#he does so fucking much for so little gratitude for his team and for so much against himself

[luveline]

hihihi! request for zombie steve au! maybe someone at the college bullies reader into thinking she’s not good enough for steve?

just gotta say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE all your works & esp this au 😩 it just does something to me

hi thank you so much for your request! I didn't make it so severe as bullying I don't think, but tw for bullying just to be safe, and suggestive! tw mentioned weight loss <3 zombie!au steve 9k words

The dinner line is long and winding. You and Steve stand elbow to elbow, the smell of refried beans and homemade tortillas near hypnotising.

"I know the tortillas are gonna taste a little weird, I just don't care," you say, the hand you’ve curled around your boyfriend's forearm squeezing enthusiastically. 

"Imagine if they had cheese," he taunts. 

"Don't be evil, Steve." 

His laugh dissappears into the swelling sounds of a hundred conversations. It feels like high school, bodies packed into the same room like a bingo wheel, people bouncing off of one another frenetically as the night turns forward. There's a lot of happy energy in here tonight. You're contributing at least half. Not even Steve's unfortunate truths can get you down. Yeah, you miss cheese a lot, but after a full day in the pantry shift and close quarters to such gorgeous smells, you're ravenous. 

Your stomach gives a rumbling groan, and Steve's pressed so close to you that he can feel it. He wraps his arm around your shoulder to kiss the top of your head. 

His easy affection sates you for a while. You turn to watch the people already sitting with their meals, jealous but not too much, and find your happiness isn't grudging. You're happy to be here. You won't take this stroke of luck for granted, not again. 

You and Steve get your plates, refried beans, roasted greens seasoned with a vibrant red that smells spicy and decadent. There's definitely olive oil mixed in. You thrum with pleasure but wait patiently for steve to collect his own helpings, your cutlery, and finally, your drinks.

Robin sees you coming and waves you down unnecessarily. She's sitting with a dark-haired girl called Vanessa, and another girl you're unsure of. Vanessa had been part of your rescue squad, the team of people who'd fought to bring you back to The College. You'd show her some gratitude if she deigned to look at you. 

No matter how snooty you find her, Robin likes her. You try to like her too. 

"Hey," you say, putting your place setting down in front of Robin to encourage Steve to her side. 

He might downplay it but you know how much he loves her, and how much he'd missed her when they were separated. She's an extremely important part of his life. You wish he'd spend more time with her outside of scavenging and supply runs, but Steve is stuck to you like glue. It's awful and amazing. 

"Hi, killer," Robin says. 

You scrunch up your nose. "We're still using that?" 

"You were impressive!" she emphasises. 

Steve puts his drink down before his plate. She's quick to grab it, taking a generous swig as he grumbles and grouches. 

"Do you mind?" he asks. 

"I don't. Tell your girlfriend you think she was impressive!" 

"She knows exactly how I feel about her."

You smile at him. You know more than enough. He's a sweetheart through and through, and though the incident Robin's referencing hadn't been one he loved, he agrees; you'd managed to cut down six zombies all by yourself when they'd split off from a herd that managed to infiltrate community defences, and Steve had thought you were a rockstar. He'd grabbed you, covered in blood and sweat, and asked you why you couldn't just stay inside, and then he'd hugged you for too long, and said later, "My girl's a fucking weapon." Like a nerd. 

It's not complicated. Steve had been in danger. You'd wanted to save him, and you'd tried. Turns out he'd be the one to save you… for the hundredth time. But your efforts impressed him. 

Impressed everyone, according to Robin. 

"Hey, Vanessa," you say warmly. 

Vanessa gives you a strange smile in return. Despite mutual friends, Vanessa hasn't warmed to you. She'd been one of the only people who'd volunteered for your rescue squad but you're starting to think that hadn't been because she liked you, exactly. She just couldn't really say no. 

"Hey," she says. "How are you?" 

Civil you can do easily. You and Steve had been civil for weeks. 

"I'm good! Yeah, we heard there were gonna be real tortillas tonight and thought we'd get here early, but everybody had the same idea, I guess." 

She laughs politely. "We did." 

You wouldn't villainise Vanessa for disliking you. You barely like yourself. And, in your opinion, you'd gotten pretty damn lucky that Steve likes you as much as he does, though a small voice whispers that it'd been a grudging sort of love, like a flower squeezing its way through two panels of sidewalk. A weed that isn't supposed to be there. You worry often and in droves that Steve will come to his senses. He's gonna wake up one day, look at your sleeping face, and realise it isn't enough. 

When you'd first joined The College community, you'd thought for sure that was it. Steve was gonna trample your heart once and for all. He never did, of course. The opposite — he'd doubled down. Told you he loved you for the first time, and a second time, too. 

And now, miles trekked to get you back, his calf a blistering star of heat where it kisses your own beneath the table, your doubts fade away. 

Vanessa doesn't have to like you. That's not the way the world works. With Steve at your side, the rejection barely stings. 

You rub your shoe gently against his ankle. He looks up at you, a crazy amount of tortilla in his mouth, and he looks so silly you laugh hard and suddenly. 

He covers his mouth. 

"I thought you were looking somewhere else," he defends. 

"Pig," Robin says, still sipping at his cup of water. 

You rub his ankle again. A joke waits at the tip of your tongue, You're lucky I love you. It would feel good to say, but it's not your thing. You've never been outwardly romantic. 

His cheeks pink a little under the fluorescents. 

For Steve, you can be romantic. 

"You're lucky I love you," you say. 

There's too much emphasis on 'love', not enough on 'lucky', and the joke refuses to land. Your voice is softer than silk. It's all too sweet. 

"More than lucky," Steve says, grinning at you.

You try to put your glass of water on his tray. He puts its straight back on your own. 

"Robin's gonna go get me another one," he says. 

"I need one for myself," she says, unhappy. 

"You have two hands." 

"Will you get me a refill?" Vanessa asks. 

Christopher, another of Steve's fast friends, slams his tray down next to yours happily. Jonathan is right after him, and then the table's filling up with people: Jonathan's younger brother sits beside him, and the younger brother's friends follow. They're all glued together, you swear. You recognise Dustin in the throng, his chestnut brown curls crushed under a blue hat bragging the Claypole Farmer's Market, wherever that is. 

"Steve's getting drinks?" Chris asks.

"For me too, please," Jonathan adds. "And Will, if you don't mind." 

"I actually do," Steve says. 

"And us!" Dustin says, smirking. "Thank you, oh gracious one."

Steve looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. Can you believe this shit? He stands up, grumbling, and forces his hand between Robin's upper arm and chest to drag her with him. 

"Come on, Rob, I can't carry them by myself." 

"Steve, please, I'm tired," she moans, her words all lifted and croaky. 

"How'm I supposed to carry them by myself? Am I a fucking squid?" 

"I'll help," you say, happy to do it, anything for him and at any time. 

He puts his hand out to you, a universal gesture for Sit the fuck down. "Buckley will be more than capable." His smile softens. "Thank you." 

You pout at him very gently in a kissy face to watch him light up. It's cheesy and rom-com, and it works like a charm. By the time he gets Robin on her feet the tips of his ears are completely blushed, a stark red against the mousy browns and blondes of his hair. 

"Hey, Y/N," Chris says, mouth full of tortilla. Boys are all the same. 

"Hey," Jonathan echoes, and at least his hand is in front of his mouth, "how are you feeling? They let you back in the kitchen yet?" 

"They did. Hopper really didn't like that I broke the lock down rules, but at the same time, I think he understands that I'm a grown up." 

Lock down rules being, once a door is shut, it stays shut. Do not give a herd the opportunity to worm its way inside. 

But you'd made sure the coast was completely clear, and after Maybelle and Pauline, your fellow kitchen staff, had vouched for that, he'd let you off the hook, and back to work. You hadn't realised how punishing not working could be, especially when Steve had stayed on shift, his time split between scrounging outside of the community and fence duty. There's nothing to stop you from spending the day thinking about what-ifs, which is veritable torture. 

"You missed the kitchen? Did you make these?" Chris asks. 

You turn to your food and tear off some of the warm tortilla, sighing with pleasure. "No, I'm just kitchen pantry, you know? I'm sorta like an accountant. Like Dora in the armoury, or–" You nod at Vanessa with a smile. "Vanessa. You're in charge of the toiletries and stuff, right, with Cooper and Dean, and those guys?" 

She clears her throat. "It's more than 'toiletries and stuff,'" she corrects with a stilted laugh. "It's everything that isn't food. Medicine for the medic, the nursery supplies, the batteries. It's important." 

"No, of course! I didn't mean to imply anything else. I can't imagine." 

You're sure her smile this time is genuine. You and Vanessa can't seem to mesh because she's a little more serious than you are and your easygoing tone rubs her the wrong way, but you think your explanation makes it up. 

She opens her mouth to speak when Dustin leans over the table, projecting his voice down the line. "Y/N! Are you coming to cards club tonight?" 

"I don't know, babe," you say, startled at his question. "I thought so. If Steve isn't too tired then yeah, absolutely." 

"You can come without Steve," Jonathan says. 

"I know," you say, softly so you know he's grateful for the reassurance. 

"You're the only one who can beat Will at Yahtzee. You have wicked luck," says Mike, their pale, dark-haired friend, who usually rivals Dustin for hostility. You're glad he seems to like you. 

"Yahtzee isn't luck based," says Will. 

The entire group groans at the ignition of a familiar argument. 

"Robin, if you fucking nudge me again I'm gonna make sure this goes all over you," comes Steve's voice. 

You turn in your seat to watch their procession of glasses, at least six between them with not a tray in sight. Robin looks confident, Steve terrified. You jump to your seat to rescue him, taking his third glass from the nestling group so he can pick up his pace. 

"Thank you," he says, dipping his head down for a kiss. 

You're surprised but never not wanting to be kissed by him, your chin lifting on automatic to reciprocate. You chase him when he pulls away, turning one kiss into two, his lips the tiniest bit chapped against yours. It's a comforting pressure. 

You ease away. "Are we going to card club tonight?" 

"If you want to, of course we are." 

"You aren't tired?" 

"You're saying I look ugly." 

He glares at you, faux-offended.Your laugh is peeling, infectious to your own ears. 

"No!" you deny. 

"Right." He tries to be deadpan, sighing in defeat when he can't keep up the illusion. "Shit, I almost had it. S'too bad I'm a sucker for you when you smile like that." 

— 

Later that night, you and Steve are sitting around the very same tables that have been wiped down with a watery lysol, and you have an amazing three game Yahtzee streak going where nobody can beat you.

Steve's ears are ringing with the clattering sound of dice in the shaker, and he's freezing. It's a great night. He shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over your shoulders, and has to periodically readjust it to stop it from falling to the floor, your arms moving enthusiastically with each new shake. 

Steve winces as Dustin makes a fatal mistake. He’s used his two sixes to mark a 12 in the sixes column, holding out for a yacht.

"Dude, the chances of getting Yahtzee are like, one in a thousand," Steve says.

"One in thirteen hundred," you correct, already scooping up Dustin's die to take your turn. 

"One in seven thousand and seven hundred for each number," Mike says. 

"Ew," Steve says, face slumped into his palm, elbow aching where it's pushed into the table. "You fucking nerds infected my girl." 

"It's in the rule book," you say, shaking the circular dice container with your hand on top. You throw them out on the table and assess your given numbers with a frown. 

You have three threes and two ones. You keep the threes and shake the other two dice again. Yahtzee had felt complicated when Steve first learned how to play, and now it feels maddening. It's definitely luck based, in his humble opinion, and that has nothing to do with his never winning a game, he swears. 

"Does the chance of rolling a Yacht get higher if you keep the dice?" he asks, gesturing to your three threes.

"Yeah," you mumble, throwing your second shuffle out onto the table. "Yeah, but it's pretty negligible, handsome. Goes from point one to point two."

"It isn't negligible," Will denies. "It's probability, not luck, and it isn't point one, it's zero point zero eight, and it can be as high as zero point five. That's one in two hundred."

"That math isn't right," Dustin says. 

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." 

You throw out your last shuffle and everyone leans in to see what you rolled. Your three threes are kept to one side, and your new rolls clatter to a halt in front of Steve. 

"Holy shit," he says. 

You rolled two threes. 

"Yahtzee!" you cheer, pumping your little fist adorably. Little in that it's smaller than his, and not very little in reality. "Alright, who's next?" 

"The game isn't over," Dustin says, peeved. 

You peer down his scorecard. He could win, theoretically, if he were to score multiple yachts, or if he'd been careful with his aces, ones, etc. 

"Nah, it is," Steve says. "Take it like a champ, Henderson." 

Dustin refuses to give up, playing until the end. You score a solid 319 to his less impressive 178. 

Steve robs your hand before you can agree to a rematch, forcing you to unfurl your tensed fist. He loves doing this — he presses the tips of his thumbs into the sides of one of your fingers and pushes down. It must hurt a teeny tiny bit but you never say a word, only giggle at his touch and lean toward him like you might tell him a secret. He would lament how much time he wasted being an asshole to you if he had the wherewithal. As it is, he's enchanted with you, and he isn't casual about it, pushing all of your anxiety down to your fingertips. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them each in turn. 

You pull your hand away. He thinks you're standing up to leave the table, but you're moving closer to him and straightening your back. He can picture the ache between your shoulder blades as it is between his own, the weird raw feeling, a tightness. 

"Want a neck massage?" he asks as you place your hand against his cheek. 

You brush your thumb over his stubble. "Do you want a neck massage?" you ask, unperturbed by his sudden question. His jacket threatens to slide onto the floor. 

"Are you offering?" 

"Not in cards club." You look over his shoulder. "We could play poker."

"The buy-in's too expensive." 

"What?" You frame his face with your hand. He's not sure you know you're doing it. "We can spare it, isn't that why we brought it?" 

Buy-in tonight is a bar of soap. Half the time everybody goes home with what they brought anyways, so you're obviously not worried. 

You squeeze his cheek and laugh. "You'd be cute if you were chubby." 

He grabs your hand, face warped by an irreplaceable joy, a delight to have you and be with you, a sparkling kind of lightness to know you're safe and happy here. He kisses your cheek, and says, smushed up against your skin, "You're cute." 

"Thank you." 

He hums. "So. Poker?" 

—

You have a small sink in your room with a hot and cold faucet, though no matter which one you choose, the water comes out cold. It chills your face as you scrub. When your face is reasonably wet, you lather the bar of honey soap Steve insists on keeping at the side of the sink between your fingers before dropping it imprecisely into your boyfriend's waiting palm. He laughs under his breath at the clumsy manoeuvre. 

You listen to him do the same as you had as you soap your face. You give special attention to your nose, your eyebrows, and your ears. Steve laughs again as you work a small towel behind them. 

"What's funny?" 

"Nothing." He holds his hand out for the towel, patting down his face with less ardency. He isn't less clean for it. "You have suds under your nose. Tiny moustache." 

He reaches for it with the towel, lifting your face with the back of his hand under your chin. His eyes are their forever warm brown, fixed on your top lip with a dedication that makes your baseline fondness for him surge. 

"I was pretty bad at poker, huh?" you ask. 

"No?" He dries a lingering stretch of dampness painting your cheek before dropping the towel behind the faucets. "You didn't win. Doesn't mean you were bad." 

"Vanessa said I should stick to Yahtzee," you tell him. You pause, wanting his input, and worried you're feeling offended by something that isn't inherently offensive. 

"Vanessa should stick to lawn darts," he says, chucking you under the chin. 

He starts to pull his pants down like it's no big deal. It isn't, not after so many months together, you've seen him do worse in worse states than this, but it feels forbidden anyhow to watch him climb into bed. 

"Could you pass me my sweatpants?" he asks, face turned into the pillow, his shoulders deflating.

"You're decompressing without me." 

"Am not." He pushes his hand under the pillow, shoulder blade shifting under his shirt noticeably. "Hurry and decompress with me."

You throw his sweatpants at his calves and he does a sort of vertical dance to put them on, one leg then the other, lifting his hips and dropping heavily back into the sheets when he's done. He looks at home. His relaxation catches you off guard, a pleasure to see even if it isn't strictly new. He feels safe here with you. 

"She's good at those darts," you say. 

"And shit at poker," Steve says agreeably. He lifts his head off of the pillow. "Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep standing up tonight?"  

You shimmy out of your stiff jeans and try not to feel the huge weight of his eyes on your skin. It's an impossible task, and you fail immediately. 

"Stop looking at me." 

"M'not." 

You glare at him, find him absolutely looking at you. Your glare fades when you realise how loving his gaze is, how it doesn't waver for a second. He pushes the sheets down on your side of the bed and waves his arm for you to get in. 

You pull on your pyjama pants and take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around you quickly, or rather under you, his bicep crushed by your shoulders. Chills prickle against your skin as he cups the flesh just shy of your breast. If Steve wanted to touch you like that, he could. You want him just as much as you don't, content to cuddle with him, content to kiss like teenagers with nowhere to go tomorrow, content to do worse. He spreads his fingers over your torso, pinky nudging the underside. You'd let Steve touch wherever he liked, and he'd enjoy doing it, you think. That's a gift in itself such casual intimacy. 

"Vanessa, is she…" Steve's minty fresh breath pushes over your face like a small gale. "She's not picking on you, is she?" 

You like to be honest with Steve, and you want to be honest now — I don't know. But you hate thinking he'd have to look after you more than he does already. 

"No," you say, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Like a puzzle?" Steve asks sceptically.

"Guess my pieces are a little warped after spending so much time with you." 

He laughs like you're the funniest girl he's ever met, a big breathy sound with the punch of his voice behind it. "Guess they are," he says, hand climbing higher over your chest. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"Never," you say lightly. 

He smiles at you. You forget Vanessa's out of place comments, her weak smiles, her for-show friendliness in front of Steve. She doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and letting her dictate your thoughts in gorgeous, glowing moments like this would be a waste. 

"Love you," you whisper. 

Steve nestles into the space under your jaw. He doesn't fit but he does, of course he does, he's your everything. If that's where he wants to sleep tonight, so be it. You turn into his grasp to take the pressure off of his arm and return his gentle hugging, forcing his face closer so you can breathe in the smell of his hair. 

"Love you," Steve says. He kisses your neck chastely. "Turn the light off?" 

You reach back blindly and switch off the lamp. Everything will be okay as long as you have your boy. Right? 

—

Vanessa gets worse. She makes neutral comments with enough friendliness to make you wonder if she's truly being cruel? Am I just looking for a fight? What do I want? 

Maybe it's Vanessa's clear preference for Steve. You could be jealous. You aren't sure what jealousy feels like in relationships until she's touching him when she doesn't need to be and smiling at him like he hung the moon. She doesn't go overboard, though. She keeps her hands mostly to herself. She goes as far as to tell Steve that she thinks you're beautiful. 

You don't know how to explain your reservations to him if he can't already see it. If she'd really thought you were beautiful, surely that's something she could say face to face, rather than the unhappy little nod she gives you whenever you cross paths? Despite evidence suggesting it, you don't think Vanessa's trying to make a move on Steve. 

She's a bit of a bitch, but that's not a crime. Unfortunate? Yes. Illegal? No. Immoral? You aren't sure. 

It's her most obvious dig yet that manages to grab Steve's attention a second time since the poker incident.

"I couldn't let my eyebrows grow out like yours," she says, voice bubbly with a faked awe, "I think it's super cool of you."

"Vanessa," Robin says, eyes on her plate, an inquisitive twist to her voice that you've come to know as her sarcasm, "we're in the apocalypse." 

Steve, who'd seemed torn between speaking up and genuinely confused about the comment Vanessa'd made, chokes on his food beside you, soup dribbling down both corners of his mouth as he laughs. You wipe the corners of his mouth with your long sleeves.

"Jeez, you're like my baby," you say. Your voice is occluded by Jonathan's silvery giggles. 

Steve swallows roughly, "I resent that."

He still lifts his chin so you'll rub the bead that's escaped down his throat. 

Vanessa ends up laughing too, says, "I think I'm just crazy tired," punctuated with a high-pitched laugh. 

"Honestly, me too," you say, because maybe she is, and maybe she needs just a little smidge more benefit of the doubt. 

"I've been keeping her up," Steve says smugly. 

"He still making you read that King book? The Gunslinger?" Jonathan asks. "Will wants it whenever you're done." 

"Every night," you say. 

You're pretending it's a chore because that's what you and Steve always used to do. These days room for sincerity is much larger, but it's fun to give him a hard time when, at the end of the day, you'll crawl into bed together and tuck his face into your neck, flipping to the dog-eared page of your worn paperback to read in dulcet tones until he's a dozing weight warming your skin.

Steve looks for your hand under the table and lets your small group of friends laugh at him. Chris makes a whipping sound through the corner of his mouth. It's surprisingly accurate, and it makes you laugh worse, leaning your weight into Steve's arm for support in an action so familiar it's entirely thoughtless. 

"It's not that funny," he murmurs, breath tickling your forehead. 

"M'not laughing," you say. 

You are most definitely laughing. It's a good moment, even if Vanessa's comment sticks around underneath to nibble at your heart. 

He doesn't let your hand go for a really long time. Not when you're taking the plates up to the dirty dishes trolley, or on the walk back to Little Hawkins' with everybody in high spirits. He struggles to unlock your door one handed and he's still insisting when you try to tug away from him. 

"Let me make the bed." 

"We're getting back in 'n like, ten minutes." 

"You're tired?" you ask. 

"No. I just wanna lay down with you." 

He says it simply. Concise, with neither affection nor anything less. It's damn near factual. Steve just wants to lay down with you, out of everything in the world he could do. He could be haunting Robin's room, stealing snacks from under her bed and claiming them as bribes for not tattling on her to Hopper. He could be with Dustin in the new rec room —aptly labelled Nerd Club, when put to a vote— arguing on how to spend the valuable alloted half hour of TV time. 

He could stay with you and insist on other things. Reading. Self-defence. A walk around the community. Sex. An early night. A cold shower. 

But he's content to lay with you, to share one another's space without asking for anything else. 

Though you won't rule everything out. His kisses lately are a lot more than you're used to. 

"Let my hand go, you fiend!" you declare, overcome with a rush of affection for him. "I'm gonna make the bed and we're gonna lay down and then after that we're gonna go bother Robin." 

"You know, I'm not sure I like this you and Robin thing." 

You tug your fingers from his. It's like trying to escape a sticky fly trap. 

"You mean us being friends?" you ask.

You throw all of your throws and pillows onto the ground and grab your thick quilt, shaking it out over your mattress as Steve groans. 

"Exactly!" 

"I thought you wanted me to have friends?" 

"Of course I do, you word-twisting douche." 

"Nice, nice. Dustin or Mike?" 

"I stole that one from Will, thank you very much." 

"See! You have upwards of four friends, Steve, and I'm not allowed to have any?" 

He grabs you from behind. You drop the quilt with a sigh, going limp as a fish in his arms. He staggers backward under your dead weight but manages to keep you up, breath tickling the inside of your ear as he says, "No, you're not. Just me." He kisses your ear.

"I tried that and everyone got mad at me." 

"No, they didn't." 

They really didn't. You cover his arm with your fingers, rub your fingertips over the hill of his arm. His arm hair is soft. 

"Steve." 

"What?" he asks, his hands crawling down to cover your stomach.

"Don't squeeze me." 

"You're very squeezable." 

"I was way more squeezable before, remember." 

You'd lost some weight from the start of the apocalypse to now. Steve hates it. You're perfect, he'd said once, no matter what. But still, he laments your lost weight for what it represents — times where you and he had struggled to survive. 

"I'm working on that," he promises. 

You turn your face, shifting in the circle of his arms to meet his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. You'd admitted that to yourself a long time ago but each time you really stare into them it takes a moment for it to settle. He is a pretty, pretty boy.

He's looking at you with a soft smile. Then, for a split second, you swear his eyes rove up to your brows. It's more than likely your imagination.  

"Let me finish making this bed," you say, turning back to the discarded pile of pillows and blankets. 

"You want your jammies?" 

You snort happily. "Yeah, sweetheart. Lay 'em out for me, please." 

—

For the last week or two, Steve has noticed a change in you. You've changed a lot since you met him (for the second time). You've gone from prickly and distant and somewhat distracted to determined, vigilant. You may not come on scrounging missions outside but you're brave, and you've survived more than he ever wanted you to have to go through. 

This change is distinctive. It's like you've reverted to how you acted when you were more friend than girlfriend; you're self conscious. 

He really hates it. 

He can't work out what he did, or what happened, but it sucks. He sucks. 

"There has be be something you want," he says. 

You're standing with him by the south fence. He and his team are about to head out for the shopping mall for as many blankets as they can carry. 

"I just want you to be careful," you say. 

You look tired. It's early in the morning, and you'd woken up earlier still. Your hair is freshly washed from a cold shower. 

You're still not comfortable showering without him, but of course the other girls aren't comfortable with him sitting in there when they're naked. You've had to schedule your showers for the dawn hour. 

"I'm gonna be careful for free," he says, pulling at a wet strand of your hair. He scratches lightly around your ear before hooking his fingers underneath it, his thumb drawing from your cheek to your lips. "Pick something you want and I'll find it. You know, Robs said we might be able to pass by a real small cherry garden on the way home. Do you–" He should know this. Why doesn't he know this? "Do you like cherries?" 

Thankfully, you laugh at his question and let your face fall into his hand. He thumbs your ear lobe gently. 

"I don't want anything at all. 'Cept for you to be extremely careful," you say. 

He pulls you in for a hug, smashes a messy kiss to your head, and tries to pull away because he's cool and the guys are watching. 

You're less quick. You rub your cheek against his chest. 

"Please, Steve," you whisper. 

He frowns. There's something you're not telling him. He wishes you would, but clearly you don't think you can. He's gonna try to do whatever it is he needs to do to get you there.

Steve takes your face into both hands. 

"I will be super careful, dummy. That's my middle name, I'm Steve Careful Harrington," he says. 

"I thought your middle name was Danger?" 

He kisses you. "No? Who told you that?" 

Your laugh is pretty enough to keep him smiling for most of the hike to the mall, until Robin says, mid sentence, "–Jeez, you're pathetic." 

Pathetic for you is something he doesn't necessarily mind being, but pathetic in general he cannot abide. He spends the rest of the hike stepping on the sides of Robin's shoes as she retells the plot of Murder on the Orient Express. Steve had seen the movie once but he's never read the original novel. Lucky him, Robin had an Agatha Christie phase when she was twelve, and she knows all the best parts. 

Hike is a strange word considering all of their walking is through steep roads. They move past rundown cars, streets and streets of abandoned houses scraped clean. There's an elementary school with a rusted playground in front. Vegetation has already started to spread through the packed wood chip flooring, and one of the swings has a broken chain. Steve hadn't realised how quickly human things fell into disrepair when attacked by the elements and left maintenance. 

The mall is a better example. Smashed glass lays around the entrance in tiny pieces like a huge back of upturned sugar, and bluegrass eats its way between paving stones. The team consists of eight people, including Steve, Robin, Christopher, and one of the College's co-leaders, a mister Jeremy Livingstone. They make their way carefully through the glass and grass in a wave of crunching footsteps to the front of the mall, where Steve wedges the flat blade of his knife between the automatic doors and works them open. When there's enough room for a second hand, Chris slides in beside him, and they work the doors open. Steve's biceps are burning by the time they're inside the mall. 

"Alright, guys," Jeremy says. "There's a bedding store toward the back of the mall. We'll go there first, and then we'll try to work through the list of requests. Blankets and sheets are our second priority. Staying safe and alive is first. Only grab what you know you can carry, you can bring back whatever you want, just… don't be greedy. Alright?"

They head out for the bedding store at the back.

"How much stuff can we carry?" Robin asks him. "I have weak arms. I'm a weakling." 

"Isn't there uh, a fancy storage place? We could drag a suitcase back." 

"For two hours?" 

"Is it two hours? Livingstone! You want me and Robin to grab some suitcases?" 

Everybody fills a suitcase with sheets and blankets in plastic wrap. The brand new stuff feels like a luxury, and Steve dibs a double mattress bedspread made of Egyptian cotton, knowing that'll make you smile. Now he's got your mattress up on those crates from behind the cafeteria, your room has really come together. Blankets and trinkets and sweet glassware. You have a small shelf of books, your clothes, your pens and pencils. 

Steve'll bring you anything you want, only you don't seem to want anything at all. 

He'll just… have to bring you some of everything. 

—

Your tears taste salty. You feel gross for licking a tear off of your top lip but nobody's around to see you do it; Steve might not be home until dark. You have time to get this upset out of your system. 

You'd been asked by Maybelle to swing by Armoury and Amenities, an unofficial name for the building where the community keeps the bulk of its collective resources, for a new propane tank. You'd gone inside, said hi to Cooper, said hi to Vanessa, explained why you needed the propane, and left. 

Or, you'd tried to leave. The propane tank was heavy, and the front door had been difficult to open one handed. You'd swung it open, quickly put your hand back on the tank to stop yourself from dropping it, and watched in frustration as the door slammed closed before you could worm your way out.

"She's the one who got, like, taken?" came Cooper's voice, pretty much as soon as the door stopped bouncing. His voice echoed from the next room.

"Sure, taken." 

You'd stilled instantly. 

"What, you think she wanted to go?" 

Vanessa sighed. "No, I don't think so. She didn't try very hard to come back, s'all I'm saying." 

"Chris says Harrington's infatuated with her. Like he's under a spell," Cooper said, chuckling.

"It's gotta be some kind of magic, she's… Well, God knows he'd have his pick if he came back to reality. You have the catalogue? I wanna note the propane before I forget." 

And that had been that. 

You don't understand why Steve loves you, sometimes. You know he does. It isn't up for questioning. Love with Steve is a lot of things — long talks in the mornings about anything and everything, his fingers tucking your shirt into your jeans. It's him pulling your hood over your eyes whenever he's behind you and laughing when you grumble. It's hiding in places you shouldn't be, hand in hand. It's miles of Indiana highway. It's heart-racing anxiety that one of you might not make it to the end. Love with Steve is a devotion: he takes care of you. He's taken care of you ever since you met. 

You haven't stopped to wonder if you deserve it in a long time. 

I don't, you think, half tears and all heartbreak. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve Steve. He's too good, the kind of good that starts life in the marrow of bones. He's sweet and soft-handed with a softer heart. He looks like a dream, and it shouldn't matter but it does. His voice is the only one you like waking up to, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear. 

Time to get up, dummy. Rise and shine, angel. Baby, come on. We slept in, loser, and you need to get dressed. Hey, are you listening to me? I miss you, wake up. 

"Y/N?" Steve asks, trying the handle. 

You flinch hard, and your heart jumps with you. A flip flop somersault feeling in your chest that plummets to your stomach. You scratch madly at your cheeks with two woollen sleeves and stand up as he opens the door. 

"Hey," Steve says, and he's safe, he's alive and well and home again. 

He stands in the doorway with a bulging rucksack on his back, windbreaker zipped tight to his neck, hair a windblown mess. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks are ice-bitten, though the colour is coming back to his skin slowly. 

You don't feel as though you deserve him but you can't help yourself from springing into his chest, arms around his waist before he can blink. Before he can see the wet mess of your face, and your tear swollen eyes. 

"Hey," he says again, leaning a great deal of his weight over your shoulders. He sniffs your hair. "Hey  dummy. Told you I'd get home fine, huh?" 

You try not to breathe too loudly against his chest. The fabric of his coat is stiff and cold, a contrast to your heated skin. 

"Hey," he says, for a third time. This time it's all powdered sugar soft. Concern and exhaustion wrapped together. "I know, I'm sorry it took longer than usual. It's my fault, I wanted to get you something 'n' I made us all late coming home, I know you worry."

You don't answer again. You don't know how to explain it to him. You can barely understand it yourself. You cling to him and his solid mass until he gives in, his mouth pressed to your temple, his arms tightening behind your head. He shields you from the world for a handful of long, stolen minutes. There's nothing but his hugs, no sound to battle the plastic sounds of his windbreaker or the blood rushing between your ears. 

"I didn't mean to worry you," he murmurs.

You don't trust your voice to come out whole. 

He freezes under your touch. A slow hardening. His hands pause where they'd been rubbing short, featherlight lines. 

"I'm sorry," you say, enthusing your tone with some self-deprecating cheer.  "You're tired, I'm sorry. You wanna sit down." 

"I really do." He laughs. 

You peel away from him, the two of you sheepish and awkward and it's so unlike you, unlike him. You think you've made a fool of yourself as he takes off his rucksack, laying it carefully on the floor by the bed as you turn to your shared dresser and rummage through the top drawer for some clean clothes for him to take when he showers. 

You've freaked him out, and he thinks you're a weirdo, and he's gonna realise you don't deserve him and you never could. You're bad at nearly everything, and you're a total slob, and you should've tried harder to get back to him, and it's all your fault. Misery grips you and drags you down hard. It spirals, surface level comments from a shallow, jealous girl, they twist and twist until you feel wrung out and useless. And now Steve's home, and you're–

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asks. 

You wince and face him, his sweatpants pressed to your chest. "What?" 

"You're not talking to me, and you only ever used to do that when you were mad." 

You pass him his sweatpants, clear your throat. "Stevie, I'm not mad at you." 

"Then what's up?" He unzips his windbreaker, keeping his eyes on you. "I know it's something." 

You force yourself to keep a mild smile. You can't think of a lie — you don't want to lie. 

Steve frowns as your face crumples, a large palm leaping to the curve of your neck. 

"What's wrong?" he asks. 

You can't align this Steve with the one you knew in Hawkins. He's so different. Or maybe he isn't different at all, and you're lucky to see the depth of his feelings, the expanse of his goodness and his heart and his secret smile, corners pulled up and eyebrows pushed down just so. It says, You're okay, because we're gonna do this together. The world will keep spinning for us as long as we want it to.

"I had a bad day," you say. 

"Are you sure? I've seen you on some bad days, baby. This doesn't feel like that, you know? And I get that I don't always know what to say, but I promise I wanna know. Whatever it is that's been making you all grumpy." 

His smile glows, his eyebrows rising. His teasing tone toward the end of his reassurance is a lightness you cling to. 

Lately, everything has felt so heavy. 

"I'm worried I don't…" Even attempting to say it has your throat aching. You cover his hand with yours. "Steve, I– I feel bad lately. I feel like I'm bad." 

He shakes his head, strands of his brown hair unsticking to dance in front of his eyes. "You're not bad." 

"I don't deserve you." 

He stares. 

"Being with you now, having you look after me, I didn't deserve you when I met you." A tear gathers in the line of your lashes. "I don't deserve you now. I'm just me, I'm useless, and you don't have to be with me and I've," —you take in a shuddering breath, and step away from Steve's hand— "been trying to work out why you're still with me and it doesn't make sense. Why do you stay with me?" 

"That's a stupid question," he says. 

You try to swallow a lump. It stays right there in your throat. 

"I got a policy against stupid questions, remember?" 

"Steve…" 

He cuts you off, tangling his fingers with yours, and easing you close until his breath is warming your lips and you can see the honey-browns that circle his pupils. They feel bigger the longer you look at them. 

"How can you ask me that?" he says gently. "You know how much I love you… Right?" 

You nod and knuckle a tear off of your cheek. "I know," you say, and you're crying now, little bubbling sobs that wobble your shoulders. 

"Listen, if I haven't been showing it I'm sorry, and I'll prove it to you. I don't want you to question it."

"It's not you," you say, pressing your forehead to his collar, craving his comfort so much that you don't care if you don't deserve it. 

"Everybody knows that line is a lie," he says.

"I'm not lying. Everybody knows I'm the part that doesn't fit." 

"Who's everybody?" 

You try to backtrack and pull away, but Steve won't let you this time. "I'm just having a bad day," you say, "and you've had a long one–" 

"Stop it." Steve looks at you seriously. He takes your face into both hands, like he always does when he's worried. "I don't care if I crawled home with two broken arms, loser. I gotta know what's wrong. All of it. And you need to tell me." 

He thumbs at your damp cheeks. 

"Okay," you mumble, embarrassed and relieved at once. "I'll tell you."

You insist that he take his shoes off and stretch out in bed even though he's got dirty jeans on, and he doesn't wanna get your nest of throw blankets dirty, so he peels out of them and sits in his boxers at the top of the bed. You slide in next to him, and he works his arm over your shoulder, and you cry like a baby when he calls you honey under his breath. 

—

"And these are for you, too," Steve says, pulling a slightly smushed box of cherries from the bottom of his rucksack. 

You look beautiful. Afternoon sunlight drips in from a crack in the curtains, kissing up and down your smiling cheeks. Your eyes are still puffy, but your smile hasn't moved all morning. 

"You didn't get anything for yourself?" you ask, though any outrage for him you harbour is hidden by your awe. "I don't remember the last time we got fresh fruit, and you didn't even put them at the top of the bag." 

"You're such a whiner. Just try one." 

Your fingers play delicately over the punnet of cherries. The cherry garden had had a lot of supplies left to 'borrow', and after a sickly half an hour of him and Robin staining their teeth, he'd managed to grab a perfect box's worth for you. Perfect before they got squished, that is. 

"You should have the first one," you say.

"No," he says, and shoves the box at your calf. "They're for you. If you like them, I want you to eat all of them and throw up like a godzilla." 

"Not sure you're remembering that movie right," you murmur, plucking one of the cherries out of the box. 

You bite into the cherry and your eyes screw up. "Oh wow, that's sour. I don't…" You finish chewing, and Steve is rocketed to cloud nine when you go in for a second cherry, and then a third. 

Last night had been tough. Steve spent a long time talking you down from what'd been sewn into your head, and he'd pulled the truth from you in strings. Vanessa had been cruel to you on more than one occasion now, which Steve had known but not to the full extent, and her last comment had been too much. Steve, unapologetically, hates her. 

But Vanessa isn't the sole problem. 

You're having a really hard time. All of this has been so much for you. It is, in Robin's words, the fucking apocalypse, and between nearly starving to death and all the shitty things that have happened to you, he isn't surprised to find you're fragile. And he doesn't say fragile, meaning weak. He doesn't know a lot about the world but he knows the human brain and body isn't built for this. You're his girl, and you're hurting, and while he knows objectively this isn't his fault, he vows to do a better job at protecting you. 

He won't fail you again. He can't. 

He watches cherry juice escape out of the corner of your mouth. 

"You're cute," he says. "Where's the disposable? Pass it over." 

"You are not taking a photo of me right now, baby." 

"You look beautiful." 

"When will we ever get the photos developed, anyway?" you say, laughing, kissing juice off of your fingertips. 

He leaps for the camera and tussles you when you fight back. You laugh and lose, weak with giggles as he holds you away, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist. 

"Jonathan does all of that stuff," Steve says knowingly. 

He gives you a little shove. You cover your face with your hands, words muffled, "Thought the camera was for me?" 

"We're sharers. We share things. Look, if you don't smile for me I'm gonna take a picture of you in your underwear." 

You throw your hands over your lap and he snaps a photo of your shy face. 

"Shithead fucking pervert," you say. 

Steve knows he's off the hook when you laugh. 

He's gonna give Vanessa the coldest shoulder anyone has ever given, and if she were a guy Steve would defend your honour in a more physical manner. He'd suggested a verbal defence last night but you'd begged him to never, ever bring any of it up to Vanessa or your friends. It startled him —you have nothing to be ashamed of— but he'd agreed. Whatever's gonna make you happy is, perhaps cornily, what he wants to do.

Right now, making you happy is gifts on the floor of your tiny shared bedroom, pantsless but, fascinatingly, with socks. He points the camera at your ankles.

You grab the new blanket he'd given you and drape it over your legs. "Pervert," you reiterate. 

He puts down the camera. 

"Not my fault they made you perfect." 

"Who's they?" 

Steve shrugs, and can't keep the smirk off of his face as he says, "They made every damn inch of you perfect, especially but not limited to your pretty eyebrows." 

Your smile settles into something more timid. You push your hill of gifts aside, careful not to spill your cherries, and walk the short distance on knees to wrap your arms around his neck. Your face fits into the curve of his neck exactly the way it always will. His hand cups your lower back. 

"Love you, Harrington," you say. 

"How much? 'Nough to let me have some of the cherries?" 

You shake your head gently, the tip of your nose bumping his Adam's apple. "No…" you say apprehensively. 

"No? You don't wanna share with me?" 

"No." Your mumbling is adorable. Steve wants to eat you alive, or at the very least kiss you until you turn to jelly in his arms. 

If he starts now, he can be done by dinner. 

"Five seconds to change your mind. After that I'm taking all of them by force. Five, four, three…" 

You shriek, and even your shrieking  is a sound he wants to hear. You drop away from him and grab the cherries, cornering yourself too fast as you stagger to your feet and hide by the desk. Shoulders against the cabinet, you grab up one of your rare books like a shield, and you glare at him over the cover. 

"You said they were for me!" you say, real panic in your voice. You know from experience Steve will tickle you until you can't breathe.

"They are for you! I love you," he says, words dripping with a false sincerity (though he loves you, undeniably). "I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You don't want my help?" 

"You keep your help away from me, beast." 

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he'd thought to melt you. He tickles you, and he steals a handful of your precious cherries, and when he kisses you dizzy it leaves red-pink splotches over the column of your neck, his smile temporarily printed into your skin. 

—

ty for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed, and if you did pls consider reblogging <3<3

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

[komihoyinsblog]

Let's talk a bit about a fact that was given exactly zero attention in canon(at least as far as I remember it). Correct me @r--kt if I'm wrong. How was it for Minato to find out that his dead apprentice had started the worst war ever and sent Kyuubi to walk around the village, destroying a huge part of it and killing a lot of shinobi? And then did it again 15 years later, but with Nagato? What was it like for Minato to find out that his apprentice killed him, his wife and almost killed his newborn child (threatened with kunai, explosive seals and so on)? How was it for Minato to know that his apprentice chose to go to Madara willingly, to choose all these crazy plans, even though he still had people who loved him and could wait, happy for his return? What was it like for Minato to find out that from the looks of it, all those years together had meant little to Obito? That his apprentice didn't work for the good of the village, but went to another village and set up a bloody dictatorship? That he was ready to kill his sensei's son again? That he deliberately cultivated hatred in the village for his clan and then killed everyone?

I honestly feel like we don't talk much about Minato's(and Kushina's) feelings about Obito's betrayal. Yes, they can be kind and understanding. Yes, Minato can still keep Kakashi from killing Obito. But. Minato prevents Kakashi from killing his teammate. But what about the man who didn't give Minato and Kushina a chance to live and see their son grow up? Who condemned their son to an admittedly horrible existence in the village? Konoha hated Naruto and it was Obito's fault. It's really just the horrible side of the situation that Kishimoto chose to hide under the rug. The overpowering feeling of betrayal. Yes, we can see Kakashi's feelings, but how does Minato feel then???? Obito ruined not only his life, but also his dream. Minato was Hokage for how long? Six months? A year??? That's fucked up.

I think the only thing Minato could be thankful for is Obito not touching Kakashi. Though that's a very questionable gratitude too, huh. Yeah, Kakashi survived, but what about his morale? Obito is clearly responsible for some of Kakashi's mental problems.

The whole thing is a big, huge mess. Yes, Obito was manipulated and brainwashed a bit, but he still did it. And I still think that some part of what Obito did he didn't regret until the very end.

I wonder how many times Minato thought after the resurrection that he never should have taken on more students in addition to Kakashi? That he should have just trained Kakashi and that was it? That the world should never have seen Minato's team? That Kakashi, Obito, and Rin should never have been on the same team? Very good questions. Minato would clearly regret something, except what exactly? What would he have changed in the past? Probably never would have let Kakashi and Obito meet, but that's just my thoughts.

#naruto #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #uchiha obito #hatake kakashi #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #naruto au #team minato #minato namikaze #kushina uzumaki #eh #=(

[blindmagdalena]

I have a headcannon that the reader is apart of the 7 (which would make it the 8 instead) and they've just gone through a nasty break up and homelander finds them crying and he just awkwardly pats them on the back and sits next to them while they sob

Homelander being Bad at emotional communication/comfort but making an attempt anyways because he believes it's his duty as the leader of The Seven—primarily to maintain his team as an extension of himself—is so, so good.

he naturally talks like an awkward dad. I can so clearly see him hesitantly meandering in and being like, "Hey, champ. Something up?" and he doesn't really want to know, but he feels obligated to at least ask. Ideally they'll give a brief answer, he can say, "Chin up! You're a hero, after all." y'know, spout the usual party lines.

but the answer is not brief. it's detailed, there's this immense relief from them over the fact he asked at all. suddenly he has his hands full with a heavy emotional burden that he has no idea what to do with other than nod and make the occasional hum.

listening to someone crying is probably a sensory nightmare for Homelander. hearing every wet blink, every snotty sniffle, the mucus in the back of the throat while they speak, the rattle of their breath. pair that with his sheer inexperience and emotional immaturity? he's tapping his fingers on his thighs, enduring more than he is actually comforting.

but then it's over, and they're looking at him with watery eyes and a red nose and a smile. "Thank you, Homelander," they say. he's not sure why he's so offput by their gratitude. he's entitled to it, of course. he just sat here for god knows how long (less than 5 minutes) suffering alongside them. he deserves to be thanked, so why does his skin feel so itchy under his suit?

He's not ready to think about how much easier his life would have been if there had been just one person willing to be there for him when he had suffered. how different things would be if he hadn't been so alone, his mind had to invent someone who would sit in for him.

Because he's not ready, he gives a broad, toothy grin that drips insincerity and stands up. "Teamwork makes the dream work," he says flatly, and pats them a little too sharply on the back, jostling them. they look as confused by the gesture as he feels. he clears his throat.

"Right. Go get yourself cleaned up! No one likes to see a hero in the dumps," he says, and turns on his heel. He doesn't want to listen to one more second of wet, sad breathing.

"Wait!" They say, and he stops. doesn't look back, keeps his look of impatient disgust to himself. "If you ever, you know... need someone. I'm here. I can be your someone."

Tightly, he bares his teeth in that same smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and turns back around. Offers them a cynical little thumbs up. "You bet'cha."

Finally, he gets away. He exhales roughly. He feels uncomfortably warm and prickly all over, unable to put his finger on why.

I can be your someone.

Those words rattle around in his brain for the rest of the day.

I can be your someone.

They grow from a whisper in the back of his mind to a loud and ugly distraction.

The fucking nerve of them. He doesn't need anyone. He's fucking Homelander. As if he'd ever be caught dead sobbing his "widdle feewings" out in the conference room.

Pathetic.

And yet...

The next time Homelander feels it, that bubbling rage broiling up from his gut to his throat, burning like bile, those words come back like the flashes of a nightmare resurfacing from his subconscious.

I can be your someone.

Which is precisely how Homelander winds up tracking them down and sitting next to them with a vicious flourish of his cape.

"Oh, Homelander, hey—"

He puts his finger up sharply. "Shut... up. Sit there and be..." Be my someone. "Be quiet."

The silence is tense at first. Seconds tick by like minutes, minutes go on like hours. He listens to the patter of their heart. It shot up when he snapped, but it's beginning to calm now. Their breaths are steady. His own breathing, initially sharp huffs from his nose, gradually evens out. His churning stomach settles, and bit by bit, he feels himself again.

No destruction. No thick coppery tang of blood lingering in his nose. Just slowing breaths, steady heartbeats, and someone who will be there.

Eventually, Homelander clears his throat. "Thanks," he says, voice tight. "Teamwork makes the dream work," they reply. He looks over at them with a quirked brow. They're smiling faintly, a little playful. That catches him off guard. At first he thought they were mocking him, but they just look relieved. Something unspoken has occurred, and neither of them know what to say.

Homelander looks down at his hands. The leather of his gloves squeaks when he flexes them. "Anyways—"

A touch to his back startles the words off of his tongue. He looks at them. No judgement, just quiet sympathy as they rub back. Oh, he thinks, recalling the forceful way he'd patted them. This is what that's supposed to feel like.

He looks away, and they linger like that a moment longer. His cape and suit muffle much of the feeling of their hand, but still, the contact is nice. It bridges the isolating gap that Homelander experiences in his day to day interactions. Somehow, there is more connection here than in some of his intimate experiences.

He leans back into the touch slightly, blinking.

Pathetic, he thinks as his eyes burn wetly.

Homelander stands briskly, clapping his gloved hands to his thighs. "Right. Good. Back to work," he says, unsure of what it was they had been doing in the first place. He just needs to leave.

"Okay," they say, voice full of such gentle understanding. It only makes the burn in his eyes worsen, tinged with resentment. Where was this when he needed it most? "I'll see you later."

He opens his mouth, but stops himself. He bites the inside of his cheek, and then clicks his tongue lightly. "Yeppers," he says simply, at a loss. He leaves that way, heart heavy with a mix of strange, uncomfortable feelings, and yet undeniably lighter than when he had first arrived.

He doesn't know what to think of any of it. All he knows is that it will require further examination, and further interactions with his...

Someone.

#this is like halfway between fic and headcanon idk what to do with this #it is stream of consciousness #i just enjoy thinking about emotionally stunted homelander having to deal with his Big Feelings #and ofc every emotional interaction must become About Him #anyways thanks for the ask! i enjoyed talking a break from zelda to do a little writing here lol #homelander x reader #homelander headcanons #my writing #ask and you shall receive

[evans-heaven]

pretzels ; eddie munson

Writing and posting a fic for the first time in years bc this post about Eddie and his pretzels decided to moderately blow up. Pls note this quickly went from a fic about eating pretzels to a full blown rewrite of the cafeteria scene BUT I hope you enjoy ;)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n or physical descriptions)

Warnings: Like two swear words, disgusting fluff, Eddie being soft only for his gf, said gf being a sucker for her bf, suggestiveness at the end bc why tf not

“The devil...has come....to America,” 

You popped a pretzel into your mouth. It was lunchtime at Hawkins High, and you sat at the Hellfire Club table in your designated seat next to your boyfriend, Eddie. You were listening to him being his theatrical self while reading some bullshit article in Newsweek about Dungeons and Dragons.

“Studies have linked the game to violent behavior, satanic worship, ritual sacrifice....”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Did you play the game? No. Have you sat in on many Hellfire Club meetings simply because you loved your boyfriend and wanted to have at least some knowledge of one of the few things that made him happy? Absolutely. So, with that fact in mind, you were offended on his behalf by this article that was doing entirely too much.

You found some comfort, however, in admiring him as he continued reading. Dramatics aside, your man was just so damn handsome. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had literal hearts in your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm like a Disney Princess and got lost in his features, features you knew like the back of your hand and yet couldn’t get enough of. 

What got you the most? His eyes. They were so big, brown, and expressive. You loved them the most when they gazed upon you in so much admiration it made your entire body tingle. But, you liked the excitement in them when he got fired up, much like at this moment, as well. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Eddie slamming the magazine down. “....and even...MURDER!” he widened those doe eyes and stuck his tongue out for good measure, finishing his little show. 

“Society has to blame something, and we’re an easy target,” was said as Dustin and Mike, the younger members of the Hellfire Club, sat at the table. 

“Exactly,” Eddie agreed, his arms folded. “We’re an easy target, because we like to play a fantasy game,” he said, and despite the theatrics from him a mere minute ago, it was obvious he was annoyed, and maybe even little hurt. 

Jumping into girlfriend mode, you grabbed his forearm, unfolding his arms, and sliding your hand down to tangle it with his. He visibly softened almost instantly, and rested his gaze on you as you smile gently at him. He kissed the back of your hand in gratitude. 

The tender moment, however, was short lived as he softly pulled away. He rested his palms on the table harshly. “BUT!” He shot up, and, before you could stop him, climbed onto the table. “As long as you’re into band, or science, or....parties...” he surveyed the cafeteria from his heightened spot on the table, saying the last interest mockingly with a look of disgust (you just knew, even if you couldn’t see him).

“OR A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDREY BASKETS,” Eddie jeered loudly, directly to the basketball team, hands cupped over his mouth, because standing on the table wasn’t drawing enough attention. And yet, you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

When you dated someone like Eddie Munson, there was no such thing as ‘small’ or ‘subtle’. Despite your more lowkey and reserved nature, you loved how eccentric he was, because it was just his authentic self. He wasn’t trying to act cool like all the other kids at Hawkins High, he knew he stood out and he embraced it, and so did you.

Plus, those basketball playing douchebags deserved to be knocked down a peg, anyway.

“You want something, freak?” the captain, Jason, countered, as though he was in any way intimidating. To people who cared about status in a fucking high school, maybe, but not to Eddie, who simply made a taunting face at him.

“Its forced conformity,” he said as he walked back down the table like it was a damn runway. “Its what’s KILLING THE KIDS,” his voice grew as he hopped down and startled someone, yelling right in her face. You were surprised the contents of her tray didn’t go flying. Then, ever the (somewhat) gentleman, Eddie gestured for two cheerleaders to pass by him. 

“That’s the real monster,” he concluded, sitting back down for a rare moment of calm.

Shaking your head, you clapped lightly to humor him, a smirk tugging at your lips as he looked to you, smiling back. Because you felt especially playful, you took a pretzel from his plastic bag and held it up to his mouth, almost like a reward. He grinned devilishly (no pun intended), and encased his entire mouth around your finger tips, as he took the pretzel from them, pulling away with an exaggerated smacking sound, because he’s Eddie Munson and he’s dramatic.

“Ugh,” you whined jokingly, wiping your damp fingers on his shirt. He batted your hand away lightly before dragging your chair closer so he could rest his arm on the back of it. You leaned into his side and continued feeding him, popping some in your mouth in between. He, of course, did the absolute most when taking them from you, nipping at your fingers constantly and not giving a damn about the blatant PDA in front of his club.

You were teasing Eddie by pulling the pretzel away a little bit before he could take it when the curly haired freshman, Dustin, spoke up. “So, speaking of monsters, Lucas has to do his, uh, balls in laundry baskets game,” he began, chuckling nervously. 

Eddie listened to Dustin as he kept his gaze on you while you continued popping pieces into his mouth. This wasn’t really your concern so you had no qualms continuing the lovey-dovey shit. You almost thought you belonged at the ‘popular’ table since you swore you saw an ‘it’ couple doing this exact same thing once. 

“So he’s not gonna be able to make it to hellfire,” Dustin’s next sentence got Eddie’s attention as he straightened slightly and turned to face him. Uh oh.

Before Dustin could finish stuttering his way through what he obviously wanted to offer as a solution, Mike cut him off. “POSTPONE!” he finished exasperatedly, and the protests began, because postponing? Hellfire club? Were they serious?

“SHUT UP!” Eddie barked over the chaos, and the table went quiet. You subtly bit your lip at the small show of power and you didn’t think anyone would blame you.

“You’re saying Sinclair’s been taken in by the dark side?” Eddie clarified as he sat forward, his arm moving from the back of your chair to the table, and you pouted. 

“Uh, something like that-”

“Something like that?” Eddie mocked, chucking a pretzel in the boys’ direction. “And rather than find a sub for him,” he proposed like it was obvious, “You want...you want to postpone. The cult. Of Vecna?”

As Mike began with the excuses, Eddie shot up, again, and you knew where this was headed. 

“It’s just that, y’know, most of the subs will be at the championship game,” Mike reasoned, but Eddie was having none of it.

“Oh, its the championship game?” he asked tauntingly, then enquired, “Can I level with you?” he began to make his way down the right side of the table, brushing his hand against my neck lightly as he passed. “Jeff graduates this year, Garett’s got, what, a year and a half?” he said, then gestured to himself. “Me, I am army crawling my way toward a D in Miss O’Donnell’s. If I don’t blow her final, I’m gonna walk that stage next month,” he began prancing slightly, and you looked on in amusement, even if you felt sad for him having to endure a final year in this hellhole multiple times. 

“I’m gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I’m gonna flip him the bird,” he gritted as he held up a middle finger to no one in particular, then clenched his other hand in a fist. You couldn't help but admire the bulky silver rings adorning his fingers, they had no reason to look so damn good there. “I’m gonna snatch that diploma, and then me and my girl are gonna run like hell outta here,” he began running in the direction of the exit, adding action to his words to get it to sink in for the club even more. You blushed when he mentioned you two leaving together. He always talked about getting out of Hawkins with you, as there wasn’t really anything keeping him here.

“Didn’t you say that last year?” Jeff spoke up.

“And the year before?” Garret added.

“Yeah, and I was full of shit!” Eddie defended, walking back. “This year, is my year,” he gave the cafeteria a once over, before looking at you and smiling. “Our year,” he corrected. “‘86, baby,” he promised, eyes still on you, soft as ever. 

You’d applied for multiple colleges out of state, letting fate (and pretty decent grades) decide where you would end up. You loved your boyfriend, but you were not putting your education aside for anyone. With that in mind, as well as how “hard” he was working for that barely passing grade, you prayed he really wasn’t full of shit this time. Maybe the two of you being side by side at graduation wasn’t gonna be a crazy dream anymore.

“You know what that means?” he asked Dustin and Mike, coming up behind them and laying heavy hands on their shoulders. “It means you boys, are the future of hellfire,” he said. “I knew it the moment I saw you, sat on that table right over there,” he pointed ahead, still keeping an arm on Mike’s shoulder. “Remember, baby?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“Looking like two little lost sheep,” you grinned, thinking back to when you first saw the two boys, just as awkward looking as they are now. 

“You were wearing a Weird Al T-Shirt,” he said to Dustin, then turned to Mike. “You were wearing whatever shit your mommy got you,”

“From the goddamn Gap,” you added in, enjoying this. You were willing to admit that Eddie sizing these kids up was, for some reason, entertaining. 

He pointed at you in agreement, chuckling, and everyone started laughing, including the two boys. The funny moment didn’t last, however, as Eddie switched it up on them real quick and yanked them up by their collars, effectively ending any amusement they felt as they became visibly tense.

You heard him begin to explain to them that the Hellfire Club gave them a decent high school experience and that there were other little ‘lost sheepies’ who needed that same assistance, then gently advised that they ‘get their Bo-Peeps on’, and go find one, before shoving them away from the table with a new task in their hands.  

Eddie relaxed, then made his way back to his seat, placing his arm back in its original spot on the back of your chair. 

“You think they’ll find someone?” Garett asked.

“They better,” Eddie mumbled. Accepting that, Garett shrugged and entered a conversation with the other members of the club. “Now, where were we?” Eddie asked you, then opened his mouth expectantly, sticking his tongue out. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled, picking up a pretzel and placing it on his waiting tongue. “You know, you should consider eating some real lunch, Ed,” you chastised lightly. “Snacks and weed isn’t really a proper diet,”

His eyes darkened, and he smirked. “Well then,” he mumbled, and brought his head closer to yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I know exactly what I want to eat,”

And with that, it was your turn to shoot up from your seat as you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the cafeteria, not even caring about the implications. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing like the latest cute white boy from a Netflix show to suddenly make you wanna write again. Hope the Eddie girlies enjoyed💕 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson writing #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader

[sol-consort]

You have just opened the floodgates to my long-repressed ME smut ideas I had nowhere to air out. I hope you know I appreciate you💙

Anyways. So. I have a headcannon that biotic fields are, like, personal to each user. For example, if someone raises a shield on someone else, it will feel slightly different depending on who does it, if that makes sense? Anyways, I was thinking in relation to that about human biotics, whose fields feel a little more staticy, especially the early generations, each use giving them slight zaps, sometimes its just their hairs standing on end, other times it's stronger, like getting shocked by an electric fence, really it depends on the strength of the ability and on how they wake up that day, but each person just... feels different. Could inspire deeper connections whether or not romance was present, the comfort of knowing its them, the familiarity of not just their touch or voice but their general being, knowing they have your back each time enemies fly into the air and the air gets that slight smell of ozone and their unmistakable presence.

Ngl, I forgot where I was going with this. I know it was about Kaidan, but I can't remember what it was😅 I'll let you know when I remember more, lol

AAA first ever request on this blog let's fucking gooo!!☆°•●○~

Gonna make it about our beloved support man, Kaidan.

Humans are unbelievable good at pattern recognition in everything. Even things we are not aware of, we still recognise a pattern for, that's the core mechanics of a gut feeling and what helped us survive.

Much like each person having a different gut biome☆ biotics would definitely be different from person to person, think like fingerprints or how each hug is different.

Kaidan's would feel different especially because he is an L2 and one of the first generation of human biotics.

Electricity is more natural to us than we think, it runs in our brain, neurons constantly firing off. So it's nor far fetched for the biotic shields to just align the right way to make us feel certian things on our skin and in our body.

Kaidan is constantly behind you in battle, watching over you and assessing your health and shield. The closest thing to a token medic you could call out for in desperation.

His shields would feel like a wave of soothing chill after the burn of a bullet, like the comfort of a ibuprofen after a strong headache. It's refreshing and makes you focus on the moment.

It's also intimate in a way you can't explain, in a way that feels very Kaidan. You've felt the shield of other biotics, ones that felt like a warm soft blanket, others that felt reassuring and desensitisating like a surgical table.

You would always murmur a small thank for Kaidan after his soothing shield cools off your burning body, drying off your sweat under the armor suit and lessening the ache of your joints.

And he'd eat those small compliments up. Be it a full thank you or an appreciative nod of the head. One time, you said, "Good job, Kaidan." A slip of the tongue where you forgot his title amidst the battle, it rings in his head to this day.

How breathless your voice was, the genuine gratitude in it as you praised him for doing such a good job at watching over his commander, having your back. You acknowledged his effort in supporting the team when lesser soldiers would scoff at his lack of combat power.

Somehow, you're always the first to get his shield during battle. His top priority over everyone else in the battlefield. You can confidenlty storm through a crowd of enemies and be confident that your lieutenant has your back.

One time your hand brushed against his and you noticed something. How soothingly cold it was.

Also feel free to flood my inbox with all of your thoughts I am literally starving like a hungry mutt for Mass Effect concepts. I am frothing at the mouth as we speak I am going to gnaw at the GPU of my pc.

#☆Kaidan #☆fluff #mass effect x reader #kaidan alenko #Kaidan x reader #Kaidan x Shepard

[solar-halos]

december prompts #9 fuzzy socks<3

omg thank you for this prompt it was soso fun <3. since i got a lil carried away the odesta fluff will commence under the cut!! :D

established relationship, artsy annie cresta

It hardly ever snows in District 4, which is majorly fucked up.

Annie loves the snow. She doesn’t remember much about her Victory Tour, ‘cause the Capitol kept her so doped up all the time, but she does remember that she got to play in it a few times.

It was so deep that Annie had to wear special clothes, delighting in the way the pillowy ground swallowed her heavy boots in the strangest rendition of shaved ice she’s ever seen. Mags stood guard to make sure that Annie didn’t eat shit. She even knitted her a scarf to place around the snowman the Capitol escort taught her how to make.

District 4 doesn’t have any snowmen, but it sure does have a lot of shaved ice. Pineapple syrup drips from Annie’s chin and sizzles onto the pavement.

Johanna was so lucky. She’s been swaddled in sweaters and chugging hot chocolate since October. District 4 always seems to miss the memo, but Annie has to admit it’s pretty wicked that she and her boyfriend can still go on romantic night swims during what’s usually the dead of winter for most districts.

She shifts a bit in her flowy dress so she can sit closer to Finnick. They couldn’t venture far from his house before the entire district started getting all fucking nosey, so she’s completely content to press her freezing cold lips to his cheek from the safety of his porch.

He melts in relief, a testament to how blazing hot it is. He asks her to do it again.

She obliges. She peppers his face with kisses until he’s as sticky as the syrup baked onto her wrists. Which would probably sound a little gross if he wasn’t her soulmate and she wasn’t his.

They have little ways of protesting nasty heatwaves, though. They barricade themselves inside, air conditioning on full blast (they’re victors—they can afford to get a little frivolous), and Finnick makes all these tasty soups. Annie knits blankets and sweaters and cardigans with Mags until they’re buried under scrap pieces of yarn. They’re cozy, even if the sun streaming through their curtains would say otherwise.

She sends most of the pieces to Johanna. Johanna expresses her gratitude in the form of a letter, a bundle of fuzzy socks attached.

They’re almost as soft as snow. Finnick slips the pair with colorful mushrooms decorating the fabric onto her feet, claiming the ones with maple leaves for himself.

They scramble to their feet to show Mags their new look, sock-clad feet slipping against the tiled floor, and then promptly eat shit.

Turns out fuzzy socks were just as slippery as snow, too. Good to know. The gears in her brain start to turn when she’s reading Johanna’s newest letter, complete with a picture of ice skates and a frozen lake.

“We should go ice skating!”

Finnick doesn’t even question it, because of course he doesn’t. They’re one and the same, unlike the snowflakes they hang from the ceiling using construction paper and glitter glue, because Annie heard somewhere that all snowflakes are unique. They blast the AC so the paper doesn’t wilt, and once Finnick’s nose gets pink from the cold and Annie can feel a chill bite at her cheeks, they rifle through their winter clothes.

Annie slips on a scarf, Finnick pulls a sweater over his head, and then they spritz an extra tall swirl of whipped cream over their mugs of hot chocolate. Annie even garnishes it with some crushed up peppermint candy she bought the other day.

And then comes the best part: clearing out the stuff in the kitchen until it’s bare and completely skate-able.

They race from one end of the kitchen to the other, pushing off the wall and holding their arms out for balance as their socks glide against the tile. (Annie wins). They have a spinning contest. (Finnick wins.) They dance the afternoon away. (It was a team effort.)

Finnick doesn’t even need to grab onto her waist to twirl her around. All he really has to do is hold her hand and run around in circles like a tetherball, fingers clasped around hers in the warmest version of a hug Annie’s ever received. She giggles as a cool front whips against her scarf. They must be under a vent.

He dips her, holding her against him extra securely. She grins, so dizzy that she sees three of him.

That’s okay. She kisses him three extra times to make up for it, the gesture warming her all the way down to her sock-footed toes.

(^ live footage of johanna and annie and the gang ice skating together)

#beep beep #<3 #odesta #annie cresta #i wrote this after i finished writing a paper i’ve been procrastinating on for weeks btw #like the only reason i finished it b4 11:58 (it is due tn by 11:59) was bc i wanted to write odesta fluff #usually reward system shit doesn’t work on my brain bc duh why not just get reward now but i knew i wouldn’t be able to focus on this lol #would anyone like to read my ten pg paper on alternatives to incarceration + sentencing reform #i know i don’t #anyway SORRY let me stop yapping like i did not need to say all that.. #but i’m so glad that paper is done! like finally #happy holidays #tis the season

[thebroccolination]

How would you describe Team and Win in personality wise?

Aaahhh, these asks make me so happy. :')

Thank you, Anon. <3

SO! One of the reasons I enjoy Win and Team so much individually is that they both have nuances and layers that stand alone well and complement each other.

I'm excited to learn more about them as the series continues, and I think what I've written below is going to evolve over the next ten episodes but! based on UWMA, the unfinished novel, and the first two episodes of BU, I think I'd describe them like this:

Team's a competitive extrovert. He's the reason the traffic light gang are friends, and he also befriended the ABC gang in, like, record time. The boy has mastered the virtues of kind, disarming, and friendly. APPLAUSE FOR TEAM. He has incredible anxiety and probably PTSD and a fear of the thing he loves but the (tol) little dude can sure as fuck make some buddies along the way.

I also think Team is the kind of person who takes most things at face value and doesn't have the patience for or interest in subterfuge or nuance. A situation is what it is unless he has reason to think it's not. I think that can be mistaken for him being a little ditzy, but I think it's just that until he's invested in something, he's not interested.

Like compare how he is from one week to (presumably) just a few later when it comes to his physical relationship with Win:

The first time, he's caught off-guard and he's processing an entirely new experience. So he just asks "what's going on" and then answers Win's questions. The second time, he's proactive! He's actually done some research in the meantime! He's not as nervous anymore, and he actually hesitates a lot longer before following Win than he did the first time. He seems to understand that this isn't a "one"-night-stand anymore, so he's consciously choosing to go into new territory.

I think that's why he asks Win to clarify what's going on and what they're doing, because he doesn't know. He's not ditzy, he's just focused on a few areas (swimming, keeping his scholarship, friends) and he needs extra time to process something new and unexpected (WIN PHAWIN).

He's also good with people not just because he's friendly but because he's perceptive. Like, during the foot-washing scene, he catches on to why Win is upset with him without Win saying literally a single word. He knows Win wanted to be shown some gratitude or appreciation for taking care of him.

On the other hand, we have MY FAVORITE SON PHAWIN.

Win is pragmatic partly by nature and I think partly because he's decided it's the safest way for him to process his emotions. He's not as idealistic as Team can be because he has no firsthand experience of whimsy or the freedom from obligation to be spoiled. He's doing everything he can to get the spotlight from the oldest son and the baby of his family. He doesn't get attention or praise without fighting for it. (See above "thank you".)

His whole conversation with Team over their breakfast together is pretty revealing, I feel, because on the one hand, it's amusing that Win's like, "Okay, we have ten seconds, here's my whole deal," but when you consider that he probably doesn't get asked very often, it could be that Win's learned to share first in case no one asks.

Win's also the one who keeps reaching out to find out more about Team, and it's good that he's able to do that, because Team probably would have eaten in silence and left if Win hadn't spoken up.

Throughout the episode as well, he keeps noticing when Team shows extra interest in him.

He notices because he wants to be noticed, but what Team notices isn't what he usually stands out for. He dyed his hair and pierced his ears and tattooed his skin, he plays sports andd does well academically, but the things Team notices are things like Win's family wealth (something Team had to look up on his own) and Win's tendency to take care of others (something Team had to observe). Win closed the car door because he was so delighted and surprised that Team was so interested in him that he looked him up online.

Win's also not above directly asking Team what he has to do to spend more time with him in his room. Like, Team isn't sick, so does that mean Win have to leave? What would Win have to do to make Team want him around?

Ultimately, what makes their relationship most compelling to me is that they may have very little in common on the surface, but at the core of it:

Team sees Win

and Win sees Team

And I think that's why there's such a focus on balance and equality between them (ha) despite their gap in age and experience. They're two sides of the same coin. Hot and cold, red and blue. <3

#winteam #between us #between us the series #kiranokira answers

[wordynerdygurl]

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 3: “He’s the One Affair I Cannot Forget”

Author’s Note:  Oh my lovelies!  Truth time- I almost didn’t post this... I reworked it and reworked it and walked away from it before remembering that I had come too far to turn back now.  So, with my humble thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean​ and @sammy-jo1977​ you now have Part 3!

My taglist is open and reblogs are encouraged!!

It’s filled to the brim, so enjoy!

If you need to catch up:  Part 1 - Love is Blind & Part 2 - Seek & You Will Find are here! Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Sized OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song. Eddie and Amanda make their union physical, back in 1987.  What does 1990 have in store? Warnings:  There is SMUT ahead (minors DNI), first time with a new partner, and mentions of birth control.  Self depricating thoughts are discussed, some fat phobic ideas are expressed and there’s a passing mention of canon quality Chrissy’s passing.  Also, smoking, drinking and swearing. Happy Reading!

1990

“Well, I think we’ve got everything we need.  Thank you guys for your time.”  Chuck grinned slickly, offering a tepid handshake to all the guys in the group, “The tech team will edit the package together and get it over to your manager for final approval, but yea, this should be on the air in a week or two.  Exciting, right?”

The manufactured for the masses interviewer was looking directly at Eddie as he asked, clearly in need of approval or something less like open disdain from the front man and lead guitarist,  “Uh, yea.  Like, super exciting.  So, thank you?”  Gareth sniggered at his back.  It was becoming way too obvious that Eddie couldn't keep the charade up much longer.  Not when his head was like this- lost in the past but forced to work in the present.  But then salvation arrived at his side.  Maggie, savior, protector, liberator, bumped his shoulder and interrupted with a grave whisper, “Mr. Munson, I’m afraid it’s time.” Vague enough to sound serious, Eddie nodded his head solemnly, “Oh, yea, right.  Well, thanks again Chuck, but, alas, duty calls.”

“No, thank you Eddie-” He didn’t answer the host, having already turned away, hip to hip with Maggie, heads bowed together like naughty kids.  Waiting until they were out of earshot, she sighed deeply, “Ya know, that could've gone better, Emmy.” Eddie snorted at the nickname, his brown eyes rolling, “That guy sucked, Mags.  Forget being a tool, Chuck was an entire tool box.  A goddamned Harbor Freight of bullshit.” Sighing deeply, the sturdy woman fell in step beside him, “So fucking what?  MTV’s gonna be running that shit for days, weeks even.  The least you could do is be, I don’t know, polite?” He barreled through a swinging door back first, Maggie dogging his steps, as he sassed, “I was polite, Magdelena.  I answered his questions.  What else do you want from me?” Eddie nodded at one of the road guys as they passed, the lull in this particular conversation more than welcome.  But of the many reasons he loved Maggie so much, this right here was the kicker; her determination.  That it was also the worst thing about being her friend was one of those unsolved mysteries of life since this dominant personality trait meant that their little moving conversation wasn’t over.  Not by a long shot. Turning down a narrow hall, they pushed into the green room together as she shrugged, “Maybe a little less attitude.  Maybe a little more gratitude.” “Are you a greeting card now, Mags?”  Eddie had flopped onto a sagging gray monstrosity of a couch, his legs kicked up over the arm, his back flat against the indeterminately stained cushion.    Maggie wasn’t looking in his direction.  Instead she was peeking around the corner, checking the exit and generally ensuring that no immediate risks to Eddie’s safety could be seen.  When she was satisfied that a crazy fan was not about to jump out of his closet, she planted her feet and crossed her arms, staring down at Eddie with an affectionate scowl, “No, but I do like my paycheck, so I need you to stay employed.” “Ha!  Honey, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin ain’t goin’ nowhere!” She pulled a plastic backed chair closer, eyeing him from the shadow of her ever present hat’s bill, “Well, that’s not entirely true, now is it?” His eyebrow raised again, curiosity clear on Eddie’s face, “You know something I don’t?” “Aren’t we going back to Indiana?  That Battle of the Bands thing after New Year’s?”  Settling back against the flimsy seat, her legs opened wide, Maggie ran her hands over her thighs, the rolled sleeve of her shirt showcasing her own inky designs.  The caged bird on her forearm always drew Eddie’s attention and even now he caught himself staring at the intricate ink instead of answering his friend and protector’s question.  “Fuck.  I had almost forgotten.” “Bullshit.”  Squinting at him, the same look she gave to overeager fans who lined up alongside the tour bus, the one that made them piss their pants in fright, the one he cherished, Maggie now used on Eddie to get at the truth. Feigning affront, he sat up on his elbows, hair long enough now to get caught underneath his shoulder and pulling, “Excuse me?” “Bullshit you forgot.  You’re going to judge the Battle of the Bands in your home state and you fucking forgot?  Nope.  No way.  And what’s with the song you brought up?  Someone to Watch Over Me?  A little, I don’t know, soft for you, ain’t it?” The blush of honesty scorched through him so fast, Eddie flopped back to the sofa with a soft whoosh sending a swirl of dust out of the ancient furniture.  How many sweaty asses have sat here, he wondered quickly.  A hundred?  More?  Gross. But then Mags cleared her throat, unimpressed by his delay tactics.  It chafed her charge and since Eddie was already feeling some kind of way, more defensive than he meant to be, he huffed, “Yea?  So?  It’s- it’s a great song.”  There were not a lot of secrets between Edward Munson and Magdelena Rios but Mandy?  Yea, that was definitely, absolutely a secret he kept close.  So, of course his bodyguard slash bulldog wouldn’t know about his affinity for Gershwin songs when they were sung into a perfect Indiana sunset.  And she wouldn’t know about the ache in his chest whenever he looked up at the sky and found the silent, silver full moon staring back down him.  Judging him.  Reminding him of regrets that ran deep- goblin green and moss covered, growing mushrooms in the dark.  Clever and always on alert, Maggie saw something cross his face because she nodded and then tipped her chair onto two legs, “Uh huh.  Right.”  “What are you trying to say, my darling Magdelena?”  Swinging his big black boots forward, Eddie pushed up so he was sitting almost normally.  He let his clasped hands hang between his knees as he lifted baleful brown eyes to Maggie’s steely ones. “I’m trying to say that you’re not using your head.”  Her chair clanged as she lowered it too fast making Eddie flinch, “I am saying, flat out, that you got so pissy with Chuck the Tool Box because you were a little too honest today, even if I don’t get why.  I guess-” she leaned forward now, encroaching on the rockstar’s space with a soul deep exhale, “-I’m saying I’m worried about you, my friend.” Twisting his lips into a devilish smirk, Eddie reached over and flicked at the brim of her hat, “Honey, sweetie, darling, Maggie… you got nothing to worry about.  I’m fine.”

They both knew he was lying.

It was during their condensed pre-show warm up that Eddie realized he was in trouble.  Naturally, his fingers felt along the frets of his acoustic Gibson, a melody in calloused pads playing without a lot of thought.  Behind him the other members of Corroded Coffin fooled around, checking levels and making weird noises into the mics, generally acting like the assholes he knew and loved.  Normally he’d be the one leading the rabble, causing trouble and wreaking havoc for the venue staff but there was a riff stuck in his brain.

“Earth to Eddie!  Helllooooo?  Anybody home?”

Without looking up, he rumbled, “Fuck off Jeff, I’m working here.” “Hear that fellas?  Eddie’s working while we’re just lazing around.” Yea, this was definitely a song, he could feel it vibrating in his bones.  Excited now, he flashed wide eyes at the boys in the band, “Pen!  Paper!” The dumb fuckers looked at each other with varying degrees of confusion on their faces.  Gareth, the bravest, ventured, “Uh, wh- what man?” “Something to write with- On!  I gotta get it outta me, Gare!” There was a manic energy filling the spaces between microphone stands and amplifiers that made Eddie itchy under the skin.  When the muse came she would not be denied and holy shit but she was coming hard right now.  He knew the grateful smile he flashed at the poor roadie responsible for dropping off a mechanical pencil and three white paper plates must have been terrifying to see, but giving birth was a messy process no matter what form the new life took. Pencil clamped between his teeth like one of his cherished cigarettes, Eddie moved his hands down the neck of the guitar and back up, picking a string or two along the way.  Using a cab for a table, he scribbled, paused to hum, then broadly grinned.  It was over in a matter of minutes. “Here.  New tune.”  Breathing harder than a marathon runner, he shoved the scalloped edged plates covered in gray looping letters at his friends and bandmates. Jumping off a riser, Gareth looked over his oldest friend’s work and nodded slowly, “Uh, ok, Eddie.  What do you want us to, uh, ya know, do with this?” “Play it?  I mean, we are a band, right?  And we make music, don’t we?” “It’s gibberish, man.” “Fuck you!  It’s good.  Great even.  I know it.” Waving Eddie closer, Gareth handed off the hastily scribed song to Jeff, before wrapping an arm around their front man, “Eddie.  My friend.  My musical partner in crime.  I ask with all due respect-” they had been walking towards the wings of the stage, Eddie following where he was led, “- But what the fuck is going on with you today?” Pulling back hard, Eddie’s hair swung at the force of his movement, “What’s wrong with me?  What’s wrong with you, man?  I come to you with a- a new tune and you- you call me out like this?” Revved up and idling, Eddie was a race car in the red.  Gareth recognized all the signs despite it being a long while since this particular engine had been torqued so high.  With hands raised in surrender, the curly blond conceded, “Hey, no one is calling you out man.  I’m telling you that it’s, I don’t know, weird?” “Weird?  What the hell, man.  Just say what you want to say and let me get back to the music for fuck’s sake.”  “Ok.  Ok.”  Eddie had to watch as his buddy rolled his shoulders back before taking a big breath in, “You were an asshole to the MTV guy, which, I get it man.  Guy’s a dick but this is a big deal, Eddie.  I know you know that, deep down, but you’re not acting like you do.”  Dropping his voice lower, Gareth added, “And you talked about- well, her.” The extra emphasis wasn’t needed.  All it did was needle under the thin skin that Eddie was sporting today, a suit that didn’t fit quite right, and he didn’t know why.  But here was friend number two mentioning erratic behavior and well, that sucked to hear. Deflating visibly, his security hair strand pulled over his face, Eddie countered weakly, “I didn’t say her name.” “You didn’t have to, pal" and having the decency to look embarrassed, he added, “You called your new hit ‘Watching the Moon’.” Huffing out a strained laugh, Eddie met his friend’s kind gaze with a grimace, “Not very subtle, huh?” “Naw, not really" was the half chuckled reply. Stretching his neck out, chin to the auditorium’s ceiling, an unhinged note in his voice, Eddie felt obligated to apologize, “I’m sorry, Gare.  Don’t know why but I’m spinning out a bit.” Really ribbing him now, Gareth bumped into his buddy’s side, “You don’t know why?  Gee, let’s see, you have huge rock show tonight, had an interview with MTV today, you’re writing music, touring, and being away from home, from Wayne, from people you lov-” the face Eddie flashed was all the warning he was going to give his oldest friend, and Gareth adjusted accordingly, “-care about sucks.  It’s- it’s a lot, man and you’re allowed to be overwhelmed.  But you’re not allowed to blow it all up because you’re missing your ex.” There it was.  Too honest to be denied, Eddie was caught.  Trapped like a bird in a cage and held hostage by the golden bars of memory. He had moved it past it, past her.  Truly!  There had been groupies in spandex skirts with hair teased higher than Mount Rushmore who took care of Eddie Munson with a reverence he did not deserve.  An actress with a chest so big it frightened him, really.  Plus a model who had the exact opposite problem- all skin and bones with no meat to feast on.  Not his flavor by any stretch of the imagination. So, Eddie had skimmed the oil slicked surface of available tail and was happy for the opportunity.  Appreciated every lovely lady and that one very handsome fella who made him feel worthy again.  Each new conquest a fresh layer of sediment, burying the idea of Amanda further and further down in the rock formation of his heart.

It worked.  Eddie had been every inch the wild child rock singer of his high school daydreams, until the Battle of the Bands was brought up.

The label had it all planned out- two shows in Indianapolis a Thursday night and then again on Saturday.  In between, Corroded Coffin's lead singer would help choose the 1991 Battle Champion, awarding a cash prize and the chance to open the second date's concert.  It was a huge opportunity for some local metal group, a chance Eddie would have loved to take advantage of only a few short years ago, and he was looking forward to it.  Except-

Hidden in the haystack of going back to Indiana was the needle named Amanda Patterson.  The odds of finding that needle at a Corroded Coffin show considering how things ended between them was minimal at best, but it wasn’t zero.  It was that one in a million chance which buzzed boldly between Eddie’s ears, making him think about moonlit nights and vanilla milkshakes and promises whispered under overworn sheets. The tune he’d quickly crafted came back to him now, ‘Watching the Moon’, and of course it was about her.  Them.  All the things he didn’t say and all the things she wouldn’t allow him to. It was absolutely a hit, even though it hadn't been played once and wasn’t recorded yet.  It was a hit because it came from that same well inside of Eddie where love and passion and music all swam together.  A tall tower still ruled by Mandy, despite years and tears and stand-in people.  

He was going to make this song a number one, getting it played on every single radio station from here to Toronto, knowing that if Gareth could see through the title that his Moon Goddess would too.  Maybe, then, his needle would find him.  Maybe going back to Indiana wasn’t the worst idea his management team had cobbled together.  Maybe it was all going to be ok.

Eddie Munson had a plan.  A campaign to make things right.  A strategy that was coming together almost as quickly as his song for Amanda.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he clapped Gareth on the back and, yea, there might have been a bit too much force in his playful shove but he didn’t regret it.  Gare could take it, it was why they were so close.  So he spouted at his best friend, “You’re just jealous because I have an ex.  There’s no one missing you but the blow up doll you keep in your bunk.” “Jesus!  Shut up, Eddie!”

Craziness crowded into the overly expressive eyes of Eddie Munson as he darted back towards the other guys in the band, “Hey, did Gareth ever tell you about his Lady Latex?” —

1987

They made it to the front door, finally, after agreeing to a truce.  No more touching.  No teasing.  Not until they were inside someplace that wasn’t on four wheels. Now though, they were stopped in front of said door, nervous giggles bubbling free like champagne uncorked.  Cheeks hot from kissing too closely in the heated shelter of Eddie’s van before braving the nighttime’s frosty temperatures, their breaths mixed, making wispy clouds with every panted exhale.  Try as she might, Amanda couldn’t keep the excited tremble from her hands as she struggled to fit the key into her lock. It certainly didn’t help that the overly eager rocker couldn’t seem to keep his lips or his hands or even his hips to himself, “Truce schmuce” was all he said before enveloping her in his embrace.  And he was everywhere- each time the notches of her house key caught the lock, he would nibble on the fleshiest part of her earlobe making her shudder, deadbolt be damned.  

He was distracting in the best and most frustrating way.  Because really, all she wanted to do was get inside where she could return his touch.  Tease him back.  Taste him.  And go on to do all of the other tantalizing things they had been thinking about since their first blissful kiss over vanilla milkshakes. Another miss as the lock continued to do its job in spite of her efforts and she pouted, unable to keep the needy whine out of her voice, “Eddie!  Come on!”  “What?  What’d I do?”  Oh, he feigned innocence, but he knew.  Eddie knew that every sloppy press of his lips to her delicate neck, every roll of his pelvis, every graze of his fingers over her own was making Amanda feverish.  Flustered.  It was also keeping the pair of them on the wrong side of the door. Dropping her frigid hands with a frustrated growl after another failed attempt, Amanda stomped her foot before reaching up to try again.  Shifting away from the long legged leviathan behind her, prompting his dulcet demand, “Quit wiggling and open the door!” “I’m trying but-” “But what, huh?”  Wrapping over her back, the sharp bone of his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch her progress as Eddie’s red, raw fingers dragged strands of unruly hair behind her ear.  Breathing hotly against the golden hoop hanging there, he husked hoarsely, “Need some, ah, help, Mandy?” “Please?”  

Caving into the warmth behind her, Amanda nodded, her head rolling back against the denim vest over his torso, hair catching on his WASP pin causing her to moan pitifully.  That it gave Eddie the chance to litter her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses, his palms squishing against her jacket as he tried to touch more and more of her was just an added bonus.  Arms, creaking leather encased arms, reached around her, crowding her snuggly between the unopened door and his chest as the keys were plucked free from her grip, “Lemme try.”  With her mind and hands free, Amanda’s own fingers could wander and they did.  Quickly finding the dangling chain of Eddie’s wallet, she used the steel links to pull him tighter, earning a stuttered “Fuck.” from the guy at her back.  Now she got to listen as her house keys jangled noisily while he attempted to do what she could not.  Work them into the lock and open the fucking door. “I thought you were- uh, I thought you were supposed to be helping, Ed.”  God, but she sounded wrecked already, her round bottom rubbing him through layers of distancing denim, the hard and firm evidence of the effect she was having making itself known.

And maybe it wasn’t fair of her to grind the curve of her ass into the sharp angles of Eddie’s hip bones while he fumbled to open her front door.  Maybe.  But when Amanda felt the firm length of him straining and stuck in his jeans she didn’t feel bad.  Not even a little bit because that was proof.  Evidence of just how much Eddie wanted her. It made her bold.  Kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as her keychain jingled in his giant hands, her lips smacked rudely over the sensitive skin at his throat forcing a croak out of him, “Trying, honey, but you’re kinda, Jesus-” She sucked harshly at the divot below his chapped ear, “-you’re, uh, distracting- there it is!”  Triumphantly turning the knob, Eddie shuffled in short steps behind Amanda, tucking her close as they crossed the threshold.  

With a satisfying snap, the door was shut behind them to keep the world out.  But who could worry about something like an open door when there was kissing to be done?  The heated sort of kisses which didn’t stop when Amanda ripped down the zipper of her jacket, shrugging her arms free before flinging it away into the abyss of the living room.  Kisses that went melty in the middle, stretching and stretching but never breaking even when she forced her way under the shoulders of his leather, pushing it to the floor with a satisfying thump. Her hands wasted no time.  Palms flat over the planes of his chest, she marveled for a moment at the solid strength hidden in Eddie’s trim physique.  The muscles that lugging amplifiers and tossing truck tires created, buried beneath bravado and cotton and tattoos, only seen in glimpses now tense and tight and touchable. Fisting into the soft t-shirt he wore, a secretive smile spreading across her face, “Hi.” “Hi yourself, Miss Mandy.”  Eddie’s paws spanned her ample waist, forcing her closer, his fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the small of her back.  With his curls brushing over her scalding cheeks, she licked her lips in anticipation, ready for the next press of his mouth to her own.  And following the flick of her tongue, a hungry, haunted look on his face, he gritted out, “Where- shit, where’s your bedroom, Mandy?” Wordlessly she linked their hands together.  A shiver that started in the sacred space below her navel raced through her blood, her body.  Had it ever been like this before?  As if her physical self was running a race that her heart and mind would follow to the finish? No.  Never.  Not once. Tugging against a hand heavy with silver rings, insistent and eager, she led the way and he followed.  It wasn’t far.  A few short steps down a shaggy carpeted hallway then through a door, partially opened already.  

The room, Amanda’s room, was made of comfort- a brown corduroy bean bag sagged next to a record player being held up by two plastic milk crates crammed full of way too many records.  A double tape deck had carved out its place on her desk, a stack of cassette cases leaning precariously, a few already having tumbled to the floor nearby.  Her tawny acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, sheet music and notebook paper scattered around as if it had all been abandoned mid-session, frozen in time but waiting for her return.  Pegged to her cork board was a calendar marking out her work days, school schedule and band rehearsals.  Textbooks for her classes were stuffed into an unzipped backpack, and while the main floor was clear, it was scattered with little things like pencils and hair ties and stuffed mice and take-out forks.

He spied a knitted afghan in garish colors folded lovingly over a quilted brocade comforter and a stack of pillows, each with their own unstained case, piled against the rattan headboard.  Her closet door was hastily shut but the tell-tale bulge of a lot of clothes crammed into not enough space was obvious.  Photos and posters decorated the walls.  It surprised him to see so many band names that he recognized mixed with 70s folk artists and new wave performers. Eclectic.  Varied.  The space was mis-matched but all the better for it.  Personality, Amanda’s personality, wafted from every corner. This was her little nest, snuggled safely between these four walls, burrowed in like a happy mouse.  Surrounded with all the comforts a soft, cozy creature could ever need: books and music and light and sweet things.  Fuck, Eddie loved it. Probably, deep down in the dusky depths of his grimy gargoyle brain, he figured he shouldn’t.  Shouldn’t love the sheer ruffled curtains parted down the middle so that starlight was visible over the neighboring houses, soft and serene.  Definitely shouldn’t stoke the soft fabric with tentative fingers, rubbing the pristine veil between inside and out with thoughtful touches, careful not to stain it.  It was all too nice, everything around him.  Too pretty.  Too put together for a guy who ate cereal over the sink and considered ketchup a vegetable. “This is a real nice place.”  God, he sounded so stupid.  But, like, it really was a nice place. Comfortable and clean.  And quiet.  No noisy neighbors shouting out their frustrations into the cold night air or barking dogs or backfiring cars with tires bouncing over pebbled dirt roads. “Uh, thanks but you haven’t even seen it with the lights on.”  With a click, Amanda turned on the small bedside lamp that filled her space with a golden glow all at once.  She wasn’t surprised to find that Eddie had strayed to her make-shift music station, his eyes lighting up at the variety of singers and bands and artists with what she hoped was appreciation.  Taking a tentative step in his direction, talking with her hands, she edged nearer to the record player.  Keeping her voice small, as though she was afraid of ruining the simple silence between them, “Is it cool if I put something on?” “Yea, yes.  Of course.  It’s your room, right?” “Well, yea, I guess it is.  Uh, just-” and she moved to duck in front of him, already knowing which album to spin.  But he was almost definitely purposefully standing exactly where she needed to get.  “-Maybe you could, uh, let me in here?” Devilish now, an impish grin made his dimples pop, “Oh, am I in the way, Mandy?  Sorry ‘bout that.”  Only he didn’t sound very sorry at all.  And as she shifted nearer, he held his ground, settling his weight in his heels, his arms crossed over his narrow chest.  If she wanted to put on a record, she was going to have to squeeze next to him to do it and boy, did that idea light him up. Eddie was absolutely pushing his luck.  He knew it, but couldn’t help himself.  Blocking her path, planting his feet, he took up as much room as possible.  Call him curious, but he wanted to see what she would do.  Push him aside?  Press those luscious curves in tight?  Go back to kissing him so hard he felt like he was coming unglued?  God he fucking hoped so. Watching her closely, he saw that tattle-tale tilt of her head, the eyes he couldn’t forget reflecting his own mischief making energy as Amanda dropped to her knees.  Her tongue darted out from between her pillowy lips, spreading sweet saliva, shiny and slick in its wake.  Rounding now, he was locked in on the circle of her pout, his body kicking up a gear at the sinful suggestion of what was sitting so prettily in front of him.  Amanda, she knew what she was doing.  When she peered up at him from the floor, raking her gaze over his towering figure through the veil of her lashes, she had a good idea that he was going to take the bait.  So she reached out, not for the trim waist at eye level or for the hands fisted against denim wrapped thighs, but for her worn copy of Led Zeppelin IV sticking out from the bottom bin.

On an exhale through clenched teeth, a curse caught in his bone dry throat, “Sweet Jesus-” “Here.”  Shocked into silence, she handed over the faded cardboard, nodding towards the record player, “Side two, if you don’t mind.”

It was enough to knock him over.  How Amanda looked so innocent while making demands on her knees in front of him, resting back on her heels demurely, was a seismic shock to his system.  It made Eddie’s head go fuzzy, ears full of feedback like when his guitar was too close to his amp with the knobs turned all the way up.  He felt as though he was turned all the way up, cranked as high as possible, crackling explosively, dangerously near the limits of his control. Tacky sweat made his t-shirt cling in the warmth of Amanda’s room.  And if her magnetic eyes weren’t boring into him, waiting him out, then he probably would have shucked the offending layer without question.  As it was, she was too damn cute and too damn close for him to do much beyond blink away this latest round of pulsing need, which was the real problem here.  Somehow he obliged when she raised a hand, asking oh so politely, “Do you mind?” before he gently helped her up to her feet. Puffing out his held breath with a wry chuckle, he smoothly slipped her chosen record onto the turntable and lowered the needle’s arm.  Raising a cocky eyebrow when “Misty Mountain Hop” began to tumble from the speakers at a reasonably low volume, his swagger returned, “Ya know-” he paused to clear his throat, his voice already sounding too blown out, too rough, even to his own ears, “-I’ve seen Fast Times like twenty times.  Harrington loves that movie, so I, uh, know what you’re up to.” “Really?”  Her sweet voice was angel light from over his shoulder, as she spied on him slowly dropping the clear plastic lid on her stereo, “And what is that, Mr. Munson?  What, exactly, am I up to?” “I think you’re trying to get into my pants, Miss Patterson.”

Shrugging, she denied him an answer, her eye contact direct and unwavering.  Color, dusty pink and warm, spread over Eddie’s sharp cheekbones and under the smattering of freckles across his nose.  He made a choked sound, as though something had stolen his breath at the last second, when she finally replied, “And?  So, uh, so what if I am?” She sounded so much braver than she actually felt.  Flirting was the easy part.  The words between them holding added weight, spoken as they were, in the protective yellow glow of her table lamp, a comforting heaviness that was familiar and made the teasing effortless.  Easy.  

Just another stop on the tour.  Because there was a map for this journey and she knew where they were headed.  The terrain was well traveled.  She wasn’t naive.  The road forward was as clearly marked as Main Street, Hawkins, USA.  

And tonight Eddie was going to learn all about the sloping curves and high density areas that she wouldn’t be able to hide behind well draped skirts or shapeless sweaters.  She silently hoped that this pretty man with his broad smile and cocoa colored eyes still wanted to take the drive because Amanda wasn’t sure she could turn back now, even if she might wish for it later.  

Together they had started this engine, all he had to do now was push down on the pedal and off they’d go.  When they ran out of gas, if they sputtered out on the side of the road, and all she gained was the last two wonderful weeks and one night of lusty loving, the emotional equivalent of a “I humped Eddie Munson and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” souvenir, well, then she would learn to live with that.  

Was it ideal?  No.  But then, things seldom were.   And even though those three magic words had been said, had been kissed into her lips so many times since making their mutual confessions in the underused alcove at Steve’s house, it was still freaking her out.  Because hadn’t this all happened before?  Hadn’t she given so much of herself, of her heart, time and again, thinking that her feelings were returned- that this time it would be different, only to wind up disappointed? Tonight though, that kind of thinking had to be pushed aside.  There was no more room to be bashful.  To worry about what came next.  Not when the guy in question was trembling from the task of keeping himself civil, the tense set of his jaw giving him away as he kept a respectful distance.  Even still, the base maleness of him thrummed, vibrating the way guitar strings do when a chord is struck, the energy shimmering into sound. And Amanda had a great ear for that sort of music, too. At her taunting words Eddie’s mouth pulled to the right, a half smile making itself known as he crossed his arms over chest, “Hey, I’m not complaining, Mandy.” “Oh?  Good.  Yea, that’s good.”  And she danced away from him, hips swaying in time with the driving beat.  She stopped, popping the button on her dungarees with intention before shimmying them down her thick thighs, delighted by the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he bit into his bottom lip.  He was going to draw blood.  The sweater she wore barely covered the swell of her hips but if he squinted, he was certain he could see the elastic of her panties.  White?  No, heather gray and spun out cotton.  Simple, straightforward and charming as hell.

Swallowing over the hard knot of want that pushed against his Adam’s Apple, barely managing to keep his grunting in check, “Damn, Mandy.” “Hmm?”  When she kicked her pants to the side he had to look away - at the ceiling, her wall, the mossy colored floor or risk cumming in his blue jeans. He slammed his eyes shut at the image in front of him.  It didn’t help.  Imprinted on the insides of his eyelids he could still see her.  Bare legged, her supple skin nearly glowing, practically begging for his touch.  Too sweet.  Too fucking precious.  Shit.  Fuck.  He wasn’t going to survive.  So close to short circuiting, Eddie dragged a hand across the back of his neck, going so far as to squeeze the skin there, just to bring himself off the edge because, holy shit, there was no way that she knew what she was doing to him. The song shifted and Amanda sat herself down on the edge of her bed before leaning back on her hands.  This new position thrust her chest forward, those smooth legs barely parted but making his gargoyle mind wander just the same.  It wanted… to bite, to suck, to mark and mar.  His goblin wanted to claim the fair maiden then lock her in the tallest tower, far away from anything or anyone harmful, except him, of course.  His first step was cautious, feeling his way forward with only Amanda’s signals to light his path.  The pull between them was undeniably strong, had been from the beginning, but he didn’t want to screw anything up now by being overeager.  And he sure as fuck didn’t want to scare his girl away by coming on too strong or making a wrong move.  Not when Robert Plant was singing and the room smelled like Avon lotion and lavender flowers and fabric softener, the expensive kind.  Not when his pulse ticked wildly, darkening his eyes and steeling his resolve.  Not when he could see a similar something simmering in Amanda’s expressive eyes. “You- you’re fucking gorgeous, Amanda.” “Eddie-” She let her head fall back, the tight tendons of her neck stretching, her rushed breathing making her chest rise and fall rapidly, the sound of argument loaded and ready. But he cut her off, moving a leg between both of hers, palms hovering over the width of her dimpled thighs, “-I wanna touch you.  Wanna, wanna feel you.  Can I?” “Can I?”  she parrotted sweetly, upending his advancement, deflecting a little.  And he must have nodded because then she was leaning towards him, gentle hands smoothing over his quads, her stare trained on his rapidly reddening face.  Roving, she touched him lightly, delicately, over the clothes he was still wearing.  Butterfly wings brushing over a flower's petals, never lingering before spreading goosebumps somewhere else, testing the waters of his tenacity.  When her clever fingers found his handcuff belt buckle, he stopped her, gathering her hands in his own, “It, uh, it catches.  Hang on.” He put a fraction of space between them, moving faster than she would have thought possible to catch up to her state of undress.  He toed out of his sneakers, shunting them out of the way as he huffed out a laugh, wrestling with his belt, “Fucking thing, I don’t know why I even-” “I like it.” Popping his head up, Eddie caught sight of Amanda’s playful smirk, “You do, huh?” Raising her chin so that she could spy on him through the fringe of her lashes, she nodded with a chuckle, voice sounding like spun sugar, “Yea, of course I do.  Goes with your whole bad boy image, ya know?” His fingers paused, the curtain of curls swinging while he asked, “Is that why you’re with me?  Because I’m a bad boy?” “Nope.”  She answered plainly, her focus never shifting, even though her hips did, thighs stopped from providing relieving friction by his knee, “I’m with you because of how you look at me, Eddie.  Me.  Like I’m something- someone worth looking at.” Pants forgotten, he traced a finger over the sweep of her cheek, “I love looking at you, you know that right?  It’s like you’re the fucking moon, Mandy.  Bright and, and beautiful and when you shine your light on me-” shaking his hair off his back, tone too earnest, voice too honest, “-it makes me forget about my darkness.” At the admission Eddie’s eyes drifted shut, his chin tipped skyward as he struggled to compose himself.  There was uncertainty shadowing his words, in the shape his lips made while speaking, entirely unsure if his mouth should be trusted to relay all of the things his heart felt to be true.  Because when he actually thought about it, three weeks ago he hadn’t known that there was a person named Amanda Patterson who even existed in this world.  Now?  Well, now she kind of was his world. And his world was reaching forward with tender, impatient hands, sliding his broken down leather belt free from the beloved buckle easily.  Nimble fingers making quick work of the rivet fastening his pants closed but she stalled there, blinking up at him with confusion clear in her eyes, “Did you call me the moon?” A wide thumb hooked under her chin, lifting those thoughtful peepers to his own, “Yea, Mandy.  The moon.  Like when it’s full and round and close and you can’t believe that it’s real, looking down on you all lit up and so-” her touch was so so so close to his throbbing hardness he grunted, “-fucking hell.  So ca-captivating.  Can’t take my eyes off you.” It happened again.  That thing where the world narrowed anytime she was with him, a hyper-focused momentary shift of time and place that made Amanda’s heart flutter wildly, blood roaring in her ears.  A second when everything else around her faded into the background leaving no one else but her and Eddie.  Together.  Alone. So she didn’t laugh at his poetic confession or joke about his Shakespearean ideals.  Instead, her pretty lips parted, mewling musically as his tongue licked into the honeyed cavern of her mouth.  Sharing each inhale and exhale, pressing his advantage and Amanda higher up the bedspread until she was flat against the mattress, caged between strong tattooed forearms. Breathing heavily, sitting back with a sigh, he traced a hand over the fuzz of her sweater, “Can you- can I take this off you?” Something about being compared to the moon freed her from whatever worries she carried about herself, her body, to fade into the ether.  When he asked to see her- all of her, her answer was a demanding, “God yes.” Eddie’s mouth fell hungrily to the newly exposed skin on her collarbone, hot and wet and needy.  A tiny whimper tumbled out of her panting mouth when he slurped over the slope of her bra covered breasts, his hands politely cupping the cotton covered flesh.  Desperately, her own hands clawed at his head, keeping his pursed lips tight to her body as he devoted himself to devouring her in bite-sized pieces. “Shit, h-hold on f’me.”  Stuttering, sitting up on his knees, Eddie took a second to rip his own shirt off, tossing it behind him without a second look.  His jeans were open, belt dangling loosely from the loops, the elastic waistband of his boxers low enough to display the cut of his hip bones.  There were silvery scars in concentric circles that didn’t look as purposeful as the tattoos she’d been dying to see, and before she could be told not to, she was tracing over the slightly raised skin with her index finger. Eddie let her touch.  Explore.  The graze of her hands was intentional, not teasing and not pitying either.  He would know because he’d been on the receiving end of both before.  More than that, he appreciated that she asked no questions about what had created the mottled pattern on his abdominals, just accepted that they existed and were part of him. If he wasn’t already in love with her, that alone would have surely cemented his fate.  Surging in his system like the first inhale of that kind bud Rick got from Canada, he relaxed into the feeling, letting it blossom while sampling the sensitive stretch of her neck, the ball of her shoulder, the space between her breasts.  A starving man facing a Golden Corral buffet table wouldn’t have sounded happier than he did at that moment. “God, look at you, Mandy.”  He hummed as he worked his way over her ribs,  “Moon goddess.  My moon goddess.”  Writhing beneath him, she folded towards him at the praise, little huffing sounds pushing over her lips, “You look so good right now.  So sweet.  So goddamn sweet for me.”  The words were honey hot, warm and sticky, and they chafed like his denim covered legs. rubbing deliciously against her naked ones.  The friction too much and not nearly enough for the pleasure taking root in the warm, moist soil of her center.  Even touch drunk on Eddie she bucked at the sentiment, practically pouting, “Hmm, I’m not-” she scrunched her eyes shut, tossing her head weakly against the blanket, “-I’m not that sweet.” Dropping down to his forearms, his nose nuzzled into hers as he chided tartly, “Maybe I should taste you again then and make sure?  Gonna let me?  Let me taste you and touch you and make you feel good?”   Nodding from beneath him, keen eyes locked on his, “Hmm- Yes, yes, uh huh.  I want that.  So bad.  Want you so bad.”  Shutting her eyes at the sensation, his calloused fingertips slid up the satin of her outer thighs, leaving shivery bumps in his wake .  He dug his fingertips into the pillowy softness there, loving the feel of her flesh under his touch, “I’m gonna give you everything you want, Mandy, don’t worry.  Gonna make you mine.  Keep you in bed until the sun don’t shine.” A sound then, half groan half giggle, floated between them, Amanda sighing through a playful smile, “Eddie Munson’s a- a poet.  Who knew?” “Credit where credit’s due, babe.  I’m a songwriter.  A lyricist, ya know?  Whoa!”  His answer was smug but faded fast when she yanked down on his jeans before brushing the pads of her fingers over the newly exposed tattoo on Eddie’s right hip.  

It was beautiful; a snake in black and gray, coiled around itself, the wide fanged mouth biting into the tail in an unending loop.  This piece was big.  Artistic and finely detailed.  Her open palm barely covered half of it when she reverently pressed against the permanent artwork.  “And, uh you just bring it out in me- Jesus Christ!  Your hands are freezing!” “Are they?”  with a tone turned thick with teasing, she widened her smirk before those frigid digits were skating over his pecs and poking into his ribs.  Like a startled grasshopper, he jumped back far enough to catch her tickling fingers, the grip on her wrists keeping her from reaching his more sensitive areas despite her wiggling attempts to get free. Leaning in closer, loopy laughing aside, he tsked, “Oh, bad move, Mandy!”  “Ah!  No, Eddie, please!  I’m really ticklish- Ah!”  She started to scoot away, further up the bed, side to side, trying to shimmy out of his hold, laughing the whole time.  Loudly.  Happy to be caught.  Using his teeth, feral and frolicking, Eddie bit into the roundness of Amanda’s shoulder, the small sharp pain widening her eyes, “Did you just bite me?” Flashing her his lady-killing grin, he clicked his tongue, “Told you I had to know how sweet you were, Mandy.  And-” settling his hips between her parted thighs, “-I gotta say, you’re pretty damn tasty.” An answering hum of appreciation met her ears as Eddie continued lower.  Without question or qualm, he nuzzled and nipped at her abundant flesh, his happy hands squeezing indulgently whenever she sighed out encouragement.  And all Amanda could manage was a continuous begging cry of “Please, please Eddie, don’t, don’t stop, ok?”  

Why would he?  There was some addictive element, a chemical, an additive that laid across every inch of her body and he craved it.  Couldn’t get enough.  Landing somewhere between cinnamon sugar coating and honeyed dust, the flavor of her skin was exactly the thing he had been ravenous for his whole life long.  There was no way in hell he’d stop searching it out, not when he found the source, “Not a chance, Mandy.” She felt his grip on the flimsy fabric of her panties, tense and twitchy.  Hands slipped under the legband, cupping the expanse of her bottom in two palms before digging into the meat of her ass as Eddie’s nose pressed against the soaking gusset.  His moan was the kind that shook mountains to their foundation.  It created tidal waves that ravaged cities.  For Amanda it twisted the knot of her need tight enough to snap, her thighs wanting desperately to slide shut, but falling further apart shamelessly, instead. There was no trepidation to the touches now.  With a rough pull the cheap drug store underwear disintegrated, the scraps unneeded and unwanted any longer.  Amanda didn’t have time to bother about it because Eddie’s hard working hands were parting her legs, holding her open and on display with the weight of his body. Chest heaving, he called to her, “Hey, look at me, baby.  At me, Mandy.” “Yea?”  She was a mess of lavender and lilac stains, streaked with spit and red wine colored bruises.  But she was smiling, half-cocked, when her stare met his blown out pupils. “If you want me to uh, to stop, you gotta say it now.” Amanda did not.  What she did was whine, low in her throat, as her cleft clenched around nothing, “Don’t stop.” “Just remember that I love you, yea?” Licking over her dry lips, rolling her hips under his strong hold, she nodded, “Love you too.  Only you-”

The rest of her sentence remained unsaid as Eddie’s tongue licked right over her juicy center, circling the swollen firmness of her clit with expert precision.  He wrapped his arms around her legs from beneath, keeping her parted for his pleasure as he lapped at the drooling opening between her lower lips.  He wasn’t gentle as he moved Amanda’s thicker body closer, jerking her down and onto his waiting tongue over and over and over again.    It was maddening to be pummeled by the slick wetness of his textured tongue, only deep enough to create more wanting, before he would flick the tip higher, aiming for the bull’s eye of her clitoris.  Sloppy from excitement he swapped light licks for sucking.  Drawing her pulsing pearl between his slick lips, eyes closed, enjoying the softer than silk sensation of her sweaty self, bow tight and at his mercy. He didn’t let up.  Couldn’t.  And when he felt the shaking in her muscles, Eddie took it as the invitation is it was, gliding two fingers into the pulsing tunnel of Amanda’s willing body.

She contracted around the invasion, her hands seeking a hold and finding it in the flowing strands of his mane.  Wrenching him snuggly between her parted knees, she was dangerously close to losing control.  Could already feel the tell-tale concentration of her energy drawing inward.  The wetness that sluiced down the crack of her ass, the hummingbird fluttering of the muscles in her pelvis, the sticky press of Eddie’s cheek to her inner thigh.  All of it webbing together, a thread winding tighter and tighter and tighter. And the rough texture of his fingers grazed her front wall exactly the right way.  And he hummed out a laugh which puffed over her swollen lips exactly the right way.  And the strings of her satisfaction snapped under the burden of his ceaseless passion. She must have made noise.  Had to have, since her mouth moved at least.  Falling open as the first flush of her orgasm gave way to a rolling tide of pleasure that broke through her in waves but she didn’t hear anything beyond the crashing pounding of her pulse.  Fists full of Eddie’s hair fell away as all of Amanda’s bones turned to jelly, her tendons to jam, while she melted into the bed beneath. Pulling away from her, panting hotly into her dampness, through slick shiny cheeks he grinned cockily, “Sweeter than candy, Mandy.  I knew you would be, fuck, and you-” he stopped talking to watch the way she accepted his intruding digits as deep as possible, bucking into the touch he offered wantonly despite just cumming, “-you just want more, don’t ya?” “Hmm, yea.  Want wha-whatever you’ll give me.”  Leaning up on her elbows she caught him licking her spend from his fingers before dipping right back into her, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Whatever I’ll give you, huh?”  Eddie curled his fingers inside of her quivering core, stretching apart, taking up space, as his smoky voice purred, “You asked for it.” There was a flurry of sudden movement; he stood up fast, wiggling his hips until the heavy denim of his jeans hit the floor with a satisfying thump.  His boxers dropped free in a flash.  The bed dipped under his weight and before she could react, Eddie clasped a firm hand around each ankle and forced her knees back, nearly bending her in half. For him, the view was spectacular.  The cro-magnon part of his brain flipped on, wanting only to take.  Conquer.  Consume. Who could blame him when he had his dream woman, his Moon Goddess, his Mandy, slick and spread out for him to feast on?  The now painful stiffness of his hard on trembled at the sight.  A patch of dark curls matted with pre-cum dotted his navel as the prolonged anticipation became too much to bear.  Gripping himself, squeezing really, Eddie stroked over his cock, trembling as he asked, “Do you have a- a rubber?” Tossing her head, hair in tangles around her face, Amanda reached for him, “I’m on the pill.” For a second the heat abated and Eddie met her eyes, “Yea?  That’s great fucking news.” “Have to be- Oh my GOD!”  Rubbing the head of his dick between her folds, he slapped it into her overstimulated clit, cackling at her startled reaction, “Aw sweetheart, you don’t have to call me God.  I’ll always answer to Ed-” But he bit off his sentence when he felt her hand glide over his shaft.  If he was going to tease, so was she, “Fine, Ed- don’t keep me waiting, alright?” “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.  Wouldn’t dream of it.”  Amanda’s back arched violently as her tender flesh parted around the thickness of Eddie’s erection.  He notched into her slowly, rasping through held breaths, “You- you doing ok, Mandy?” Nodding was the only response she could give considering the ripples of pleasure already bubbling through her, but he pinched at the fat of her hip, “Need you to say it, Amanda.  Tell me.  Yea?” 

And the last note was pleading, tender, which brought her back into herself long enough to whimper, “I’m doing ok, Eddie.  Are- are you?”

He was struggling to be a gentleman, that was certainly true, and his gargoyle brain wanted to run amok but, “Yea, I’m fucking fantastic.” Laying her head back, exposing her neck, she managed to smile before sighing, “Good.  That’s so good.” He groaned then, deep and rumbling, before rocking his hips forward.  Seating himself down to the root, Amanda took everything he had inside her quaking core and damn, it was exquisite.  To be surrounded by the yielding silver softness of her body, cool and clean, when his own was made of hard angles and rigid lines made Eddie want to howl.  Wasn’t that what a wolf would do under the light of the full moon?    And what of the moon?  Did she reply to the lovesick creature, crying to the heavens?  

Digging her heels into the beloved bed clothes for more traction, driving herself along his length so that he could know just how incredible it felt to be joined with him in this way, Amanda met him thrust for thrust.  Ratcheting her own hips eagerly, moaning brokenly through every inhale, “More.  I can take it.  Please?  Please.”

Her wolfman didn’t need to be asked twice.  A hand palmed her thick ass, grinding her bones against his without withdrawing, seeking the untouched places deep inside with wet and warm and wild abandon.  Dropping over her, he used his tongue to find her nipple, sucking harshly as if there was a way to taste her heart, her veins, her muscle and fascia.  Lewdly.  Rudely.  

And she didn’t hold back.  Her nails, sharper and painted a rosy color, scratched along his forearms, his shoulders, his back.  Anywhere that could be reached, touched, marked as ruined by her hands as she struggled to hold fast through the pummeling, punishing pushes. Bejeweled rings snagged her hair as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, dragging his mouth to hers.  Their tongues mimicked the movement of their lower halves; pushing, pulling, tangling together.  And when the kiss became too much, the threatening rasp of teeth nipped at the bulge of his Adam’s Apple, his exposed throat too great a temptation to ignore.

For her effort, his moon was serenaded by a ceaseless chant of words such as “want” and “love” and “forever”.  That his every uttered syllable was met with the sounds of her surrender; of her body, her mind, her soul, was not lost in translation.  Eddie recognized what each utterance meant, a natural interpreter of the noises she emitted, and thought that a recording of her sexy sounds had the potential to climb the charts.  Top 100 for sure- if he was even remotely willing to let anyone else hear the concert of their lovemaking.  He wasn’t though.  Not just because of the intimate nature of this particular show but because he was a selfish, selfish man.  No one else should be allowed to hear the symphony that was their ode to an evening.     She was beaming, could feel the radiant heat off of her own skin in the swell of her cheeks and burning through in patches where a bite mark or bruise might show in tomorrow’s light.  Biting into her lip with a hum, she grinned, giddy and glowing under all the tender affection of being loved so well by Eddie.  He was thorough, kissing and clinging in random places at random moments and her sex drunk brain couldn’t be bothered to keep up.   Already pliant, no longer entirely in control of her movements, when the muscles of her right thigh let go, she didn’t fight it.  Catching on the jutting crest of his hip like it belonged there, curled naturally around his waist, it trapped him tightly to her.  The change in position was ruinous.  Overwrought and overworked, she was going to cum again, and harder than the first time.  When she spoke the words, punctuated by his quickening thrusts, his smile grew wolfishly wide.  Gleeful at her stuttered announcement, praising her, “You feel so good, M-Mandy.  S’ perfect.”

Amanda’s eyes rolled back in her skull, the powerful release pulling her under as her muscles stiffened, fighting against the rising tide before dropping into the pocket, waves of pleasure lapping against each other.  Gasping, his name the only sound filling the still of the night, an incantation recited over and over again until her lungs burned from want of oxygen.  Her’s wasn’t the scream of a porno actress from a secretly rented video, over dramatic and purposefully false.  And maybe that’s why it hit Eddie right in the darkest depth of his heart.  She wasn’t acting out her ecstasy.  She couldn’t be faking the erratic pulsing rhythm of her orgasm as it spurred on his own. Slippery.  Constricting.  Lake bottom deep, he sunk himself further into her silk and let go with a moan, “Amanda-” Her arms wrapped around him.  Legs too.  And as he shuddered, a ragged breath blowing the sweat stuck strands of hair off his forehead, he felt the smallest nudge along his jaw.  Tiny presses of her mouth, little mini kisses to his bicep, over his collar bone, and down the proud slope of his nose. “Hey you.” Giggling at the gangly guy situated between her knees, she bit her bottom lip, tilting her head in her signature sassy way, “Hey yourself.” Wiggling his hips slowly, still incredibly hard, he flashed Amanda a sheepish grin, “I’m almost afraid to, ya know, pull out.  I think I- I made a mess.” Now she was outright laughing, “Oh really?  You think so, huh?” “Shit, you have to stop that!”  His jaw was clenched tight despite the lighthearted way he spoke.  Every nerve ending was raw, receiving too much stimuli, but he wasn’t ready for it to end.  Didn’t really want to separate and go back to being two people, two bodies, two hearts.

Innocently asked, Amanda’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, “What?” “Laughing!  You’re still- ah!  You’re still squeezing me!” But that only made her laugh harder, “I’m so sorry!  But, you’re pretty fucking funny after sex!” “Is that so, little missy?”  And that’s when Eddie leaned up, making to kiss her, but licking a thick stripe up her cheek at the last second that made her squirm and squeal in mock disgust.  Easing himself free, a trickle of wetness following, Eddie pressed his forehead to hers, “If I’m pretty fucking funny then you’re just fucking pretty.” If it hadn’t struck her before, it hit her with the force of a baseball bat now; her lover was beautiful.  Even with limited light illuminating his sweaty skin, he was glowing and her heart thumped at the image before her.  Eddie, her Eddie, with his bangs sticking to his forehead, tacky with sweat from the exertion of fucking her so hard, happy and melty at the edges like a really good grilled cheese sandwich. “I love you.” Laying his head on her chest, sighing like a young girl with a crush, he answered, “I love you.” He didn’t say “I love you, too.”  There was no “too” about it.  He knew how he felt, in his heart, in his body, in his mind.  And even with the cloudiness of a great orgasm hazing his thoughts, Eddie felt the truth in it. Groaning in protest, she made to move to get up, to leave the bed, but he stopped her, “Tell me where I can get a towel, alright?” “I can get up, Eddie.”

He shook his head sending his sweat soaked waves into the air, “Yea, you can, but I don’t want you to, ok?  So, bathroom?  Where can I find it?” She extended her hand lazily, pointing, “First door on the right.  It has a toilet and a tub, so you know, can’t miss it.” Pushing up on his hands and knees, Eddie thudded to the floor on heavy feet.  Turning to bow, naked as the day he was born, using a put on cockney accent, “Yes m’lady!  Right away!  Your faithful servant won’t let you down!” Her sparkling laugh chased him down the hallway.

Not much later, when water had been shared from a jelly glass with Tom & Jerry running around the rim and the damp, once warm towel used for cleaning up had been chucked into the hamper, Eddie thumped his head back against the headboard.  His body lax as he drew Amanda closer, “I gotta say, Mandy.  Thought you said you were new to all this, had me thinking I was going to need to show you how it’s done, but you just, ya know, rocked my world.”  His kiss was affectionate, playful even, without the fevered heat of desire burning it to ash.  Shifting up to her elbow, head in her hand, eyes heavy but watchful, “I’m not a virgin.  I’ve, ya know, had sex before.” That was news to him.  Not that he would stake his life on it, but there had been a conversation about experience over patty melts and paper napkins.  About newness.  About being without skill or practice.  “But-” Flopping forward, her head laid on his sweat cooled chest, cheek squished against his zombie tattoo, “I wasn’t lying to you, if that’s what you think.  I just- I haven’t dated much but, this-” she waved a hand taking in the bed, the room, the nakedness, “-I’ve done this a few times before.” He rolled onto his side, scooching lower so he could see her better, his warm hand finding a home along the expanse of Amanda’s ribs and rubbing continuously, “I know my head is still a little fuzzy after all the great lovin’ and all but, uh, I’m not sure I’m following.” Blowing out a breath that sounded something like frustration, she shrugged, “Guys take me to bed but not to dinner.  I’m not, ya know, girlfriend material, I suppose.  It’s like, I’m good enough to make out with, especially if it makes some other, prettier, thinner girl jealous.”  Her mouth twisted up, not really a frown but a far cry from the sweet smile Eddie had come to appreciate.  She was staring through him, seeing images made of memory, “Good enough to- to fool around with in the dark.  Places where no one would see, like under the bleachers or behind a dumpster.  But take me to a restaurant?  A movie?  Out with friends or family?  No way.  “And I’m always so-” she rolled her eyes, trying to find the right word, “-I don’t know, needy?  Desperate maybe?  That a guy pretending to be interested could offer me kisses in corners or bathroom stalls where no one would ever think to look and I do it.  Gladly.  Because even their half assed affection is better than nothing, right?”  But Amanda didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, carrying on with an edge in her voice, “If I touch them, let them touch me, then they’ll give me what I want.  Flowers and romance and, and-” he heard the way her throat caught, a strangled sound shaking through her as she finished, “-love.” Tossing her head, she banished a wayward tear, smiling thinly at her man’s silhouette in the muted light, “Now though, I’m here, with you.  A guy who sees me, all of me.  You see me and you don’t make me feel bad about who I am.  How I look.  You see me, and, and you like me even in broad daylight.  And no one’s ever done that before.  I mean, you already brought me around your friends.  Your family.”  Her emphasis on the last word not lost on him and neither was the twinge of pride in her voice at how she said it.  “Amanda-”  He wanted to reach out, reassure her, but she shook him off. There was more to say, more to tell and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to share her thoughts with someone.  Not someone.  Eddie.  

Swallowing, she looked up at him, comfortable and relaxed under her threadbare bedsheet, “You wanted to know what happened tonight?  When I was at practice?” Maybe there was something in her voice that gave her away.  He could tell that this was uncharted territory for his Moon woman, taking her out of her depth, a thing difficult to share.  Maybe he also realized that something was shifting, something important, so he bobbed his head, locking her fingers with his, “Yea, but only if you wanna tell me.  There’s no pressure, you know that, right?” Nodding, Amanda sat up now, pinning the sheet under her arms so that it covered most of her breasts.  Her hair was a knotted mess, wild and untamed, but she was lit from within.  Eddie felt as though she was worthy of sculpture, ready to be captured for all time in alabaster stone or graying quartz.  Some Italian master should be committing the image before him into marble.  The combination of fragility and strength on display was overwhelming even if the underlying hurt etched in her face made Eddie’s chest ache. “I know and that’s kind of why I want to tell you.”  It was an admission of trust, of respect, and another stunning example of how strong her feelings truly were.  With a small gesture encouraging her to go on, Amanda inhaled sharply, “Right.  So, tonight, at rehearsal?  Mark, you know my drummer- uh, the drummer?  He was being the biggest asshole.  To everyone, not just me.  Really picking on us all, which was weird.  ‘Cause normally he’s kinda, well-” Stepping on her sentence, Eddie finished with a shit eating grin, “Steady?”  “Oh, that was bad, even for you.”  She groaned at the ill timed, but sort of hilarious drumming joke.  Lifting his hands, signaling his apology, she tilted her head thoughtfully, “Anway, he said some stuff and-” That made Eddie sit up too, his legs folding and taking the blankets with them, “Wait, he said something about you or about me?” “Um-” her fingers fiddled with the fabric, eyes avoiding his baleful brown orbs for the first time all night.  Not a great sign. “If it’s about me, no problem.  I can handle that, Mandy.  Hell, I’ve been handling that shit my whole life.  But you?  Baby-” Eddie cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, “-You don’t deserve that shit.” “About us both, I guess.”  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “Mark was, well, he was angry.  At me.  Said that I sounded ‘desperate’ when I was singing the other night, that I was ‘begging for a man’ like- like some kind of tramp or something when I was singing to you.” Holy shit, was he struggling right now.  With every other word Amanda uttered, Eddie’s blood ran like frigid November rain, in icy sheets that burned or in magma hot lava-like flows that scorched his heart from rage.  Luckily he was hiding it well.  

Going for cool, casual even, he cast about asking, “So, uh, what else did Mark have to say?” With a guilty gulp, she went on, “A lot.  And he kept running his mouth so much, too much, really.  It’s just- I thought he was my friend, you know?”  And honest to god, her chin shook as she held back the tears her emotional meridian begged to release, her voice going warbly with the effort, “But in the end, he was just like the guys at school, the boys back home.  Wanted the- the thrill of being with a girl like me, a big girl, and thought I should be-” in a barely heard whisper she trailed off,  “-grateful for his attention.” Now, young Mr. Munson had spent time as an angry juvenile.  The world and the way it worked had done its level best to beat him down over and over again.  Before the interdimensional trauma that left him scarred and scared, he had trained himself to live and let live, a philosophy that he was pretty certain had saved his life on more than one occasion. But hearing the way she spoke about Mark, a dude she knew and trusted, filled him with a furious anger so white hot that he almost could not believe that smoke wasn’t spilling out of his ears like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  It didn’t seem like the darling at his side noticed when his unoccupied hand closed in a tight fist that he was currently imagining ramming right through the skin of a bass drum directly into the sternum of Mark, as if he might bend the laws of physics and somehow be able to beat the shit out of this asshole from the safety of Amanda’s bed.  

Because, like, who the fuck did this guy think he was? She wasn’t crying, not outright, but was sad about the circumstances all the same.  And from the pure desire to make his woman feel better, he snorted hotly, “Fucking dipshit.  He’s the one that should be grateful.” “What?” “I said, this Mark person, he’s the one that should be grateful to even, ya know, know you” he added, tugging that self protective strand of hair down and over his mouth.  Starting at a mumble that grew stronger the longer he talked, Eddie’s stare locked on Amanda’s, “Look, I already told you how I feel.  And, even if we weren’t, ya know, together, I’d still be thankful that you’re in my life.  You are something special, Amanda Patterson.  Something-” and then he couldn’t resist any longer, dragging a finger down her cheek until he could tip her chin up, those bright eyes searching his own, “-out of this world.  A treasure.” Rewarded with a wry shake of head and rolled wet eyes, Eddie carried on, “Honestly, thank fuck.” She sniffled a bit, asking through a thick throat, “What’s that supposed to mean?” His pink lips screwed up in a crooked smirk that scrunched his nose cutely, “It means, sweetheart, that those-” rings glinting the gloom, his hand flailed dramatically, “-dumbasses didn’t know they had struck gold when they met you.  Lucky for you, I know the good shit when I see it.” Deflating visibly, she huffed, “Gold plated is probably more accurate.”  It was meant to be lighthearted.  A little self deprecating, sure, but wasn’t it easier to make the joke then become one? “Hey, don’t do that.”  He caught her cheeks in a grip which was firm while his voice cotton soft, “I’m not joking around.  Not about this.  Not about you.” She didn’t move, frozen in place by the sincerity he was forcing her to accept.  Whispering into the quiet night, a hardly spoken rush of words, but he heard them all the same, “I’m nothing special, Eddie.” A fever of frustration climbed through him at that midnight confession.  The worst part was how truly she believed what she said, that there was nothing special about her, no reason for Mark’s misplaced interest or his own adoration.  That somehow she didn’t deserve Eddie’s praise, his attention, even his love, was all layered into that one sentence. “Mandy, don’t you ever talk that way about the person I love.  Never again.”  It was his gently uttered warning. “But, Eddie-”  she wanted to argue the point, make a case for being less than. Shifting quickly, he caught her around the bare expanse of her shoulders, “If I have to say it everyday, for the rest of your life, I will Mandy.  You’re amazing.”  A kiss, hungry and scalding, melded their mouths together, “You are so fucking sexy.”  Lips traced the line of her jaw, moving upward, “And I haven’t felt, well, whatever this is, ever before.” Even if her mind wasn’t quite convinced, Eddie’s nearness coupled with the sultry kisses and his heartfelt words had made her body a believer.  She smoothed a hand along his straight spine, her forehead tapping his own, “I imagine you say that to all the ladies you take to bed.” A warm, happy laugh rumbled through Eddie at her smart ass comment.  Pulling back, needing to see her eyes, “I’m going to be real honest with you, alright?  Put it all on the line, k?”  When she agreed with a short nod, he continued, “You may think that I do this sorta thing all the time- pick up chicks and service them until the sun comes up, until they uh, scream my name into the night- but I don’t.”  Tilting her head, really looking him over, she shook her own, her teasing edged with something harder, “You’re telling me that you don’t seduce the housewives who bring their cars in for oil changes?  Or, or, um, bang groupies after a good show at The Hideout?” “Me?  No way.  Not a chance.  Reputation ruiner, remember?  So I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that you are in my, my top 3, all time.  Easy.”  Mindlessly, Eddie started tracing stars into the skin of her thighs, consciously avoiding her piercing stare. But now she was curious, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, her eyebrows lifted, “Out of how many?” Yanking his hair forward, Eddie snickered, still bashful, “Um, out of three.  But, uh, out of those three, you’re my number one.  No question about it.”  The grin he flashed her was so deep, his cheeks aching from smiling so widely, that Amanda had no choice but to giggle too, “Number one, you said?” Reaching for her hand, linking their fingers together before nudging her closer, he corrected her gently, “Uh huh, you’re my number one.  Best I ever had.”  

“What are you doing to me, Eddie Munson?”  It was rhetorical, obviously, but it had to be asked even if she was unable to keep the tendril of truth out of her voice.  Because this conversation was powerful enough to capsize her, she realized too late to stop it from happening.  If he was going to sink her ship, she was going to have to grow gills or drown trying.  Otherwise she was never going to survive being cared for by the romantic rockstar in training who was taking up half her bedspread. Scrunching his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip, Eddie hemmed, “I’m uh, watching out for you.  Tryin’ to be a knight or a, a paladin.”  Rubbing his thumb in patient circles against the back of her hand, a little lost in his thoughts, “Want to be who and what you need, Mandy, because, yea, you deserve that.” “And what do you deserve?”  That drew him up short as she freed her hands so she could skate them over his exposed chest, “‘Cause I think you deserve things too.  Like someone to love you back.  Someone who hears you-” rising to her knees, she scooted a leg over his waist, bracketing his body between her dimpled thighs, “-and your terrible jokes but still laughs anyway.  Someone who appreciates you for all the wonderful and wild things that make you, well, you.”  She punctuated her sentence with a bop on the tip of his broad nose. His mouth was dry but his betraying eyes were damp as he cleared his throat roughly, hands already resting on the full rise of her hips, “Is uh, is that so, Miss Mandy?” “Totally.”  She pulled one of his hands away, the lined and creased side facing her before pressing her lips to its very center.  Covering it with her own she held it against the smooth expanse of her sternum, directly on top of her beating heart. Swallowing thickly, unable to look away, he asked, “Maybe I’ve found her?”  Bare and unashamed, leaning into his space, her sleek slit skimming his slowly solidifying length made his cheeks burn hotly as she rocked her hips back.  Nodding, she looked down at him, purring, “Maybe you have.”  Grinding down, her full weight holding him to the mattress, to the earth, he thanked whatever deity was closest for this brilliant, beautiful creature with the enchanting voice and bewitching eyes full of shining devotion.  Whatever she was before didn’t matter to him or the gargoyle who guarded his own thumping mess of a heart in its crumbling tower.  Amanda Patterson was his now, and he’d be damned before letting her go.  

—

1990 - Fall

“Let’s hear it once again for Mandy and the Maniacs!” All around her the crowd went ballistic.  Shouting, screaming, stomping, clapping noise filled the bar where the band, her band had taken the stage with the hope of making it through one more round.  One step closer to fortune and fame and everything that goes with it.  Based on the deafening roar of this particular crowd, Amanda had high hopes.  Fuck, but she wanted to win 1991’s Battle of the Bands.  Prove that she was good enough to make it on the strength of her own abilities, on the unflagging determination of her dream to sing for a living, and do it on her own. So she was smiling through the tears of happiness that filled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she committed the raucous riotous scene below her into her memory banks as the emcee was thrusting a plastic trophy complete with a fake gold guitar glued to the top into her sweaty hand, “Congratulations to our winners!  And don’t forget that you can see Mandy and the band here at Stingers every Friday night.  Doors open at 10pm!”

— “Good show tonight, Mandy.  You know, you guys are really going places.” Amanda toweled off the grimy sweat from being under too hot stage lights and the melted mascara that always found a way to slip down her face after a show, grinning broadly, “Thanks Davey.  We all appreciate your hosting and, of course, having us back week after week.” “Can’t have a rock bar with no music, that’d be like having a peanut butter sandwich without jelly.  Just doesn’t taste right, ya know?” Laughing politely, she nodded, “I think I get what you mean.”  And before he could ask again, Carly slid up to her side, “Ready to load in the gear?” A thankful expression crossed her face as she looked at her friend, still sweaty and streaked herself, “Yes ma’am.  Hey-” leaning in to shake Davey’s hand, Amanda’s black mesh fingerless glove pressing designs into his palm as she added, “-again, thank you for tonight.” “It’s always a pleasure, Mandy.  Uh, is there any chance you might wanna grab a dri-” Swinging a microphone case onto her shoulder, her back to the bar’s owner, Amanda answered swiftly, “Have a good night, Davey.” When they were in the chilly night air, sans jackets or even clothes that were close to appropriate for the weather in Indiana during an early cold snap, Carly lit up a cigarette, smirking, “He asked you again, huh?” Taking the flaming stick of death from her friend, Amanda took one, tiny puff, the smallest possible because her voice was still her best instrument, and lifted her heavily made-up eyes, “Was trying to, I think.” “Could it hurt?”  Carly ashed the butt quickly, staring at the bumper of the broken-in mini-van that they used to lug amps and instruments in, purposefully avoiding Amanda’s bewildered look. Toeing at the slushy puddle that gathered around the back tire, her big black boots with neon laces keeping her away from the muck, she considered it.  Would it hurt to let Davey buy her a drink?  No, probably not.  As a general rule, a single drink was not enough to hurt someone, but it was what came after that stalled her in her tracks. From under a jagged line of self cut bangs, Amanda tilted her head at her friend, one eye squeezed shut while the other stared dead on, “Eventually, yea.  Yes it could.  And not for nothing but I’m too toxic for anyone right now.” “That’s horseshit and you know it.”  Carly flicked the used filter of her cigarette with a flourish, her shirt sleeves swinging at the effort. Laying back against the frozen metal of the van, Amanda shivered, “Come on, don’t fuck with me, ok?  It’s been a good night.  Great even.  Let’s not fight about Davey and drinks that I’m not going to let him buy.” Kicking at the rims now, Carly grumbled, “You need to get laid.” “Fuck you, I do not!” This time her friend’s pretty pouting face found hers under the parking lot’s hazy yellow lights, “You do and so goddamn badly.  It’s been what, like two years since Ed-” “Don’t say it.” Exhaling wickedly, anger heating up her sigh, Carly jumped right into her diatribe, “I can’t even say his name, Amanda.  What is that about?  Are you ever gonna, I don’t know, get over him?  Go out with someone else?  Let another person stick their fucking tongue down your fucking throat?”  And when she didn’t reply, Carly pressed on, ranting into the empty night air, “Or are you going to die on this hill?  Because ‘I once loved Ed-” she shifted her focus to Amanda before softening up, “-a, a future rockstar who broke my heart when he left this town and me behind’ is not going to fit on your tombstone, sis.” Toying with the van keys, their metal ring going cold in her hands, Amanda shrugged.  She was tired all the way down to her soul.  Tired of being tired.  Tired of grinding so hard for the things she wanted.  Tired of Carly being mostly, sort of, almost totally right.  Tired of being alone.  Tired of missing a man with a name she couldn’t bear to hear. And yea, ok, she would absolutely own that her sad sack routine was going stale.  She bored herself most days, honestly.  But what was the point in letting Davey or any other person buy her a drink and think they stood any kind of chance when Amanda Patterson no longer had a heart to give? Nope.  Like the Tin-Man, she was kept alive by electrical impulses managed by some other organ because she’d lost her heart in 1988.  The year Corroded Coffin was discovered through Carly’s college radio station connections.  The same year a mid-western county fair tour was planned.  The year that took him away for the big life he was always supposed to lead.  The year that took her heart and never looked back. “Hell.  Give me a smoke, would ya?”

“‘Manda. You don’t like cigarettes.” Carly taunted in a sing-song voice. Shrugging, sad and cold, she waved her friend on with a uselessly gloved hand, “Maybe I do now.”  And when she took her first full inhalation a thought moved through the neural pathways of her brain.  It might kill her, in the end, smoking, drinking or whatever, but she then, had been dead inside for a lot longer.  Besides, there was no one watching out for her now.  No one to disappoint.  No one to worry.

Her lungs burned and the back of her throat protested, but Amanda smiled warmly in the cold night, “Thanks Carly.” Blowing out a held breath, the shorter girl rolled her eyes, “Fuck, you’re dramatic.  Just like him.  You know that right?” Her chuckle was hollow, raspy because of the smoking, “Uh huh.  I do.”  Dropping the burnt paper to the ground she stomped on it with the toe of her boot, unlocking the car, “Wanna get the fuck outta here?” “Yea.  Let’s go home.”

—

1987

Morning light cast the entire room in a golden glow that was entirely too ethereal to be real.  Only it was.  It had to be, because Amanda was laying on her side, the plush padding of her bum tucked against Eddie’s bare pelvis, as she slept peacefully in his arms.

Now that his eyes were open there were things he needed to do: take a piss, take a shower, get some food in his body that did not come out of a cardboard box and get to work.  Except he’d be  leaving this downy nest of a bed and the warmth of a very willing body to do any of it.  So, yea, Eddie didn’t want to do that, not even a little bit.

The alarm clock said seven thirty six, and if his bedtime math was accurate, he could stay until 8 o’clock.  Any later and he’d be in deep shit with, well, virtually everyone.  Why did it have to be Friday morning?  How come he had bedded his dream woman on a Thursday night, mid-week, knowing there were still responsibilities on the horizon?

As if she could sense that he was awake, she shifted her figure flush with his, and there was no way to hide his morning wood.  There was also no way she could not feel it pressing insistently at the small of her back.  He swallowed his spit, curling Amanda closer, and shut his eyes.  Eddie could manage the morning after.  He absolutely could.

“Mmm, morning.”  

Sleep stained and supple, Amanda started to roll his way but he stopped her with a kiss to her shoulder blade, “Uh, maybe don’t.” “Wha?  Oh.  Oh.”  And saucy minx that she was, she stretched her body so that his erection rubbed over the silken skin of her bottom. Groaning from way down deep in his chest, Eddie chided, “You’re a tease.” “You’re too easy.”   She was on her back now, head turned his way, outlined in the pale yellow rays of morning light.  His heartbeat sped up at the coy look she flashed from under her lashes.  Amanda wanted Eddie and in spite of the hard work he’d put in last night, he wanted her again too.  Dipping a hand under the filmy sheet, his fingernails scraped the swell of her hip, when the alarm clock clicked to 7:45 and began buzzing obnoxiously. “Shit!”  Scrambling up, Amanda hit the digital display’s off button, silencing the sound.  Slumping into herself, she looked his way with a frowny face, “I have class at 9.” “I’ve got work, myself.”  It was a guilty admission, no matter how true. Nodding, Amanda bit into her bottom lip, “Then I guess-” “We both have to go?”  They spoke over each other.  Whatever easy energy they had shared was taut now, stressed and strained but neither one moved.  Neither one really wanted to. Except a new day was started, one with expectations for Amanda and Eddie alone.  Still, she had to ask, hand twisting in the stray strands of her hair, “Will I, uh- um, maybe you can-” So Eddie took pity on his girl, lifting her hand to his lips chastely, “Are you trying to say that you wanna see me again?  Like, tonight?” “Do- uh, do you want that?”  She was barely suppressing her hope, struggling to keep her expectations of Eddie in check, regardless of all his pretty words when the lights were low. Thrusting out his little finger, Eddie wiggled it quickly, “Well, yea, of course I do.  Promise.” Linking them together, a chuffed out giggle escaped her pouty lips when he swung their hands like that, childlike and silly.  He used his leverage to drag her to his chest, a kiss landing on her nose, on each cheek, and finally her parted mouth.  They let go reluctantly when her alarm rang again, this time marking the hour as 8. “Shit.  I really, really, have to go.”  Eddie swung his leg over the side of the bed giving Amanda  a phenomenal view of his bare ass as he crisscrossed the room searching out his clothes.  Too easily the boy stepped into his jeans, forgoing his underwear, she noticed, and shrugging back into his tee. Hugging her knees, she could only watch, conflicting thoughts filling her head.  Her body was sore in the best possible way because of all that they had gotten up to last night.  She knew she’d be thinking of him all day, anytime she shifted in her seat or caught sight of the purple markings that littered her neck and chest. And she definitely wanted to do this- do him, again.  Without question, Eddie Munson was phenomenal in the sack.  But now he was leaving, and she understood it, alright?  She had shit to do herself.  Because it was a weekday and she paid so much for school and the music shop was letting her pick up a shift… Only, she wanted to linger in bed with her very cute and very sexy lover at her side.  Maybe get to lick his hardest parts, or, his softest.  Maybe get him to lick her again and again and again. “Don’t?”  Amanda hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but there it was, echoing around her quiet room.  A pleading question spoken from the depths of her heart, pushing pause on the guy in the middle of pulling up his socks, seated primly on the corner of her bed.  Shocked by her own actions, her eyes rounded as she backpedaled, “I mean, I know you have to and, and I have to, but that doesn’t mean I want you to- to go.  Ya know?  Last night was like-” she breathed out, willing herself not to get emotional even if she could feel the cold prickle of tears in the back of her throat, “-really special, for me at least.  And-” letting her eyes find Eddie’s coffee colored eyes, finished, “-I don’t want to say goodbye.” Blinking a couple of times, taking a beat, he wanted to get his answer right.  “Who says we have to say goodbye?” “You’re leaving.” Reaching for his boots, smile wide and shining under his mass of waves, “Uh huh.  But-” yanking the laces hard, he grinned her way, “-I’m coming back.”  “Are you though?”  

He cut off any other protests, standing quickly and walking around to her side of the bed.  Amanda had her feet planted on the floor, her sheet barely covering her most private of places, as she lifted her fretful face in his direction. Voice tighter than he wanted, shoulders tenser than they should be, Eddie looked down at this woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly.  One ring clad finger tripped down the hill of her nose, “Shit, Mandy, I’m probably losing all my cool guy street credit when I say this, but, uh, this thing-” using his thumb under her chin, the skin there yielding to his even pressure, “-You and me?  This.  It fucking scares me-” She had the audacity to look surprised, those beguiling eyes going wide from the raw honesty he was showing, that tilt to her head more pronounced as she nervously whispered, “I- I scare you?” “No!  Shit, that’s not- I meant-” recovering quickly but feeling much shyer now, he tried to explain, “How I feel about you, I mean.  How much I care- it’s a lot.  For me, it’s everything.”  With the sound of knees cracking, he dropped into a squat so that he was looking up at Amanda’s face, not the other way around.   

“Oh.” her gaze softened shifting her focus until it landed on something far away, her mind working fast.  Loving her was already a burden.  Already too much to ask of a guy like Eddie, so wild and carefree.  And the realizations stung.  Maybe she didn't have a night to remember after all.  Maybe her knight in shining armor didn’t see her the way she imagined.  Maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was, after all. And her brain would have kept on running in ragged circles of self doubt if Eddie hadn’t nudged against her parted thighs, “Hey, Mandy?  Come back to me, yea?” “Sorry, I- uh-” steeling herself, her back stiffened, her smile slipping, “-Look.  We don’t have to do this.  I get it, Eddie.  And, ya know-” those eyes were back on him, sadder now, holding him still, “-we don’t have to do whatever this is.  Not now.  Not, ya know, ever.  I understand how this works, ok?” Despite his nearness she started to push off the mattress.  It was too difficult to sit there thinking he was afraid of her, of having feelings for her, of being with her.  Convinced that he probably wasn’t going to touch her again, that she couldn’t have him or his love for more than one night, no matter what he said or what promises were left unfulfilled was a punch in the gut- leveling.  

Shame burned through her because she should have known better.  It was all too good to be true like any other fairytale.  A story.  A fantasy. And she had to go, right now, because she wasn’t going to allow him to see so down and out.  Straightening her arms, rocking forward, she was ready to get away, to bolt.  But she didn’t get far.  Fingers dug into her leg, holding her fast, delaying her escape, “Damn it.  That isn’t- that isn’t what I said, Amanda.”  Eddie’s voice was pitched low- dark and rumbling like the growing thunder of a terrible storm.  It locked her in place even if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, terrified that she’d find pity or some other weakening emotion on his stupid, loving, handsome face.  A violent vermillion flash of fury surged through her, spewing caustic, cutting sarcasm from her pursed lips, “No?  Because that’s what I heard, Eddie.  I heard you say that you’re scared to- to, to be with me.” 

“Wrong.”  “Excuse me?” “I said that you’re wrong.  Even though you are so smart, right now?  Sweetheart, you are 100 percent, entirely and utterly wrong here.  What frightens me, Mandy-” his hands slipped around her waist as, falling to his knees in front of her, he carried on, “isn’t that I’m afraid to be with you.  I’m afraid to be without you.  I’m terrified that you won’t want to be with me.” Holding onto to her steely edge, glaring now, she swung another verbal dagger, “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” “Fuck, Mandy.  Take your pick-”  Counting on his fingers, the list started, “-former mega-nerd with a talent for collecting little lost souls and ensuring their survival through high school.”  A second finger went up, “Uh, lead singer of a regionally successful rock band full of said misfits that hasn’t had its big break yet.”   A third, “The best damn Dungeon Master in the state of Indiana, if I say so myself.”  Little finger, number four bent slightly, “Oh, not to mention I’m crisscrossed with scars from North to South no matter how great the tattys look and-” his thumb jumped, spreading his palm open wide, “-not that many years ago I watched a person I cared about get murdered which, ya know, messes a guy up pretty damn good. “On the plus side?  Let’s see, I’ve got great friends, my totally bitchin’ guitar, a halfway decent van, and I’ve finally met a girl that I fucking love.  But, shit, maybe she doesn’t feel like I do?”  And now he let his cinnamon eyes burn into hers, really revved up and showing no signs of stopping, “Maybe she just says pretty things when I’m making her cum and afterwards, well, she wants to be with some other dude.  Someone like Mark who’s gonna make something of himself?  Steady as fuck and boring to boot.  Someone who doesn’t love her like I do, because they don’t get it, they can’t love her like me.  How could they when they don’t get how my world spun off its axis when she jumped into my arms at the goddamned music shop.  Or how-” Her cheeks flushed at the memory, the moment when this love affair began, and she felt herself smiling wide, the momentary rage ebbing almost as quickly as it started.  Cutting him off, she cupped his jaw with firm fingers, “I do!  I promise you, I-I understand.  And, and I feel the same way.  Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you seduced me into a dance in the sheet music aisle.”

“You’re the one who fell into me, Mandy.” Airy like a summer’s breeze, Amanda countered, “You tripped me.” Scoffing, he settled his weight on the balls of his feet, “So you do remember then?” “Of course I do.  And that’s why I didn’t want you to go.  If- if you leave today and never come back, what’ll I do, Eddie?”  She had nuzzled into the unshaven haven of his neck, just below his ear, and was keening like a fitful kitten, “Now that I have you, I don’t want anybody else.  I only want to be with you.  Only you.” Exhaling harshly, pulling her forehead to his, he husked, “Sad to say, darling, but you may be stuck with me.” Only he didn’t sound sad at all.  Neither did she when she moved a hand to either cheek, a dreamy smile on her face, “Yea?  You mean it?”  “Of fucking course I do.  And to prove it, come to my show tonight?” “Like, seriously?  Because I would really love to see you play.” The alarm toned again, 8:15am.  But fuck it, he could be late to the garage if meant seeing Amanda grin at him like this- all excited and eager, “Hell yea!  You can meet the guys and see what all the fuss is about when Corroded Coffin hits the stage.” Nerves jangled, she bit into her lip, worry creeping into her tone, “And you wouldn’t mind me being there?  Like, that wouldn’t be, I don’t know, embarrassing for you?”

His head fell back far enough for the tendons of his neck to stretch, the bulge of his Adam’s apple tantalizingly close, while his stare locked on hers, “Embarrassing?  No.  Hell no.  I’d be honored to have you there, cheering me on.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?”  She raised her eyebrows playfully, giving him the out if he wanted to take it. And that same anger at Mark, at all the idiot guys who had hurt her flared up briefly, but he tramped it down like a lid on a grease fire, reassuring her again, “No way.  I want you there.  Need you there, Mandy.  Besides-” that impish grin was back, “-it’s only fair.  I saw you perform, now I get to return the favor.” Her mind was working, spinning his words around in her head faster than an unbalanced washing machine, as she processed what Eddie was saying.  When she finally came to a conclusion, Amanda nodded decisively, “Yea, ok.  I’ll come.  I-I’ll be there.” Pressing up to his feet, Eddie beamed down at her, “Sweet.  But, now I really gotta split, ok?”  She raised her chin, the permission for a kiss implicit in the action and he took advantage.  It was so easy to get lost in the flavor and feeling of her lips under his or the slide of his tongue over her own.  In the end, she had to push him away, breathless and begging, “Yea, go on.  Get lost, Munson.”

Groaning, he stomped towards her door, “Fine.  Fine.  I’m going.” Pleased and purring, Amanda stretched out along her bed, her head already thinking of the night to come when Eddie’s face appeared in her doorway again, “Oh, hey.  Don’t forget that you’re banging the lead guitarist and front man of the band, k?  You gotta look the part so uh-” he took in the room at a glance, “-no pretty flower prints or whatever.” “You came back just to tell me that?” His hands rested against the pale wooden door frame as he stepped back through it, “Yes.  And this-” it took three running steps before he launched himself onto the mattress and landed as gently as he could with her pinned underneath him.  Her hands caught on the tangles still knotting his hair, dragging his mouth to hers, whimpering into the wet cave of his mouth. So Eddie was an hour late to work and Amanda missed her first class.  Worse things had happened in the name of new love.

—

1990 - Winter

“Well, it was a great night!  To Mandy and the Maniacs-”  The ladies clinked their bottles together in celebration, stilted happiness filling the air around them.  The founding members of their female fronted metal band had come home exhilarated and exhausted, ready to unwind, share post-show snacks and celebrate their advancement to the Battle of the Bands finals.  It had been another grueling show but they had done what they meant to: melt the faces off the audience and get another step closer to that Big Win in the new year. 

MTV was on in the background, as it always was when they weren’t practicing or writing or recording, and the videos on Headbangers Ball were always welcome at the end of a long Saturday filled with rocking.  Rick Rachtman was talking about some up and coming band as Amanda crunched on a cheese ball, barely listening.  

If Carly was tired, Amanda was wired, her mind still on tonight’s crowd and what it was going to take to win it all in a few weeks.  Already she was in her head, planning what their set was going to be, which songs were the most likely to sway the ever growing swell of music lovers standing shoulder to shoulder when they played.  

That's when she heard a ghost, a breathing memory of the apparition who haunted her still.  His familiar cadence filtering through her television speakers jerked her from her thoughts, a voice she knew better than her own- “Holy shit.  Is that- Is that Eddie?  Your Eddie?”  Carly sat forward, the electric blue glow of the set outlining the surprise on her face.  The banishment of a certain man’s name forgotten in the excitement of said man’s picture on the television. Her beer bottle thunked to the table clumsily, “What?  Eddie?”  Amanda hadn’t said his name in over two years.  Around the time when the walls around her head and heart had gone up, and thankfully all of her friends knew better than to bring up that sensitive subject.  Or at least were willing to honor her wishes that the rocker in question never be spoken of in her presence. But fucking hell if Carly wasn’t right.  There on the illuminated idiot box that was her twenty inch screen was Eddie Fucking Munson himself and the rest of Corroded Coffin, talking to Chuck Stillman about their tour.  Answering questions for the fans to get to know them better and helping sell their metal image.  “Did you know about this?”  It was shock which filled Carly’s tone and Amanda felt a little bit guilty because of course she did.  She still talked to Steve, saw Robin from time to time, and even taught Mike Wheeler some guitar basics a year or so ago.  

When she didn’t answer, her very best good friend Carly leveled her with a sideways glance, “You did, didn’t you?” Shrugging, her go-to move these days, she grabbed the cable box’s remote and goosed up the volume.  It really fucking sucked to see how good Eddie looked, all in black leather and mesh lace, with his guitar pick necklace centered on his bare chest, tattoos barely visible but she knew they were there.  Could draw them from memory, if she really wanted to.  And his curls!  They were styled expertly, shiny and bouncy, making Amanda’s hands itch at the memory of them clutched between her fingers. Through the tinny speakers they heard Chuck’s question, “So, the people want to know, what is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” There was a pause and if she didn’t know Eddie so well, she wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes lost their twinkle for a second and his smile dropped the teensiest bit as he replied, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.”

“SHUT UP!”  Carly smacked a hand into her arm, “He’s talking about you!  That night, in the park!  Holy shit, Eddie Munson, rock star rising, is talking about you, 'Manda!  On MTV!” And wouldn’t that be something, she thought, sinking back into her second hand sofa.  Him sparing the time to think about her at all these days seemed like such a shot in the dark, such a foreign concept, that she reckoned it wasn’t even a possibility.  There was no way he gave as much of his day to thoughts of her, to their time together as she did, right?  

No.  Not possible.  That he answered the basic question with the title of her favorite song, the song that meant so much to them both, didn’t mean a goddamned thing.  Not anymore. “I don’t think so, Carl.  I think you’re reading too much into things.” Sitting back, her own beer held tight, Carly rolled her eyes at friend, prickly at having her fun ruined, “What if he was?” “Huh?” “What if Eddie was thinking about you?  After these last couple of years, what if he- what if he misses you too?  It is possible.” Huffing out a derisive laugh, she tapped a finger against the nearly empty bottle of Budweiser, using the sassiest tone of voice she could wrangle when she answered, “Right.  He misses me when he’s out at nightclubs surrounded by strippers and groupies and backup dancers.  I’m sure all Eddie wonders about is little old me, back in Hawkins, when he’s walking red carpets and taking movie stars out to dinner in New York City and LA.” “You’re doing it again.”  Carly was focused on the screen but talking to Amanda, frustration thick in her tone. Equally riled up, Amanda chirped, “Yea?  What’s that?” Unblinking, Carly stared at her best friend, band mate, and roommate, “Selling yourself short.  You should really watch out for that.” Her friend meant well, she knew that, had proof of it all around her, but because her brain was fickle and memories were monsters, she found herself whispering, “Eddie said he would.  He promised me.  Said he was always gonna look out for me.” Staring down at her pinky finger, she would swear she felt his littlest digit wrapped around her own, the supposedly iron-clad arrangement made in a post-sex haze of brightly burning new love too long ago to hurt so freshly but so recently it still might bleed.  He had promised to watch over her, to change her mind and love her through it all. But when the man you loved had the chance to make his dreams a reality, you couldn’t stand in his way, right?  At least that was what she told herself late at night when sleep wouldn’t come and the moon was high above, laughing at her.  So, she watched, unflinching, as Eddie talked about burning grilled cheese sandwiches in a shitty hotel and the possibility of coming back to Indiana with the tour. She watched every shake of his head and every movement of his hands, taking them in like physical blows, wounds that would need cream and bandages and pain medication to heal up properly.  And she drank another beer, going silent since her mind refused to do the same, replaying the sentences from the tv interview on an endless looping track, trying to work out any hidden meaning that proved Carly right and her own sense of self wrong. When the programming shifted, some early morning sketch show or something, Carly said goodnight and moved off to her room but still Amanda sat there.  Was it fair to be so mad at Eddie?  Did she really have a right to the hurt and anger she was holding onto with an iron grip? As the sun climbed through the window above her record player, Armando the Wonder Cat jumped into her lap for pets.  Between scratching behind his pointy ears and patting down his back, she realized she was crying.  Sure, she was disappointed in Eddie.  In the promises he had never seen to fruition, but that wasn’t the only reason to be so upset. Because hadn’t she made promises too?  And hadn’t she broken them all?

---

Thank you for reading!  Part 4 is on the way!

Want to read more?  Please visit my Masterlist!

My Minxes:

@thatsonezesty13​ @sxlly-pxbble​ @kerri-leighjade​ @carleighsworld​ @mediocreaf​ @weird-stranger13​ @cupiden​  @sereisstuff​ @elviqs​  @ethereal-daydreamerr​  @armyangxls​ @alana-stewart​ @lonely-af-fangirl​ @darkhairedmenrule​ @b1tchbabytears​ @ravencrap-hufflefuck​  @rosegoldarti​ @boeutiful​ @atlwhatevs​ @mermaidsandcats29​  @aereth​  @drfrank211​ @ladysteddie​ @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @sweetsweetjellybean​ @sammy-jo1977​ @hiscrimsonangel​

#eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x plus size reader smut #eddie munson x plus size oc #eddie munson x plus size oc smut #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar eddie #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson rockstar #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson romance #Eddie munson love story #Eddie my love #EDDIE MY BELOVED #ALL EDDIE ALL THE TIME #not over eddie munson #wordynerdygurl #wordynerdygurlwrites #wordynerdygurl master list

[safetycar-restart]

I LOVE the idea of poly!mercedes!! I love the idea of Merc all loving mick and being there for him, I can imagine if it’s a race weekend and you’re not around, mick is positively smothered in affection and attention, not left alone for a minute, if toto’s busy he’ll call Lewis or George, if they’re busy Angela or Bono will take him, either way mick is just the most loved and cherished little boy at Mercedes (which makes such a nice change from Haas!!!)

Oh god I love this!! I also love how the entire poly!Mercedes verse is basically just all of wanting Mick to be loved and cherished. It’s very on brand for this blog and I love it.

Firstly, it’s pretty rare that you aren’t at a GP. You’re the team Dom, so ideally you have to be there every time. Lewis might not need to scene every weekend, but George certainly does and also you don’t want to risk Lewis needing you and then you aren’t there.

And then Mick came into the picture and he also needed a scene every weekend and then Toto came into the picture and became very possessive so uh… yeah you’re needed every weekend.

(By the way, Toto is actually super possessive of you? Like way more than he is of Mick. Which is so odd because you’re both doms. But yeah. He’s insanely possessive of you.)

Anyway, so it’s very rare for you not to be there because about 3/4 of the team can’t function without you.

However, maybe you get sick? The doctor books you off and there’s no way in hell Toto is going to let you come to a GP and work when you’re sick (because again, protective). In fact Toto nearly agrees to let Mick skip that race weekend to stay home and look after you, but you make them both swear not to do that because you refuse to be the reason Mick skips a race.

So instead, you’re left alone to get better (with more meds and food than you could ever need and more food arriving daily because Toto keeps on stress ordering you grocery deliveries), and Mick and Toto have to fend for themselves for a weekend.

And yeah, there’s some kind of weird unspoken agreement where there’s always at least one person with Mick. Always.

The entire team keeps a very close eye on Mick, offering him kisses and cuddles and just every piece of affection possible.

The team chef even makes him his favourite meal and hand deliveries it to him with several forehead kisses. Cause he’s Mick!!! Mick deserves it!!

He’s always been so loved, but usually the team don’t express it as much because he has you to look after him. So now that you aren’t there? The entire team looks out for him.

Of course Mick still struggles, as does Lewis and George and even Toto. Lewis looks out for George, scening with him to help both George and himself.

Mick sleeps with Toto every night (sometimes it’s sex, sometimes it’s just cuddles), but usually Mick is sleeping with both Toto and you on race weekends, so as as nice as cuddling with Toto is, something is clearly missing.

Toto helps too of course, he gives Mick so much extra praise and cuddles and Mick loves it so so much.

Mick has never received as many forehead kisses as he does that weekend. There’s literally a line of people ready to give him forehead kisses because he’s their team sub and his main Dom isn’t there.

Interestingly enough, I don’t think Mick would scene or do anything with sexual with other team members that weekend? Usually he’s always being fucked by someone, always crawling into your lap afterwards with cum leaking out of him.

But not this weekend.

Because you’re not there. He accepts all the extra kisses and cuddles with so much gratitude, but he doesn’t want any more than that. Usually he always tells you what he’s doing and where he is, so you always know when he’s being fucked and he always comes to you afterwards.

He doesn’t do aftercare with the team member who fucked him. Well, that team member can always come with you, he always loves that because then he gets two cuddle partners, which is just the best. But you MUST be there. He doesn’t want to be fucked by someone other than you or Toto if you aren’t there to care for him afterwards.

So yeah, it’s tough but the whole team pitches in and Mick never feels lonely at all.

Also he jumps you the moment he gets back.

As does Toto.

#poly!mick/toto #poly!mercedes #sub!Mick #ms #nsfw. #gn!reader #d/s au

[crinkled-emotions]

Can I request "a fever that won't let up", and "too much pain to sleep" please? I was thinking maybe Rooster with appendicitis 😏🤒 and some panicking, guilty for not noticing sooner Mav in dad mood

“A fever that won’t break” and “too much pain to sleep” with Rooster, appendicitis and Mav to the rescue (guilty as hell)?? Let’s goooooo!

-

Considering the night before was a little... wild, it was no surprise that it was 7am and the Daggers were still slowly emerging from the living room, scrubbing at their eyes and making noises of gratitude at the bacon Maverick was frying. Jake held out his hand and Coyote sleepily passed him a cup of coffee. Both had their eyes closed and were relying on their friendship. The only person who was relatively okay aside from Maverick was Bob, who was admittedly sleep deprived, but he wasn’t drinking so he began to butter toast as it popped up.

“We should not have gone for that fireball,” Payback moaned, burying his head in his hands. Hangman grimaced, lifting his head from the island long enough to scratch at his eye.

“It wasn’t the fireball that did us in, guys, it was the fucking tequila.”

“We know what you’re like on tequila, Bagman, I’m just glad you kept your pants on this time,” Phoenix deadpanned. She grimaced, burying her face against Bob’s arm. Maverick did a head count and realised he was down an aviator/godson.

“Anyone seen Rooster this morning?” He asked his team, who all shook their heads.

“He made it upstairs last night, I think? Or was that you, Mav...” Fanboy mumbled, still trying to pour himself a cup of coffee. Maverick frowned but didn’t push it, serving up the bacon and scrambled eggs to the team.

“Alright, eat up, we are gonna do some inverted manoeuvres today-“

The collective groan Maverick received from the team just made him laugh, exchanging a look with Bob.

“Just fuckin’ with ya, but you’re lucky it’s not a work day. Now, before I go and wrangle Bradley out of bed; does anyone need to puke or can I let him loose?”

He received a very dark glare from everyone in the room and cleared his throat.

“Y’know, I’m gonna take that as everyone’s good. Stand clear, this could get ugly.”

-

Maverick cracked open Rooster’s bedroom door and grimaced at the high-pitched whine that came with it, eyes darting around the dark room to locate his godson. As much as he’d made it to his room, he didn’t always make it to his bed. This time, it appeared he had.

“Bradley, you awake?”

He tip toed closer to the bed, getting a proper look at Rooster’s sleeping form. He was sleeping on his stomach, as he did when he was drunk (yes, Maverick was very aware it was not the smartest, but every time he tried to move him he got kicked) and snoring the house down as usual. Maverick crouched by him, reaching out to put a hand on his back. Rooster’s moustache twitched as he started to stir and Maverick tried to keep the amusement out of his voice as he talked Bradley out of sleep.

“You with the rest of us now, kid?”

“Fuck no, god damn that fucking fireball-“

He held a fist to his lips, grimacing as he stifled a burp that was borderline spurp. Maverick raised an eyebrow.

“You good?”

“You mean am I gonna destroy a bathroom before 8am? No, I’m good. Head hurts though.”

“Good thing I have water and paracetamol considering I doubt you’ll be able to eat something.”

“No, I really couldn’t.”

Rooster shifted and Maverick couldn’t help the entertained snort that escaped when he saw how thoroughly hungover the younger aviator was. His curls, usually neatly gelled into position, were all over the place and his face was white. Maverick helped him sit up in bed, waiting for Bradley to wake up properly. It was amusing to watch as he scrubbed at his eyes and tried to stop yawning, frowning as he reached for the water again.

“Ready to face the world, Roos?”

“Nope.”

Bradley flopped back down and wriggled over, pulling the sheet over him. Maverick snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll come and check on you in a bit. Make sure you keep drinking.”

“Yeah, okay, thank you, I am definitely an adult.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Maverick deadpanned. He retreated out of the dark room, finding the others waiting at the stairs.

“I don’t see any bathroom destroying,” Phoenix said. Bob glanced over at her.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, I had a bet. Dammit, now I gotta give twenty bucks to Bagman. Ugh, that made everything so much worse.”

She huffed and walked away, the others following with quiet banter breaking out between them. Maverick glanced upstairs at the closed bedroom door again, but decided Bradley was right; he is an adult, and if he needs anything he can get it himself.

“Alright, who wants to go and burn off their hangover on the beach?”

-

Rooster stirred a couple of hours after he’d heard Maverick and the others file out the back door down to the beach, unsurprised they were taking advantage of Maverick’s new place along the water. He grimaced, wincing at the way he knew the sheets were damp with sweat under him and pushed the top blanket off, gasping as he sat up and put a hand to his stomach. Swearing under his breath he shakily reached for the bottle of water Maverick had left him, trying to get it in his mouth but his hand was shaking so badly it mostly just spilled down his chest. Rooster huffed, mustering up the energy to get up and get into the shower. Even the thought of standing under the water made him a little nauseous.

A sitting shower it was then.

Even just getting to the bathroom was a struggle and Rooster leaned against the door frame for support, wincing at the dizzy spell that threatened to take him out at the knees. When it subsided he made his way over to the shower and turned it on, leaving it freezing cold because his body was way too hot- he’d cooked under his top sheet apparently, which was weird because usually that room was the coldest place in the entire house. Stepping into the shower was like a lightning strike. As fast as he’d climbed in he was out, shivering in the bright bathroom ass naked.

“Real smart, Bradley,” he muttered to himself, reaching to switch on the hot water just enough for it to be comfortable but not enough to make him hot.

-

Maverick glanced at his watch and frowned, turning his gaze back up toward the house.

“Stay here,” he told the team, getting off his chair to make the very short trek back up to the back door. Stepping into his house he realised the shower upstairs was on and followed the sound, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Roos? You okay in there?”

“I have shampoo in my fucking eye.”

Maverick snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Feel better?”

“With the shampoo in my eye? Not really.”

Oh, Bradley was in one of his bitchy moods where everything Maverick could have said was the wrong answer. The older aviator rolled his eyes.

“Charming, Rooster.”

The shower switched off and Maverick backed away from the door.

“I’m going to make some lunch, B; come give me a hand when you’re ready.”

“Gotcha.”

When Rooster did come downstairs he joined Maverick in the kitchen and washed his hands, grimacing as he white-knuckled the sink all of a sudden.

“The hangover still kicking your ass, kid?” Maverick teased softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze in passing. Rooster moved a lot quicker than usual, suddenly looking alarmed, and before Maverick could stop him he was curled over the bin at the end of the island, violently throwing up.

“I saw it coming and it still surprised me,” Maverick muttered to himself, sighing as he got on his knees.

“Alright Bradley, c’mon, back away from the trash can, it’s alright. I’ll get you a bowl, just stay down.”

Blindly Maverick reached into a drawer and produced a plastic bowl. Deeming it acceptable he passed it to Bradley and put a hand on his back, rubbing in lazy circles.

“Don’t try and get up, it’ll make it worse,” Maverick soothed him, frowning when Rooster swore under his breath.

“It hurts.”

“Where? Your stomach?”

“Yeah.”

Maverick put the back of his hand to Rooster’s forehead, frowning when he found an impressive fever.

“That’s not good. Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick again?”

“Can you help me change the sheets upstairs?” Rooster whispered, leaning into Maverick’s touch. Maverick smiled.

“I’ll do you one better; I’ll change them for you. Here, let’s get you on the couch for the time being. Can you walk or do I need to go get someone to help you up?”

“Give me a sec. I gotta figure out if it’s puke pain or... pain.”

Maverick watched Bradley take a couple of deep breaths, hand protectively on his stomach as he carefully scooted on his ass away from the bin, bowl in hand just in case. When he was a safe distance Maverick moved around him, reaching for the bag to get it out just in case it triggered another bout.

“Go and lie down on the couch, I’ll get your sheets changed and you can sleep whatever this is off.”

Rooster squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the bowl tightly. Maverick’s eyebrows furrowed and he ducked outside to toss the bag away, returning to crouch by his godson again.

“Bradley. Are you okay?”

“No, it really fucking hurts.”

-

When Maverick was certain that Bradley was going to go back to sleep he went back out on to the beach and rounded the rest of the team up, pulling them into a huddle.

“Repeat after me; I will never drink Fireball again.”

“I will never- hold up. I thought it was the tequila that did everyone in?” Hangman frowned. Bob elbowed him in the side.

“Say it with me, team. I will never drink Fireball again.”

They all exchanged looks then slowly repeated the line, sunglasses falling off their noses and sweat everywhere.

“Thank you Daggers. Alright, let’s reset. New round, new teams.”

“Hey, where’s Rooster?” Payback asked as they all switched their colours around. Maverick winced.

“Uh, you don’t want to know.”

“Is he okay?” Phoenix questioned, reaching to take Bob’s coloured sash from him so they could swap.

“Whatever he’s got, he’s sleeping off. Alright, blue versus green, let’s go!”

Despite the team running and yelling and laughing their asses off, Maverick’s full attention was on Bradley back in the house. His gut told him something was really wrong but he didn’t want to pull the pin too early and drag him to the hospital if it was just a stomach bug. That would only work him up more.

“Mav! Think fast!”

Maverick caught the football headed straight for him at the last minute, tucking it under his arm and legging it down the middle of the team just to avoid their attempts to tackle him.

-

Bradley huffed, drawing his knees to his chest in an attempt to even slightly ease the pain in his abdomen. His forehead, sweaty, was practically sticking to his pillow and he sat up, gasping when the pain exploded all over his body again. He knew the others had long gone home and Maverick was just down the hallway, hopefully asleep. The last thing Bradley wanted was for him to worry but the pain was excruciating-

“Oh god, fuck, oh god-“

He doubled over, head in his hands as he took deep breaths to try and breathe through the pain. His fever was making him cold, shivering in the usually tepid San Diego night air, and he barely had to think before he was reaching for his phone. He dialled the first number he saw and held it to his ear.

“Mav, something’s wrong, I-“

“-Roos I’m down the hallway, why the phone call?”

“-it hurts so bad,” Rooster complained. He could hear Maverick shuffling.

“Alright, hang up kid, I’m coming.”

Rooster tossed his phone back to his bed and collapsed on to the sheets- damp again. Great. There was a hesitant knock on the door, and Maverick poked his head in.

“Rooster, what- oh, kid...”

“Mav, it fuckin’ hurts.”

“What? Your stomach? What kind of pain is it? Show me where.”

Rooster’s hand travelled to the main location of the pain, on the lower right hand side of his stomach. Maverick’s eyes widened.

“Alright, time to get up, I’m taking you to the hospital. We’ve gotta go, now.”

“Now? Can’t you just give me some Tylenol and a cold compress?”

“We’re way past that, Bradley. C’mon, up.”

With Maverick to lean on, Bradley managed to pull himself back up to a sitting position but he doubled over again, struggling not to throw up on the floor.

“C’mere, gimme your hand, we gotta get you into the car. Alright, steady...”

Maverick hoisted Rooster’s arm over his shoulder, the perfect height to use as a crutch, and managed to get him on to his feet. They slowly made their way downstairs, and Maverick got Rooster into the car.

“Wait here, I gotta grab some stuff and- oh, you probably want shoes. Alright, hang tight.”

Rooster leaned against the head rest, squeezing his eyes shut as he watched Maverick go back into the house. When he reappeared with both of their phones, wallets, Navy ID and shoes, he let his eyes fall closed.

-

“Usually these calls are the other way around, Mav. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call so late, Tash, I just wanted to let you know I had to take Bradley to hospital.”

Phoenix was immediately awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Is he okay? What happened?”

“The doctors think it’s appendicitis, we’re waiting on a GI specialist to verify.”

“Oh, fuck, that fucking hurts.”

“And I missed it. He said he wasn’t feeling well, he was sick, he had stomach cramps, but I still didn’t connect the dots until he told me where it hurt.”

Phoenix reached for a hoodie in her wardrobe, already ready to go to the hospital.

“Mav, you can’t blame yourself for not noticing. He’s an adult too, and he told you when he knew it was bad.”

“He had all the symptoms, the bloating, the gas-“

“-oh, okay, it is way too early for that. Uh, I can be at the hospital in like... half an hour? Maybe?”

“Oh, Tash, it’s okay you don’t have to come, I just wanted to let you-“

“-Mav, respectfully, shut up. I’m on my way.”

Shoving her feet into a pair of beaten up Vans that definitely had seen better days, Phoenix paused to rub the last of the sleep out of her eyes as she reached for her car keys.

By the time she got to the hospital Rooster had been sick again and it was confirmed his appendix had to come out as soon as possible. The moment she walked into the hospital room Maverick sent her a soft smile, squeezing Rooster’s hand that wasn’t clutching one of those plastic bags.

“Roos, look who’s here.”

“Hey Nix,” he whispered tiredly over the oxygen mask. Phoenix rolled her eyes fondly, sitting on the chair on the other side of his bed.

“You really did a number on yourself, hm? Have they given you the good stuff yet?”

“Yeah... makes me feel like m’floating.”

Phoenix snorted, looking to Maverick who still looked pretty worked up but he was also amused at the way his godson had reacted to the medication.

“C’mere, floaty man, you’re drooling.”

Phoenix passed him a tissue and Maverick watched as Rooster tried to get the drool on his own before giving up and leaving the tissue on his bed.

“Guess I’ll just have to drool, no big deal.”

“Give it here.”

Maverick mopped the drool with the tissues, snorting as he also pushed Rooster’s curls from his face.

“You good?” He asked him. Rooster’s eyes, already a little vacant, found Maverick and he hummed, wincing.

“Still hurts but a little less.”

“The surgeon is on his way. Don’t bite him like the last time I took you to get surgery.”

“I said I was sorry- and hey, wasn't I like... 5?”

"10."

-

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Pete Maverick Mitchell #Pete Mitchell #Maverick #Callsign: Rooster #Callsign: Maverick #Natasha Phoenix Trace #Natasha Trace #Phoenix #Callsign: Phoenix #sickfic #hurt/comfort #appendicitis

[rayshippouuchiha]

I need more people who know about the FF game with Prompto to read and then write crossovers with Rising of the Shield Hero.

Rising of the Shield Hero is a story where 4 boys from alternative universe versions of Japan get isekaied to a specific country to stop the waves in which a bunch of monsters appear and more and more monsters appear and fuck shit up until the boss monster is offed.

The 4 heroes each have a different weapon that are supposed to be divine. The bow hero, the spear hero, the sword hero, and the Shield Hero who can't do any damage :(

The 4 heroes aren't allowed to team up because they won't get as much exp to level up if they do. The weapons literally tell them that

The first three think the world they've been summoned into is similar to a game they've played in their original world- and kinda treat it that way.

The shield hero never played a game similar to it and because he has no knowledge of the world he's been kidnapped by - the other 3 were seconds/minutes away from dying Shield was just reading a book and was in no way shape or form in any danger- none of the adventures that were summoned to join one of the heroes would join him except one admittedly pretty girl who turns out to be the eldest princess of the nation and frames him for attempting sexual assault one day after joining his team. The other 3 believe her even though the claim is clear BS. And because unlike the other 3 the shield hero isn't worshipped everyone except 1 guy who can't give the shielder much help believes her and hates him. He ends up buying a child slave who's from a race that's humanoid but has animal features and ages up based on their level so she's a 10 when he buys her and then she levels up she looks 18.

The better Wikipedia summary is:

Naofumi Iwatani, a Japanese youth, was summoned into a parallel world along with 3 other young Japanese men from parallel universes to become the world's Cardinal Heroes and fight inter-dimensional hordes of monsters called Waves. Each of the heroes were respectively equipped with their own legendary equipment when summoned. Naofumi happened to receive the Legendary Shield, the sole defensive equipment, while the other heroes received respectively a sword, a spear, and a bow, weapons meant for attack. Unlike the other heroes who are fully supported by the kingdom and gain several strong allies each, Naofumi's luck turns to the worse after his single companion, revealed to be the kingdom's eldest princess, betrays him, steals all his belongings, and leaves him devoid of all assistance and supplies after she falsely accuses him of sexually assaulting her.

Shunned by everyone from his fellow Heroes to peasants, a now cynical Naofumi is forced to train as a hero alone while working to make ends meet, until he buys from a slave trader a young tanuki demi-human girl named Raphtalia and a bird-like monster who both quickly growing into adulthood and becoming powerful warriors under his care. As they little by little gain the trust and gratitude of the people with their heroic actions, Naofumi and his companions work together to carry out their mission as saviors as they unravel the mystery of the Waves and the reason why they are a threat not only to their world, but to other worlds as well.

You're probably asking me "FanGirl3, WTF does this have to do with Prompto Argentum?" Well I'll tell you. Rising of a Shield Hero has birds that resemble chocobos called Filolial. They look the same except for maybe color considering the shield hero anime has brown birds.

Anyways if raised by a hero a Filolial can take a human form. And I am a simple girl who wants a Filolial to be named Prompto.

Glorious and I hope someone picks this up

#prompt #FF15 #RotSH

[stevemcqueencheese]

thoughts on "the hostage situation" (05x09) episode?

OOOHHHH I LOVE THAT EPISODE

The concept itself is very intriguing and ngl they fucking knocked it out of the park with the implementation.

Already starts off incredible with the teaser, the feel of it is just completely different to what we're used to, with for one everything already starting at PPTH but then also the instrumental with the camera going over the characters we're later gonna work with in the episode it's so good. What I also find interesting is how we're getting a look at characters we do know (House) but from the view of a patient, in the scene where he goes into Cuddy's office and finds House tinkering with her desk- usually we see those sort kf antics much later in the episode and always with context and explanation and here we get a good look at how INSANE it just seems to everyone not immediately involved.

Another thing I absolutely adore about it is how much of the episode really only takes place in one single room: Cuddy's office; which incidentally also happens to be a place we don't usually get to see for so long, least of all get to know this intimately. And despite it always being the same room they really get everything out of it, utilizing the furniture in there and moving it around to display the change of atmosphere over time, working with the blinds, having House use the wall as his new Whiteboard and all those things.

We also get to see a little more of a recurring side character, the nurse, who does actually get the chance to show quite a lot of personality here, with even a climax to her little arc when she breaks down trying to convince the guy to wait a little longer for Thirteen.

Thirteen is also incredibly interesting here. What strikes me most is her initial willingness to just take any of the drugs no matter the consequences, signifying her tendency for self destruction and not caring for herself as "she's gonna die anyway" but then also later at the very end we get to see more of her actual inner conflict, her strong underlying will to live, DESPITE all that, and watching her crying as she says she just can't do this because she doesn't want to die is just beautiful and incredible acting on Olivia Wilde's part.

In general I don't think this is a House centric episode. The only significant things we see about him are things we already know, his incessant need to 'solve the puzzle' and his willingness to put himself and others at risk for it.

I gotta say I like the gun guy (yeah nah I don't remember his name so this is what I'm going with). His goal and motivations are understandable (his actions aren't of course but idc abt that tbh) and he's not completely unreasonable when it comes to bargaining with the police/Cuddy. His desperate need for an answer is apparent. And what I think is also apparent, is that this is exactly what connects him to House, they both NEED that answer and would go to hell and back to get it and I think that also plays into why House is so lenient with him in general. Don't get me wrong, he's ofc not nice or anything, but I'd say he definitely relates to the man and treats him with much more respect than he does most of his usual patients.

The kind of scenes we get a couple of in this episode are instrumental ones and I love it. It's usually during transitional scenes, like when they're exchanging the hostages, and I think that fits that really well. The last one where the swat team bursts through the wall is incredible.

The scene in the very end when the guy breathes normally and smiles might be my absolute favorite from the whole episode. There's so much relief in that expression, so much gratitude, and really he doesn't care at all that he's going to prison because this is done, he knows what's wrong, it's even cured.

I could probably go on and on about this episode for HOURS because of how much I love it, there's so many tiny aspects to it that make it all so great. It's a whole little movie. It's this guy's odyssey finally finding an end. It's House struggling with addiction, the other one, and Thirteen's struggle with life and how she actually wants to cling onto it, and in the very last scene we find out what House was doing to Cuddy’s desk.

#house md #gregory house #remy hadley #s5ep9 #ask stevie #episode analysis #i could prolly write an essay abt this tbh #thank you for asking

[sollucets]

twcposting advanced special: back half of book 2

mason, it’s very cute of you to acknowledge this and i love masonivy friendship, but like, why were you surprised. ivy is 500000000% team nate in like every possible situation at this point they are fully on the nate train and with ivy this usually means protective violence, so like, (ed: i Meant this rest in rip sanja)

ohhhh. gah that conversation with n and a is super cute what the fuck. “i don’t want your gratitude i want you to be happy” i am actually so much more endeared to a from this route?? this is so sweet. ;u;

sigh. in the most resigned tone possible, n thinks boomer memes are funny. they do don’t they. somewhere in my soul i know it. they have a reasonable chuckle over newspaper comics about people who are obsessed with their phones

n’s route has a Eye Contact thing sure, but i think now that its specific quirk is actually a Hand Thing, isn’t it. wrapping their hand on that first patrol, warming up their hands on the walk, the finger kiss, holding hands all the time, snapping them out of the mirror trance by holding hands... yeah its a hand thing. i gotta think that with ivynate, with the height difference (it’s fully 10 inches, nearly a foot) their hands have gotta be real different sizes too.... ah. tender

seeing the combat scene on this route confirms my earlier suspicions about Hot Sparring Scene, so i’m gonna have to go through this way on the m route.... like. i actively HAVE to. if m doesn’t pin them to the floor and kiss them what is even the point

heehee. i love the “taking advantage of someone’s romantic distraction during sparring” thing....... yes. yes that is where it’s at. that said the height difference makes that description of them back hugging him very funny their nose is going to be like in the middle of his back

m being a little shit to n on this route is So Fuckign Funny compared to n --> m. m is like a Selective Dumbass

im really delighted by ivymason friendship actually. they’re kind of similar, honestly? ivy is a lot nicer, mind, not that that’s a high bar, but they hit back when pushed. i like seeing mason being nice without all the extra romance baggage. it’s cute.

i really liked their nighttime talk except how i couldn’t control the detective going “hey nate have you killed anyone” because..... like..... why would you do that,,,,,, LMAO. also the silly little moisturizer joke i want him to wear a facemask and cucumbers.

“the way that man looks at you could inspire a thousand love poems” oh hell. also i’m fairly certain i’ve Seen sonnets about this lol

i like elidor please don’t let him be evil. he’s the first character i’ve gotten to hug

can’t help but think there’s a missing opportunity after the maalused break all the glass in the living room for injury take care. wouldnt you have glass shards embedded in your hands. fucked up

ivymason do the cannonball special!!!! what a delight. again mason is unreasonably taller than ivy so this definitely works

yeah i mean i hate to fail the mission but there’s fully no world where ivy doesn’t choose their li lmao. it will Never happen

it’s kind of cute a being protective over them against falk. like i understand it’s probably just what happens whether you’re friends or not but a and ivy did not get along for a long time so it’s kinda fun to see them wearing a down

i got the treaty this time! even though sanja died! wild. not sure how i managed that one when i failed with her alive last time. game works in mysterious ways i guess?

that said uh rereading that ambush.... goddammit elidor’s definitely sus, isn’t he. like we know the agency has a leak, specifically about their blood tests, and he took care of them after that.... dammit. :( oh well. at least ivy’s complete and utter trust of him will make for drama should it be true

HELL YEAH FERRIS WHEEL KISS

in conclusion: yes i think i was right to put ivy here. yes nate Does have some ... some edgy shit going on, re: fortune teller and that mysterious “oooh can i tell them everything” thing but i think it needs more emotional damage and that’s exactly what they’re for lmao. it’s... a little less canon i think? or i need to play it a little different. but still godtier i like it. anyway this was nice. had fun. tired now we sleep

#twcposting #cut for 'this is a long post' reasons #gods i sure am talking about m a lot for a post that is hypothetically about ivynate huh #i am so predictable #rowan chatter #i think this is also technically #ocposting #and i am sorry for that

[tenacityreturns]

alright. here goes nothing. kagami walks into the gym alongside sakurai, and is noticed instantly by aomine. he’d been standing near momoi putting up a fuss about something, but his head was turned before they even walked in, like he’d been expecting it. he looks like a cornered animal; his snarling stops, eyes searching for an escape. he can see there’s no way out but through and he resents everyone for it. momoi says something else and he turns to her, says something that looks similar, if kagami’s lip reading is any good, like fuck off, and saunters over. aomine is obviously extremely pissed off. anyone else would see this guy approach and cower away. ( well, anyone else other than kagami, kuroko, sakurai, and momoi -- but that’s neither here nor there. ) kagami breaks eye contact to glance over at wakamatsu. hey, it’s a good sign that they’re in the same room, right! and look, aomine’s still in the gym where he was left. good. this is all salvageable.

“oh boy,” aomine drawls, but his teeth are set together to betray his anger, “the cavalry’s been brought in. pa-thet-ic.”

“come on,” kagami keeps it cool, keeps it breezy. he doesn’t know wakamatsu that well, but he thinks he can see a note of gratitude from his nod before kagami’s attention is stolen away. oh, man, this situation is about to call for so much maturity and level-headedness! he’ll do his best. there’s a lot on the line, and a lot has been lost already.

“this is fucking embarrassing,” aomine hisses when he’s close enough that only kagami and sakurai can hear it. he is glaring terribly at his teammate and it doesn’t soften when he looks at his boyfriend. kagami doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods, and it’s enough. aomine huffs, buries his hands in his pockets, and stalks out of the gym. kagami knows to stay hot on his tail or he’ll disappear. they leave.

it’s not cold today, thankfully, so they’re alright with just their hoodies on. the silence is tense and awkward. kagami can sense that aomine’s act of going on this little walk is him saying see, i’m not that bad with his whole chest. he could have easily refused to come with, or have ditched, or have walked in the opposite direction. or have dipped from practise, or not even come at all! is it fair to make all these excuses for him, when he’s been a real shitbag? ah, damn it. this sucks. he feels like one of them should have spoken by now, but neither has! kagami glances over and aomine is predictably sulking. if it were up to him, probably they wouldn’t say anything at all, then aomine can return and claim that the walk sorted him out, everyone can stop fussing now!

“so,” aomine says, “this is stupid. i’m at practise. i don’t get why he dragged you out here.”

“talk some sense into you, i guess,” he replies sullenly.

“great,” aomine doesn’t question why they chose kagami of all people, which, honestly, he’d kind of been anticipating. in fact, he doesn’t say anything else. then kagami doesn’t. then aomine starts talking again, “spit it out, then, fuck. i ain’t gonna wait all day.”

“sakurai told me you didn’t go to the game the other day,”

“nope,”

“why?” let’s give him the benefit of the---

“because it was against a shit team and they didn’t need me for it. ryou’s making a big deal of it to make a point about teamwork, but fuck that, it’s a waste of my time.”

yeah... it sucks, but kagami doesn’t really know how to argue that one. “yeah, he said you said that.”

“they won, anyway, so...” he trails off, as if that’s point enough.

“they’re pissed ‘cuz you backed out of a commitment, daiki,” he says quietly, “i wouldn’t ditch the guys even if we were playing against a team of middle schoolers.”

“we’re not the same,”

“i know that,”

“they’re depending on me too much, it’s pathetic.”

“that’s what a team does, dude. i don’t know ‘em that well--”

“no, you don’t,” daiki grumbled and is ignored!

“but i know them well enough to know they’re not relying on you to carry the games. they pull their own weight and they’re strong as shit in their own right.”

“okay, so they don’t need me. what’s your argument s’posed to be here?”

kagami clamps his mouth shut and, for a moment, he is fucked pissed off. shut up! this guy is such a dickhead? he has to hold back the desire to smack him over the head or something. that wouldn’t help, and kagami is actually on his side? aomine’s an idiot and he’s in the wrong, and kagami would fucking NEVER do any of that shit, but kagami is always going to be in his corner??? 

“i know you’ve been benched, dumbass. what the fuck were you thinking? now we won’t get to play each other at the winter cup.”

“they’re not gonna bench me, they just said that so you’ll get me to think i am benched, and apologise.”

“you haven’t apologised?”

“this is stupid as fuck,” aomine raises his shoulders in a drawn-out shrug, “so i let them down once, they can’t get over that?”

“man, i’m glad we ain’t on the same team.” okay, that sounds mean now he’s said it, but it just slipped out! he’s sorry! looking at aomine and how surprised he is to have heard it, he’s extra sorry!

“fuck you?”

he’s about to apologise when he recognises the learning experience! “look,” he says instead, “i meant what i said, but that doesn’t make me less of an asshole for saying it, right? so you should get over it already.”

he’s riled up! aomine’s aura changes, he feels as though they are not on the same side and this is just another lecture. he is seconds away from walking away.

“i just meant i’d be pissed off too if you ditched like that,”

“you should mind your own business,” aomine doesn’t look at him, “we’re not on the same team so this doesn’t concern you.”

“yeah it does, you’re benched and we won’t play. i already said that.”

“he was bluffing, idiot.”

“he wasn’t, idiot.”

“he was,”

“no, daiki,” kagami grabs his wrist and they stop walking, but aomine snatches himself free again in a moment. “you’re benched. he was serious. it’s important you pull your weight too or they’ll kick you off the team.”

this acts as a stick prodding the cornered panther, and aomine reacts as anyone could imagine. he starts by saying, again, that kagami should mind his own (fucking) business and that sakurai shouldn’t have done this, it’s stupid and fucked up to make such a big deal of it. wakamatsu already burnt that special edition issue as punishment, which itself is sick of them to inflict for something like this. kagami asks him who the fuck he thinks he’s yelling at and aomine shuts up for a second, then starts up again but directs it solely to his team. he’s pissed off and insulted and he hates that kagami got involved. that much is very clear. this is stupid, fuck this, he wishes everyone on his team would drop dead. the idea of him being benched is idiotic, they’re too weak and then they’ll lose. aomine won’t get to go up against any other of his old teammates, which he gets worked up about. he should just quit touou before they get rid of him, and move schools. fuck momoi, fuck wakamatsu, fuck imayoshi for giving wakamatsu the ego trip of being made captain. fuck their coach, fuck this, fuck that, another fuck you. kagami lets it slide. he’s grinding his teeth to dust, but aomine doesn’t seem to notice.

he starts ranting about how unfair it is that he should be expected to go to the shitty games, and kagami tells him to go and wipe the floor with them.

“so the game lasts ten minutes,” kagami says, “big deal. they’ll give up, you can get subbed, and the other guys can take over without you. if that’s what the shit games look like, then it can’t be helped, right? you warned them.”

“lame,” aomine grunts. he doesn’t like watching people give up, kagami knows that. but if that’s what it takes to be a member of the team, is that the worst?

it takes some convincing, but aomine finally realises that sakurai was serious about being benched for the next touou x seirin match. it starts him up again, and he tries to shake kagami off him ( figuratively speaking ). fuck you for getting involved, why don’t you fuck off back to your own team? et cetera. don’t be fooled, kagami is not level-headed in these heated moments. he returns the points he made earlier and aomine being shitty to his team, and he tells him to quit telling him to fuck off because it’s not happening, and he tells him that he’s being an asshole. which he is. whenever kagami bites back, aomine backs off a little and redirects the anger elsewhere. he does mean it that he is mad that kagami got involved, but he’s more pissed off that his team asked him to come out here, and not that kagami himself is actually here. 

eventually they both simultaneously realise that they’ve inadvertently arrived on kagami’s street. which one of them was driving the chaos bus which led them here? well, this is no good! kagami’s got to get back to practice! and aomine, too, though he doubts whether or not aomine would actually go back. he’d probably go off and sulk somewhere. in the cold. aomine, who has fallen silent as they stand on the corner between the direction of seirin, and the direction of the apartment, glowers at the pavement. it’s cold. he’s cold. aomine will be cold, too. he can make it up to his team for abandoning them, can’t he? kagami, that is. god knows how aomine can recover from any of this, but then-- sakurai did say that he had done worse. much worse. and they still liked him. hell, it had been totally ignored at the time given the circumstances, but sakurai actually said that he loves aomine! good. good. he should love him. thank fuck he does love him.

kagami has made the decision. he plucks at aomine’s sleeve to pull him into walking again, heading towards the apartment. “come on, dumbass. we may as well go back to mine, i guess. you’re kind of a bad influence on me, ‘cuz now i’m playing hooky.”

aomine doesn’t say anything.

he isn’t sure if it’s the right thing to say, and probably aomine isn’t even thinking about this, but kagami voices what he’d last been thinking about. “they care about you a lot, y’know. your team. that’s why they care so much if you’re there. if they didn’t, what difference does it make to them if you participate, as long as they win?”

“i’m done talking about it, taiga.”

“okay, sorry.”

the next few declarations of man, fuck those guys were significantly calmer than before. they get to the building, and aomine tells him to go back to practice. it’s not a fuck off back to your own fucking team like earlier, but considerably more mellow. kagami puts up a fight about it, until he realises he doesn’t have his keys and that they’ll both have to go back to seirin before they can make it any further home. aomine really doesn’t want to go too, but he is tired and easily convinced that he can just wait outside while kagami gets his keys. they compromise. aomine will come with, if kagami will stay at practice. it’ll be nearly over, sure, but aomine wants some alone time. he could go somewhere else, but aomine doesn’t suggest it and doesn’t seem to want to.

so they fuck off back to kagami’s own fucking team. aomine stays at the gate, well away from the gym, and kagami rushes inside to get his keys. he goes through the gym for ease, and doesn’t explain what he’s doing ( not that he’s asked ). he’ll get the keys, say i’ll be right back, then delivers said keys to said boyfriend. he’d half expected aomine to disappear, but he’s still standing in place when kagami returns. aomine sure looks deflated, he hates to see it. but maybe that means kagami got through? he can’t really tell. they bump knuckles. aomine goes home. at least, kagami considers as he returns to practice, he really hopes aomine decides to go home. and he doesn’t, say, throw the keys off a bridge for kagami’s involvement in the disaster of an afternoon.

#aonon. #peachmuses #here u go here is the drabble #the first bit is just getting him started #i bolded the first sentence of the important bit sdjhsdjhsd #drabbles. #damn i forgot my tag #i loooove writing angst!

[bakugohoex]

- 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

◤ currently write for

most popular posts are in bold

↞ back to masterlists

⤷ 𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ headcanons ☆

sending nudes to their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which the armin send you nudes

seeing another man flirt with their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which the armin gets jealous after seeing another man try and flirt with you

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with armin

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“come on baby, put on a show” | (1.7k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which whilst you and eren are getting intimate, your roommate arrives with a couple of friends, eren aware decides to make it a show to make them know who you truly belong too

“my mics on baby, let them hear your moans” | 1k event (1.8k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which a night of boredom, waiting for eren to finish his game, leads you to finding yourself sitting right on his lap, letting all his friends here your moans

☆ headcanons ☆

“now whose the flustered one” | requested (1.3k) ↠ fluff

in which giving affection to eren always leaves him swooning but as soon as he does it to you, you become an entire mess in front of him

sending nudes to their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which the eren send you nudes

seeing another man flirt with their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which eren gets jealous after seeing another man try and flirt with you

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with eren

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“make a wish” | requested (1.7k) ↠ fluff

in which jean finds out it’s your birthday and decides to make a surprise cake, with limited resources, he tries but ultimately it turns into you finding out, in your oblivious state you end up helping him make a cake for yourself

“this isn’t a date jean, we’re undercover”

part one | requested (2.6k) ↠ fluff 

in which you and jean are undercover doing reconnaissance in marley, want turns to investigating a local bar leads to feelings finally being brought out from the two of you

part two | requested (2.9k) ↠ nsfw and fluff 

in which you and jean spend the night together after confessing your feeling’s for one another, with a long night ahead and the raid on liberio beginning, is it really possible for the two of you to be together in this hell hole 

part three | requested (2.7k) ↠ angst and fluff 

in which the time for fighting has begun and with the success of eren and the capture of zeke, the long journey ahead back to paradis seems to be your only concern, until the arrival of an unexpected warrior creates turbulence with jean realising his only goal now is to protect you

“this might be the end for me, but jean, oh god jean, you mean everything to me” | requested (2.2k) ↠ angst

in which you and jean have had crushes on each other since the first day you met, instead of admitting your feelings, you both waited till you knew you’d have a secure future, and the invasion of liberio, in your final minutes you confess it all

“you could always kiss it better” | requested (1.9k) ↠ fluff

in which jean falls in love with the medical helper who is a part of the survey corps

“i told you i’d show you the sea one day” | requested (1.4k) ↠ fluff

in which after the death of marco you had become distant, now a year later still in the survey corps after the regaining of wall maria you and the rest of the squad finally get to see the sea that jean had promise long ago to you

“it was the both of us, we were happy” | requested (1.3k) ↠ fluff

in which on the ship to marley, jean has a dream about a family with you, as soon as he wakes up his need for it to occur overtakes him 

“get in the fucking back, now” | requested (2.8k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which you and jean meet up for a date, instead of the coffee and cakes you find yourself in an empty car pack, bound in the back of his car ready to have his way with you

“you brats ate it didn’t you” | requested (1.6k) ↠ fluff

in which you make an omelette that jean’s mother had taught you how to make for the boy to confess your love for him, but sasha and connie had other ideas in mind

“you’r...you’re alive” | requested (3.1k) ↠ fluff

in which after risking your life to fight the titans, four years later having assumed you died, jean finds you in the most unlikeliest of places

“it’s you, it’s always been you” | 1k event (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which after your own near death experience, jean realises that he needs you to know just how much he loves you

“to my love, jean” | (0.6k) ↠ angst 

in which jean reads the valentines day letter you wrote for him

“look at the camera, baby” | (2.7k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which its jeans birthday and he wants to bring a camera into the bedroom, throughout the night the two of find yourself taking pictures of one another orgasm after orgasm

“aren’t you my good little kitten” | hybrid collab (4.2k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which you’re jean’s little kitten, spending the night getting off whilst he goes through paperwork before finally he has his way with you

☆ headcanons ☆

“now whose the flustered one” | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which giving affection to jean always leaves him swooning but as soon as he does it to you, you become an entire mess in front of him

“happy birthday, baby” | requested (1.6k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which it’s your birthday and jean spends the day celebrating with you

sending nudes to their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which the jean send you nudes

seeing another man flirt with their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which jean gets jealous after seeing another man try and flirt with you

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with jean

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐓 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“i’m so glad you’re okay” | requested (1.0k) ↠ au and fluff

in which marco never died in trost and you reunite after the fight against the titans with jean

“i want to be like them when we’re old and grey” | 1k event (1.0k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you and marco find yourselves on a date in the park, just as you’re about to part ways you see an elderly couple and marco realises he sees a future with you till the end

⤷ 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ headcanons ☆

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with erwin

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“i always notice you, y/n” | requested (2.7k) ↠ fluff

in which you and levi are undercover doing reconnaissance in marley, want turns to stalking different marleyans leads to feelings being brought out from the two of you

“look at me y/n, you’re with me, you’ll be okay” | requested (2.1k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you have a panic attack after a long scouting mission and levi comes and comforts you

“catch me” | (1.3k) ↠ fluff

in which you and levi are fighting kenny’s team, with your odm gear destroyed you only have one option to get out of this fight

“l...levi this is some sort of joke, it has to be” | requested (2.6k) ↠ platonic relationship and angst

in which you find out your adopted older brother died in shiganshina by levi, who offers you support and comfort in your crying need   

“i’d become a traitor just to be with you” | requested (2.4k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re a marley nurse having befriended levi without knowing his identity with the raid of liberio dawning on the survey corps having been followed by you, levi’s truth is revealed and a confession of your own, maybe there is happiness for you two

“sorry, i shouldn’t have kisse...” | 1k event (2.4k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which after having a near encounter with your ex, you find yourself kissing your long term crush levi to make him go away, just as your about to apoligise, levi does something that you had never expected

“you might even become better than me” | requested (2.0k) ↠ fluff

in which levi trains you in the scouts, with your evident talent and continuous flirtations, levi takes it upon himself to teach you a lesson, even if it is to try and hide his crush on you

“so pretty in that maid outfit, now take it off...slowly” | 1k event (2.0k) ↠ modern au and nsfw 

in which levi buys you a maid outfit as a joke, now a week later you wear it waiting for him to come home, to give him exactly what he’s wanted since he bought it

“goodbye my love” | 1k event (1.7k) ↠ angst

in which in your final moments, you relive all your memories with levi until saying your last words to your love

☆ headcanons ☆

“i’m glad you made friends y/n” | requested (2.1k) ↠ platonic relationship and fluff

in which your parent figure levi sees you finally become a part of the survey corps, he can finally see people around you who will stick by and look out for you

seeing another man flirt with their s/o | (0.2k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which the levi gets jealous after seeing another man try and flirt with you

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with levi

⤷ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐍 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“hello boys and welcome to the show” | requested (4.9k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which reiner has an infatuation with cam girl y/n, after one of her shows he finds himself meeting her, revealing her secret, y/n finds gratitude by giving reiner exactly what he’s wanted since watching her

☆ headcanons ☆

sending nudes to their s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and nsfw

in which the reiner send you nudes

seeing another man flirt with their s/o | (0.2k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which the reiner gets jealous after seeing another man try and flirt with you

sleeping beside his s/o | (0.1k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which you have a sleeping position with reiner

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“we were never just friends” | 1k event (2.7k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which porco relives moments of his love for you until he finally gets what he had always wanted

☆ headcanons ☆

“i’ll make them listen, don’t worry baby” | requested (1.3k) ↠ modern au and fluff 

in which you the shy reader are in a relationship with porco 

“another lockdown with me, baby” | requested (1.2k) ↠ modern au, nsfw and fluff

in which you and porco spend another national lockdown together

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you, you’re fucking home to me, okay?” | 1k event (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which after an argument with zeke regarding his excessive jealousy and protectiveness over you, he finally reveals his true motives

"you’ll be mine one day”

part one | 1k event (2.5k) ↠ modern au and fluff

in which after meeting zeke multiple times throughout the month, every time saying the same thing, the only problem being that you have a drunken boyfriend in his way

part two | coming soon

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein #marco bodt #marco bodt x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #colt grice #colt grice x reader #zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader

[just-come-baek]

bet on it

Pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | kidna cracky | light angst | fake dating!au | college!au | idiots to lovers!au | love letters

Word count: 21.2k 

Summary: One day, Jaemin stops by with a strange request. Any other person would just laugh in his face and refuse in a second. Unfortunately, I, being the dumbass I am, agree to it. Soon enough, everything gets out of hand, causing much more drama than we could ever predict.

Or in other words, Jaemin shouldn’t bet on things he knows he can’t win.

Warnings: all characters share like 3 brain cells, and somehow they all belong to Ten??? | self-indulgent type 3 diabetes fluff | cursing | mutual pining | college duties negligence | scheming and plotting | double-crossing | hookup culture condoning | corny and cringy stuff | alcohol consumption | smoking | extreme winter sports | amateur matchmaking | professional wooing | manipulative behaviour | steamy smut | oral female!receiving | thigh riding | spanking | marking | overstimulation | protected sex | lots of teasing | made up warnings | I don’t remember more

A/N it’s an instalment for love letters event hosted by neosmutcollective, I hope you enjoy my jaemin entry as well as other entries written by my friends from the network, check out the event tags too, and yeah, happy valentine's day!  😏  💖

***

“What?” I yelled, almost spitting my tea. No, I must’ve heard him wrong. Jaemin wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. It had to be a joke. Or I must’ve imagined him say that. “You don’t mean that,” I added, still in shock, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“Come on, Noona,” Jaemin whined, staring right into my eyes, wishing for me to say yes to his ridiculous proposal. “I wouldn’t suggest that if I knew we couldn’t pull through.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. Jaemin’s proposition was absurd, and I couldn’t believe I was about to ask him again to walk me through it.

Damn me and my curiosity.

“Before I make my mind about this… tell me what the fuck led you guys to make that stupid bet. Then, and only then, I will still say no, but in good faith,” I demanded, smiling at Jaemin, knowing I wouldn’t make it easy for him to convince me. The odds weren’t in his favor, and he really had to put in lots of effort if he really wanted me on board.

“So we were chilling after practice, and then Haechan started to tease me that I have no game anymore,” Jaemin started, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, I should’ve figured it out. A man in his age apparently is a failure unless he has a different girl in his bed at least 3 nights a week, moaning his name at the top of her voice. Even though Jaemin doesn’t have a competitive nature, it still provoked him into agreeing to this absurd bet.

Life must be though with an ego so fragile…

Jaemin isn’t a fuckboy, yet he still has a fair share of love conquests. Though I had no idea whether it was true or not, he must have fallen a little behind the others – otherwise, they wouldn’t tease him about it.

“And then I said his mother must’ve dropped him on the head if he really thinks that,” Jaemin carried on. I nodded my head, trying to wrap my head around this preposterous situation. “Then, I said I could seduce any girl I want,” he added proudly, making me want to flicker his forehead, hoping it would knock some sense into that empty skull at the top of his neck.

“Okay, but how the hell did you end up with having to seduce me? This is the part I have the most trouble understanding,” I pointed out, cocking my eyebrow.

“Then, Chenle suggested we bet on it, and I agreed to it,” Jaemin whispered, looking away, sounding both regretful and shy. “I urged them to pick any girl, so Haechan looked around to choose my next conquest. It was the time when you and Ten were walking to the dance studio, and that bastard suggested you.”

So it was Haechan’s doing – I should’ve figured this one out. He was the only one wicked enough to possibly ruin somebody’s friendship because of a stupid bet.

Or, it was quite genius of him – maybe he figured Jaemin would not cross this line, choosing our friendship over winning this imbecilic bet.

“And you were confident you can woo me? What about our friendship? Does it mean anything to you?” I inquired, curious of what was going inside his head when he agreed to this half-witted bet. Did he seriously think we could have sex and then forget all about it?

“It’s not like that! I don’t want to woo you. I mean… I could, and you would be very much aware if I tried to hit on you, and you would fall for me. No doubts on that,” Jaemin spoke confidently, grinning like an idiot with ego blown way out of proportion. “But–“

Jaemin was about to say something dense, so before more bullshit managed to leave his mouth, I hit him with a cutting board. Jaemin whined, but I was sure he was exaggerating for comedy purposes. My hit was calculated and balanced – it was powerful enough for him to understand it wasn’t a good idea, but at the same, it was not going to cause any permanent damage to his brain. I’d never purposefully do that to him.

“We’re not having sex. Get that shit inside your head,” I interjected, pouring my herbal tea down my throat, already thinking about making another cup. This conversation was making me uncomfortable, and I wanted to put an end to it. Perhaps another lemon balm tea would calm my nerves.

Ignoring his penetrating gaze, I shuffled around the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove. In the meantime, Jaemin walked around the kitchen island and grabbed me by my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes.

“Come on, Noona, I am not asking you to sleep with me,” Jaemin defended his case, quite determined to pull me on his side.

“Well… it looks exactly like you’re asking me to sleep with you,” I cut in, walking around him to the cabinet to get a fresh tea bag. I’ve really had enough of this bullshit.

“We could just make it look like like we did,” he carried on, and I heaved a deep sigh, regretting even letting him in today. I had this extremely boring essay to write, and at this point, I’d rather begin my research on whatever topic my professor assigned.

“It’s still a no from me, sorry,” I replied harshly, crashing Jaemin’s expectations. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t the outcome he anticipated when he decided to knock on my doors. “What happens when you lose that bet? Well… except for your pride, of course.”

“500 dollars.”

“Ouch, sowwy, I hope you can afford that,” I added with a fake smile, patting him on the shoulder, being well aware this amount of money was a game-changer to Jaemin’s budget. If he won, he would have the time of his life, spoiling himself. However, if he lost, he’d have to eat instant ramen on every meal for the entire month. “Either way, I hope it will teach you a lesson to not bet on things you know you can’t win.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jaemin groaned in disappointment, reaching for my hands, holding them carefully as if they were made of china. “If you help me, I’ll give you half of the money,” he proposed, and I looked at our hands linked together, then quickly shifted my gaze to his eyes. “If you help me win, you’ll get 250 dollars, and you’ll be finally able to buy those fancy shoes you wanted so bad. What do you say?”

When did he get so persuasive?

It was a low blow.

Jaemin knew that these shoes were tempting me ever since I had seen them. Multiple times, my thumb hovered over the add-to-cart button. Every time, I resisted the temptation last minute upon seeing the price tag, though. This purchase was way out of my budget.  However, now, when the new income opportunity presented itself, it made me wonder.

Suddenly, the kettle began to whistle, bringing me down to Earth from that ridiculous train of thought. Shaking my head, I tore my hands out of Jaemin’s gentle grasp, fidgeting back to the stove, pouring boiling water into the cup.

“Okay, fine, but I have a few questions first,” I gave up after a short pause for intense pondering, and Jaemin smiled brightly in instant gratitude and relief. Without my help, he would be doomed. “And then, if I like the answers, I have a few conditions.”

“Anything.”

“Okay, so first of all, how much time do we have to do the deed,” I inquired as I blew some air before taking a cautious sip.

“About two weeks,” Jaemin mentioned after a while as he had counted on his fingers how many days we have to team up and win five hundred dollars for us. “Officially, we have to do it before Jaehyun’s birthday party,” he specified, and I hummed, realizing it is very little time.

“You seriously think I am that easy? Outrageous,” I gasped, throwing a fake tantrum as I made my way around him to sit down on the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island.

“No, of course not,” Jaemin quickly realized what I was getting on, so he smiled sheepishly, already trying to figure out the best wording to calm me down. “I am just that good,” he added, and I leaned over to smack his shoulder. “Kidding,” he defended himself, stepping out of my reach. “Renjun proposed this party, I mean, it’s the easiest way they can verify we did it,” Jaemin carried on, and I cursed under my breath.

How convenient.

“But we’re not going to do the fucking,” I stated, as a matter of fact, repeating myself in order to make sure we were both on the same page. As much as it would be pleasant to actually do it with him, never under these circumstances.

“No, we’re not, but I guess we can sneak out upstairs to one of the unoccupied rooms, and once we make sure they’re listening, you can just shout how good I’m fucking you,” Jaemin reasoned, and I sighed as regret once again washed through me.

“That’s creepy,” I commented as my mind conjured an image of a group of peeping Toms, eavesdropping on our sex session. Once again, I felt the temptation to drop out of this deal, but then, another thought crossed my mind. “Ugh, fine, I’ll do it. All I have to do is shout for two minutes, and then, these cute shoes will be mine.”

“Two minutes? Are you insane?” Jaemin hollered, offended by my comment. “It happened once, and it was ages ago. I’ve learned plenty of tricks since then,” he blabbered, acting way too defensive for his past mishap. “Just let me live in peace, please.”

“Okay, so we have established the deadline, and although it’s not enough time for anyone to woo me, let’s go with it.”

“Thank you! I knew I could count on you,” Jaemin replied with gleeful enthusiasm as he sat down on the barstool beside me and pressed a chaste kiss against my knuckles.

“But you have to go overboard with the courting,” I added, making Jaemin groan. Hard work wasn’t his best suit, but this time, he really had to try his best, or I’d have to turn him down at Jaehyun’s party. “You really have to make it believable and super romantic. Otherwise, I’m out,” I clarified, and Jaemin nodded, though unwillingly.

“Fine, any other wishes in mind?”

“Once we win the bet, we have to end this whole fake-dating fiasco immediately,” I announced, already planning ahead. It was easy to win the bet, but the most difficult part was getting back to normal. If we planned to fake-date in order to fake-fuck, then it was reasonable to figure out how we’re going to fake-break up.

“We should agree on admitting it was the best sex of our lives, but despite that, we value our friendship even more, so we decided to remain friends. How does it sound?” Jaemin suggested, and I had to once again resist the temptation to roll my eyes.

“I agree with the overall message, but later, we have to work on proper delivery.”

 ***

On the very next day, Jaemin and I decided to implement our secret plan.

Since I specifically asked to be courted in an over-the-top manner, Jaemin suggested going to the cinema. There were no attention-grabbing titles screened, yet ultimately, we agreed on watching the very last projection of the sequel to Wonder Woman.

“Go get the snacks, I’ll buy the tickets,” I ordered once we stepped into the cinema area of the nearest shopping mall. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, so the establishment wasn’t crowded. Except for us, there was only a family of three slowly making their way to the exit.

“See you in five minutes,” Jaemin murmured before he walked off to the bar to get us some salty popcorn and soda drinks. Though we both considered them way overpriced, it was a perfect way to celebrate the beginning of our fake relationship.

“We still have some time until the movie starts,” Jaemin shyly whispered as he cleared his throat. “Let’s take some selfies to make it public,” he added, and I nodded, sending him a timid smile, knowing this protocol had to be done in order to properly keep up appearances.

These days, everything had to be posted on social media, or it didn’t exist. If we didn’t leave a single digital mark, people might’ve grown a little bit suspicious of our alleged rendezvous. It would probably shock our friends, but it had to be done if we wanted to really sell it to them.

The circumstances were perfect for an impromptu first-date photo shoot. We were able to snap a few pictures without any annoying looks of prying eyes, choose the best angles, and finally post it with an ambiguous description confusing the shit out our friends.

Though Jaemin took about fifty photos, ultimately, I allowed him to upload three.

One picture showed me standing back to the camera as I looked at the cinema schedule, trying to pick a movie. I was wearing an A-line crimson red dress and a pair of warm black tights – the outfit really made my figure look pretty slim.

“What do you think about this one?” Jaemin inquired, showing me the photo of our interlaced hands. With a hum, I inspected the picture, giving him the green light. It was appropriate for our first date – it would signify we weren’t at the cinema as friends.

“This one looks good enough,” I commented as I reached to swipe across the screen of his smartphone. “I look cute here,” I added, showing Jaemin a picture of us. We were smiling, staring at the camera, almost stuffing our faces into the bucket of popcorn.

“What kind of description should I write?”

“Something vague, I guess,” I answered with a shrug, having no clue what kind of comment would be fitting for this Instagram post. “Maybe stick to emojis,” I suggested, and Jaemin went back to work, adjusting filters and typing the description.

With a chuckle, Jaemin handed me his phone, letting me approve his commentary.

“Are you out of your mind?” I hollered, quickly deleting the emojis. Having smacked his shoulder, I turned around, blocking him from seeing the screen. Three blushed emojis suited our fake-date better than a popcorn bucket, a wine glass, and an eggplant.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Jaemin apologized, still laughing at his incredibly funny joke.

“Here, I posted it,” I said with an eye roll, throwing his phone at his lap. “The commercials must’ve started; let’s go,” I rose from my seat and extended my arm, wanting Jaemin to hand me the cup of coke. Jaemin, however, completely misunderstood my intentions, putting his hand into mine, holding it gently. “Give me my drink, Jaemin.”

“Sorry,” Jaemin sheepishly smiled before he yanked back his hand and turned his head around, too embarrassed to look at me. I, on the other hand, laughed hysterically. That should’ve served him right after that emoji faux pas.

“I was kidding,” I admitted when my laughter died down. “Come on, Jaemin. Let’s go; I want to see the trailers,” I added before grabbing his hand, hauling him inside the screening room.

At the last row, we plopped down onto our double seat, getting comfortable for the movie. With our belongings thrown onto the neighboring seat, we stretched our limbs before the lights went out, providing us with the best viewing experience.

“Do you think they’ve seen it?” Jaemin whispered into my ear as he placed his head on my shoulders. “I want to check it, but at the same time, I don’t.”

“Mood,” I replied, feeling just as anxious.

The movie began, and we quickly forgot about our bold social media statement, focusing much more on the screening. Residing to our typical behavior, Jaemin placed his head on my shoulder, snuggling closer, taking full advantage of the bucket of popcorn, which rested on my thighs.

It was peaceful and comfortable – just as things were before Jaemin had come up with his brilliant idea to fake-date each other for the sake of that ludicrous bet. Though we acted the way we used to with each other, it felt somewhat different with that supposed romantic connotations haunting us. Not necessarily bad kind of different, though.

Just as we expected, two hours was more than enough for our friends to spam our individual inboxes. We both had dozens of messages from group chats, as well as private ones. All of them were asking and/or speculating what happened and why.

“I don’t feel like answering any of these,” I muttered, dreading to read what Ten and Jiwoo wrote on our roomies’ group chat. “I don’t feel like coming home, either. They’re gonna eat me alive with questions. I am not ready to face them yet. Wanna hang out some more?”

“Fuck, even my mom has seen them,” Jaemin cursed under his breath, completely forgetting about his mother being a mad keen Instagram user. Now, when he looked at our arrangement from a slightly different angle, Jaemin realized it brought way more consequences than he was planning on facing.

It was bad.

Really bad.

With shaky hands, I unlocked my phone, checking the Instagram post Jaemin had tagged me in. Not only our friends flooded the group chats, but also, they didn’t forget to embarrass us even further in the comment section.

lucas_xx444: what the heck??? 😧 is this for real???

yuu_taa_1026: finally!!1 maybe they stop simping for each other now 🤡

_jeongjaehyun: another man down, shame 😔

choi.jiwoo21: 🙄🙄 some men actually grow up, jeong…

mama_nana: Why am I only finding about this now?

“Well… fuck,” I murmured under my breath, still unable to process the fact that Jaemin’s mom knew about it. It was supposed to be a harmless charade; however, with each passing minute, it was getting out of hand. “What is the damage control procedure?” I asked in concern, biting the bottom lip nervously. Lying to our friends was pretty bad, but keeping this relationship thingy up in front of his mother was despicable.

“You know how she is,” Jaemin started, and I sighed, wishing I had no clue of what she was capable of. Unfortunately, I did, and it scared the hell out of me. “Either we go and visit her, or she’s coming to visit us,” he wondered, unable to choose which option was worse. “Fuck, she’s calling me. What do I do?”

With panic flashed in his eyes, Jaemin handed me his phone, expecting me to handle the conversation with his gossip-girl type of a mother. As if that would ever happen…

“Pick up and tell her we’re awfully busy or something,” I ordered him, gliding my finger across the screen, pressing the device against Jaemin’s ear.

“Hi, mom,” he spoke through gritted teeth, staring at me in absolute fury. Quickly, his hand cupped mine before he grabbed the phone, adjusting it.

By Jaemin’s mom’s standards, the conversation was brief. Or rather, her monologue was because Jaemin didn’t speak a single word through the entirety of it. Except for a couple of mmm’s thrown here and there, he didn’t engage at all.

Ideally, Jaemin would schedule the visit after we will have broken up. He’d go there by himself and tell her a story of us coming back to our senses and deciding to remain just friends. Unfortunately, that would require at least one functional brain cell and a pinch of assertiveness – both of which Jaemin seemed to lack.

“And?” I inquired, praying to hear some good news.

With a sheepish smile, Jaemin cautiously looked up at me. “We’re visiting her for dinner on Friday,” he announced, and I gripped my hands, trying to refrain myself from beating the shit out of him.

I didn’t sign up for any of this!

I just wanted some shoes.

“I hate you, Na Jaemin,” I angrily declared, storming out of the cinema, ready to indulge myself with plenty of greasy food. It wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but I needed to consume a ridiculous amount of calories in order to forget I was stupid enough to agree to participate in this travesty. “Are you coming or not?!”

 ***

The last thing I wanted was to face my roommates. They must’ve had dozens of questions about this out-of-the-blue date, and I was dreadful because I couldn’t provide them with genuine answers. Perhaps, I could try to confabulate my way out of this, but it was, nonetheless, risky.

Having eaten at least two servings of a delicious greasy meal Jaemin and I went for a stroll under the pretense of taking some more photos for future references.

Around 8 o’clock, I unwillingly made my way home. Even with that romantic aura lurking around us, it was still fun to hang out with Jaemin.

Walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, I wondered about possible solutions to my problem. In a perfect scenario, I’d sneak into my room without anyone noticing, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any prying questions until, at least, early morning.

Unfortunately, the moment I pulled out my keys, the doors swung wide open.

“Well, well, well…” Ten tsked with a mischievous smirk dancing across his gorgeous face. Asshole. How dare he tsk me? “Had fun on your date?” He asked, and I tried my best to ignore him. It wasn’t that easy, though. With Jiwoo backing up his teasing, I was outnumbered.

“So… you and Jaemin, huh?” Jiwoo mused, cocking up her eyebrow in curiosity. “Spill the tea. I didn’t spam your inbox to not hear all the details,” she added, and I rolled my eyes, regretting all of my poor life choices that led me to this moment.

“I’ll bring wine,” Ten hollered before he disappeared in the kitchen, also keen on knowing everything that had happened between us. “Don’t say anything until I get there!”

They wanted to hear a romantic story of how two friends realized they had hots for each other, and that’s exactly what I did. Unwillingly, I provided them with an incredible piece of fiction of how we felt the spark when Jaemin stopped by the other day.

Admittedly, it was easy to go with the flow once the wine molecules were coursing through my veins. With some liquid inspiration in my bloodstream, I narrated how adorable Jaemin had been when he had gathered enough courage to ask me out on a date.

“So I assume you’re bringing Jaemin to the cabin on the weekend,” Jiwoo inquired in a teasing manner, and I blinked in confusion. What cabin was she talking about? “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot about what?” I asked, still clueless about the whole ordeal. With a confused frown, I wondered what this cabin trip was about. Positively, I didn’t forget about it. It’s impossible to forget about plans you weren’t even invited to.

So, Jiwoo explained everything in great detail.

Apparently, Jaehyun and Johnny planned a weekend getaway to the cabin by the sea. They invited plenty of people, but since it’s the middle of a hectic period of exams, only a small percentage of invitees would be able to make it.

Jaehyun, Johnny, and Lucas gave up trying to get the best grades two semesters ago, so their schedule was pretty much open. Renjun, Chenle, and Yeri were nerds with every necessary book memorized by heart, so they didn’t have to cram the weekend before the tests. Jiwoo, being heads over heels in love with Jaehyun, would even cancel her manicure appointment to make it to that trip. She was that serious about this fratboy for some reason…

And now, two individuals needed a perfect excuse to ditch an uncomfortable family dinner. When a chance presented itself in front of me, I just couldn’t say no.

“I’m going. I don’t know about Jaemin, though. He’s meeting his mom on Friday, but maybe he can make it work.”

“Fantastic,” Jiwoo shouted in excitement before finishing her glass of wine.

“Now, when I think about it, I am glad I’ve taken an extra shift at the gym,” Ten chimed in with a playful smirk as he sipped his wine. “You two simping for each other was painful to watch, but now, when you’re hitting it off, it’s gonna be unbearable.”

“What do you mean simping?” I yelled in a threatening manner, ready to fight him for spitting nonsense so carelessly. I might’ve had a tiny crush on Jaemin, but I wouldn’t call it simping. Also, suggesting the simping was mutual? He must’ve lost his freaking mind. Ridiculous!

“Shit, I didn’t think this through,” Jiwoo mentioned, now probably re-considering if the trip is worthwhile. She would love to hang out with Jaehyun and finally make a move, but on the other hand, she would have to deal with my and Jaemin’s romantic shenanigans.

“Why are you such drama queens? We’ve been on one date, for crying out loud! Stop acting like we’re some kind of overly touchy couple because we’re not,” I barked, having no more energy to argue with them. “We’ll keep PDA to a minimum, don’t worry.”

“No need to get so defensive,” Ten added, enjoying my misery a bit too much.

“I am not getting defensive,” I argued, though facing real trouble, unable to actually back up my perspective. “Anyway, I am going to sleep. Unlike the two of you, some people have real jobs,” I added before storming to my room, plopping onto my bed with a tired groan.

Having changed into my pajamas and sneaked under the covers, I finally dared to connect my phone to the Internet. My inbox was full of texts, so I read them all. I didn’t feel like replying to any of them, though. Instead, I opened my chat with Jaemin.

my love 💖 | 20:41 | I figured it out

my love 💖 | 20:41 | You don’t have to thank me

my love  💖 | 20:41 | Also

my love 💖 | 20:41 | Wtf Jaemin?

my love 💖 | 20:41 | What kind of name is that???

my love 💖 | 20:42 | Change it back

baNANA 🍓 |  20:43 | No. 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | The name stays

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | You can’t make me 😝😝

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | And what don’t I have to thank you for?

my love 💖 | 20:44 | I might’ve found alternative plans for friday

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | Oh???

my love 💖 | 20:45 | Jiwoo invited us to the cabin for the weekend

my love 💖 | 20:45 | We’re gonna get so drunk!

my love 💖 | 20:45 | It’s okay if you can’t make it, tho

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | Wow

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | I have an exam on Monday…

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | But I can make Haechan give me his notes

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I wouldn’t miss it

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Good, then it’s a date

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Date??? 🥰🥰

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Stop being so cringy!

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Good night, love~~ 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Dream of me 😇😇😇

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Ugh.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Disgusting 🤢🤮

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I love you, too

***

As brilliant as my plan was, it fell through. Only partially, though. The little getaway was still a thing, but unfortunately, regardless of how much we tried, we couldn’t reschedule the dinner at Jaemin’s family home.

We still had to pay his parents a visit, but, at least, there was a silver lining.

Thanks to our hectic schedule, Jaemin’s mom wouldn’t have a chance to force us to stay longer. Whether she wanted to feed us dessert or stay the night, it was out of the question.

Since Jiwoo had one more exam to pass on Friday, half of the guests would have to show up later in the evening. Johnny, Jaehyun, Lucas, and Renjun were about to take off around noon while Jiwoo, Yeri, Chenle, Jaemin, and I had to carpool later in the evening.

I didn’t complain, though.

“It’ll be fine. It’s just my mom,” Jaemin reassured me, slipping his hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I bet it’s gonna be like any other time you stopped by,” he added, and I cocked up my eyebrow suspiciously.

“You better be right,” I spoke, though still unconvinced. I knew Jaemin’s mother. She had a tendency to be, hmm…, a little bit extra. Who knew how she would behave now when she found out we were dating?

Since Jaemin was carrying our suitcases, I knocked on the front doors. Jaemin’s mom rushed to let us in, but not before she gave us bone-crushing hugs.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. I invited you for dinner. I didn’t ask you to move in with me,” Mrs. Na jested upon seeing the suitcases in Jaemin’s hands, misinterpreting the situation in the funniest way possible. “It must be shocking, but I enjoy living alone with your father.”

“We’re going to the beach with some friends after the dinner,” Jaemin clarified, and his mother hummed in understanding, acting a bit too cool about it. It’s been a while since Jaemin paid them a proper visit, and she was a little too nonchalant for my liking. “They’re going to pick us up around seven.”

She must’ve done something or was about to do something.

“Here’s some wine,” I spoke up, handing her the bottle as a small thank you gift for inviting us over for a delicious home-made meal.

“Thank you, dear. You’re so thoughtful,” Mrs. Na accepted the beverage, guiding us to the dining area. “I didn’t feel like cooking today, so I ordered some Chinese takeout. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, and I chuckled at her typical antics.

She was an amazing mother to Jaemin, raising him well, but she really was a terrible housewife. She didn’t change one bit, and I loved her for it. She had so much love for her husband, her son, and her son’s friends, and that’s what really mattered.

“Your father will be home in thirty,” she announced before she made a beeline to the kitchen to get a bottle opener. “And the takeout was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago. If it weren’t for that slow delivery guy, I would’ve got away with my little secret,” she blabbered, laughing awkwardly.

“It’s okay, really,” I reassured her, sending her a genuine smile. “I am craving Chinese food, anyway,” I added before I elbowed Jaemin, so he would say something, too. For a blabbermouth he was, right now, he seemed awfully quiet.

Before Jaemin managed to provide his mother with a proper response, someone knocked on the doors. Since we had already arrived, it must’ve been the delivery guy with food.

“I’ll go get it,” Jaemin excused himself, leaving me alone with his mother.

“So…,” Mrs. Na cleared her throat as he began pouring wine into fancy glasses. “You guys are finally dating. And if you want me to be completely honest, I am a little bit disappointed,” she made a pause to look at me in the eye. What? She didn’t approve of me? That’s surprising; I used to think she adored me. “I am a little bit disappointed either of you didn’t make a move sooner. I was slowly losing hope,” she added, and I sighed in relief.

For a while, I was seriously concerned she didn’t like me.

“Are you expecting any guests? There’s no way we can finish it all by the four of us,” Jaemin commented as he walked into the dining room, setting two plastic bags of takeout. It smelled heavenly, and I couldn’t wait to taste whatever dish Mrs. Na had ordered.

“I can always invite your friends inside when they pull up,” she spoke matter-of-factly, but as soon as Jaemin looked at her sternly, she seconded that idea. “Or, I can pack it up, so you can share it with your friends later.”

“Should we wait for dad?” Jaemin asked when his stomach growled, demanding food. In the morning, he was quite anxious about going to his parents’ house, so he didn’t even bother to eat. Now, Jaemin was starving. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’ll get the plates,” his mom spoke, not really answering his question. Within two minutes, she came back with a special set of tableware. In their household, it was used only for holidays and other rare occasions. “Dig in,” she urged us, waiting for us to fill our plates before doing the same herself.

Whatever restaurant provided today’s dinner, it was remarkable. It wasn’t too salty, nor too spicy. Even when I was full, I still stuffed my mouth some more, unable to stop myself.

“You have sauce on your chin,” Jaemin remarked, pointing at his own chin, helping me locate the stray drop of soy sauce. “Here,” he added with a tired shake of his head, wiping it clean with his napkin.

“You two are too adorable,” Mrs. Na cooed, smiling at us widely. “It was worth the wait,” she added, and I creased my forehead in confusion. “Oh, did you hear that? It must be your dad,” Mrs. Na said upon hearing noise from the garage. “You keep eating, I’ll go greet his workaholic ass,” she excused herself with a playful smile before walking away from the table to welcome her husband as any loving wife would.

With a deep sigh, Jaemin leaned toward me, resting his arm on my chair.

“It’s not that bad, actually. I was excepting to go through some kind of FBI-level of interrogation, but she seems kind of chill about this whole thing,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, and I giggled, agreeing with him. It was kind of suspicious, but I couldn’t complain.

“It’s kinda creepy when she’s talking like she’s been rooting for us to end up together, but this one thing aside, it’s bearable,” I replied, and Jaemin nodded his head.

“I am gone for a minute, and you’re all over each other,” Mrs. Na snickered when she returned to the dining room, seeing Jaemin leaned in, only inches apart from my face. “Jaemin, mama’s so proud,” she added before she walked around the room to set the plate for Mr. Na.

“Stop embarrassing me,” Jaemin whined, playing with the food on his plate, pouting. Though his mother pretty much ignored his childish tantrum, I chuckled, finding it absolutely adorable. Maybe she was a teaser, but little Jaemin knew, he inherited it from her. It was time he experienced the taste of his own medicine.

The apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree…

The rest of the afternoon went peaceful. Though Mrs. Na threw in some cheesy remarks here and there, we could handle it. We were slightly buzzed, after all.

“It’s time for us,” Jaemin announced as he heard a car parked in front of the house. “It was nice. We should totally do it again,” he sarcastically added when he reached for my coat and helped me put it on.

“Don’t have too much fun,” she added with a playful smirk upon her face, earning a judging look from her more conservative husband. “No, wait, I second that. Have as much fun as you want. I am a cool parent,” she spoke, changing her mind in a matter of seconds. “And I plan on becoming a cool grandparent.”

At first, I wanted to remind her that we’re too young for children. Besides, technically, we only went on one date. It was definitely too soon to even think about these things, let alone talk about them out loud.

Thankfully, before I managed to say something I’d regret, Jiwoo honked, urging us to get going. If it wasn’t for her impatience, I might’ve ruined the image I had built for myself in Jaemin’s parents’ eyes.

“Your mother was joking! Always use protection,” Mr. Na hollered before he closed the doors after us.

***

Except for a few playful comments shot toward Jaemin and me, the ride was peaceful. As soon as we threw our suitcases into the trunk and squeezed in on the backseat, we hit the road. Jamming to Jiwoo’s playlist, we chatted in excitement, all of us in desperate need of a little vacation. It was a stressful time of a year, but maybe this short trip would actually help us recharge the batteries and calm down after busting our asses off.

“How was the dinner?” Jiwoo asked, staring at us in the rearview mirror. Since there was a limited amount of space, I was almost sitting on Jaemin’s laps. Jiwoo didn’t miss it with her eagle eyes. The way Jaemin played with my fingers didn’t go unnoticed, either.

“Bearable,” I muttered under my breath, not really wanting to recollect these memories now. I’d probably tell Jiwoo everything later, and she understood the subliminal message in a heartbeat. “How was your test?”

“I probably failed, but, at least, now I know what to expect,” Jiwoo answered as she turned to the left as the navigation system instructed her to.

In about two hours, we arrived at our destination.

Having stepped into the cabin with our heavy luggage in our hands, we encountered the middle of the party. A handful of beer bottles were scattered around the living area, the boys fervently discussing some matter.

“You’re finally here,” Jaehyun spoke matter-of-factly, as he noticed us in the threshold. “Go upstairs and leave your stuff in your rooms. We’ve already assigned them; just read the post-it notes stuck to the doors,” he explained before he turned away.

Huh, apparently, they were pros at planning.

The guys rented a cabin that consisted of six tiny bedrooms. Generally, we wouldn’t have a problem assigning them; however, since Jaehyun, Lucas, and Johnny didn’t want to room with anyone, we were facing a dilemma. They guys wanted to have some privacy if they managed to pick someone up at the hotel in the neighborhood. In this case, the six of us had to share rooms. Jiwoo and Yeri could room together. Renjun and Chenle could occupy another one, so it looked like they put Jaemin and me in the last one.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t be the first time when I had to share a bed with Jaemin. He had stayed the night plenty of times before when he dozed off during our Netflix marathons. However, it still was to be a little bit awkward since everybody thought we began dating. We were going to pull through, though.

As soon as possible, we came back downstairs, ready to even the score of consumed alcohol. All of us needed it. Everybody had a different reason for it, but none of our troubles were to be discussed tonight.

In the fridge, there was a whole palette of different types of alcohol. Quickly, I grabbed two tequila-flavored beers, handing one to Jaemin, allowing others to choose their poison.

My plan for tonight was to test every kind of alcohol, gradually going up with the percentages. It was a bad idea, but that’s what college was about – having fun like there’re no consequences.

We partied like there’s no tomorrow.

At first, we kept it simple. Fervent conversations led us to shout at one another, trying to force one perspective over the others. We were going through so many subjects that any sober bystander might’ve had real trouble comprehending how we managed to switch among them.

Then, someone suggested playing a drinking game. Of course, it had to be never have I ever. Everybody had so much fun, especially when the participants yelled at Jaemin and me because we didn’t even bother to abide by the rules. We were sipping our drinks whenever we felt like it, even between rounds, and it didn’t sit right with the rest. Eventually, they kicked us out of their little circle, giving us the crucial task of bringing some snacks from the kitchen.

Sometime past midnight, Jiwoo proposed going outside. It was beautifully snowing, but at the same time, it was freezing. Though I was opposed to this idea, everybody seemed to love it. The guys were throwing snowballs at each other, bringing out their inner child.

As if this wasn’t enough, they decided to take a stroll to the seaside. Though our cabin was maybe a mile away from the seashore, I didn’t particularly fancy the saunter. Jaemin was by my side, offering to warm my hand in his pocket, but I still was on the verge of freezing my ass off. I’d much rather sit by the fireplace under a few blankets with a mug of the mulled wine in my grasp. Apparently, everybody besides me was really intrigued by an ice bath and other winter extreme sports.

Though it was dangerous as fuck, Jiwoo took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans before she walked into the ice water of the sea. Being the dumbass he was, Lucas instantly followed suit.

“They seem to hit it off tonight,” I nonchalantly whispered as I elbowed Jaehyun. Jiwoo and Jaehyun might have a thing going on, but neither of them acted on it. Jiwoo was too whipped to make a move, too afraid of rejection. Jaehyun, on the other hand, was just a fuckboy, not really looking for a relationship. “Look at them. Don’t they look cute?” I carried on, cautiously watching Jaehyun’s expression. They weren’t together, but he seemed slightly jealous and frustrated watching her have lots of fun with Lucas.

In my opinion, he didn’t deserve her, but I didn’t really have a say in that matter. Jaehyun was the person Jiwoo’s heart longed for, and I, being her best friend, had to support that. Or, in this case, I had to give him a little push to get things in motion.

Jaehyun had some feelings for Jiwoo, but he needed some time and character development to fully comprehend them. Until then, it was my duty to remind him what he’s missing out on by not being serious enough to ask her out.

“Nah, I wouldn’t call them cute,” Jaehyun murmured through gritted teeth, positively jealous. “What they’re doing is dangerous; somebody has to stop them,” he added before he kicked off his own shoes, running toward Jiwoo to pick her up and bring her back to the shore.

“What was that?” Jaemin asked, being shook as to what he had witnessed.

“What was what? What do you mean?” I smirked, winking at him, hoping he wouldn’t tell anyone about it. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You played him,” Jaemin spoke, still impressed by how easily I manipulated Jaehyun into stepping into the scene, pulling Jiwoo away from Lucas. “Is this even legal? You’ve never done this one me, have you?”

“No, of course, not! Don’t be ridiculous,” I answered, though my tone suggested a completely different message. “You would’ve known, wouldn’t you?” I teased, chuckling at Jaemin’s funny expression. He was mortified. “I think you’re overreacting. I just pointed out some facts, and Jaehyun reacted to them according to his emotional opinion. I really didn’t do anything,” I added, defending my case.

“Don’t you ever try pulling a trick like that on me, okay?” Jaemin stated, and I nodded, giving him a promise. “I mean… I wouldn’t fall for it, but still, don’t.”

“We should head back to the cabin,” Johnny shouted, gathering the gang. Surprisingly, he seemed the most sober amongst us, so it didn’t come as a shock to me that he tried to look after his hammered friends.

In my opinion, it was a perfect call. I was slowly sobering up, and I definitely needed a refill. With my schedule packed, I had no idea when I would have a chance for another getaway, so I had to make the most out of this one.

As we returned to the cabin, Jaehyun’s eyes didn’t leave Jiwoo.

Jaemin, on the other hand, went upstairs to grab his camera, deciding it was the best time to snap photos. Of course, he had to take pictures of us when we were drunk out of our minds. Why didn’t he take any when we looked decent without smudged make-up?

“Sexy,” Jaemin commented as he pointed his camera at me. “Ahh, sexy,” he kept calling me that, and I stuck my tongue at him, wanting him to go away pester someone else. My hair was a mess, and my lipstick smudged off my lips a long time ago. “So sexy,” he carried on, making me roll my eyes at him. At some point, I tried kicking him, but that bastard was beyond my reach.

Around 2 o’clock, one by one, we began feeling tired.

Lucas was the first one to go. Considering how much alcohol he had drunk, I was surprised he lasted that long. Better yet, it was a shock he could even stand straight. Jaemin and Renjun had to escort him upstairs, but nonetheless, his alcohol tolerance was impressive.

I didn’t even realize when, but Yeri and Chenle managed to fall asleep on the couch. Firmly, Renjun shook them away, ordering them to go to their respective rooms. With tired yawns, they made their way upstairs, falling on their beds face-first.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Jaemin pouted as he sat on the side of the armchair, resting his head on my shoulder. Entwining his hand in mine, he stood up, pulling me up.

“Have fun, guys. We’re calling it a night,” I announced, refraining from yawning.

“No, you have fun,” Jiwoo replied, sending us a wink. Shaking my head, I sighed before we disappeared upstairs. I don’t know what she was thinking; however, I didn’t have the energy to keep my eyes open, let alone other nighttime activities. Besides, Jaemin was just as spent. Even if we were in a real relationship, we wouldn’t engage in half-conscious unsatisfactory messy sex.

“Come here,” Jaemin whispered as he smiled. His eyes were already closed as he patted the mattress beside him, waiting for me to join. “Good job. I think we really sold it to everybody,” he added as he snuggled closer, wrapping his limbs around my body.

“That’s good,” I purred, slowly drifting into dreamland. It was a long day, and it was finally over. Though it had a rough beginning, I ended it in Jaemin’s arms. “Good night.”

“Good night, my love,” Jaemin muttered, resting his head on my pillow right beside my face.

“You were supposed to change that name,” I replied, too drunk or/and too tired to realize it was his spoken words and not a text message.

 ***

During the second week of our relationship, we grew to be less tense around each other. Better yet, we seemed awfully comfortable, almost as if that’s how everything was meant to be. It was a little bit alarming, but I decided not to point that out. Even if it was just an act, I enjoyed it much more than I’d ever dare to admit. As long as it lasted, I was to savor it.

Ever since we came back from the weekend trip, Jaemin would pop up out of nowhere at least once a day with a surprise for me, proving how over the top he could be in courting a woman.

On Monday, he spammed his social media feed with my pictures from the trip. Of course, he didn’t forget to put a corny description under it, making me flustered. Even though I wouldn’t consider myself photogenic, Jaemin managed to bring out my best features with his photography talent and editing skills.

On Tuesday, Jaemin was waiting outside the auditorium with a cute bouquet of my favorite flowers – white roses. He was there to congratulate me on passing my last exam of the semester. The professor would send us results by the end of the week, but according to Jaemin, there was no chance I’d fail it.

“I still don’t get it how you do it,” Jaemin mused, scratching his temple, trying to put two and two together. “I hardly ever see you study, but then, you panic before an exam only to nail it later on. What kind of black magic is this?” He wondered, and I giggled, unable to explain my poor studying technique. I just winged it last minute every single time in my academic career.

“You better be right about this one,” I replied, still anxious about my grade. I didn’t manage to answer all of the questions, so a passing grade would be a relief. “I’m craving pasta. Do you want t go on a celebratory date?”

“You’re reading my mind,” Jaemin said, grabbing my hand, leading me to our favorite restaurant.

On Wednesday, Jaemin invited me to a bowling alley. Every month he would visit the establishment with his friends. Only on rare occasions, their significant others were invited. None of them could really commit to a serious relationship, so it never became a repetitive custom of their group.

“You guys are disgusting,” Haechan whined after our turn. Jaemin and I were losing by an enormous margin, but we didn’t mind. We were having fun despite a low score. “But at least, we’re winning,” Haechan added, pointing at Chenle and himself.

“I am the winner here,” Jaemin boldly announced, giving my hand a light squeeze, making me almost spit my soda.

Everybody cringed at Jaemin’s bold corny statement.

“I second that,” Haechan mused, looking away from Jaemin. “She’s bearable, and you are just absolutely repulsive,” he corrected himself, and I chuckled. Never in my entire life, I thought I would agree on something with Haechan, but this moment occurred right then.

On Thursday, although my schedule was packed with work, Jaemin insisted on hanging out. Tired out of my mind, I let Jaemin inside the apartment. He was carrying Mexican takeout; I couldn’t send him back home. Not when he had goodies.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked as I handed him the remote, allowing him to choose the movie. I was going to pass out anyway, so he might’ve as well picked something he liked.

“Anything is good,” he answered as he unwrapped his quesadilla, taking a bite off of it.

“The Notebook it is then,” I teased, but since Jaemin didn’t stop me, I put it on.

Having eaten my portion of a delicious meal, I lay down on the couch, resting my head on Jaemin’s thighs. I didn’t even realize when I fell asleep. Only when the credits were rolling down on the screen, Jaemin shook me awake.

“When did you fall asleep?” Jaemin inquired, a little bit mad that I forced him to watch the ultimate romantic movie of the twenty-first century. It was toxic as hell, and the way their behavior got romanticized didn’t sit right with me.

“As soon as I lay down,” I answered honestly, as I rolled around, staring at Jaemin’s handsome face. “How did you like the movie?” I asked innocently, swiftly changing the topic. It was for the better if Jaemin didn’t find out I paid no attention to the film. Instead of a great viewing experience, it was just a mere background noise that lulled me to sleep.

“I didn’t,” Jaemin whined, tapping his foot against the floor, making me sit up instantly. “It was toxic and sad at the same time. Noah was a manipulative jerk, and Allie was moody as fuck. The only bright side of their relationship is that they ended up with each other, not ruining other people’s lives,” Jaemin spoke the truth, and I couldn’t agree more. “In conclusion, give me my 2 hours back,” he added, and I hit him with a cushion.

Unable to comprehend what I just did, Jaemin blinked in confusion. Then, a few seconds later, he smirked and grabbed another cushion, ready to fight back.

Unfortunately, our childish antics were interrupted by Jiwoo. She was hanging out with Yuta, studying for the exam they had to retake the next day. To be completely honest, she couldn’t have any worse timing. While watching a movie was explainable, it wasn’t the case when it came to an impromptu pillow fight.

“Should I come back later, or something?” Jiwoo asked, pointing at the doors, willing to leave if it meant for me to get laid.

“Nah, Jaemin’s leaving. I am trying to kick him out, actually,” I announced, sticking my tongue out.

On Friday, Jaemin and I planned on going to the arcade. Unfortunately, we had to raincheck that. One of Jaemin’s coworkers fell sick, and Jaemin had to take a double shift at the coffee shop in his neighborhood.

I already had canceled my other plans to hang out with Jaemin, so I didn’t really want to stay at home all by myself. It was a Friday night, after all. Surprising him at work seemed like a better idea. His friends liked hanging out there; therefore, it must’ve been an excellent excuse for a little bit of acting in order to keep up appearances.

Quickly, I assembled a cute outfit and put on light make-up.

About an hour before the closing, I entered the coffee shop. Except for a few students with their noses in their computers, the establishment was empty.

“Welcome to–,” Jaemin hollered, ready to welcome the customers. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” He asked as a wide smile spread across his face, enjoying my surprise.

“I just came to surprise you,” I confessed, though none of us paid enough attention to the gravity of my words. I genuinely wanted to hang out Jaemin him as his girlfriend. “And I also wanted to get some discounted goodies. What do you have left?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, trying to see what food didn’t sell yet. An hour before the closing, everything on the menu was discounted by seventy percent, and I just couldn’t walk past that kind of deal.

“You’re not the only one who came for cheap stuff,” Jaemin commented as he saw Haechan and Renjun on the other side of the doors. “Take a seat, I’ll bring you your favorite,” he added, and I smiled at him, walking to the booth by the window.

Having finished my Greek sandwich, I focused on my cup of tea. I was scrolling through social media feed, giggling whenever I stumbled upon a funny meme. It was a perfect evening; complete relaxation in the rhythm of soft foreign jazz music playing through speakers, Jaemin checking up on me once every a couple of minutes.

“Oh, hi, there,” Haechan hollered as soon as he noticed me. He must’ve been returning to his table from a restroom. “I didn’t realize you’re here. What’s up?” We weren’t close, so his question was more like a polite generic statement rather than genuine curiosity.

“I’m waiting for Jaemin to finish, so we can hang out at my place,” I answered, hoping Haechan would get the suggestive tone.

“Actually, there’s something you should know,” he said quietly, looking around, probably checking if Jaemin was within earshot. “I am so ashamed it happened, but I really have to tell you something,” Haechan added, and I couldn’t wait for him to reveal the secret.

Haechan was playing dirty. He wanted to tell me about the bet, ruining Jaemin’s chance at getting me to sleep with him. It was some top-tier double-crossing, and I found it impressive. I had no clue Haechan had it in him.

“We shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know why we even agreed to this,” Haechan added, scratching the back of his head, trying to sound genuinely regretful. “I think Jaemin’s not genuine about the thing you have going on. You see, we made a bet. He has to have sex with you, or else he owes Chenle 500 bucks.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, hoping my consternation was believable. At first, I felt the temptation to say something along, yeah, I know, what’s new, but then I decided to play along. It was actually a good idea to make it seem like Jaemin’s about to lose the bet. Knowing them, they wouldn’t call it off. If anything, Jaemin could double the stakes. “No, it can’t be true. Jaemin would never –“

Now, it was my cue to make a scene. Hopefully, it would play out exactly like in my impromptu prediction.

Reaching the stage of fake hysteria, I rose from my seat and stormed to Jaemin. He was energetically wiping off the tables, wanting to leave shortly after the last customer.

“Is that true? Did you really make a bet you can have sex with me?” I yelled at him through gritted teeth. Jaemin, on the other hand, was confused as fuck. “Did you really think you could get away with it? You disgust me!” I shouted, slapping his cheek. “Don’t ever call me again,” I added before I turned on my heel, storming out of the coffee shop.

Being the only employee at work, Jaemin couldn’t run after me.

Jaemin deserved an explanation. I had to fill him in on my wonderful plan before he would blow it in front of Renjun and Haechan.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | play along

my love 💖 | 20:46 | trust me

my love 💖 | 20:47 | kick them out pls

baNANA  🍓  | 20:47 | wtf???

baNANA 🍓  | 20:48 | that hurt

baNANA 🍓  | 20:48 | I didn’t have to kick them out

baNANA  🍓 | 20:49 | they ran out a few seconds after you

my love 💖 | 20:49 | good

baNANA 🍓  | 20:49 | what the hell is going on???

baNANA  🍓  | 20:50 | I am confused

my love 💖 | 20:50 | Haechan ‘told’ me about the bet

my love 💖 | 20:50 | he wanted to double cross you

baNANA  🍓  | 20:51 | what???

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so the plan is

my love 💖 | 20:51 | they know you don’t stand a chance

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so you double the stakes

my love 💖 | 20:52 | and then bam! we win double the money

baNANA  🍓  | 20:52 | wow

baNANA  🍓  | 20:52 | you’re a genius

my love 💖 | 20:53 | I know

my love 💖 | 20:53 | and since I’m acting like I’m not talking to you

my love 💖 | 20:53 | bye 

my love 💖 | 20:54 | see you @ the party!

 ***

Everything went according to my plan. The guys thought I was pissed with Jaemin, while Jaemin still tried to convince them he stands a chance to court me. It was kind of ironic, they wanted to play me, but it was them getting played.

Together with Jiwoo and Ten, we came extra early to Jaehyun’s party. Still being stuck in friendzone, Jiwoo went out of her way to help him out. Today it meant setting up all types of decorations all over the fraternity house and preparing different kinds of snacks.

Around seven, an Uber pulled up in front of our building. Not to brag, but despite the limited amount of time, we managed to dress up to the nines.

I decided to keep it simple. My outfit consisted of a pair of skinny high-waisted black jeans, a long-sleeved sequin embellished crop top, and a pair of ankle-high boots.

Jiwoo, on the other hand, was wearing a two-piece baby pink dress and a pair of massive mid-thigh black leather platform combat boots. She looked fierce, like a weird baby of 90’s Britney Spears and Marilyn Mason.

Though Ten’s outfit looked the most effortless, it took him longer than us to put it together. Having thrown every single thing from his closet on the bed, Ten experienced a mild crisis. Even though he looked gorgeous in everything, he didn’t seem to believe us. Only after the off-hand intervention, he agreed to play it cool with a pair of ripped jeans, a black shirt with three top buttons left untouched, and an oversized leather jacket.

Once we arrived at Jaehyun’s fraternity, nothing was ready. Thankfully, it wasn’t my problem. Jiwoo was the one who volunteered to help out. Ten and I were about to vibe in the corner, letting other people arrange the place according to Jaehyun’s vision.

Trying our best not to disturb others, Ten and I watched the way the smelly fraternity sex mansion turned into a festive valentine’s manor.

“I hope she’s gonna get laid today,” I whispered into Ten’s ear, looking at Jiwoo working like a busy bee around the house.

“She better; that’s really painful to look at,” Ten agreed, looking a little bit disappointed. Jiwoo was at Jaehyun’s beck and call, and it was about time he acknowledged her feelings.

Around nine o’clock, it was getting a little bit crowded.

Music was blasting through the speakers. Some of the fratboys were already looking for their next conquest. Girls were dancing on a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living area, suggestively swaying their hips, teasing whoever was watching with their sexy moves.

Later on, when I was in the middle of my fourth drink of the night, Jaemin finally showed up. Together with Haechan, Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle, they walked through the threshold. They all looked great, but Jaemin stood out in the crowd. After all, he was the only one to put on a suit jacket over his white T-shirt. While the rest rocked the comfortable outfits, Jaemin opted for a more elegant look.

Almost as if he wanted to impress someone. Or at least, apologize properly, trying every sly trick to make me forgive him.

Upon entrance, his eyes searched me in the crowd, and when he met my gaze, a smile stretched across his face. Shyly, he raised his hand, wanting to wave at me, but since I stubbornly turned my head around, playing my role of offended woman, he lowered it.

“I’ve seen an ATM on our way here,” Renjun commented, knowing Jaemin didn’t stand a chance of winning the bet.

“It won’t be necessary,” Jaemin replied, following me with his gaze. “I didn’t lose it yet,” he added, and the guys laughed at him. There was no way he still thought he could woo me. “I still have a few hours left; I am not going to give up.”

“You’re such a loser,” Jeno interjected as regret washed through him. Although he didn’t actively participate when the bet was placed, he didn’t oppose it. He was an idle bystander, allowing other people to ruin our friendship. It didn’t sit right with him, but it was too late. The damage was already done, and Jaemin was going to embarrass himself even further. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin started, but he refused to explain how exactly it was like.

“You’re still gonna fail,” Haechan added with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Back at the coffee shop, he ruined Jaemin’s chance for success. “Hey there, beautiful,” Haechan spoke when his attention was snatched by one of the girls who walked past them.

Once the boys divided to greet other friends, Jaemin strolled to the kitchen. I was there, and he needed to initiate the first step of our plan.

Sincere apology.

“Can we talk?” Jaemin whispered as he reached out to grab my hand, interrupting my conversation with Ten and Yeri. “Let me explain. You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to listen to me,” he asked, and I unwillingly complied, letting him lead me toward an abandoned corner in the living area. No one could hear us talk, but at the same time, everybody could see us.

“What do you want, Jaemin,” I barked, folding my arms across my chest, startling myself with how good I managed to behave like an angry ex-girlfriend. Though it was my last semester, maybe I should change my major to professional acting.

“Wow. You’re too good at this,” Jaemin commented before he proceeded with his part. “Anyway, I made this card for you. I hope it finds you well,” he announced before he pulled an envelope out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Cautiously, I took the valentine’s card out of the envelope. Once I saw the front page, I couldn’t help but laugh. Jaemin must’ve done it himself, or he stole it from Jeno’s four-year-old niece. It was all covered in hearty stickers and glitter.

Jaemin definitely wasn’t a poet. He had never stood next to one, either.

Instead of a heartfelt apology and love confession, there was a short corny message which simultaneously made me cringe and chuckle.

Are you a ba-NANA? Cause I find you a-peeling.

From Your Love

P.S. it’s from me, your Jaemin

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” I spoke, shaking my head, trying my best not to grin. I was supposed to hate him, but it was too difficult. “I am gonna walk away now. Approach me once you raise the stakes.”

Although I didn’t want to party without Jaemin by my side, it was what I had to do. Having sent him a faint smile, I turned around and walked away, giving Jaemin some time to initiate part two of our plan.

Having drunk a few fancy shots Ten had made for me, we hit the dance floor. At first, we just jumped in the rhythm. However, when the DJ played the song we had practiced at the dance studio, everybody stepped to the side, making enough room to let us perform the choreography.

With alcohol coursing in my system, my moves weren’t as precise as usual – they still earned a round of applause.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you having fun?” Drunk as a skunk, Jaehyun shouted through the microphone connected to the DJ’s console. “How about we slow up the tempo?” Jaehyun yelled, and everybody cheered, making a lot of noise. “Tonight’s the love festival, and I, the valentine’s boy, specifically request every find a person to slow dance with.”

Having set the microphone aside, Jaehyun pushed DJ away from the console, putting on his Cigarettes After Sex playlist. The first song which graced our ears was Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You.

“Can I have this dance?” Jaemin appeared out of nowhere by my side, extending his hand for me to take. “Please?” He looked into my eyes, waiting for my response, looking hopeful.

As soon as I nodded, Jaemin grabbed my hand and gently pulled me against his firm body, resting his left hand on my back, holding me still, making sure I’d not run away. With my head resting against his chest, we swayed slowly, getting lost in our little world.

“They think I am a terrible person,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “They seriously think I’d try to ruin our friendship with this bet,” he carried on, and I hummed, taking an inhale, getting hit with Jaemin’s musky cologne.

The boys truly underestimated the power of our friendship. Jaemin and I told each other almost everything. It was bold of them to assume I had no idea about the bet.

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied as I had closed my eyes, getting lost in the moment. “Everything will come back to normal soon enough,” I added, trying to ignore the bittersweet taste of my statement. Our fake relationship had an expiration date, and it was near.

“You’re right. Everything will come back to normal,” Jaemin repeated my words as he rested his chin on top of my head, pulling me even closer. “You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had,” he added, pressing an innocent peck against my hairline.

“How many fake girlfriends have you had?” I asked, chuckling, sounding a bit jealous.

“Anyway,” Jaemin started, trying to change the subject. “The guys took the bait. And now, judging by the stupid looks on their faces, they’re shitting their pants.”

“Once the song is over, we should initiate the third phase of our plan,” I commented, wanting to be over with this. In about a minute, I was about to pull Jaemin out of the dance floor and lead him to the bathroom upstairs, where we would do the deed.

When another song from Jaehyun’s playlist echoed in the room, all the other couples kept dancing. Jaemin and I, on the other hand, were about to not so discreetly sneak upstairs.

Unfortunately, we met an obstacle on our path.

It was Jaehyun, pointing his phone at our faces.

“It’s a kiss cam. Do what you gotta do,” he spoke, and I creased my forehead in utter confusion. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was a kiss cam? It was a frat party, not a baseball match. Didn’t he have a beer pong championship to win or something?

“What?”

“Do I really have to explain this to everyone? Jesus,” Jaehyun complained, taking a deep sigh, trying to ease his irritation. “It’s Valentine’s day! I am Valentine’s boy! And this is a kiss cam. You kiss, and I take pictures,” he explained, but I wasn’t convinced. “Hurry up! I have to take like 50 more of them.”

At first, I didn’t want to do it. But then, a thought crossed my mind. Who would believe Jaemin and I had sex if I refused to give him a kiss. It was just one kiss; it wouldn’t hurt.

Having licked my lips, I smiled at Jaemin before I wrapped my hands around his neck, giving him a chaste smooch. It lasted maybe a few seconds, but it still made me uneasy. Even if it was just a brief peck, it was too much for my poor heart.

“What the fuck was that?” Jaehyun groaned in disappointment. “One more time, guys. That’s how you kiss your mother, not your girlfriend. You can do better.”

“Show him how it’s done, Jaemin,” I encouraged him, giving him permission to assault my lips, hoping it would happen to be one hell of a performance.

Having smirked, Jaemin leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against mine. Cautiously, he deepened the kiss, knocking the air out of my lungs, making my legs shake under my weight. His hands held my chin in place as his tongue slipped through my lips.

Out of a sudden, nothing else mattered. Jaemin and I were in our bubble, and despite it being a one-time thing, I wished it lasted forever. Whatever expectations I had about this moment, it wasn’t even close to reality.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, wanting to pull us out of our trance. In vain, though. I moved my lips against Jaemin’s in slow sync, letting the sweet sensation strip me of the last remains of dignity. I was to savor every second of it, basking in bliss.

“Ekhem,” Jaehyun grunted, starting to feel a little bit flustered. “You guys done?”

Once we broke apart to take a breath, Jaehyun spoke again.

“Have you seen Jiwoo, by the way?”

“Yeah, I think she went for a smoke with Lucas,” I answered casually, watching panic display on Jaehyun’s face. It was evident he didn’t fancy the newfound information. “She went outside like half an hour ago, though. I wonder what it takes them so long,” I added, planting another grain of doubt in his subconscious.

As soon as anxiety downed on him, Jaehyun bolted outside. He better, though. If Jaehyun wasn’t going to make a move on Jiwoo tonight, I was about to find another guy to ship her with.

“You did it again,” Jaemin pointed out, and I just shrugged, dismissing his comment. So what? One push in the right direction wasn’t enough for Jaehyun to grow up, so I decided to be generous enough to give him a second chance.

“Are you ready for phase three?” I asked Jaemin, but before he managed to reply, I grabbed his hand, pulling him across the dance floor. Giggling, I ran through the sea of people, not so accidentally bumping into Chenle, almost spilling his beer.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I hollered, giggling. Now, when I had Chenle’s attention, we could sneak upstairs to proceed with the final step of our plan. “Come on, Jaemin, let’s go. I am horny,” I added, probably overdoing my part. Unfortunately, the words were already spoken. I couldn’t take them back.

Having locked the bathroom doors behind us, I jumped onto the countertop. “Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy they’re gonna eavesdrop on us bang? It’s kinda off-putting, you know…”

When Jaemin wanted to speak, somebody knocked on the doors. It must’ve been one of Jaemin’s friends, checking if we were indeed fucking. “It’s occupied,” Jaemin hollered, mentioning for me to start my performance.

“Fuck, Jaemin! Eat me out, already,” I yelled, pressing my hands against my mouth, trying to stifle my laugher. This situation was ridiculous, and I couldn’t help myself but giggle. I had only a few drinks, yet I felt like I was high as a kite. “Yes, like that! Ahhh…”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight hole,” Jaemin played along, almost dying of alcohol-induced tittering. We were definitely having too much fun.

“Right there, Jaemin!” I screamed, holding my stomach as it began aching due to excessive cackling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” I moaned loudly, kicking my head back. “Don’t tease me, please!”

“I gotta get you ready for my cock, love,” Jaemin growled, and I gasped, my mind conjuring the forbidden image®.

“Just fuck me! I need your cock inside of me now!” I groaned, hoping whoever was on the other side of the doors heard enough of what was going inside. “Mmmm… you stretch me out so well…” I purred, almost falling off the counter when another round of uncontrollable laughter tried to erupt from my throat.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

“Jaemin! Fuck, I am close. Keep going,” I yelled, mentally preparing for the big finale. This whole act was a vocal performance, and it was time I finished. “I’m coming! Come with me!”

“It was spectacular,” Jaemin whispered so only I could hear him. “I have one more favor, though,” he added, shying away. Oh no, he was about to ask about something stupid.

“What is it?”

“It could’ve been some random dude,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head, unsure how to voice his supplication. “Give me your panties. It’ll be the definite proof.”

“You’re joking,” I deadpanned, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to say it was just a harmless prank. “You’re serious,” I added as soon as I realized Jaemin meant it.

“Come on, I won’t be sniffing them,” Jaemin nagged, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t even think about it, but now that he mentioned it, I had another reason not to comply with his weird-ass request. “I’ll give them back, I promise.”

“I can’t believe I am considering this,” I cursed under my breath. If any other person would like such a favor from me, I’d deny it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, I had a soft spot for Jaemin, so denying him didn’t come easy to me.

Hell, I wouldn’t be here if I was able to say no to him.

“You owe me big time,” I caved in, jumping off the countertop, stepping behind the shower curtain, providing myself with some privacy. “Don’t peek. Even if I slip, you gotta stay on the other side. Got it?” I added as I stuck my head through the curtain.

“Scout’s honor,” Jaemin pledged, and I rolled my eyes. He was a scout for maybe a week. His honor didn’t mean shit.

Clumsily, I took off my shoes and jeans. “Here,” I warned before I threw my panties over the curtain. “I am too sober for this,” I nagged, trying to put my skinny jeans back on.

“Let’s do celebratory shots!” Jaemin suggested, balling up my undergarments, hiding them in his pocket. “We deserve it,” he added, landing me a helping hand when I was stepping out of the shower.

“Let’s go.”

***

Needless to say, Jaemin won the bet.

Unfortunately, it meant the inevitable end of our fake relationship. It was fun when it lasted, and though I’d miss these times, it was time to set the record straight.

As we had discussed, we had to arrange our break up.

Sometime next week, Jaemin stopped by to give me half of the prize. Since the boys had been stupid enough to fall for our little charade, I received a large sum of money. It was Chenle who sponsored the prize. Because of that, I didn’t feel particularly sorry about deceiving them. After all, Chenle was so loaded; he wouldn’t notice if he lost that kind of money on the street. I could finally buy these shoes which I had been dreaming of for so long! Better yet, I'd still have some money left to spoil myself some more.

“How should we do it?” Jaemin asked quietly. Ever since he came, he avoided my gaze, staring at the floor.

“I don’t know,” I unwillingly answered. This conversation was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but it had to be done. Better sooner or later, before I’d catch some real feelings for Jaemin. I had no idea how I would pick up the pieces of my broken heart if we kept this act any longer. “Let’s just delete all posts we published. Someone will figure out something’s wrong, and when they spread the word, we’ll explain we decided to remain friends.”

Maybe I wasn’t in tears, but I felt regret wash through me. Though our relationship had never been a real thing, it felt like it.

And it hurt.

“Alright then,” Jaemin complied, rubbing his hands against his thighs before he pulled out his phone to erase any digital footprint of our brief romance. His thumb hovered over the delete button for a while. After a few moments of hesitation, when he didn’t hear any sign of protest from my side, he pressed it, sending our memories to a bottomless void. “And it’s gone.”

“Are we cool?” I asked, hoping that nothing would change between us. I had a hunch it would take me some time to get used to how things had been before the relationship fiasco. Nonetheless, I still had hope we could remain best friends without any awkwardness.

“Of course,” Jaemin answered with a faint smile, but I didn’t fully believe him. Something was off, and it bothered us. Shame that none of us dared to begin this topic.

After he left that day, we saw each other very seldom. We barely even spoke to one another. If it wasn’t for the group chats we were both in, we wouldn’t talk at all.

Jaemin had said we were cool, but it was evident we weren’t.

It was eating me from the inside out, but whenever somebody asked me about the break-up, I’d always shrug it off, confirming everything’s great. I would tell our friends nothing changed between us. There was nothing wrong; our schedules are just incompatible these days.

When I had pretended I was in a relationship with Jaemin, it was easy. It came naturally, and everyone ate it up without any second thoughts. Unfortunately, now, when I was trying to play it cool, no one seemed to buy it. Thankfully, they didn’t confront me about it. Instead, they offered me their support if I ever needed anything.

In my head, I had a few wild scenarios in which I tell Jaemin we should date for real. However, at the same time, a little devil on my shoulder was telling me it should never leave the realm of fantasy. It’s ridiculous to think Jaemin would reciprocate my feelings.

I felt as if sadness took over my body. Though I was smiling on the outside, I was filled with regret. Barely anything sparked joy these gloomy days. Even this pair of shoes, which I wanted so badly, didn’t stir any positive emotion. I bought them, but I never took them out of the box.

Jiwoo had taken me out on a few girls’ nights to make me feel better. Men are trash – she would always say when Jaehyun ignored her yet another text. Even though they had fucked each other at Jaehyun’s birthday party and agreed to become exclusive, Jaehyun still had lots of problems committing to a monogamous relationship. They hadn’t officially labeled it, but everyone knew Jaehyun was slowly caving in.

Fratboys’ habits die hard, but Jaehyun was finally shaping himself into boyfriend material. He no longer slept around, as far to my knowledge at least, but he still lacked in some departments. For instance, it would take him way too much to text back.

“You were so adorable together,” Jiwoo began after she gulped down another rum and coke. Despite her high alcohol tolerance, she was already drunk, speaking with no filter. “I mean… you were simping for him for so long, and you finally managed to jump that dick.”

“Your point being…” I inquired, finishing my drink. Though Jaemin and I had never had sex, I didn’t want to admit that. What would Jiwoo thought if I told her it was all-pretend?

“I shipped you guys so hard,” Jiwoo confessed. “Ten shipped you too, but he will never admit that,” she added, and I giggled. Now, that was an interesting take. Ten was so random at many aspects of life; it came to me as a surprise he even had an opinion on my relationship with Jaemin. “Can I just take some duck tape and put my ship back together?”

“I am not sure Jaemin would like that,” I answered with a sigh, my mood instantly decreasing.

“Nonsense,” Jiwoo replied in a heartbeat. “This guy is even worse than you,” she revealed, and I rolled my eyes, not buying this. At least a few times a week, at my lowest moments, I happened to check Jaemin’s social media updates. He didn’t seem to mope around at all.

“I find it hard to believe,” I muttered, trying not to get too emotional.

“I mean it,” Jiwoo confirmed her previous statement, eager to explain her thesis. “Jaehyun and I went on a little date to the coffee shop where Jaemin works,” she started, and I nodded, not really sure what she was getting at. Nonetheless, I let her continue. I was curious what Jaemin had been up to. And since he didn’t seem to want to tell me anything himself, I’d accept any type of second-hand information from Jiwoo. “Jaemin misses you. You have no idea how many times I caught him daydreaming. He still has your photo set on his lock screen, and he stares at it a lot.”

Now, that’s interesting.

I had no recollection of Jaemin ever setting my photo as his background picture. Even if Jiwoo was right, it meant he set after we had broken up. It made no sense at all, and I was too drunk to try to comprehend the meaning of this.

Instead, I ordered another round, trying to stifle all the brooding emotions within me.

***

February was the month of parties. Too many birthdays fell during this hectic period, and I had trouble keeping up with them. Fortunately, Ten’s party was the last one of the month. After a small get together at our place, I’d have some time off to relax by myself, most preferably, without alcohol.

Being the semi-hosts with Jiwoo, it was our duty to help Ten organize everything regarding his party. Though our trio was a little bit disorganized, somehow, we managed to get everything ready before anyone arrived.

Maybe it wasn’t comparable to birthday parties at fraternity houses; it still had its charm. It wasn’t as wild, but guests still were having a great time in the company of their closest friends. However, what was the most important, Ten had a blast.

It was his day; he deserved everything he wanted.

Trying my best not to embarrass Ten, I decided to socialize with his friends.

It was time I move on. It took me way too long to mourn a relationship that wasn’t even real. I couldn’t let my brooding mood ruin the party.

“Hmm… Ten has never mentioned you before,” I confessed, not finding it particularly odd. Ten didn’t have secretive nature; he just wasn’t the type of person to over-share. And he often forgot to even mention stuff about his personal life.

“I can’t say I am surprised,” Hendery replied, making me giggle. It was fun chatting with him. Hendery was hilarious, and he knew many secrets regarding Ten. It was my mission to get as much information from him as it was possible. I would need it for blackmailing purposes, of course.

Hiding out in the kitchen, we sipped beer and exchanged rumors as if we were two gossip girls. It was too entertaining to stop. I was incredibly immersed in the conversation; I didn’t even realize when someone tapped my shoulder.

“Can we talk?” I heard the question, recognizing the voice in an instant. It belonged to Jaemin, and it seemed to be laced with both jealousy and irritation. The way he phased his plea gave me flashbacks of the conversation we had at Jaehyun’s party.

I really wanted to continue my discussion with Hendery, but I couldn’t say no to Jaemin. It wasn’t how my brain was programmed. Besides, I missed him a lot.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” I told Hendery before I grabbed Jaemin’s hand, leading him to my room, locking the doors behind us.

“Nothing was supposed to change,” Jaemin started as he sat at the edge of my bed, leaning forward with his upper body propped on his elbows. His gaze was trained on the floor, too frustrated to look up at me.

“I know,” I whispered as I sat down in my chair on the other side of the room. My first instinct was to kneel in front of Jaemin, kiss his forehead, and assure him that everything’s going to be alright.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like a good idea, so I refrained from doing so. “I am sorry, it’s my fault.”

“Don’t,” Jaemin interjected before I embarrassed myself even further. “We’re both at fault.”

Despite the loud party noises coming from the other side of the doors, my bedroom was filled with deafening silence. It was awfully uncomfortable, and it was probably a good thing. One of us would get annoyed eventually and cave in, letting out all the bottled up emotions.

“I missed you,” I admitted, staring at my hands. I was all fidgety, and although I was too embarrassed to reveal my inner feelings, Jaemin deserved to know this much.

“I missed you, too,” he genuinely confessed, showing me a shy smile. “Actually, I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person,” Jaemin carried on, and I held my breath, not ready to hear whatever he had to say. “You have no idea how much I wanted to text you or call you, but ultimately decided not to because I was sure you don’t want me to.”

“Jaemin,” I spoke, not really sure what I should say next. I had too many things I wanted to tell him about. However, now when he was here, I couldn’t properly voice my thoughts.

“Are you dating this guy you were talking to in the kitchen?” Jaemin asked out of the blue, catching me off guard with this random accusation. “Or do you want to date him? You two looked like you’re having a great time together,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. At first, Jaemin acted on his jealously, but then, insecurity crept in.

“I don’t know. I met Hendery today, but he seems like a great guy,” I answered honestly, thinking of possibilities of me trying to pursing something of romantic nature with Hendery. After our brief encounter, I could tell he’s fun to be around. And honestly speaking, I might’ve considered dating him if I hadn’t already had feelings for someone else.

Unfortunately, right now, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to date. Not when I was still hung up on my best friend.

“I probably won’t, though. I like somebody else,” I confessed, gaining Jaemin’s interest. Instantly, he sat up, staring into my eyes, patiently waiting for the reveal. “I am stupid, but I like this one guy. He’s such a jerk, I can’t even… he’s been ghosting me for weeks now,” I carried on, hoping Jaemin would get the hint.

Two weeks ago, we promised each other nothing would change. Despite our good intentions, it did. Even though I hadn’t told Jaemin how I really felt, I still lost my best friend.

My silence didn’t save this friendship. I tried to bottle up my emotions to secure our unbreakable bond. It didn’t work, so I figured confessing my feelings wouldn’t do any more harm. Surely, Jaemin was going to reject me, but at least, I’d clear the air between us.

Hopefully, my confession, followed by a harsh rejection, would help me move on.

Instantly, Jaemin ran up to my chair and knelt in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. “Please tell me this jerk is me,” Jaemin urgently spoke, unable to handle any more suspense. Jaemin’s gaze was hopeful, and it was too much for me to comprehend.

“What?” I asked, still being overwhelmed by confusion. What was going on? Why was Jaemin on his knees in front of me? Nothing made sense. How was I supposed to wrap my head around it? “I mean… yeah, it’s you. Who else could it be?”

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” Jaemin confessed as he grabbed my hand and yanked me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “You could’ve said something… anything,” he added as he pulled back his head, placing a chase kiss against my forehead.

“I didn’t want to scare you away,” I admitted quietly, unable to break free from Jaemin’s cone-crashing embrace. I couldn’t believe he was so close. Na Jaemin was holding me in his arms, letting me listen to his rapid heartbeat.

“The worst two weeks of my life,” Jaemin spoke, once again breaking the silence. “It felt at least like two centuries,” he added, making me chuckle. Of course, it was an exaggeration, but it’s how I felt, too.

“How about we start over?” I proposed, taking a step backward to have a proper look at him. “Will you go on a date with me? This time around for real, no pretending,” I carried on, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“No.”

“What?”

What the fuck was that?

Did I misunderstand Jaemin’s words? I thought he felt the same, but apparently, he didn’t? Everything suggested he followed my flow only to crush my expectations, later on, leaving a big ass scar and more trust issues.

“I mean yes, but I should be me asking you out. Definitely not the other way around,” Jaemin clarified, making me relax. Thankfully, my mini panic attack was uncalled for. It was just my brain over-analyzing everything, conjuring the worst possible scenario.

“Then you better do your best to woo me,” I teased, wondering if he was willing enough to take the bait. It was just a mere joke, reminding me how it all began. He had wooed me once, and I wasn’t going to oppose to a second attempt. “Fun dates, romantic messages, silly gifts. I want it all,” I added, going a little bit overboard with my request list.

“Everything can be arranged,” Jaemin replied with a lopsided smile before he tightened his grip, almost crashing my bones in the process.

***

Jaemin and I began dating. This time around, it was real; no more pretending, no more stupid bets. Just two people who had discovered friendship could never be enough.

Even though I had told Jaemin I was just joking about this whole wooing thing, he refused to accept it, going to extreme lengths to make my heart flutter. I was already stupidly in love with him, yet he kept trying to make me swoon even more.

Despite our busy schedules, we made sure to see each other every day. It could’ve been a date at the arcade or just a quick coffee or a video call. In all honestly, I gladly accepted any form of contact from Jaemin.

I hated the prospect of going through a day without any message from him.

Except for many mini and maxi dates, Jaemin would also spoil me with plenty of encouraging notes of many kinds. Each massage from Jaemin was even sillier from the previous one. He never ceased to amaze me.

At first, Jaemin would stick post-it notes in different places in my room. Whenever I paid no attention, he would quickly write one for me to find it later. Whenever I saw sleep tight message stuck to my bedpost or you looked extra sexy today attached to the mirror, I smiled like an idiot, imaging Jaemin writing it.

If Jaemin forgot about post-it notes, he would always make it up to me by sending me corny direct messages. We would always text each other before sleep, and Jaemin never failed to make me smile with words such as:

If you happen to have wet dreams of me, you gotta tell me everything that happened. We can recreate it later.

I saw some sexy lingerie on my way home. Your ass would look amazing in it. I’m gonna buy it for you when I get my paycheck.

You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. Just kidding, I have to pee.

Whenever we went out, Jaemin would also scribble something either on a napkin or on a receipt. One time, Jaemin even gave a crumbled piece of paper that he was carrying in his pocket for some reason.

You know I’d give you my kidney, right? And a piece of the liver if you ask nicely. I hope you would do the same for me.

When we have kids, I’ll let you name the first one. Don’t fuck it up.

You’re my favorite pain in the ass.

You are stuck with me. You better get used to it.

Messy notes weren’t sufficient for Jaemin. Although I was more than content with the attention and affection he was giving me, it wasn’t enough for Jaemin. With each massage, he had to out-do himself.

Jaemin even wrote me a song! Or at least, he tried to write me a song.  It was really bold of him to assume I didn’t know the lyrics to Jonas Brothers’ Sucker. I loved this song, and even though I perfectly knew it wasn’t Jaemin’s piece of work, I still appreciated the gesture.

Later on, his love letters reached another level of ridiculousness. Jaemin sent me a love e-mail, and if that doesn’t prove how extra he can get, I don’t know what can.

Jaemin didn’t stop there. No, it was just a warm-up.

When I was checking the mailbox, I found a paper plane stuck in between bills. Jaemin must’ve put it there, probably after one of his frequent visits to my apartment. Though the paper plane was a little bit crumbled, I found it incredibly adorable. On its wing, it had “open me” written with Jaemin’s messy handwriting. Inside there was a corny message that turned my insides in absolute cringe.

Your wings already exist. All you have to do is fly.

A few days later, Jaemin gave me a CD with the love playlist he had made for me. Carefully, he had chosen our favorite songs and burned them on a disc. I had no means to actually play it, but I adored the gesture.

Jaemin’s creativity did not disappoint. At this point, he might send me a love letter via a fax machine, and I wouldn’t be surprised. There were no limitations to his imagination, and it was one of the many things I loved about him.

Neither of us dropped the L-bomb yet, but we really didn’t need to. Though that dreaded word has yet to be spoken, we perfectly knew how we felt about each other. We would do anything for one another; no doubt in that.

Having exceeded my expectations, Jaemin proved himself worthy of being my boyfriend. Or rather, he showed me he was way out of my league. When he was bending over backward, I was passively basking in the glory of Jaemin’s confessions. Relationships were about giving and taking, and it seemed our balance was off.

It was time we switched roles. It was only fair if I tried to creep my way into his heart the way he had been wooing mine.

As soon as I cleaned up the apartment and pampered myself a little bit, I pulled out my phone, quickly texting Jaemin. Hopefully, he wasn’t that busy.

my love 💖 | 18:12 | U want to come over?

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | 😏

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | You miss me???

my love 💖 | 18:17 |  🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡

my love 💖 | 18:17 | nvm forget I asked

baNANA 🍓 | 18:17 | 😧 😧 😧

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | I’ll be in an hour

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | want me to bring anything?

my love 💖 | 18:19 | nah, just get your cute butt over here

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | ?????

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | are you high??

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | should I be concerned?

Okay, I had an hour to prepare something for our impromptu date. It was fine; it was more than enough than I needed. The apartment was already clean, so I just had to whip something to eat and cool the bubbles.

For some reason, I felt in a celebratory mood. Whatever tempo Jaemin and I had, it worked in two week periods. We had fake-dated for fourteen days before we called it quits. Then, we didn’t talk to each other for two weeks. Tonight another period came by, and I wanted to celebrate it, hoping to break the unfortunate chain of bad luck.

The alcohol was already in the refrigerator. Having put on an apron, I opened all the cabinets around the kitchen, quickly analyzing the ingredients and what I can make out of them. It wasn’t much, but pasta would have to be enough.

It wasn’t a fancy dish, but I was made it with love, so Jaemin shouldn’t have any complaints. Pouring my emotions into the pasta was to make it extra flavorful.

When the sauce was slowly cooking on the stove, I decorated the table. I wanted to provide Jaemin with some high-end restaurant experience despite being in my cramped apartment. It was the best thing out of two words; we had all privacy in the world offered by a homely atmosphere, but at the same time, we would eat some beautifully garnished food.

Just when I was about to drain the pasta, someone knocked on the doors.

“Coming,” I hollered before I put the pot in the sink, wiping my hands on the apron before making my way to answer the doors. “Hey there, beautiful,” I greeted Jaemin with a playful remark, standing on my toes to press a brief smooch on his adorable lips. It took him off guard, but in some sense, he liked it.

“Hey, it’s my line,” Jaemin nagged when his hands found purchase on my hips, bringing me closer for another kiss since one was never enough. “What do you have there? It smells delicious,” Jaemin turned his head, trying to peek inside to see what surprise I had prepared for him.

“You know, just some carbs,” I answered vaguely, sending him a playful smirk, not wanting to ruin the surprise. I wanted him to sit down at the table and wait for me to bring the whole dish and pour us some cheap champagne.

Jaemin took off his shoes, kicking them to the side. A second later, he handed me his coat, and I put it on the hanger. Jaemin was wearing a pair of gray jeans and a mint oversized hoodie, and I drooled over this comfortable look. He didn’t have to try hard to impress me.

“Just wait here. I’ll be back in a sec,” I spoke when I guided Jaemin to the table, forcing him to sit down in the chair. Jaemin wanted to help me out in the kitchen, but I firmly refused. Tonight I wished to impress Jaemin; he didn’t have to move a finger.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll still like it,” I whispered when I put a plate in front of him. “Dig in,” I added as I sat on the other side of the table, carefully trying to pop the champagne bottle open. Though I hated doing it, too afraid of breaking something or hurting someone, tonight I wanted to try it.

“What’s the occasion,” Jaemin wondered as he fondly watched me fight with the bottle. “Do you need some help? You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Jaemin offered, genuinely concerned about my safety. However, I just turned around, wanting to finish it by myself.

It took me good five minutes to pop it. And when I finally did it, Jaemin gave me a round of pitiful applause, officially declaring it’s his job from now on.

“It was just painful to watch,” Jaemin playfully commented, and I kicked his shin under the table, showing him how much appreciated his remark was. “So… what’s the occasion?”

“Do I really need to have a reason to spoil my boyfriend?” I innocently asked, batting my eyelashes, and Jaemin smiled at the word boyfriend. We had never discussed labels, but it was self-explanatory we were in a loving relationship. “I figured it’d be nice to give you some more attention,” I absentmindedly added as I reached for my phone to play some soft EDM music through the Bluetooth speaker.

“Is that it?” Jaemin wondered, gazing into my eyes, searching for any ulterior motive I might have. “Are you sure you’re not trying to butter me up before you say something I may not like? What did you do?” Jaemin inquired, and I chuckled loudly.

“Calm down, Na,” I spoke, making Jaemin look up at me once again. I only called him by his surname when I was extra affectionate, so he was curious what I was going to say. “I just wanted to hang out with you. That’s all,” I confessed, but Jaemin scrutinized his eyes, not really buying my innocent talk. “Okay, fine. There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, grinning at me.

“Can’t you already tell? I am trying to woo my way into your pants, duh,” I confessed, and Jaemin choked on his champagne as he did not expect this wording. “Your heart! I meant to say into your heart,” I corrected when I realized my little Freudian slip. “Wait, no, screw it. I second that. I want to get into both.”

“You’ve already got into one,” Jaemin declared with a lopsided smirk pinned to his face. “But... if you don’t suspect it already, you’re welcome in both,” he added mischievously, taking a sip of his alcohol. I, on the other hand, looked away, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“Good to know.”

“Where are Jiwoo and Ten by the way?” Jaemin wondered as he looked around the apartment, finding it suspicious they didn’t crash our date yet. Under typical circumstances, Jiwoo or Ten would haul another chair to the table and steal the food, third-wheeling our date.

“Ten is at the dance studio. He’s having a dance competition next week, so he goes there every time he has some free time to practice. And Jiwoo is with Jaehyun. He came here to pick her up a few hours ago. I don’t think either of them is coming home anytime soon,” I explained, smirking. We had the place to ourselves.

Finally, we could bask in each other’s company without any intrusive guests.

“I’d like to cheers to that,” Jaemin raised his glass, clinking it gently against mine.

Having eaten the food, we moved to the couch.

“What now?” Jaemin asked as he stretched his arm, resting it on the back of the couch right over my shoulders.

“I have one more surprise,” I announced before I jumped to my feet. “Wait a second,” I added before bolting to my bedroom.

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, having no clue what else I could surprise him with. “What do you have there?” He pressed, tilting his head to the side, trying to see what I was hiding behind my back.

“Let’s take some pictures,” I announced in excitement, showing him my Polaroid camera. “I finally bought some film, and I really want our photo in my wallet,” I added as I plopped down onto the couch, resting my head against Jaemin’s chest. “You take it,” I ordered, handing him the camera. After all, he was the prodigy of photography. Besides, his hands were longer than mine.

“I think that’s more than enough,” Jaemin spoke after snapping the twelfth picture.

Having put the camera on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me. Jaemin pulled me on his laps, embracing me tightly, placing a round of pecks against my temple.

“Wait! One more thing,” I hollered, leaning forward to reach for the envelope which was lying on the coffee table next to our photos.

“You can’t say it’s the last thing and then bring another one. That’s not how it works,” Jaemin nagged, a little flustered that I managed to find another excuse when he wanted to cuddle. “Who are you? A fitness instructor? When you say it’s the last one, it should be the last one. You can’t come up with new ones every three minutes.”

“I promise it’s the last one,” I sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, handing him the envelope. Cautiously, he pulled the card out of it, and I looked at him, studying his expression in excitement.

“Annoyingly, I like you way more than I’d originally planned,” Jaemin read the cover of the card, smiling widely at the passive-aggressive message. “It’s already good, and I didn’t even read what you wrote inside,” he commented before he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “I don’t get it,” he added in confusion as he saw the blank page inside the card.

“It’s my love letter for you,” I clarified, but Jaemin was still clueless.

“It’s a blank page. You really have that little to say?” Jaemin asked, trying to make sense out of my card.

“That’s not how you were supposed to interpret that!” I yelled, climbing on his laps, wanting to tear the card out of his ungrateful hands. Unfortunately, Jaemin’s hands were longer than mine, so even when I was hovering over his thighs, I couldn’t reach it.

“How was I supposed to interpret that then?” Jaemin challenged, holding my hips, forcing them down on his laps.

“I wanted to write something meaningful, but I just couldn’t decide what. I have so many things I want to tell you, it wouldn’t even fit on the card,” I started, trying to find the best way to form a coherent sentence. “One way to interpret it is that you have to imagine it’s written in a very tiny font. Because I have so much to tell you, I wrote everything down, but you just can’t read it.”

“I like it,” Jaemin whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“Or you can say it’s blank because whenever I’m with you, my head is completely empty,” I added, chuckling at the corny confession. “Or you can assume there are no words to describe my feelings for you.”

“How is it possible that without writing anything, you managed to top all of my love letters?” Jaemin wondered, smiling at me. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“No, Jaemin. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I loved your love letters. They were silly, but at the same time, I could feel you really meant everything,” I reasoned, looking down at Jaemin’s lips, slowly leaning in for a delicate kiss.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Jaemin suddenly spoke as he grabbed my butt and threw me off his laps. “I need a pen,” he added, looking around the living room, finding the pen on the coffee table. In a hurry, he scribbled down something on the blank page of the card, making sure I couldn’t peek. “Here, I found my way to interpret it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Jaemin answered confidently, handing me the card. “Read it out loud for me.”

“Okay, I guess,” I cleared my throat before I opened the card. “My beloved Jaemin,” I read, looking at Jaemin’s face with a raised eyebrow. This was going to be good.

“Carry on,” he urged, and I shook my head, unable to believe I was going to do it.

“You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen. You’re also the smartest and the funniest. Not to mention, you’re the best kisser in the world. What the fuck is this?” I interjected, having doubts, knowing it was a bad idea.

“Just keep reading, babe,” Jaemin ordered, wanting me to carry on with his antics. “Though you’re no poet, it’s, by a huge margin, the best love letter I have ever received,” he added, blowing his ego way out of proportion, and I rolled my eyes.

“Now, when I look at you, I understand there’s not a chance I wouldn’t fall for you. So, since there’s not much space left, I just wanna tell you that I love you. I really love you, Jaemin.”

Before I managed to complain that he forced me to say the L-word first, Jaemin interjected.

“Finally, took you long enough,” he teased, and I sighed, wondering where to hit him first. “As if you haven’t figured it out yet, I love you, too.”

“You’re impossible,” I commented, still not quite sure if we just confessed to each other.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” Jaemin corrected, once again hauling me back on his laps, taking my breath away with a fervent kiss. “How about you show me how you want to get into my pants, babe?”

Having had enough of Jaemin’s teasing, I decided not to comply with his request.

“I think you should go.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin agreed too quickly, and it made me alert. “Let’s go to your room because once I start pounding into you, I will not stop even if a group of nuns was about to break in and steal all of your shit,” he added as he picked me up, carrying me to my bedroom.

“You’re impossible,” I repeated my words when Jaemin threw me onto my bed before he landed on it right beside me.

“I think we’ve already discussed this,” he remarked, reminding me of the remark he had given me earlier. “So… where were we?” Jaemin asked as he put his hand on my side, pulling me closer. Soon enough, his palm slipped under the hem of my shirt, caressing my skin.

“Is it weird that the only thing I can think about is you eating me out?” I wondered out loud, stripped of all remains of dignity. Jaemin was in my bed, and I was planning on taking full advantage of it.

“Not at all, love,” Jaemin replied, showing me his eager smile. Quickly, he sat on his calves between my legs, taking his time to take off my jeans. “I thought about eating you out way too often ever since that thing in the bathroom,” Jaemin confessed as he threw my jeans across the room.

Though my panties were still on, Jaemin began his teasing. His soft lips trailed across my thighs, driving me crazy. His lips touched every inch of my skin except for the area I wanted the most. At this point, my panties were dripping wet, yet he didn’t even think of pulling them to the side, giving attention to my much-ignored core.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered, slowly losing patience. If Jaemin kept up with his antics, I’d combust out of sexual frustration. “Bold of you to assume I won’t let you taste your own medicine,” I warned Jaemin. It worked because as soon as I voiced my mischievous threat, Jaemin’s finger hooked under the hem of my panties, quickly pulling them down my legs.

“You’re no fun at all,” Jaemin clarified before his lips finally landed on my clit, making me buckle my hips in an instant. Slowly, his mouth moved against my sweet spot, and I arched my back with each swirl of his tongue.

Though he barely started, I could feel the electricity coursing through my body. In my state of permanent frustration, it wouldn’t be difficult for Jaemin to make me come against his mouth.

Getting into it, Jaemin squeezed my hips, trying to keep me still when he ate me out. His jaw was dripping in my juices as he made his way down to lick my folds.

“Fuck,” I moaned loudly when Jaemin’s nose rubbed my clit when he was running his tongue all over my entrance. “I think I am gonna come,” I admitted what made Jaemin smirk through the kiss. Jaemin barely touched me, but I was already close.

“Come for me,” Jaemin urged, releasing my hips from his firm grip. Now when I could buckle my hips against his face, my orgasm was just seconds away. With my hand in his hair, I rocked my hips, basking in pleasure.

“I need your fingers,” I begged, and Jaemin quickly obeyed my shameful plea. I expected him to tease me further, denying me his long fingers, but he was kind enough to do anything to make me come.

Thanks to my juices and Jaemin’s saliva, his two fingers slid right in.

“Fuck,” I shouted at the top of my voice when the wave of pleasure shot right through me. Jaemin’s jaw still played with my clit as he continued his actions throughout the orgasm.

“You blew my mind, Jaemin,” I muttered after I regained my focus after he had made me come on his face. “I came so hard,” I confessed, smiling like an idiot. It was way too long ever since someone made me feel this good.

“You better get used to it because I am planning this to be a frequent occurrence,” Jaemin whispered, looking at my face as if it was an art piece. “Do you have condoms?” he casually asked as he pulled down his jeans. His erected cock was restrained in the denim fabric, and Jaemin needed to get rid of it.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied as I opened the bedside table and threw a brand new package of condoms at Jaemin’s chest. “Jiwoo got me those after she walked on our pillow fight the other day. Apparently, she doesn’t want any cum stains on the couch.”

For a while, we were lying on the bed, staring at each other. Jaemin gave me some time to recover from my orgasm. According to him, I needed to take breaks because he didn’t want to over-stimulate me too soon.

“I really love you,” Jaemin confessed genuinely, and I quickly rolled closer to him, giving him another chase smooch. His confession was music to my ears, and I could listen to it on repeat without getting tired of it.

“I love you, too,” I quickly replied, leaning in for another kiss. With his hand on my cheek, he deepened the kiss, giving us another chance to get lost in the love trance.

Having thrown my leg over his hipbone, I hovered over his erection.

“Let me take care of you,” I said as I pulled away from the kiss. With a playful smirk upon my face, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Slowly after, my bra followed suit, and Jaemin grunted upon seeing me completely naked in front of him.

“Sexy,” he purred before he eagerly took off his hoodie, throwing it onto the floor. “On a second thought, maybe you should put something on. You’re too sexy, and I’d like to last longer,” Jaemin explained, handing me his hoodie so I could cover myself up. “No, it’s even worse. Take it off,” he changed his mind after seeing me in his clothes.

Carefully, I pulled Jaemin’s boxers down his legs, letting his rock hard cock spring free. Biting on my lips, I grabbed his erection, giving it a few gentle strokes.

“Fuck it, I am ready,” Jaemin yelled, placing his hand over mine, making me stop. “You have all the time in the world to blow me. Right now, I want to feel you,” he added, quickly pulling out a condom from its packaging.

“Let me at least roll it down for you,” I offered, and Jaemin sighed, weighing his options.

“Nah, I am not willing to take that risk,” Jaemin answered, proceeding to wrap his cock by himself. “Now, come here, sit down on it,” he urged, and I shook my head. Smiling like an idiot, I guided his cock towards my entrance, slowly sinking down on his length.

“You’re good?” I asked, trying to guess what was going on inside his brain. Judging by his sour expression, he must’ve been thinking about something terrible in order to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Yes, everything’s cool,” he reassured, and I took it as permission to gently rock my hips back and forth. Whenever I moved, Jaemin kept grunting quietly. Apparently, he also suffered from sexual frustration.

My hands were wandering all over his muscular chest, admiring his athletic built. My hips were moving at a steady rhythm, but whenever I happened to increase the tempo, Jaemin would slow me down with a firm grip on my hips.

“If you keep doing that, I might spank you,” Jaemin warned me, but it only made me want to disobey more. “Why did I even expect you to be a good girl?” Jaemin asked, rolling his eyes.

“Spank me,” I ordered, trying my best not to chuckle. “I dare you,” I added, pushing the right buttons. “Like that,” I moaned when Jaemin’s hand collided against my butt, shaking me with newfound excitement.

“You’re impossible,” Jaemin comment, still in shock after discovering how much into spanking I happened to be.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” I remarked, using Jaemin’s own words against him.

Unable to handle my teasing, Jaemin sat up. “I love you so much,” Jaemin stated once again before he looked at my lips, kissing them. Now, when I was distracted by his tongue, it was easier for him to control my movement.

In our upgraded position, I significantly slowed down. Carefully, I moved up and down Jaemin’s cock, while he sneaked his hand between our entangled bodies, rubbing my clit. I was close, and I was about to come again.

I didn’t know what he was so self-conscious about. No doubt I would come first.

“Jaemin, I am coming,” I breathed out, messing up my rhythm. It was difficult to maintain the same tempo when Jaemin was playing with my clit. Jaemin’s lips moved down my neck, finding a perfect spot on my collarbone to leave a hickey.

“Me, too,” Jaemin whispered as he began thrusting from underneath me, now desperate to push the both of us off the edge. “You’re so tight, fuck,” he cursed as my walls started to swell around his throbbing cock.

Jaemin moaned against my skin, muffling his sinful sounds. I, on the other hand, screamed Jaemin’s name at the top of my voice, telling everybody in the world he was the person, making me feel this good.

Having fallen onto the sheets, we looked into each other’s eyes. We were panting as if we just ran a marathon. Not that I had any doubts, but Jaemin turned out to be a passionate lover, and it made me love him even more.

“You’re beautiful,” Jaemin complimented me, staring at my face in utter admiration. “I am so lucky,” he added, and I moved closer, snuggling up to him. It was still early, but I was so fucked out, I could fall asleep right there in his arms.

Having pulled me closer to his chest, Jaemin threw a duvet over our sweaty bodies. His fingers were tracing shapes on my shoulder when he pressed yet another peck against my temple.

“Are you down for another round?” Jaemin asked as he discarded the full condom. His cock was still semi-hard. In a few minutes, Jaemin would be ready for some more. “It’s cool if you’re not,” he added, trying not to put any pressure on me.

“I want you to do me all night,” I confessed, looking over my shoulder at the clock. It’s only 8 pm, and I could stay up till daylight with Jaemin.

“Do you want to go bowling tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, and I eagerly nodded. It was fun the last time I had joined the boys on their monthly trip to the bowling alley. Besides, I would be the first woman to break the unfortunate one-time-only curse. I couldn’t wait to show up two months in a row.

“I’d love that,” I answered, snuggling closer to Jaemin’s side.

In content, we basked in happiness until Jaemin regained enough energy to go for the third time. However, this time around, it was slow and steamy. Under the covers, Jaemin crawled on top of me, kissing every inch of my body.

“Do you want to roll it down on me? I think I can handle that,” Jaemin asked, and I reached for the condom, carefully rolling it down his length. “I wish I could fuck you without one, though,” he added, and I flicked his forehead, making him whine. “I’ll pull out.”

“I trust you, but it’s still a no from me,” I replied, guiding his cock into my entrance. Inch by inch, Jaemin pushed himself all the way in. “You fill me up so well,” I praised, purring into his ear. “I love your cock.”

Distance between our bodies was practically nonexistent. Jaemin was slowly snapping his hips, rubbing his pelvic bone against my clit, turning me into a moaning mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if my neighbors called the police because of all the noise coming from my bedroom.

“One day, you’ll let me fuck you raw. I’ll make sure you do,” Jaemin carried on, and I hissed, feeling the approaching orgasm. I didn’t even bother to comment on Jaemin’s statement. I was whipped for him. I knew I wasn’t able to maintain my assertive stance for long. Eventually, I’d cave in, letting him fuck me without a condom. It wasn’t today, though.

“In your dreams, lover boy,” I answered, but Jaemin just giggled, knowing I wasn’t serious.

“You have no idea how many times we’ve done it raw in my dreams,” Jaemin confessed as he picked up his pace, pounding into my pussy, making me moan at the sudden speed. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my fantasies, but right now, I really want this pussy to cream around my cock,” he added, his filthy words making my walls squeeze around his length.

“You wait until I tell you mine,” I challenged with a smirk. If Jaemin thought he was the only one with a dirty mind, he was seriously mistaken. While most of my fantasies were PG-13, there was still a large portion of naughty scenarios. Now, when Jaemin and I were finally together, it would be fun to try to recreate at least some of them.

“You better come because I can’t go much longer,” Jaemin warned me, pounding in and out, chasing his own release. “Fuck,” he yelled, falling on top of me as he shot his load into the condom. His cock twitched inside of me as he moved slowly, riding out his orgasm.

“Jaemin,” I hollered, coming undone underneath him. Despite the other peaks, this orgasm hit me the hardest. For a brief second, my vision turned black as I gave in to the pleasure.

Breathlessly, I lay in the sheets, slowly descending from my high.

“I think all I can do tonight is cuddle,” I commented, feeling too fucked out to engage in any other form of affection. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“It’s okay. I can carry you around the house,” Jaemin answered, finding a solution for my problem. Having pulled his limp cock out of me, Jaemin rolled down another condom, putting it aside.

“What is it?” Jaemin asked as he heard a noise from the living room.

“It sounded as if someone was knocking on the doors,” I spoke, trying to identify the sound. “It must be a courier for Jiwoo. She keeps ordering stuff online. It’s probably the late evening delivery she forgot about. Can you get it?”

“No problem, babe,” Jaemin answered as he put on his jeans, walking around the bed to answer the door.

At first, I wanted to wait for Jaemin in bed. However, it’s been like three minutes, and he didn’t come back, so I found it weird.

Having put on Jaemin’s hoodie and a pair of leggings, I made my way out of the room.

Jaemin was standing by the doors, looking inside a plastic bag. Whatever it was, it smelled like Thai food. Unfortunately, it didn’t explain anything. We were here alone, and we didn’t order anything.

Just when I was about to open my mouth and ask Jaemin what the hell was going on, Ten walked out of his room. It was strange, but I saw him leave, and I didn’t hear him come back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked angrily, trying to hide my embarrassment. If he was here the whole time, he must’ve heard us having sex.

“I live here, duh,” Ten answered matter-of-factly, choosing not to give me the explanation which I desperately needed. “I think it’s mine,” Ten spoke as he walked up to Jaemin to take his Thai takeout.

Although Jaemin and I were standing in the living room in complete consternation, Ten didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. In front of his bedroom, Ten stopped in his tracks, turning his head to face me.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Ten spoke, making me even more embarrassed. “Three times, wow. It’s impressive. Don’t fuck this up, dear. He’s a keeper,” Ten added, sending me a playful wink before he disappeared inside his room.

#jaemin smut #neosmutcollective #neosmutletters #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct u smut #jaemin fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin #na jaemin #nct fake dating #fake dating au #collage au #love letters au #idiots to lovers #friends to lovers #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct dream angst