letter thing, It’s, uh, not what it seems. Well it is, but it’s not. I wrote those letters a long time ago, and they don’t reflect my feelings now, and I never meant for them to get out, so, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into it, and I’m sorry you did, get dragged into it, that is.”

“If you didn’t mean for them to get out, why would you send them?” He questions, tilting his head.

“I didn’t send them.”

“Okay, uhm, who did?”

“I don’t know, but I cannot talk to my friend's boyfriend, like ever.”

He nods, a mixture of concern and confusion evident on his face, like he’s really mulling the situation over.

“So, someone sent those letters behind your back? That’s not cool, dude. Messed up, but I think we can help each other out here, take control of the situation.” A wicked grin takes over his face. If you squint hard enough you can imagine a lightbulb over his head, like he’s had an “aha!” moment. “I have an idea,”

“What do you mean, control?”

“Yeah, control. Think about it, we fake date. You need your friend’s boyfriend off your back, and I need my ex to get jealous and come back to me. Win win, and it gives us a chance to control the narrative.”

“Yeah, I mean… it could work, maybe?” You respond, uncertainty in your tone. “How would it even work?

“I don’t see how it couldn’t.”

“Okay, I guess, but I don’t see how it could be that simple.”

“Yeah, it could. Trust me, we play it smart, manipulate the situation, and we get what we want.”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

“You sure about this?” Matt asks, searching your eyes for confirmation.

“Yeah, I mean, you said it best. I can’t talk to him about this, not for a long while, anyways.”

“Sick.”

“So, uhm, what next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, rules and stuff?”

“You want rules, you make ‘em’” He shrugs. You grab out a notebook, labeling the top ‘Rules’ in neat handwriting. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“No kissing,” you start writing, and Matt groans.

“If we’re not kissing, how do you expect anyone to believe we’re dating?” You squirm a little bit.

“Matt,” you say in a hushed tone. Heat rises to your cheeks. “I don’t really kiss people,”

“Wait,” he chuckles, trying to make a joke, “was I your first kiss?”

When you don’t answer, he gasps. It almost makes him feel bad, but not enough to apologize. “No kissing then,” he confirms, trying to steer the conversation forward. “What else?”

“No couple-y social media shit,”

“Agreed. We keep it low-key.” He nods. “What about spending time together? How often do we go on dates, and are we hanging out all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe like, once a week? And I don’t wanna be around your friends all the time.”

“You don’t want to be around yours either,” he points out.

“Fair point. Once a week, I hang out with you?”

“Most days, yeah.”

“Also, no meeting the parents. That makes it too real.” You add.

“Off the table. Oh, I’m not calling you babe or any of that gross shit.” He says. You pale at the thought, literally gagging. “Please don’t, I think I’d throw up.”

“That it?” He laughs at you.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

The bell rings. “I’ll walk you to class,”

Your face morphs into confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“To make it seem like we’re really dating..?”

“Oh. Yeah,”

He walks you to class, hugging you when he drops you off. “Meet by the bleachers after school?”

“Yeah,” You say, slightly dazed by his request.

When you walk out of your classroom, you let your mind wander back to his ask, ‘what could he possibly want’ playing through your head. You walk through the front doors, taking a sharp left towards the bleachers; just like yesterday.

You’re not waiting for very long when Matt sneaks up on you, whispering “Boo.” into your ear.

You jump, caught off guard, but that’s besides the point.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

“What are you doing?”

“People are looking.” He shrugs a little. You’re eager for him to get to the point; the longer you’re away from your bed, the more cozy and inviting it sounds. He clears his throat. “I need your number,”

He’s careful to make it come out as a whisper so surrounding students don’t hear. To them, you’re already a couple.

“And your address, so I can pick you up tomorrow.”

“What?”

“As your boyfriend, I’ll be driving you to school, and home, and I need to pick you up for our date too.”

“Date tomorrow?”

“If you’re free, for the ‘spending time together’ bit,” he says, pulling his hands from your waist and doing air quotes with his fingers.

“I can drive myself,” You tell him, as he grabs his phone out and hands it to you sneakily. You proceed to put your number in, and your address, before handing it back to you.

“You can, but it’s more convincing if we come together.” He murmurs, absorbed in drafting you a message. After a moment, you hear the familiar ping of a notification.

“There,” he grins proudly, showing you the message. “Now it’s official.”

The morning sun casts a warm glow on you, making you feel cozy and relaxed, despite the nerves growing. The idea of Matt, and his brothers, coming to pick you up scares you a bit. You fiddle with the strap of your backpack as you wait on your front porch.

When you see a car pull up, you know that’s your cue to start walking down your driveway. Matt hops out, rushing to hug you and open the passenger door for you.

“Doesn’t Chris usually sit there?” You ask quietly, still smiling to keep up the charade. “Yeah, I made him move.” He whispers back before he walks to the driver's seat.

“Good morning,” Nick says, sounding completely done. Chris doesn’t even raise his head, giving you a small wave. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys.” You say softly, not wanting to disturb them. You think them going out of their way to pick you up this morning was disturbing enough.

The car ride was a mixture of awkward silence and small talk. Nick and Chris are both too tired to engage much, but Matt is trying his hardest to keep them involved.

You pull up to the school gates after a short while, Matt parks the car. You get out and he walks over to you, joining your hands while you walk in. He gives you a reassuring smile as you walk in, “Don’t worry, they’re not always like this in the morning. I promise it’s not personal.”

You nod, trying your best to offer a smile that comes out faint. “Yeah, I won’t take it personally. Thanks again for the ride, Matt.”

“Of course,”

The second you get into the school, Nick and Chris part ways with you two. You’re still holding hands, you realize, when the murmurs and glances direct themselves towards you. Matt can feel the anxious energy you radiate because of it, so he leans in to whisper in your ear, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon.”

For all the stories you’d heard about him, you hadn’t expected him to be even half as polite. Maybe it’s because you were faking, you decide.

The rest of the day seems to float by in a blur, but Matt was right; the buzz around your relationship did seem to dissipate the more people saw you together. During lunch, you find yourself next to Matt. You’re doing your best to maintain the facade with his lacrosse friends, Chris among the group.

You can feel the stare of your best friend and her boyfriend though, and it only brings back those feelings of guilt and anxiety. You’re grateful for the distraction of food, though, because it provides you an out from conversations.

You’re not used to basking in the light like this.

As the bell rings, you feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. Matt walks you to your last class, of course, offering you a quick hug before parting ways.

The class passed by slowly as you try to piece together the events of the day. In under a week, you went from a nobody with 3 friends to a somebody dating one of the most popular boys. Fake dating.

When you’re finally dismissed from the shackles of public school, you feel an odd sense of relief. You know it won’t last very long because of your scheduled date tonight, but it’s there nonetheless.

You find Matt waiting outside your classroom, as promised, a smile on his face. He falls into step beside you as you make your way towards his car. The chatter of surrounding students fades into background noise when you’re with him. A cool breeze dances through the air, making you shiver a bit. For a moment, you stayed silent, enjoying the comfort he brought you just by being next to you.

It was reminiscent of middle school; his silence made you comfortable because you weren’t alone.

“Wait, don’t you have lacrosse practice?” You interrupt.

“I take Nick home everyday, I have time to take you too.”

You nod. As you navigate through the sea of juniors and seniors preparing to leave, Matt turns his head towards you. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, concern evident.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, offering a chuckle and a hesitant smile, “Just processing the day, you know? It’s kinda weird.”

He nods understandingly, turning his head back towards the car that Nick is already waiting at. The ride to your home feels significantly shorter when you engage in pleasant conversation with Nick and Matt.

Despite the guilt you feel over keeping up this act, the conversation flows genuinely and you find yourself really enjoying it. He pulls into your driveway, putting the car in park and smiling at you.

“Thank you, and thanks for today.”

“No problem, I’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet,” You say, waving goodbye to Nick. You walk into your house and feel like a puddle of goo, every emotion flooding your body in one go. It’s only the second day of pretending, and you’re feeling like a fly stuck in a web of lies.

Despite your conflicting feelings, you begin to get ready for your date, feeling genuine excitement. Even if it’s just as friends, Matt is really pleasant to be around.

Matt: Movie at 7:30?

You: Perfect, see you then.

The hours tick by as you prepare yourself to hang out with him. You hear a knock on your front door that makes you jump. “Dad, I'm going out!” You yell, rushing out to join Matt.

You weren’t expecting him to hug you when you stepped out. There was no one around to keep it up for, but you decided not to question it. “Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He grins, pulling away from you. “I didn’t buy tickets yet because I wanted you to choose the movie,”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You tell him, heart filled with gratitude. It was a small gesture, yet it immediately made your middle school crush on him come back.

“I feel like you know a lot about me, so I thought you choosing the movie would help me learn something about you.” He said as you pulled into the movie theater parking lot.

“Yeah, I’ll pick.” You giggle at him, hopping out. When you walk in, you’re overwhelmed by the aggressive scent of buttered popcorn. Matt glanced around, beginning to guide you to the ticket counter. “Shit, that’s my ex.”

“It’s cool, play up the pda to make her more jealous,”

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans into you, pretending to whisper something in your ear. When you walk up to the counter, he unwraps his arm for a mere second to grab his wallet.

“Movie?” He asks. You tell him and he nods. “Two tickets please, he hands his ex his card.

“Hi, Matt.” She says, smiling at him. You immediately get possessive vibes that make you feel uncomfortable, but that means the plan is working. “Oh hey,” He smiles lightly, acting nonchalant.

“Who’s this?” You can literally feel the jealousy she's emitting, and it makes you shift in his grasp. “This is my girlfriend, the tickets?”

“Oh, sorry.” She hands him the tickets, making sure to brush his hand while she glared at you. As you walk towards the next counter to buy popcorn, you start laughing. “I don’t think she liked me much.”

“Good, means the plan is working.” He says, going to fish for his wallet again.

“Nuh-uh. My turn.”

“That’s not really how dates work, but nice try.”

It feels like the hours have crept away from you. The movie comes to an end, despite you willing it to last longer. Matt offers you a hand and pulls you up, making sure to hold your hand when you exit the theater. It almost makes your heart flutter; then you remember why he’s doing it.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” He says, offering you his jacket when you step into the brisk air. You smile, feeling fulfillment while you slide his jacket on. “I liked it, thanks for letting me choose. And, um, thanks for tonight. It was… interesting.”

“No problem,” he says, sounding relaxed. “I liked it too. We make a good fake couple, don’t we?”

You continue chatting while you walk to the car, and while he drops you off. Matt gets out to walk you up to your door, genuinely surprising you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He says, offering you another hug. You slide off his jacket and melt into him before handing it back. “Thanks, Matt.”

“See you tomorrow morning?”

You nod.

You close the door behind you, feeling the weight of the day settle into your skin. You’re beginning to ease into the fake relationship; even as the facade gets increasingly complex. You sink into your bed, shifting off to dreamland.

As the week goes on, your arrangement only gets better. You avoid your friend's boyfriend, and he starts getting desperate texts from his ex. By the end of the week, you’re sure he’s close to breaking it off.

When Matt drops you off at home on Friday afternoon, you’re insanely smiley. You feel on top of the world. The day seemed normal enough, for your new normal anyways, but there was an odd air of tension everywhere you went. You knew something was wrong when your best friend landed on your doorstep mere moments later.

She was your best friend for a reason- you trusted her with almost everything, so she didn’t understand why this week, you’d suddenly gone ghost. You normally talked every second of every hour if you could, but this week, your communication had been limited to fleeting glances across the cafeteria, or in the hallway.

You open your front door to find her standing there, eyes ablaze with anger. “Hey.. what’s up?” You say, prompting her to talk and cut through the thick silence.

“Where have you been all week?”

“At school..?”

“No, I mean, where have you been? You avoided me on Monday, and you started dating Matthew Sturniolo out of nowhere; I didn’t even know you were talking! I’ve barely seen you this week and normally we spend all our time together. Something isn’t right.”

You feel like you’re shrinking under her intense gaze. Stammering out an apology isn’t really working for her, or you, because the weight of your fabricated relationship with Matt pinned your tongue. “It’s not like that..”

“Don’t give me that!” She says, glaring at you. “We tell each other everything. Why are you shutting me out now?”

You wrack your brain for an excuse, trying to think of anything to get her off your back when you remember a conversation you’d had with her about Matt. “Look, I know I’ve been unfair to you… but I know you don’t like Matt, and I really do. I’ve been caught up with him, and I didn’t want to tangle you into it because I know you don’t like him.”

“He’s a dick.” She says to you, bluntly. “I don’t think you should be dating him, much less talking to him and ignoring me for him. Haven’t you heard the shit he’s pulled with other girls?”

“Of course I have but-”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not different. He’s going to leave you in the dust too.”

Her words cut through you, sharp and painful. The truth hovered on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of secrecy still held it down. You didn’t know how to get out of this one. “He’s not like that with me,” you attempt to defend, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “People change, you know?”

“You’re being naïve, and I hate seeing you like this. Ignoring your best friend for a guy who’s going to hurt you in the end.”

You’re feeling shackled, like you’re in the ocean trying to stay above the surface, but there’s a weight tied to your ankle.

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, voice shaking “but I know what I’m doing. We’re happy together. You say, a feigned smile gracing your lips. Her harsh glare softens. “I trust you. Just, be careful. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, acting like you’re relieved, but the pit in your stomach only deepens as the web of woven lies becomes more intricate. She leaves, and you close the door behind you, sinking down to the floor.

All of this because of some letters.

The sound of a message coming through your phone snaps you out of your contemplation. You glance at it, immediately smiling when you see Matt’s name pop up.

Matt: Hangout tomorrow? Nick and Chris r asking

You: Yeah, what time?

Matt: Noon?

You: I’ll be there

Matt: I’ll pick you up

You heart the message, standing from the floor. When you retire for the night, your friend's warning re-enters your mind. You know she’s right, but the reality of your fake dating thing with Matt tugs you back into its tangled web, as it always does.

Each text from Matt, while making you smile, feels like another string of deceit weaving into a thousand more. It just deepens as time goes on. The lure of his attention and the comfort of the familiarity you feel with him vie against the guilt that gnaws at your conscience.

You’ve realized the gravity of the situation, but the truth remains locked in, barricaded by fear and the entanglements you’ve created. You want to call it off, you’ve wanted to, but you don’t want to risk falling into a chasm of more confrontations- from both your friend, and her boyfriend.

You try to shove it out of your mind so you can sleep though, preparing for your day with Matt tomorrow.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel giddy. You put more effort into getting ready than you normally would on a Saturday. Then, there’s a knock on your door and a hug awaiting you. This time, you don’t question if people are around, you just accept it with a grin.

“Nick and Chris wanted to come get you,” He tells you, pulling you down the driveway. Yet again, the front seat is empty for you. The energy of the triplets was infectious, in the best way possible. You immediately found yourself comforted by their presence, the simplicity of just being around them had an inexplicable effect on your already good mood.

The drive feels effortless as you settle into conversation with the group. It reminds you of how uncomfortable you’d been mere days ago, and how much had changed. You kind of frown at the thought, but quickly catch it. Matt’s smile never faltered though, leaving you with an odd sense of melancholy when you’re reminded that it’s all fake.

You can’t help but be surprised by your surroundings when you enter the house. You knew the outside, obviously having known the address, but the inside exceeds all your expectations. Family pictures litter the walls, candles are everywhere. It’s cute.

“Your parents aren’t here, right?” You whisper. “Nope.”

“So, what should we do?” Chris speaks up, cutting through the silence. You shrug in response while Matt and Nick go into deep thought.

“We should bake!”

“Nope.” Matt says at the same time you say “Okay.”

When Matt hears you, he turns in your direction. Seeing your smile at the presented idea, he changes his mind. “Yeah, baking sounds good.”

Nick glances at him skeptically, the switch-up being unusual. When your eyes wander towards Chris, you notice his confusion too.

“Baking it is.” Nick mumbles, leading you to the kitchen.

“Alright, what are we making?” Chris pipes in, pulling out various bowls. “Brownies?” Matt suggests, “I think we have a mix and I don’t wanna run to the store right now.”

“Wait, we’re awful at baking. Why are we baking?” Chris questions, wracking his brain to find the answer.

“It’ll be eventful,” Nick replies.

“If we mess shit up and it gets messy, I’m blaming it on you.”

Nick groans, going to grab the mix and the various ingredients listed on the box. “If you do that, I’m gonna tell mom about that time that you-”

“And that’s enough!” Matt cuts him off, grabbing eggs out of Nick’s hand. He ushers you further into the action of the kitchen, imploring you to get comfortable.

“You bake a lot?” He asks, smiling.

“Not really,” You admit, laughing at the commotion surrounding you. It’s fascinating to you how those around you have become such an integral part of your everyday life in the week you’d known them, despite only being in your circle for under a week.

You know your relationship with Matt is false- how could you not? You remind yourself constantly, but these new relationships you’d forged because of Matt? Some of the realest ones you’d ever experienced.

A crack snaps you out of your thoughts, followed by a millisecond of silence. “Chris!” Nick yells, looking at the fallen egg.

“How is this my fault?!” Matt finds himself laughing with you.

The brownies turn out so horribly burnt you’re not even sure if you can call them brownies anymore, and the mess is colossal, but even when Matt drops you off you only have good things to say about, and to, the group.

“Thank you,”

“Of course. I’ll pick you up on Monday?”

“See you then.” You say, waving to Nick and Chris.

The next couple weeks go by so smoothly, you almost forget you’re acting. They’re relatively the same as the first, save for more interactions with your friend. Being with Matt and his brothers, and even his friends, feels natural. Your weeks become more routine, and the plan is working. Matt’s ex is obviously getting more green as time goes on, and your friend's boyfriend won’t even spare you a passing glance.

By your one-month ‘anniversary’, you’re almost 100% sure you two are in the clear. You’re waiting at home for Matt to pick you up, excited to be with him, but feeling a pit on your stomach nonetheless. When you hear the now-familiar knock on your door, you can’t help but run to answer it.

“Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He smiles and reaches out to hug you, like normal, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes in the way it usually does. It’s missing its charm. He guides you to the car, sure to open the passenger door for you, but the gesture is missing its usual warmth. He takes you to this cute diner, one that you’ve mentioned in a passing conversation, but the earlier apprehension you felt only grows stronger.

When you sit down, you finally decide you can’t take it anymore. “Is something wrong, Matt?”

“Not wrong, really. My ex wants me back. She texted me the other night,”

“Oh,” Is all you can say, trying to force a smile to your face. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” He says. You’re not sure if you’re grasping at straws, but you feel like he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself too. “Do you think you’re okay to break this off?”

“Uhm, yeah. I think my friend’s boyfriend is leaving me alone.” You nod at him, looking everywhere but his face. “Should we just go?”

He can’t argue with that, so instead of getting that cute little dinner date you were promised, you’re sitting back in Matt’s car in silence as he drives you home. The atmosphere felt heavy. You’re stopped at a red light when you finally glance over at him for the first time this entire ride back. He’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic you’d never noticed before, while his eyes are set on the traffic lights.

“I’m sorry,” He finally says, the second the light turns green.

“For what?” You reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“For coming up with this idea. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t be sorry, Matt. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. It wasn’t stupid; it did what we wanted it to do.”

He nodded, but your gaze lingered on him. You could see the mixture of guilt and gratitude swirling through his eyes. “At least it’s over, right? We manipulated the situation.” You say, trying to bring up the mood. You’re trying not to make something of nothing, but his mood seems just as melancholic as yours. “At least it’s over.”

When the car reaches your house, Matt can’t find it in himself to move, to walk you to your door. He hears your seatbelt click, signaling that you’re taking your leave.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Matt.”

When you exit the car, a bittersweet realization washes over Matt. This isn’t what he wanted. He grips the steering wheel, hurriedly putting his car into reverse. He can’t linger any longer, or he’ll make a rash decision and run back to you. He wanted his ex back, and now that’s what he’s getting.

The next day, you wake up with absolutely zero pep in your step. You drag yourself out of bed, drag yourself into your car, and drag yourself through the halls in the morning. The entire world seems more quiet without Matt next to you; your steps echo in your ears. You catch glimpses of familiar faces, but today, they seem almost alien. It makes you wish you’d never left your bed. By lunch, everybody knows something is wrong. Your spot by Matt’s side has been reclaimed by his ex girlfriend. You don’t miss the pitying looks his friends give you, especially Nick and Chris.

You never realized how humiliating it’d be when people saw that Matt left you for his ex.

You settle in your old spot, across from your best friend and her boyfriend, trying to make the whole thing feel natural. It doesn’t.

The whispers and glances you’re receiving from others feel like needles pricking at your already unsettled emotions, and your friend’s compassionate eyes don’t make you feel any more comfortable.

“Matt’s a jerk. I hate him.” She tells you, and it hurts your heart a bit.

“I don’t.” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the situation pressing on you. She winces at you defending him, but rebounds. There’s a strong desire to call him every name in the book, but resorts to saying “I can't believe he would do that to you.”

You want to tell her the truth, the lies of the situation having weighed heavy on your mind, but you know that’d defeat the purpose. You thought that when you’d ended the relationship, the entanglement of fibs you’d found yourself in would unravel, but you feel as though they’d only gotten more complicated. “You told me he would.” You say, pushing your school lunch around. She winces again.

“I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

When Matt stands next to his ex, who all his friends tell him is a catch, he can’t help but feel empty. His eyes wander away from his table, landing on you. Memories flood back, a mixture of genuine and orchestrated moments swirling within his mind. He’s completely dipped out of the conversation his friends are having, his grip on his new-old girlfriend's waist weakening as he thinks of you.

He catches the slightest glimpse of your eyes, one that you immediately divert; a mixture of confusion and hurt sprinkled within. A pant of guilt hits him, but he tries to forget about it as he turns back to the conversation presented to him.

“What’s gotten into you dude?” Someone asks. Matt shrugs, trying to stay involved. His eyes wander back to you, and then over to Chris, who mouths “Get her back.” at him.

He tries to pretend like he didn’t see that. He has what he wants, his girlfriend, and you have what you want, maybe.

He knows one thing: he doesn’t like the hole your absence has left in his daily routine.

The week comes and goes, Friday night rolling around and the pain of losing each other doesn’t go away. Matt’s battling himself internally to convince himself that both you and him are happier apart; he knows that’s not true. You’re fighting with yourself constantly to not spill your guts to someone, pressure that you had shared with him before the fake, but impossibly real split, weighing on you. It’s past midnight by the time your wandering mind calms enough for you to sleep.

At this point, Matt’s drafted up about 4 text messages to you, and none of them convey what he’s truly wanted to say. He called it off already with his ex-ex girlfriend. The moment she’d started badmouthing you in front his friends put a sour taste in his mouth; that, and he’d realized he was searching for you in every one of their interactions.

He’s restless, consumed by thoughts of longing for your presence. In the silence of the night, he’s grabbing his keys and heading. You think you’re imagining it when you’re awoken by the stall of an engine, but you’re forced to confront the taps on your window.

As you slowly approach the window, pulling back the curtain, you're confronted by Matt’s anxious gaze, illuminated by the faint, cool glow of the moonlight. You rush downstairs, barely stopping to slide a hoodie and some shoes on. The mix of emotions you feel are mirrored in his expression- a blend of nervousness, vulnerability, and longing. With the weight of unspoken words hanging between you, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm hug. He’s worried you won’t hear him out, desperate to express what he wanted to tell you in his unsent messages, but his desire to hold you far outweighs his uneasiness.

“I couldn’t keep lying to myself, and you.” He says, face buried in your neck. “I’ve been lost without you, and I can’t pretend I’m happier this way. I miss us, even if it wasn’t real.” His voice contains traces of sincerity, regret, and insecurity, but he feels a sense of strong relief take over at his admission. “I know it was fake- it started out fake- but I’m in love with you now.”

His honesty resonates as his eyebrows unfurrow, his entire body relaxing, and the weight that’s been dragging you to the bottom of the ocean is shed. Rather than sinking, you’re floating peacefully above the soft waves. You pull away from him, your anxieties dissipating like mist under the moonlight. The depth of his words stir an array of emotions within you: astonishment, relief, and a spark of hope. You search his calm eyes, being practically slapped in the face by his sincere and loving expression.

You can’t help but kiss him, seeing the way the moon puts an ethereal glow on his gestures. “I missed us too,” You start, in a soft voice. The air between you is finally cleared. “and I love you too.”

“Can we date, for real this time?” Matt blurts out, going to kiss you again. He feels intoxicated, your second-ever kiss not being a fraction of enough to sate his ever-growing hunger.

You might have started as a fraud, but somewhere along the way, when the tides shifted and your world changed, you emerged from your cocoon, into a glorious and charismatic butterfly.

“If you’ll have me as your girlfriend, for real this time.”

He kisses you again.

#matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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