#Garlic Usages

[unopenablebox]

literally why do i ever buy a burger. We Have Burgers At Home. They Are Nicer

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

Being aceflux is the funniest thing because on one day I will be writing the most disgusting fanfic known to man and the next ill start shaking and throwing up at the sight of some cleavage

[teruthecreator]

this is ur reminder to save ur veggie/meat scraps so u can make a delicious broth for these cold winter months <3 

[ryozakidesu]

After You - N.JM

1/4 diary of the heartbreakers

summary: ➸ ♡ Na Jaemin had it easy. Loved by everybody, the man of everyone's dream. He's a perfect mix of a charmer and a player. Girls begged to be his, and he loved every part of it. Life used to be so fucking perfect for him. Then comes you. You're like an old book, ink fading, cover tearing, but he swears you're worth the read. Before you, life was easy. After you? He wasn't so sure.

"Break my heart, and you'll only find yourself inside."

GENRE: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature themes

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, Language, Mental Illness, Drugs/Alcohol usage, Addiction, toxic!reader, fuckboy!Jaemin (but still a sweetheart)

WC: 19k (I got carried away, lol)

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

Enjoy reading! -ryo

//////////////////////

"Look who finally decides to show up," Jeno welcomed Jaemin with open arms, Haechan and Renjun following in pursuit.

"Come on, I just saw you guys about a week ago. Don't be dramatic." Jaemin loosened his tie, sat at the vacant seat beside Renjun.

"No Yeri today?" Haechan smirked, obviously mocking Jaemin.

"She has plans with her friends," Jaemin wants to shift the topic quickly, not wanting to be the center of attention for so long.

"Are you sure its not because she hates us?" Renjun looked at Jaemin with his brow raised.

"She hates everyone." Jaemin grabbed the flute glass in front of him as he saw the waiter come by with champagne.

"No offense, Jaemin, but I hate that her too." Haechan, eating the garlic bread. Jaemin rolled his eyes.

"Makes two of us." Jeno chimed in, drinking his champagne aswell. Jaemin didn't say anything, waiting for Renjun's addition to his girlfriend's hate train.

"All of us hate her, actually. Sorry man but your girl is literally the reincarnation of the devil." Renjun.

"You guys done? I know she isn't the best but she's still my girlfriend?" Jaemin, like the other times his friends tell him how horrible his girlfriend is, try to defend her even tho he knows that they're partly right.

"Yeah, we know. One of the mysteries even Sherlock Holmes can't fucking solve." Haechan chuckled. Jaemin let out a sigh and drank the champagne in one shot. He barely gets a break from Yeri, and when he does, his friends still mentions her name in every conversation they have.

"She disrespects everyone, literally went out with you just to show you off to her friends. I don't understand why you're still with her." Jeno rants, trying to make Jaemin understand. He doesn't mean to drag Yeri, but Jeno cannot understand how the likes of Jaemin, will go out with Yeri who treats him like shit.

"No shit, dude. Neither do I." Jaemin admitted, leaning back on his chair before dragging his hands through his hair.

"How about Karina? She's great, you went out with her a few times, right?" Haechan.

Jaemin, for the ninth time this night, rolled his eyes. "She moved to Paris."

"Joy? The girl you took to Haechan's birthday?" Renjun, pulling up a picture of Joy he searched on instagram, just to show to Jaemin.

"Engaged to Sungjae." Jeno answered that one, Sungjae being one of his acquiantances.

"Oh, I know this girl from Busan--"

"Can we not talk about my fucking love life?! Y'all are just stressing me out, God damn." Jaemin massaged his temples, just wanting a breather. Before he went here, he already had an argument with Yeri.

"Chill, man. Fine.. jeez. Just wanted you to know your options." Haechan looks away and shrugged his shoulders. To be fair, his intent was truly innocent. They just wanted their friend to live a happy life.

As per Jaemin's wish, they moved on and changed the topic to something else. After a few drinks, Jaemin started to let loose.

He wondered about a lot of things. One of which is on how he ended up here. Stuck in a relationship he doesn't really want anymore. Seeing his friends and how happy they are really hits something inside Jaemin. When will he find that? Will he even find that?

Just like the other nights Jaemin drinks himself to slumber, a few glasses in and he starts to think of something so dangerous yet so good. Something forbidden, something he would probably regret. He thinks of you.

Jaemin's greatest what if. You were like a fever dream, a memory he would cherish forever. No one can compare to the beauty hold. You were Jaemin's drug, so captivating, yet so vicious.

He wondered where you are. Are you doing fine? Are you happy?

Sometimes Jaemin hopes you still think of him. That his relevance in your life, although it was short, still lingers in your mind once in a while.

And the memories you and him had, even though it was temporary, Jaemin wishes it was enough for him to believe that you'll meet again.

Jaemin met a lot of pretty girls. All of them, actually. Yeri, despite her frowned upon attitude, was actually beautiful. That's what drove Jaemin to ask her out in the first place. He just wasn't aware of the other things that comes with it. No one can deny the beauty that Yeri holds, and even tho it contrasts his friends opinions, they know that Yeri is still one of the prettiest girl Jaemin had.

But was she the most gorgeous? No. Because there was you. They all fall behind, after you.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

The first time he saw you was at the school's cafeteria. You're an art student which he could clearly tell from the messy pencil on your bun as you ate with a friend at the back of the canteen. He knew that friend, Jeonghan, because.. he might've slept with his sister. He still couldn't remember tho, he was stupidly drunk that time.

"Who's that with Jeonghan?" Jaemin asked, still his eyes not leaving your face. As corny as it sounds, everyone's faces blurred out when he saw you.

"That's Jiho's bestfriend? I think? Wait, isn't Jiho that one chick you banged last week?" Haechan, the resident insider was the one to answer. Jaemin mentally cursed himself. You're Jiho's bestfriend. Usually that doesn't matter to Jaemin but somehow he felt some sort of guilt into taking an interest with you. Inevitably, you'll know what happened with Jiho and Jaemin, and you'll definitely see Jaemin as this asshole who slept with your bestfriend.

"Everybody knows that he slept with her, dude." Jeno chimed in, smirking.

"More like, everybody heard." Renjun followed, which earned a hefty laugh from his group of friends. Usually, Jaemin would respond with a strong punch in the arm but he was still in a dilemma on how he should approach you without giving off an asshole vibe in him.

Jaemin came up with a plan. Not a good one, but still, a plan. He would casually pass the Arts building, specifically where you usually hang out which was at the Art studio at the top floor, (don't ask him how he found out-- he has his ways) and just ask you where the exit to the building is since he never really got around this part of the university.

His plan sounded good, and just to be assured, he asked Haechan. Which wasn't a very good choice but the way Haechan got around the girls in the university, he deserved some credit. In typical Lee Haechan way he responded, "That'd totally work, dude. I don't know how that would go wrong."

Well, Jaemin now know how it would go fucking wrong.

As the plan goes, he reaches the top floor of the building and walked towards the Art studio at 5pm, because according to his sources, you like to stay after class to do your project on the Art studio. Again, don't ask Jaemin how he got those information. Which is proven to be credible, because he did find you sketching on a canvas by yourself. He could hear a faint music playing on the studio as you sketch, which Jaemin could tell was a portrait of a lady.

He cleared his throat, as he opened the door. Just like in his script, he spoke,

"Hey, uh, excuse me? I've been finding the exit from this building and uhm, I just can't. Can you-- uhm," Okay, fine, Jaemin did fuck that one up. But how can he not, when you turned around so majestically with the golden sunray perfetcly hitting your face which gave Jaemin a full view of your beauty?

"Na Jaemin? What the hell are you doing here?" You stood up, walking towards the speaker and turned it off.

"You know me?" Jaemin asked a dumb question. Everybody knows who he is. He's a fucking famous-- wait, no, he's just famous for fucking. That's it.

"Jiho and all the other girls around this place can't stop talking about how big your dick is, so I'd like to think I'm familiar with you, yes." Sarcasm fit perfectly with you, Jaemin thought. Although, he did not expect you to be this harsh given your soft exterior, nonetheless, he still found you pretty.

"Uh, that's uhm-- not the point, I need to find the exit." Stick to the plan, stupid. Jaemin had thought.

What surprises him even more was your sudden burst of laughter. What's so funny? Embarassment started to fill Jaemin, finding the whole situation dumb and stupid. Why are you laughing at him? This is the first time Jaemin felt this. Usually, girls are all over him, why are you laughing at him like he's some stupid idiot?

"Do you realize that if you're trying to find the exit, you go down the building, not the top floor?" At that exact moment, Jaemin wanted to bury himself alive.

--

"Dude, I didn't think you would fumble this bad." Jeno couldn't hold his laughter after Jaemin told him what had occured in the Art studio. There was only Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin in the dorm today, Haechan was steering out of Jaemin's view eversince he received a threat from his friend, quote, 'I'm gonna burn your hair off your scalp, Lee Haechan'

"You just turned around and left? Are you serious?" Renjun was more like dumbfounded. He expected more from Jaemin, being infamous in their little friendgroup for being a lowkey manwhore. He could not believe Jaemin could act so-- foolish?

"I didn't know what to say or do, bro. This is Haechan's fault, fuck!" Jaemin looked like a prepubescent teen screaming into his pillow. A couple leg-flailing and he'd successfully portray a thirteen yearold boy.

"This one's on you. You know damn well Haechan could pull that shit off with his over confident ass. Whats with this girl anyways?" Jeno asked, with little to no care about whatever Jaemin answered. He already knew you were Jaemin's type.

"You know Jaemin and his thing for innocent girls, Jeno. Are you not with him for the last seven years?" Renjun stated, which Jeno just nodded and shrugged.

"But the way she shut you down, I wouldn't say she's too innocent." Jeno had the other two thinking. Yes, with your soft brown hair and cute features, especially your love for art, you look like the stereotypical good girl that captured Jaemin's eyes. But your encounter says otherwise. No good girl can resist Na Jaemin. Everybody knows that.

Na Jaemin, contrary to his friend's beliefs, is the recent most popular man in his school. All of them were, but every student that knows him, (which is everyone) Na Jaemin is number one in his little friendgroup. He's the perfect balance between a player and a charmer.

Nobody hated the guy, they all liked him. Had the title of Prom King for four consecutive years, and has a squeaky clean reputation. Oh, don't get him wrong tho, he's a manwhore, still. Its just that every girl he has been with doesn't have any bad thing to say about the guy. He's got a great dick and even better personality. Word got around that even guys wouldn't mind if he slept with their girlfriends. That's how loved Jaemin is around the campus. He has a way with words, that once Jaemin calls quits on a girl, that girl would even say "Thank you."

Jaemin likes to think he's just being nice, but Haechan calls him a professional manipulator and gaslighter. Which if you do see it in a technical way, Jaemin's sweet words does affect the way girls interpret his intentions. Because in all honesty, he's just fucking and ghosting. But with a couple of I'm sorry's or Sweetheart's or maybe even a little bit of 'You don't deserve a man like me,' Jaemin easily could bounce out everytime.

"Also, why have we not heard about her? I mean, a face like that? Its impossible that she hadn't shown Haechan's radar." Renjun stated. Its true, it does feel weird that none of them knew who you were, specially Haechan. He's quite literally the hot girl radar and you definitely qualified as one. Its rate that Haechan never made a move on you, or even talked to you.

"Maybe she's really weird or has like a third nipple." Jeno sounds genuine, which was even worse. Jaemin couldn't help but question how is this man his best friend.

"Can you not be a twelve year-old?" Jaemin, as he threw a cushion over Jeno's side.

"Anyways, let's go back to Jaemin being a stupid idiot,"

--

["You got it?"] Renjun's voice was heard through the phone.

"Yes, you bitch. Now once I get home, I expect my beer and chicken laid in my table perfectly, or I'm burning your book." Its almost 7pm and almost everyone had already left the campus but Jaemin. Renjun had asked him to fetch his book from a friend, because Jaemin is the only one staying in the campus this late. For the reason being, well, he had a little make out sesh after his last class with Jiho.

Jaemin wasn't intentionally doing it just to spite you, its just Jiho was a great kisser. And maybe to get information about you, just a little. But that did not happen because he did not have the chance to actually talk to her about you as his mouth was a little preoccupied.

As he walked through the hallway, a door suddenly opened, which revealed you, hair dishevelled and your shirt was wrinkled. He knew that posture too well, out of all people, he's the one most familiar of it. You just did the nasty with someone.

In the school grounds? Jaemin scoffs. He was about to approach you when another body also came out of the room.

No way. No fucking way! Jaemin's eyes went wild, his jaw slowly parts as he saw who it was. He quickly hides behind one of the lockers to avoid you seeing him, only peeking his head a bit to confirm what he just saw.

Nurse Suh. You're sleeping with the school nurse. Jaemin was utterly shocked, as he contemplated on what he should do next. You're definitely not the innocent and soft girl he thought you would be, you're so far from it. And as far as he knows, Nurse Suh has a girlfriend! And not to mention, it's illegal!

"Nurse Suh?!" The three of his friends couldn't believe it either. Jaemin just could not keep the information to himself. He knew he could trust his friends.

"I mean, yes he's hot but isn't he like 34?" Jeno questioned.

"Dumbass, he's only 27. Him and my older brother are friends." Haechan said, then quickly looking back at Jaemin.

"And she's what, 22? I don't see anything wrong here." Haechan shrugged. Of course, out of all of them, Haechan would find this situation fine. He had slept with a teacher before, and called it his 'great awakening'.

"He has a girlfriend, you fucking idiot." Renjun said, hitting Haechan in the back of the head.

"So? You gotta do what you gotta do, man. Honestly, if I was Nurse Suh, I would tap it too." Followed by a playful chuckle, Haechan got another slap in the back of the head, this time, from Jeno.

"Stop hitting me! I need to protect my braincells, I need to pass the test tomorrow, you assholes." Haechan whined, massaging his head.

"Wait, Haechan, did you not know her before?" It was Jaemin's turn to ask, genuinely curious on why Haechan never made a move on you.

Haechan is basically like Jaemin, but even more evil. Sure, they're both manwhores but Jaemin leaves nicely. As to Haechan, he would leave without saying a word and pretend to not know you the next day. While Jaemin would receive love letters, Haechan receives death threats and some hex put on him. Its not like he's bad in bed, because if he is, he wouldn't be able to get his dick wet as frequent as he is now. It's because Haechan does not care for people's feelings.

"I did, I know who she was." Haechan shrugged. All three of them looked at him.

"Why didn't you.. like... tell me about that?" Jaemin's voice was small, a bit shy with what he just said.

"Because It's kinda funny when you get turned down." Haechan had a smile on his face whilst he said it. Jeno shook his head and Renjun just scoffed.

"Please tell me you're joking." Renjun. The boy laughed even more louder while shaking his head and before he knows, a flying cushion came straight to his face. But it didn't stop Haechan from smiling like an idiot.

"You know what's ridiculous, Haechan? That fucking faded out starwars shirt, because I'm gonna make you eat it you fucker!--" Jaemin fought back, reaching out for his friend but Haechan quickly moved away from him

"I'm sorry, Jaeminnie-- but I did try to flirt with her but she's cold as ice, man. And you all know how persistent I am so when me, Lee Haechan, gave up on a girl, you know that girl's impossible. And I heard that she never dates, well, I guess now I know why." Haechan explained himself but Jaemin is still annoyed and pissed.

"So you just let your friend get his ass handed to him? You should've told Jaem, man." Jeno.

"Admit it, It's kinda funny when Jaemin gets rejected. I mean, it almost never happens. And the one time it did, we're not even there to witness it." Haechan keeps smiling, pissing off Jaemin more, but his mind is else where.

---

"I had to say, I'm surprised you called me twice this week. Am I finally cracking your fuckboy code, Na Jaemin?" Jiho had a smirk on her face when he approached Jaemin at the closed off audiotorium in the science building.

"Can you sit down first?" Jaemin scooted a bit and gave space for Jiho to sit down. He has a whole different plan today, and although inviting the girl in his usual makeout spot almost always leads up to them hooking up, this time Jaemin is persistent on asking Jiho about you.

"This is weird. Aren't you taking my skirt off?" Jiho hesitantly sat beside the boy, expecting a kiss but instead, Jaemin has his brows furrowed and seemed bothered

"What? No. Not now. I just want to ask you something." Jaemin turned his body facing Jiho.

"You're being weird." Jiho leaned away a bit, still confused about the whole situation.

"You know y/n?" Jaemin goes straight to the point. Jiho had a visible shock in her face. She never expected your name to pop out from anyone's mouth, and especially not Jaemin's.

"Yes? Why?" Slowing her words, she inspected Jaemin's features.

"Nothing. Why haven't I seen her before?" The question Jaemin is most interested about.

"She's never gonna be interested with you, or anyone. Leave her alone." Jiho suddenly stood up, turned around and walked away as fast as she can, but not as fast as Jaemin.

Before she could even leave the auditorium, Jaemin got a hold of her wrist. "Why are you this weird about her?"

"I know you think you can woo her because you're Na Jaemin and you're a fucking playboy or some shit, but I'm telling you, not even as your hook up buddy, she's worse than you. So I suggest, as your friend, stay. away. from y/n."

---

"This is totally not weird. Yeah sure, I mean, we're just following a random girl walking down the street. Totally not weird." Renjun for one was scammed into doing this. Jaemin asked him to go with him and go buy some pants in the mall for a promise for Haidilao afterwards. Ofcourse Renjun is gonna agree, because he would never pass a free hotpot.

What Jaemin failed to say is that he has a little side quest on his itenirary for today. For someone who's unbothered most of the time, Jaemin is going insane thinking about the mystery that is you. And Jiho's outburst absolutely did not help at all.

"We're not following her. We're just y'know... happens to be in the same way as her." Jaemin knew what he was saying was bullshit, and that Renjun would never believe a word he says. But he would never admit that he's letting someone go and do cartwheel on his mind for almost two weeks now.

"Except we can't walk more than ten feet closer and we've been turning in the same corners as her for about thirty minutes." Sarcasm did not need to be noted.

Jaemin didn't listen and continued walking the same direction as you. This is definitely out of his character, but he has to know you. He's been intrigued enough to actually make an effort to atleast know who you were.

Suddenly, you turned left, into a busy cafe. "You promised me Haidilao, Na Jaemin. Not coffee!" Renjun started being a little irritated. He's hungry, exhausted and disappointed from Jaemin's fake promises. He doesn't need coffee right now, and hell, he's not gonna sit inside a cafe when he could have hotpot right now!

"Jesus, shut the fuck up!" Jaemin dug into his pocket and reached for his phone, typing for a minute and Renjun felt his own phone vibrated.

"Nice. I'll see you later, Sherlock Holmes." Jaemin sent Renjun money for hotpot, which quickly shifted the boy's mood.

"You're useless!" Jaemin yelled as Renjun walked away. "You love me!" Renjun replied with a smile as he skips away.

Jaemin hesitated a bit if he should enter the cafe. Is it too much just to suddenly show up where you are? No. This is the townsquare, students from his and your school are frequents here. It's not gonna be weird. Right, definitely.

The cafe is full packed, quite a line forming. There seems ro be no tables available, but Jaemin still decides to go inside. But as soon as he steps inside the cafe, his feet turned ice cold.

"Alright! I know, I'm sorry!" He sees you hurriedly putting on your apron, as another man seemingly upset with you. He quickly steps into the line of customers, and he just hopes that once he's on the counter, you would be the one serving him.

Jaemin thought he had time to calculate how he's gonna approach you, but the line was quickly moving, and he swear, he's fucking nervous. What if you didn't remember him? Or find him weird for being here?

As the last one in front of him turned to leave, he's finally infront of you. Unfortunately, you weren't looking and focused on the monitor in front of you.

"Uhm," he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention.

"What can I get you, sir?" Your customer service voice was obvious, and quite frankly, annoying. You smiled brightly at him, which he deemed so fake.

"Iced Americano, small." Jaemin's voice was deeper than usual, partly because he's nervous, and maybe because he wanted a cool guy impression.

"You literally followed me here just to get a small americano?" The humour in your voice makes Jaemin embarassed. Wide eyed, Jaemin feigned confusion, not wanting to be caught in 4k.

"I wasn't following y-you?" One thing Jaemin was bad at, was definitely lying. The way he stuttered at his last word says so.

You fought a smirk, again, leaving poor Jaemin feeling so little. "Sure, and the gravity isn't real."

"I swear, I'm not--"

"I'm on a break by 6:30. One small americano, right, sir?" You smiled at him, and Jaemin can fucking feel it. His heart skipping a beat.

"Make that large."

----

His drink already warm, ice all melted into one bland coffee, Jaemin started to feel pathetic. He's been sitting here, on the side of the cafe for almost three hours. He's realizing how stupid he is for doing all of this for someone who's not even that... special. He doesn't know you. You're pretty, yes, but there's always gonna be another girl who's prettier. Maybe its his dick thinking and doing the decisions earlier, but Jaemin saw his entire reputation go so far down if anybody knew he waited for you for three fucking hours. He never knew he could do all of this for a pussy he can easily get with other girls who would even beg for him.

Simmering in his own thoughts, Jaemin huffs and almost stood up to leave, Until he saw his phone, 6:29.

Shit, only one more minute wouldn't hurt anybody? No. Fuck her for playing hard to get. I'm Na fucking Jaemin! Who does she think she is?!

Just as Jaemin actually stood up, he saw you walking slowly towards him while undoing your apron, smile on your face making his knees literally weak that he had to sit down again.

"Leaving already?" You asked, sitting in front of him.

"I-I was just... stretching my legs." If his friends are here to hear the words he just said, he might just jump off a cliff.

"Sure. Now, tell me, Na Jaemin-ssi. What the fuck do you want from me?" Okay, now this, Jaemin did not expect this. Your words sounded harsh but your soft voice says otherwise. Being passive aggresive just makes Jaemin confused all over again.

But fuck it, you wanna play hard? Jaemin can do that. His patience wearing thin, he leaned back on the chair and smirked, almost like flipping on a switch in his aura.

"I want to fuck you." Jaemin didn't whisper, or even lower his voice. He said it so casually, and he noticed your confident stare flinch for a bit.

"I would, but I'm afraid you're not my type." Its like you two were having an asshole-off and seeing who's more cockier than the other. Jaemin isn't competitive, but he's not gonna lose this one.

"Don't be silly. I'm everybody's type." Jaemin definitely won by that line. Or so he thoughts.

"Judging from words on the streets, You're a walking STD. I think I'm gonna pass." This time, Jaemin's sure that you're just pissing him off. Maybe this is your way of playing hard to get, but Jaemin likes to play dirty.

"I fuck a lot but I'm clean, and even if that happens, I'm sure your little school nurse friend can help you." Visible shock in your face, its clear that Jaemin pushed your buttons. Your confident facade slowly shaking, as you gulped and blink trying to process what he just said.

But that didn't last long, only seconds after, you pulled back your smirk. "Oh, you've done some research, I see."

"Now come on, pretty girl. What do you say?" He started to feel it. He's cracking your hard shell.

"Are you really good in bed as they say you were?"

"Go on and ask your friend."

---

"Holy f-fuck, J-jaemin.. shit.. slowdown!" Your table aggressively banging as you bent over it, Jaemin mercilessly pistoning you from behind. His pants not even half way down his thighs, the lower hem of his shirt in between his teeth, showing his glistening abs flexing as he thrusts.

His left hand locking both yours behind your back, and his right hand keeping your head on the table, facing your side. Your mesh tights has been ripped, your skirt all the way up your stomach. One by one, your things that was left on the table started to fall on the ground, as Jaemin's aggressive thrusts forcefully moves the table on a rocking motion.

"Shi.. fuck, I'm coming.." Your hoarse voice was prominent, only motivates Jaemin to hit even harder. Only grunts and growls was heard from the boy, his moans blocked by his shirt between his teeth. Jaemin wasn't only fucking you, he's proving a point aswell. To you, and to himself.

He removes his hands from your head, allowing you to look at him from behind. His free hand brushed his hair backwards, still keeping his tempo. Sweat dripping, his thrusts started to stutter. He then grabbed your face, and pulled you to his chest. Letting go of the shirt in his lips, he whispered, "Come with me, sweetheart."

His hands finding your waist as he felt your walls tighten, an intense whine leaving your mouth as your leg shakes quietly. That triggered his own release, murmuring a few curse words as all his movements halts. Only heavy breathing was heard, everything else dead silent. He slowly pulls out, earning a moan from the both of you.

"That was.." You couldn't even finish, fixing your clothes, quickly sitting at one of your chairs on the table, afraid your knees might give out.

"Intense." Jaemin tucked himself on his pants as he sat down in front of you.

"Not bad," You smirked at him, trying to keep your composure. Jaemin smirked back, proud of himself.

"I thought I wasn't your type?"

"Gotta know what's all the fuss is about. I guess the cat died and curiousity wins." Out of breath, you suddenly picked something on the floor, and Jaemin notices that its a marker that had fell from the table.

"If you wanna do this again," you stared grabbing Jaemin's arms and writing your number on it. "...give me a call, yeah?"

"How about Nurse Suh?" Jaemin didn't wanna sound like a little whiny boy but he had to ask. Is she still going to continue seeing him?

"What about him?" You raised your brows at him.

"Won't he be mad?" Jaemin can see the laugh you held in, before shaking your head.

"We're not in a relationship, and will never be. Same goes to you. We just fuck and go. I'm clean, I hope you are too, and we're not passing the line of being each other's fuck buddy. None of that corny shit, or you're out. I hope you understand, Jaeminnie, you're just a good dick with a pretty face." Your soft face does not match the words you just spilled out. And Jaemin thinks he's hit the jackpot.

No commitments? Just good sex? With you? He thinks he's in heaven. He can't wait to tell the boys about this.

If Jaemin was in the movies, he would've fisted the air and smiled like an idiot.

"Here's to good sex?" Jaemin offers his hand, which you gladly accepted. "Good sex indeed."

---

Jaemin never minded what day it is. Just as long as he did what he needs to do today, he's fine. Tomorrow will have to wait. But eversince you, suddenly he felt impatient and counted the days until he saw you again.

After a few weeks, Jaemin and you saw each other twice a week, mostly Thursdays and Sundays, the days where your schedules matched. Jaemin never knew he would be stuck with one girl for this long, but damn. You're too good. You keep Jaemin on his toes every time he sees you. You were like a gift, waiting to be opened everytime. The excitement and the thrill always feels brand new. And Jaemin would never admit it, but every week, he'd hope the other days go by quickly and wishes it was Thursday again.

"He's smiling like a creep again, Jeno! What the fuck is up with your bestfriend?!" Haechan dramatically hid behind Jeno as Jaemin walked inside their little hang out spot, the old elementay library that became abandoned throughout the renovations.

"He's apparently getting the best pussy in the campus." Jeno shrugged and pushed Haechan away before he plopped himself down the couch.

"You're banging Im Hayeon?" Haechan widen his eyes as he strides towards Jaemin.

"No, dimwit. He's fucking y/n." Renjun, unbothered as usual as he continued drawing in his iPad.

"No way-- no fucking way!" Haechan gasps, grabbing Jaemin's shoulder as he shook it. Jaemin slaps away Haechan's hands and pushed him aside to sit beside Jeno.

"Shut up, Haechan. You're being dramatic." Jaemin pulled out his phone, hoping he would see your name pop up. Surprisingly, nothing but social media notifications greeted him, message requests and follows from people he doesn't know. He checked what time it is, 2:45pm.

Okay. Its still early. She'll text later.

"In all seriousness, dude, do you guys talk? like aside from doing it-- I mean." Jeno's tone was unusual. It's like he's being careful about something, or he wants to say something.

"Yeah? The fuck? D'you think we just fuck and go? Of couse we talk. Why?" Jaemin noticed Jeno's way of talking, turning his whole body towards his bestfriend.

"She tell you something about her?" This time, Renjun and Haechan leaned in.

"Get to the point, man." Jaemin.

"Nah, cuz the girl I was with last night told me that she's really... uh, popular at her previous school." Jeno, knowing the whole context, winced at the word 'popular'.

"What do you mean?" Jaemin's smile when he came here was no longer visible, replacing it with a frown as his brows creased in nervousness.

"I don't know-- man, I think you just... ask her, y'know?" Jeno wasn't comfortable sharing the information he had, but he knew Jaemin needs to know. But he wasn't sure if he's in the place to tell it.

But Haechan did not give a fuck. He's intrigued, and before they knew it, he's deep inside his phone texting someone.

"What are you doing?" Renjun asked.

"Since Jeno is being a pussy and won't share, I'm finding it out." And a second before Haechan could even type another letter, Jeno grabbed his phone away.

"Don't! Don't fucking search it. We should respect her, man. She's still a girl and I heard it was taken down---"

Haechan gasped even louder, even breathing out an "oh my god", He didn't say it out loud but the four of them were thinking the same thing.

"Holy fuck, she has a sex tape?!" Haechan, ofcourse was the first one to break the silence.

And once again, you surprised Jaemin.

---

"I'm famished, god damn." You sat beside Jaemin on your old couch, digging a spoon on your bowl of cereal. Your top barely even buttoned, you started eating a spoonfull after another.

"Slow down, you'll--" before Jaemin even finishes, you caught something in your throat and coughed almost everything in your mouth.

"What did i tell you? Aish-" Jaemin quickly then grabbed the tissue beside the couch and started to wipe your face. He grabbed the bowl from you, putting it aside and wiping some of the milk that had spilled on you.

He then stood up and walked towards your kitchen, as if he owns the place. Next thing you know, he comes back with a glass of water in his hands.

"Thank you," you managed to blurt out in the middle of your coughing and drank the water.

"I thought you didn't have a gag reflex the way you sucked my dick earlier," Jaemin joked, earning a playful slap in his shoulder from you.

"Shut up, movies starting." Jaemin didn't give a single fuck about the movie playing on screen. Haechan's voice keeps ringing in his ear, and as much as he wanted to stay out of it and respect your privacy, something in him wants to know. Its like an itch wanting to be scratched.

"Tom Holland's like the perfect spiderm-- Jaemin?" The boy's trance was interrupted when you call his name. He didn't realize that he was staring off to nothing instead of watching the movie he picked.

"Yeah?" Jaemin blinked thrice before looking at you, your eyes peaked interest as you examined his face.

"You're out of it, what're you thinking?" You paused the movie, moving your body to fully face him.

Jaemin can't wait. He has to know. "Just curious, where did you say your last school is?" He hoped his question wasn't too obvious.

"I didn't say anything?" Okay, hold up. Plan backfired. Fuck!

"What? I-I swear you told me, like, last time? Sacre--"

"Sacred Heart. Yeah. And no, I didn't tell you about it." Like the many times, Jaemin was nervous. Again. You make him so.. unlike himself. What the fuck is it with you?

"Oh, wait, are you sure--"

"You heard about it, huh?" Jaemin couldn't tell if the smirk on your face was a good thing. He doesn't want to fuck this up, and he's starting to think he just did.

"I'm sorry, If you don't want to talk about it--"

"It's fine. It's not that bad. Hell, It could've earned so much if it was uploaded in a porn site, y'know? Stupid Mr. Nakamoto," You chuckled, nonchalantly turning your body towards the screen again, as if what you just said didn't just shocked Jaemin to the core.

The fact that you weren't bothered about it, and even sounded like you're bragging about it wasn't the main thing Jaemin was apalled by. "Mr. Nakamoto?"

You smiled, as if you were reminiscing, "He was my Biology teacher. Couldn't accept the fact that I'm leaving him so he went and blackmailed me with the video, but his phone got stolen and poof, it spread around like a wildfire. If you ask another person tho, they'd just say I spread it myself. You choose what you believe-- I don't really care." And you looked like it too. You did not care, because if you did, you wouldn't just tell all of this to Jaemin.

"Did anything happened to that assho-- Mr. Nakamoto?" Jaemin feels heated. He doesn't know why, but what he knows is he wants to suckerpunch whoever that Nakamoto is.

"Got his license removed, but you know what's even more fun?" You leaned onto him, your lips next to his ear and whispered, "His wife was so devastated her husband had to find someone younger to fuck, she filed for divorce the very next day."

And just like that, Jaemin was left speechless. Again.

---

"Jaem, someone's looking for you." Renjun tapped his friend's shoulder, pointing at the student standing on the door. Jaemin slowly opened his eyes, way too tired to even stand up, and looked who it was.

To his surprise, it was Yoon Jeonghan. He knew this would come sooner or later, since he had a.. thing with his sister for a while. But he never thought that Jeonghan cared, afterall, Jeonghan never talked to him about it.

But oh boy, was he wrong.

"Heard you're fooling around with y/n?" Jeonghan was serious. He wasn't looking at Jaemin, he's just staring ahead. His hands on his pocket, as Jaemin stood behind him, confused.

"Yeah? What about it?" He knew you and Jeonghan were friends, he often sees you with him. But why does this conversation feel more intense?

"And my sister already talked to you about it, right?" This time, Jeonghan looked at him.

"Yeah, she's being weird about it." Somehow, Jaemin wants this conversation to be about Jiho instead of you. He wishes Jeonghan was only after him because of his sister, because then, he knew what to do. But its you. Jaemin never know what to do with you.

"Because she's right. You should stay away from her, man. Just-- a friendly advice, alright?" Jaemin hated how Jeonghan sounded so sincere. What could be so awful about you that even this man, who he never even talked to, warned him about you?

"Dude, not to sound rude, but how the fuck does me fucking around with y/n, your business?" His voice slightly getting sharper, owing to the fact that he hated getting told what to do.

"You're a good man, Na. I'm sure there's more prettier-- even more fucking hotter girls than her. She's not..." Jeonghan paused, almost saying something he would regret, "... good for you. I've known her forever, and she's not the type to be with."

"I know you're older than me, and I mean this with utmost respect, you and your sister should mind your own business. I don't know what she did to you and Jiho, but she's fine. And we're not even together! We're just fooling around! Y'all are so dramatic." With that, Jaemin turned around and left Jeonghan. He sounded so unbothered by all of this, but in all honestly, he's starting to question if there's really a valid reason on why Jeonghan and Jiho was so sincere about you being apparently, a bad person.

The way you laugh at Jaemin, the way you smiled, you tell your stories, and everything Jaemin saw you do, you being a bad person doesn't make sense to him. Sure, you've done some fucked up things but Jaemin never cared about that. You showed him genuine happiness, and Jaemin could never see you in the light that Jeonghan and Jiho painted you out to be.

And just like clockwork, your name popped up in his screen. Just as if everything in the past fifteen minutes never happened, his steps became slightly faster as he grabbed his things. He couldn't be more excited to see you again.

---

"This is pretty." Jaemin pointed out a painting, whilst he dressed himself. You were also doing the same thing, but you looked at where he was pointing at.

It was your artwork from last year. The canvas was leaning beside your dresser, along with other canvasses that you never put up.

"Wonderstruck." you said. You were a bit appalled that Jaemin noticed the only work you were actually proud of. It wasn't even displayed in the front, it was almost entirely covered by unfinished canvasses.

"Wonderstruck? That's its name? It's really beautiful." Jaemin sounded sincere, he really found the painting pretty. It was a couple, sitting by a river on golden hour. Sky was the shade of orange and blue, nighttime seeking in but the sun's still there, laying real low. It was in a middle of a field, lavender flowers scattered around.

It was new to you, men showing interest on something more than your face and body. It sparked something in you, Jaemin knew that with the way you jumped out of your bed, biting your lip, hesitating for a second, "Want to show you something."

"What do you think?" You were standing beside your kitchen table, with a few printed photos of people Jaemin didn't know. It was all in black in white, and all of them showed genuine smiles.

"Cool. Who are they?" Jaemin was adjusting his belt as he scanned every picture. The way you're looking so innocent and fluffy, showing him your photo collection can fool a person into thinking you did not just have mindblowing sex minutes prior. Jaemin stifles a laugh.

You, in your overalls smiled so brightly at him, excited that Jaemin showed interest on your work. "They're random people I saw on the street." You were fidgety, kept on arranging the photos. Looking at Jaemin for any signs of validation. Jaemin thought you were so cute, but he never said it out loud.

"Is it for your project?" Now, Jaemin doesn't have a single clue about the Art department in his school, but he knew it's important for you, so he tried his best.

"No. I just did it." You took one picture and showed it to him upclose. "I just like to see people smiling, you know? There's just something so precious with asking people to smile for you. Because when they do, you can tell that they just feel.. pretty. And I like making people feel pretty." You were so caught up in explaining that you didn't notice how Jaemin was looking at you. And he was thankful you didn't see it.

The way his eyes just expressed a thousand strings of emotions he's afraid to show almost felt dangerous, he didn't want to get caught. But for a moment, he let it happen because he was sure you were focused on something else. All the while he was focused on you. Because while you were explaining how smiling makes people pretty, he was thinking that you didn't need to smile and he's already thinking that you were the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on.

But before you could even looked at him, Jaemin quickly focused his gaze on the photo you were showing him. "That's cool. But I never knew you were into photography aswell. I thought you were into paintings only."

"I'm into art, Jaem. And art comes with different things. Although I like painting more, photography is my second favorite. Here, before you go," Swiftly, you grabbed your polaroid camera and stood beside Jaemin, putting your arms around his shoulder making you stand on your tippy toes, and angling the camera where it could capture you both. Jaemin was caught by surprise but he still managed to smile and pull you tighter.

As soon as the flash disappeared, you removed yourself from him and grabbed the film. "This one's for you, so you could remember who your best sex was." She winked at him and chuckled before going back to rearrange her photos.

Jaemin, on the other hand, his eyes never left your figure. He was in awe, he was amazed, and fuck it, he was wonderstruck. But most importantly, he was fucking scared.

---

The next thursday came, and surprisingly, you didn't call. Jaemin liked to think you were just busy, so he never reached out. There's still sunday, he thought. And even if you didn't reach out this sunday, its okay. It's not like you had to keep the schedule, right?

Besides, Jaemin was busy aswell. He's planning Jeno's birthday. Usually, Renjun and Haechan was the one assigned to planning parties, but Renjun was occupied and Haechan wasn't feeling it. They were still helping Jaemin, its just that Jaemin wanted to throw a party for his bestfriend this time. Also, to take his mind off of you for a bit.

If he wasn't busy and occupied with something, Jaemin might go insane thinking about where you are or why you haven't been calling him. So he initiated.

"How fucking long is your list, Jaemin?" Renjun couldn't believe how long he's been scrolling through Jaemin's list for the party invitations. Yet, he isn't surprised.

"You know you can just announce that you're throwing a party and literally everyone who knows you and Jeno will come, right?" Haechan, laying on the couch scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

"Nah, I don't want some weirdo showing up uninvited." Jaemin pointed out, but he left out another reason. He wanted to waste time on listing names just to get you out his mind even for a short time.

"Well don't forget about Jisung's best friend." Haechan smirked.

"Jeno's brother's bestfriend? That's weirdly specific, bro." Jaemin added, shrugging his shoulders. Still, he wrote it down.

"A little birdie told me that Jeno has a thing for his brother's bestfriend." Haechan chuckled, fixing his glasses.

"What? How come I never knew that?" Jaemin asked. He's Jeno's best friend and an information like this would surely come up. Yet its the first time he's heard of this.

"That's because you're so far up that mystery y/n girl's ass you're starting to look like anal beads, bro." Renjun winced at Haechan's choice of words, but then again, he's used to it.

"I'm not, dude. I'm here most of the time, aren't I?" Jaemin looked at Renjun for validation, but he just rolled his eyes at him.

"He's actually right, Jaemin. You're whipped." Renjun added, smirking.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm literally here in front of you guys, on a thursday, which I'm supposed to be with her-- but I'm not because she didn't call-- but also because I want to be with you ass--"

"The more you talk, the more you prove our point. You're fucking whipped, Na Jaemin." Haechan sat down properly, playfull shoving Jaemin to provoke him. Jaemin just hit Haechan's hands away but that didn't stop the boy from annoying him.

"Think of it, dude. You went through two months with her-- only her. Two months-- dude. That's fucking bizarre for you. It's either that pussy was gold, or-- just like what we're saying, your ass is whipped." Haechan was pissing Jaemin off, not because he doesn't agree, its because he does. And admitting that would just fuck up everything you two have.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You guys are tripping, big time. I'm not whipped." Lies tasted bitter in his mouth. He might just be whipped.

He walked out of their hangout room, and just as he opened the door, his eyes widen. You were there, standing with your messy bun, clueless eyes and a box in your hand.

"H-hey?" Jaemin was caught offguard, as he closed the door behind him.

"That room looks like it stinks."

Jaemin chuckled, it does. "Mostly of weed and old furniture. What's up?"

"I,- uh, baked some cookies. Just-- y'know, wanted you to have some." You awkwardly raised your box of cookies to present them to Jaemin, and it takes so much of him not to melt on the spot.

"Thank you," Jaemin resisted the urge to call you 'baby', mostly because he didn't know if he was allowed to do it outside your apartment.

"Tell you what-- why don't we eat it together?" Jaemin.

"I'm free until 4:30?"

"Cool, we can go to the garden, there's barely any student there."

Jaemin smiled and grabbed you by your wrist. "But I know a much more cooler place."

"Really? Where?" Jaemin stopped, and it was your turn to hold him by the wrist.

Jaemin didn't ask, he just let you drag him anywhere. You could take him to a lion's den, he wouldn't care. Anywhere is fine with him as long as you're there.

After climbing on a flight of stairs, Jaemin noticed that you two ended up on Art department building's rooftop.

He hasn't been in here, and it was.. interesting. It looks like any other rooftop, messy and full of unused class chairs, except there was a spot where there's an old couch, just like what they have on their hangout spot. There's a random mini refrigerator and a lamp-- thats it.

"This is my super secret place. Be greatful I let you in here." You squinted your eyes at Jaemin as you patted the seat beside you, basically asking him to sit.

Jaemin did so, and looked ahead. He can see the entire school campus in here.

"This is pretty." He whispered.

"Much better than your stinky room, huh?" You bragged, opening a can of cola that you have on the mini fridge.

"Hey, how come you have that? We requested to have one but the stupid school didn't let us."

"Oh, this little guy? Johnny helped me with it." You smirked, tapping the blue mini fridge.

"Johnny?" A new name in Jaemin's books. Who's Johnny?

"Nurse Suh? His name is Johnny Suh, you didn't know?"

"I didn't." His vibe went a bit south, but he didn't let that spoil your moment together. It was rare for you to approach him in school, and he wanted to have that moment.

"This is good, damn." Jaemin munched on the cookies you got for him and it was honestly tasty. Better than any other cookies he had before, or maybe he was biased and his judgement was greatly affected by the fact that you made it. Eitherway, the cookies are delicious.

"I only made one batch and even that was too much for me. I wanted to give some out but.." you paused. "Funny, you're the only one I had in mind."

"Nurse Suh?" Jaemin didn't even know why he brought the guy up again, but he did.

"Nah, we don't do that." You smiled.

"And we do?" A tinge of hope sparked in Jaemin, that maybe he had some difference between him and Nurse Suh. Maybe you do treat him more special. A guy can dream, can't he?

"Sure, we do. I mean, I can't just throw away this exceptionally good tasting cookies, can't I? And you're the only one I have right now.. so."

Jaemin was enthusiastic. He felt like he won something. He can't help but smile even more, but also, he felt bad. When you said he was the only one you have, he thought about Jiho and Jeonghan.

"What about the Yoon siblings?"

You let out a humourless chuckle, more like a scoff. "Jiho doesn't talk to me anymore and Jeonghan.. well. It's complicated."

"I swear I just saw you two eating at the cafeteria." Heck, that's how he found out about you. Because you were sitting at the cafeteria beside Jeonghan.

"He just sat with me because he felt bad I was eating alone. Also I barely go down there to eat-- so he kinda just.. I don't know. Let's not talk about them anymore, Jaem."

---

"Look at me, baby." Jaemin whispered, softly grabbing your jaw to turn your head towards him. He has you on your side, holding your right thigh up as he slowy thrust. He can see that you're near, and damn, he can feel it too.

"J-jaem.." You start shaking, as your entire body give out. Looking into his eyes, his own pleasure wasn't on the table anymore, he just wants you to feel good. He can safely say that you are indeed the prettiest when you cum, and he's glad he can see you this way.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let go for me, will you?" This was very different on how you usually do it with him. You were usually intense, rough and fast, but something about tonight feels more... passionate. Jaemin never went any faster than his current tempo, yet he still hits every spot. Slow and deep, while he looks at your face, admiring the beauty he's glad he had the priviledge to see.

"Kiss me, Jaemin." You didn't even have to ask twice, Jaemin already dipped his head lower to reach your lips, tasting you while your walls tightens, your whimpers covered by his own lips, you just came.

Once Jaemin pulls away, he pulls a few strings of hair strands away your face to see you. Your eyes glistening, and not long when you let a tear drop. Jaemin could never wish for anything more than this.

"You're so beautiful, y/n." He whispered, more to himself, than to you.

"Thank you." You softly answered, smiling at him and giving him another kiss. Jaemin then let go of your thigh, instead wrapping his arms on your waist. It seems like you got the idea that he's near his climax so you positioned yourself in a way that he gets more of you, sticking your backside out more thus facing away from him.

"No, no, princess keep looking at me." Jaemin whispered and you followed, facing him again.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" You asked sensually. His thrust slightly getting deeper, but never faster. His eyes went back and forth with both of your eyes as he nodded.

"For you, my love." He mumbled. His jaw slightly ajar, brows furrowed as he let out a deep moan, abruptly staying still and you felt his release warming up your walls.

"You did so good, Jaemin. So, so good." Your compliments just adds to his pleasure. Shivers ran down his spine, he manages to calm himself after his intense climax.

"You're so good to me. I lik--" Before Jaemin finishes, you pulled away from him.

"I'm taking a piss." You said, forcing yourself to stand up and walk your way to the bathroom.

And just like how he felt so good seconds before, it suddenly got washed away with the feeling of dismay. He can't believe he just attempted to say that. Fuck. Running his hands on his face, he mentally curses himself for being wreckless.

You were still in the bathroom when Jaemin heard a few knocks. He's confused, grabbing his phone to look at the time.

9:47pm. Who could visit you at this time?

He grabbed his boxers and quickly putting it on, as well as his shirt but he didn't bother to make himself presentable. He opened the door and his eyes widen.

"Nurse Suh?" He eyed the tall man, and the guy eyed him too. Both of them are confused as to why the other is standing where they are.

"Na Jaemin? What the hell are you doing here?" Johnny wasn't even sure why he was asking that, it's clear with Jaemin's shuffled hair and obviously--- him in his boxers.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that." Jaemin sounded rude, but he does not give a shit. Nurse Suh poses as a threat to him and your-- uh, situationship -- and Jaemin doesn't have a reason to be nice to him.

"Where is she?" Johnny's voice was full of concern, as he looked past the younger boy just to get a glimpse inside your apartment. That's until Jaemin steps outside, and closing the door behind him.

"What do you want from her?" Jaemin looks at him, and although the guy was taller and has a bigger built, again, he doesn't care.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that." Johnny's tone and him mocking Jaemin pissed him more. Letting out a huge breath, Jaemin looked at him straight in the eyes.

"You know-- you're whole relationship with her is fucked up, right?" Johnny was surprised on how Jaemin just turned off the calm facade. He didn't expect him to be triggered like this

"What relationship? You out of all people should know she doesn't do relationsh--"

"Yeah, whatever. You can't fuck around with her anymore, man. You're a fucking school staff, and she's a student. Also, you have a fucking girlfriend. I don't know how you're okay with this."

"The same way she's okay with it. Look, kid," Johnny closed his eyes and massaged his temples, he continued. "... me and her, we've been through some shit. Shit that you can't handle. But I know.. man, you care for her. And I don't want to hear your bullshit, you do care for her. And I do too. But she's not the kind to be with, y'know? She's gonna ruin--"

"Fuck! You weren't the only one who fucking told me that. I don't know what she did to you, but she's fine with me. If you think of her as this fucking tragedy on legs, then maybe you don't really care, don't you? But I do. So get off my fucking ass and don't see her again. Or I'm gonna have to report you." Jaemin didn't know where all of his words came from, but it did feel good. He doesn't think about the consequences of everything, but one thing's for sure. He's not gonna let anyone talk shit about you anymore.

Johnny, tho, never flinched. Instead, he smirks and even let out a chuckle. "You've got some nerves, kid. Okay. I'll back off. But don't come running back when she breaks you." he then turned around and got ready to leave, but a few steps in, he turned to Jaemin again.

"...oh, and tell her Happy birthday."

Jaemin stood there for a minute, watching Johnny leave. It's your birthday? How come you never said anything?

After a few deep breaths, he went inside the apartment again. Just in time when you walked out the bathroom, hair all wet and with a set of new pajamas.

"You done?" Jaemin approached with a smile.

"Yeah. You wanna take a shower?" You looked up at him. He shook his head as he patted your head. "You hungry?" he asked.

You smiled even more, looking up at him expectantly, "Please?"

"Okay. I'll go get us some food, alright? You don't worry your pretty little head." Jaemin gave you a kiss on the top of your head before getting his pants and keys, walking out of the apartment.

Not even half an hour, Jaemin came back. Not only with takeout, but also a bento box. You looked at him kind of confused on what it is, but when he opened it, your eyes widen. It was a small cake that he bought on the convenience store. He wanted a much more expensive one but he also wants to get back to you as soon as possible.

He then pulled out a small candle, sticking it onto the cake. Pulling out a newly bought lighter, and lighting the candle. "Happy birthday, princess. Make a wish." He smiles softly at you.

When all of this was happening, you didn't say a thing. You just looked at him with your glassy eyes, your mouth slightly apart. You blinked hard and fast before finally tracing back to yourself, "I'm.. how did you know?" you asked.

"Doesn't matter. Now come on, candle's burning out." Thats when you looked down on the candle, quickly closing your eyes, clasping your hands together as you thought hard about what you're wishing. Seconds after, you opened your eyes and blew on the candle.

Jaemin was still smiling, setting the small cake aside to give you a kiss on your forehead. He was surprised when your arms wrapped around his waist.

"Why do you have to make me so happy, Jaem? You make it so hard. So hard." You whispered, but Jaemin heard everything. He desparately wanted to answer, because he had an answer. And its something he's afraid to tell you. Because the result was uncertain. Its either it goes perfectly well, or he lose you. And he's not gonna take that risk.

So instead, he just returned your embrace, but even more tighter, giving you another kiss on your forehead. "I don't know." he answered quietly, lying to you and to himself.

"You're a good person, Jaem. Anyone would be lucky to have you." Your vulnerable voice made Jaemin feel warm. In a way, you sounded truthful. You felt genuine.

"You're lucky, then." Slowly, Jaemin. Lay it on her slowly.

"I can't have you." Your bitter smile showed.

"Why not?" Every second counted, every breath you take suddenly mattered.

"I can't do that to you," With a shaking voice, you buried your face in his chest even more.

"I don't understa--"

"Just shut up, shut the fuck up and let me have this." And with that, Jaemin never muttered another word. Instead, he just held you closer like this was the last time he gets to do so.

"Jaem?" You looked up at him, Jaemin looked dow n at you with his eyebrows up.

"I'm sorry." You said. And Jaemin didn't want to ask why you were apologizing, he doesn't like to know the reason behind it. Because he doesn't want you to give him a reason why he needs to forgive you about something.

---

"I think I'm inlove with her."

"Ya think?" Jeno, deep inside his phone, seems like he's stressed about something. Never minding his best friend's struggle, because everybody already knew Jaemin was inlove with you. It's not new information.

"Fuck! Shit!" Both their heads turn as they saw Renjun ran inside their hangout spot and closed the door.

"Hell is wrong with you?" Jaemin asked, but Renjun ignored him and proceeds to lock the door.

"Why's everybody so weird today?" Jaemin mumbled.

It is a very weird day for Jaemin. Somehow, he feels like something's not right. Well, yeah, his undying love for you was one thing he was stressed about but there's more, today's not like every other day, he thought.

That goes on for the rest of his morning. Its like he's waiting on something to happen, like everybody was so tense. You didn't text or call either, which was feeding onto Jaemin's paranoia. It's not like he's being clingy, but he's genuinely feeling something unsettling in his chest.

Maybe it was the coffee he had this morning, or maybe the fact that he's never had this dilemma about a girl before.

So, finally giving up his pride, he texted you.

4:50pm jaemin: wya

4:52pm jaemin: heyy

4:58pm jaemin: ??

You not answering definitely did not help. So, the next big thing he can come up with was go to your apartment. Not a smart choice but Jaemin never once claimed to be smart.

Once he took a step towards your door, for a moment. Jaemin regretted going here. He can see that your lights are on, and can hear shuffling inside. But fuck it, he's already here.

He thought you had someone over, maybe Johnny, or someone else. That made him heated. But the closer he was on your front door, he heard yelling-- and another voice, which he could tell was from a girl.

The door was ajar-- and once he was right infront of it, he could hear everything.

"Y/N! Please! Not him-- he's a good person. You know that!" He confirmed that it was Jiho who was arguing with you.

"I don't care what you feel, Jiho. Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Leave Jaemin alone--" Once Jaemin heard his name, his feet froze on the spot.

"Why the fuck are you so nosy? Is it because I stole your little Na Jaemin? Then go ahead! Get him back! But, oh-- newsflash, he doesn't want you anymore. Washed up and used--" The sound of a slap made Jaemin finally interfere. He walked up inside your apartment and saw you holding your cheek and Jiho crying. Both of them looked at him shocked.

"What are you doing here?" Jiho was the first one to speak, but Jaemin's eyes were focused on you.

"Did you just hurt her?" Jaemin was angry. The sight of your cheeks red and the fact that he knows Jiho just slapped you didn't sit right with him.

"Didn't you heard what she said?! Didn't you fucking understand what kind of person she is?" Jiho cried even more, she couldn't believe that someone as sweet as Jaemin would side with the most vile person she knows.

"Doesn't give you the right to hurt her." Jaemin threw all his principles away at this point. He doesn't care anymore.

"You're poisoning his mind, Y/N!" Jiho shouted, which you just smirked at her. Jaemin can't find the warmth inside your eyes, he just saw something empty.

"I didn't do shit, Jiho. Maybe you should just learn how to get out of my fucking trail. Or should I do something? Should I break your brother's heart for the second time?" Jaemin didn't know this version of you. Its like you've thrown away every emotion you have just to spite everyone.

"Don't you fucking dare." Jiho attempted to step towards you again but Jaemin put himself in between you and Jiho.

"Just go, Jiho." Jaemin calmly said.

Jiho didn't say anything, and let out a huge puff before walking out of the apartment, sobbing. She slammed the door shut and quickly the room went silent. None of you dared to talk for the first couple of minutes.

"I didn't want you here," you started.

Jaemin didn't say anything, instead, picking up some things that fell on the floor, trying to fix the apartment. Your paint brushes, your keys, and even some of your photos were on the floor. Must've been a very intense argument.

"Did you hear me, Jaemin? I don't want you here!" your voice strained, Jaemin pretended not to hear you as he continue to clean up the mess.

"Are you hungry? Want me to get you dinner?" Jaemin's voice was as normal as it can be. It doesn't make sense to you. But everything in this situation doesn't make sense.

Jaemin should be mad. Jaemin should go and leave you. Jaemin wasn't supposed to stay.

"Whatever-- do what you want. I'm going to bed."

Jaemin likes to think that in a couple of hours, you'll come up and be in a great mood. Sun shining and all that corny shit. Jaemin was also overly enthusiastic, one that masks with the real thing he's feeling right now. Nervous. Worried.

For a couple of days. Jaemin tried his best to get you out of your apartment because remember, you two are students. You were supposed to go to school. But you never left your bed. And for the first few days, Jaemin didn't go to school too. He was in your apartment day and night, looking after you. This wasn't like you before, Jaemin swears its like you're a whole new different person.

You didn't talk, didn't want to get up, and he knows damn well you aren't sleeping for the past days. You just layed there, emotionless.

He didn't know why he was doing this. You weren't you anymore and Jaemin doesn't know who he was even taking care of anymore. But he's still here. He's still with you.

The third day went and Jaemin is still in your apartment. Ignoring his friends-- and shit, even his mom. He doesn't want them to know why he's MIA for the past few days. He doesn't want everyone to know yours and his business. Whatever happenes between you two, stays between you two.

Jaemin woke up with you sitting on the kitchen. Eyes staring at nowhere, hair dishevelled and bags under your eyes forming.

"Goodmorning," Jaemin said in his sweet voice, careful not to scare you.

"I don't know how many times I should tell you this, but you should go, Jaemin. While I'm being nice." Even your voice sounds like a stranger. The pinch of joy that used to come with your voice were no longer there.

"I will, but I need to make sure you're fine---"

"I'm fine! I don't fucking need you here!" You yelled, Jaemin flinched but still remained calm.

"Are you hungry--"

"Maybe you've become dumb and stupid that you can't comprehend a simple fucking sentence, huh? I'm done with you, Jaemin. I'm sorry but you're useless to me now. I need a new face around here and yours is--"

"You really want me to leave?" Jaemin sincerely asked, like he was tired. Your eyes lifted, and you nodded.

"Yes." Jaemin's lips formed a thin line, his jaw clenched.

"Fine." He calmly walked away-- and convinced he can't take it anymore. He was tired mentally, emotionally and physically. You didn't want to be helped and Jaemin knew he can't handle you.

But as soon as the door shut behind him, his feet stood frozen as he waited. And not even a couple of minutes, the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the door made Jaemin turn his steps.

He was tired, but not fatigued. He knew he couldn't handle you but he can try. You didn't want to be helped but maybe tomorrow you change your mind. And maybe, just maybe, he can take another day.

"Breakfast, y/n. Come on." Jaemin, the fourth day. He went home for a bit, took a shower, but quickly went back to your place. And in his surprise, you were out of bed.

He can hear the faucet running, so he knew you were in the bathroom.

A few moments later, he heard you coming out of the shower. And there you are, hair all wet, freshen up after a few dreadful days and Jaemin was starting to see the color coming back in your skin.

"You feeling better, baby?" He softly asked.

"What are you still doing here?"

Jaemin didn't say anything, instead, giving you the most precious smile he had. "Come on, I cooked pancakes."

"Jaemin, get out. We're done, Jaemin. Get the fuck out!" Tears started forming again in your newly healed eyes, as you pointed out the door.

"I'm not leaving you, y/n." Finally, Jaemin acknowledged the situation.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? When I say we're done, we're done, Jaemin. Can't get that through your thick head?" Words spew like venom, Jaemin starting to feel like he's staring at a stranger. Who is this person in front of him?

"I know you're upset and you haven't eaten a proper meal in days--"

"The fuck do you care?" And with that, you ticked something off from Jaemin.

"Fuck do I care?! Y/N, you've pushed everyone around you away and I was the one who stayed! For days I didn't go anywhere and stayed with you, y/n. Do I care?! Because even if I don't know what the fuck is going on with you I still fucking stayed! So yeah, I'd like to think that I care for you because I fucking lo-- shit!" Jaemin caught himself before actually saying the thing. He knows its a deal breaker if he said it but hopefully, you already felt it.

"Did I ask you to do all of that shit?"

Jaemin can almost feel his heart shatter. You really didn't care about him, or his feelings. He had a little bit of hope. And with a single sentence, you destroyed it.

Jaemin let out a humourless chuckle. "Fine. We're fucking done, y/n."

---

It's been a week and Jaemin's friends started to worry. Jaemin barely ate-- didn't attend his classes and barely got out of their hangout spot. Jeno had a call with his mom and told him that Jaemin didn't once contact them in almost a month. And thats where Jeno knew something was wrong. Jaemin loved his mom-- and he would never ghost her.

"Man, I don't know what to do. He just flicked me off when I offered him ramen." Haechan was serious. You barely see him being this concerned-- but even him, knows something was wrong with Jaemin.

"Is it about that y/n girl?" Renjun asked.

"Probably. I mean, eversince she came into the picture Jaemin basically became a different person." Jeno haven't met you yet, but this, what you're doing to his bestfriend definitely isn't giving a good impression.

"Maybe they're done. If Jaemin's looking like this and haven't mentioned a single thing about her, I think that's what this is." Renjun said, looking at his friend, and his sleeping figure.

"I have an idea." Haechan stood up and huddled his friends, but Jeno and Renjun stepped away. "No, Haechan, you don't."

"What? At least I'm trying to help our friend!" He grabbed both of his friends again, "Anyways-- we should introduce him to another girl. Get him back in the game, y'know?"

"What are we talking about?" The three of them almost jumped when Jaemin was suddenly huddled with them.

"Nothing! We're just thinking about how much booze we're buying for Jeno's party." Haechan's quick wits came into action but Jaemin didn't buy it.

"Stop being weird." He casually walked back to the sofa and plopped himself down again.

Jeno tho, had enough. "You're weird! What the fuck is with this act, bro? You look lovesick or some shit."

"m not doing anything, the fuck are you on about?" Jeno got even more pissed, because Jaemin was blatantly lying.

"That girl you're with is causing trouble, dude. You're barely going to class, we haven't seen you in days, you didn't call your mom in a week and just for her to fuck with the school nurse?" Jeno's still calm, not wanting to escalate the situation. But he figured that Jaemin needs to hear it one way of another.

Jaemin was visibly confused. What did Jeno mean about you with nurse suh? Didn't he already dealt with that?

"Saw her yesterday at the nearby convenience store with Nurse Suh. I don't know, dude but she's not worth all this shit. And I don't even wanna talk about the stuff I heard about her previous school, man." Haechan was a little hesitant about confronting Jaemin, but since Jeno has already started it he's got no choice but to just say it.

"You're out of your mind if you think you have the right to say all that shit. You don't even know her." Every word that Jaemin says was delivered with so much intensity, even the boys were starting to feel uneasy.

"We're just confused Jaem, eversince you met that y/n girl its like you became a whole new perso--" Renjun was cut off when Jaemin let out a scoff.

"Okay, I see what's going on here. If we're airing out our business here then let me have my fucking turn." Jaemin stepped towards Jeno, "You, aren't you shagging your lil bro's bestfriend? Yeah? Guess what, so is half the school."

"Hey, the hell? What's wrong with you, man?" Haechan interfered. He knew the look that Jeno has right now was serious, and he also knew that if he didn't get in between them, chaos will ensue. So he quickly stepped beside Jeno.

"What the fuck do you know about me and her, Renjun? I minded my own business when you went out with your girl out of pity." Jaemin doesn't know where that came from, but it already went out his lips. He wasn't the one to say things like that but somehow it came out. Renjun was fazed, to say the least.

"And you--" Jaemin let out an sigh and smirked, slowly turning towards Haechan. "You talk high and mighty but everybody knows you're a fucking cheater, Lee Haechan. So you, especially you, doesn't have the right to even mutter a thing about her. Because if we're talking about being an asshole, you take the fucking throne." Jaemin's eyes are empty, and so his mind. He just wanted to say anything to get back at his friends without thinking.

"Fuck you, man. Seriously. All this for that girl? You look fucking pathetic, Na Jaemin." Jeno was aggravated and fuming, but he was never gonna go down with violence, specially with his best friend. He knew better.

"It doesn't even fucking matter what you think about her anymore, cuz y'know what? We're done. She doesn't wanna see me anymore. So go ahead and talk shit about her but make sure I'm not in the fucking room next time." The room was silent, they didn't know what to say. Obviously because this was the first time they saw Jaemin like this.

"I think this shit got out of hand, I know you're upset but we're just genuinely concerned, dude." Renjun, now on the much calmer side, tries to difuse the situation.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ignore what you said because I know you're upset, Jaemin. But come on, man, you've met her what? For two months? And you're already losing yourself? I swear if this could be any other girl I wouldn't say anything but man.. she's only trouble. And you can get angry at us all you want but I'm glad you got out of that situation." This side of Haechan was rarely seen, because it only comes out when they need it the most. And for Jaemin, its also rare that he agrees with Haechan but this time, he did.

For the next week, Jaemin tried to bring himself back, and his friends noticed it too. He became active again, going to parties with them and even got back to planning on Jeno's birthday party. There was no sign of you, your name or your presence. Jaemin was starting his old ways again, meeting some girls here and there.

"Hey, what did I tell ya, huh? She's great, isn't she?" Haechan grinned at him, as they walked together.

"Nah, I've had better." Jaemin non-chalantly said.

Haechan looked at his friend, smile slowly getting bigger. "There's the asshole I know, glad you're back to the game, man!" Haechan with his proudest smile, shook Jaemin playfully and but the boy did nothing but chuckle.

His friends were satisfied and pretty much convinced that you were completely out of Jaemin's system. To see Jaemin go back to whatever he was before you, definitely brought back the Jaemin they knew.

"Happy birthday, man! Whew, how does it feel to be an old hag?" Haechan joked as he hugged Jeno, Jeno just playfully pushed him away.

The music was loud and people were starting to fill up Jeno's house. It's his parent's house and they were out of town, as per Jeno's request on his birthday. No one wants to party with their parents, ofcourse.

To say that Jaemin pulled off the party planning was an understatement. It was only 8pm and the party is already packed. Jaemin really outdid himself on this one, also with a little help from Haechan and Renjun.

"Happy birthday, Lee! This party is fucking lit, dude!" Yangyang, from engineering department went and greeted Jeno. "We've got Jaemin to thank for that." Jeno responded loudly, trying to communicate among the loud music.

"Yeah-- where's Na?" Yangyang asked, and Jeno was clueless as him. He knew Jaemin was in the house, he saw him earlier. But after that he never saw him again.

His eyes went around the room to find atleast Haechan or Renjun, and he only found Renjun on the side, in his phone. "He's around, somewhere." Jeno answered, bidding goodbye to the friend and walked across the room to approach Renjun.

"Where's Jaemin?" Jeno managed to ask.

"Upstairs with the girl Haechan introduced him to!" Renjun wiggled his eyebrows at Jeno, and Jeno nodded in agreement. At least he knew Jaemin was having fun.

Little did they know, Jaemin wasn't having fun.

"Come on, Jaemin.. how long does it take?" The girl whispered sexually, kissing his neck like its her last meal.

"Just.. don't talk." Usually it doesn't take Jaemin this long to get hard, but the girl just doesn't do it for him. Its been almost thirty minutes and Jaemin is getting tired, but he also doesn't want to disappoint, so he tries his best to focus on the girl, but he just couldn't.

His phone constantly vibrating doesn't help, so he grabbed it and threw it on the other side of the bed.

Jaemin closed his eyes, felt every single touch and did the worst thing he could ever do to himself. He imagined it was you.

You were touching him, kissing him and giving him warmth. It's you he's with, not this girl, not any girl. Its you. And it worked. It brought back memories of you that sparked something in his body. Small waves of pleasure started. And just as he's slowly starting to function, he heard the door open.

Jaemin's back was facing the door but the girl on his lap can see who just entered. The little mindgames in his head was interupted when the sound of the door brought him back to reality.

"What the fuck? This room is occupied!" The girl with him yelled, completely destroying the fantasy Jaemin created in his head. He's back to square one again, and this time he's not trying again.

As soon as the intruder left, Jaemin lifted the girl off his lap. "Sorry, Cindy, bab--" he can't even call her 'baby'. "--but you need to go."

Jaemin didn't wait for her answer and left her on the bed while he walked and locked himself on the bathroom.

As soon as he knew that the girl had officially left, that's when he went out to his room again. His hands finding his phone, he checked what time it is. 9pm.

Jaemin brushed his hands through his hair, frustrated and strssed.

He ignored the multiple chat that Jeno and Renjun had sent, and went to an food delivery app instead.

Delivery Status: Successful

Items: 1 Full Steak Meal with Pineapple Juice and NY Cheesecake

Total: 80,000krw

Notes: Don't skip a meal :) -J

Jaemin has been sending food to your place for the past week. In exactly 9pm, when he knew you'd usually have your dinner.

The next morning, he woke up fine. He didn't really drink much so he didn't have any sort of headaches or symptoms of a bad hangover.

The house was eerily quiet, as usual, the morning after a very big party.

He was the first to wake up and the whole house was trashed. He didn't expect anything else, ofcourse seeing the amount of people last night.

He knew all four of them was still in the house tho, maybe a couple of girls, so as the designated sober person he took the initiative to prepare breakfast. It was calming for Jaemin to take care of people.

Not long after he heard a couple of footsteps, and of course, it was Renjun.

"Mornin'" Renjun, hair sticking out everywhere, still in his clothes from last night.

"Had fun last night?" Jaemin asked, smirking.

"Didn't you read the texts I sent you last night?" Renjun asked. Jaemin's smirk disappeared.

"What text?"

"Jeno wouldn't want me to tell you this but... she was here. She was looking for you but Jeno and I didn't tell her where you were. She knew that you were here because she told us you invited her a while ago, she looks so.. tired. And then she asked Jisung, who doesn't have a clue with the whole y/n situation so he told her that you were upstairs." Renjun thought that Jaemin needed to know what happened. Jeno thought otherwise.

Jaemin felt his blood drain out of his body. He remembered someone knocking and opening the door to where he was with a girl last night, but he didn't know who it was. Jaemin's heart was racing. He was sure it was you. And he was also sure how fucked up it is to find him like that.

Jaemin didn't say anything, grabbing his keys as he left Renjun thinking if he made the right decision.

"Y/n! Y/n!" Jaemin was knocking on your door with urgency, and after a few, the door opened.

You were there. Standing in front of him but why can't Jaemin find any familiarity?

You were so different. You've lost weight. You're not you-- yet his heart still beats the same. His eyes still found warmth as you looked at him. The smile that left no trace on your face still lingered around Jaemin's memories and for that he still knows that somehow, you're still you.

"Hey." You whispered. You sounded weak.

Jaemin was about to hug you-- confront you about last night but once his eyes left the beauty that is your face, his heart skipped a beat. His body froze, he felt like time stopped.

Your shirt. Your fucking shirt. You're wearing a faded out starwars shirt.

"W-what are you wearing?"

"Oh this? Ah, right! Tell Haechan thank you for last night-" You smiled, the sweetest smile that Jaemin once loved, was now stabbing him in the chest.

"Don't..-- Why are you-- I don't understand.." Jaemin finally broke down, eyes letting go of the tears he held. You're breaking him down-- you're ruining him.

"What? You thought I was better?"

"Y/n.. don't do this to me.." Jaemin whispered. Knees giving out, yet he remained still.

"I don't know what to tell you, Jaemin. I'm everything they told you I would be."

"You're just.. cruel. My friend, y/n? My fucking friend?" In contrast with his cursing, his tone wasn't angry. It was despair.

"Will you leave me now?"

"Did you.. did you sleep with him?" Stupid question.

"I don't know, Jaemin. Did I?"

"You're.. fuck, y/n you're just cruel. Cruel and fucking unfair. Whatever did I do to you?" His voice strained. Drip-drop.

"Do you finally hate me?" Drip-drop.

Drip-drop.

Drip...drop.

"Yeah.. yeah I think I do."

And there it was. The last drop of Jaemin's feelings for you. Congratulations, y/n. You've finally drained him out of love.

---

Three days, Jaemin went off the grid. He stayed with his mom, giving himself a break.

He didn't want to contact any of his friends. At least not for now. He knew he still had that pent up anger towards Haechan, and he don't want to do anything that would result in him being violent. He knew that it was all your plan, just to get him to leave you alone.

What he couldn't understand is why Haechan did it. Haechan knew what Jaemin felt for you, like shit, he knew before Jaemin even knew for himself. He was one of the people who made Jaemin realize his feelings for you.

He wished he had listened to everybody and just left you alone. He wished he took everyone's advice and minded his own business. Maybe all of this wouldn't have happened.

Eventually he had to comeback. His school isn't very much happy with him and its not like its the end of the world. Everything is moving on but him, and nobody likes to be left behind.

As soon as his friends saw him, Haechan froze. He quickly tried and approached Jaemin. "Dude. Where were you? Everybody was looking for you--"

"Don't touch me, Lee Haechan." Jaemin wasn't angry, but he wasn't calm either. His tone is strong and firm, enough to stop Haechan from his tracks.

"Is this about Jeno's birthday?" Jaemin wanted to punch Haechan for even bringing it up. How could he?

"I swear to God if you don't step back--"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jaemin?" Renjun was the one to interfere this time.

"What's wrong with me? This fucker slept with y/n and you're asking me what's wrong with me, Huang?!"

"Hold up-- hold the fuck up, What do you mean?" Jeno, eyes going back and forth between Haechan and Jaemin.

"She told you we slept together?" Haechan was legitamately confused.

"She was wearing your ugly ass shirt, Haechan."

"Yeah because I lent it to her? She was at the party and I accidentally bumped into her and she got alcohol spilled all over her shirt, Jaemin. So I had to fucking give her a shirt and then she ran away right after. You think I'd do that to you?!" Haechan was fully arguing with him now but Jaemin had remained silent.

Then why did you let him think that you did it? Why would you put him through this? Are you that desparate to make Jaemin hate you?

Jaemin brushed his palm all over his face. He was dumbfounded. He then plops down on the couch, deliberately thinking about the past few days he spent trying to get you off his head. And he thought he was damn near on succeeding, but the sudden information struck him down again.

And just as the tension was slowly coming down, a sudden intrusion on their room made the four of them look at the door.

"He's here? Na Jaemin!" Jiho burst through the door, passing through the three boys who were too caught in the moment to stop her.

"J-Jiho.." Jaemin stood up again, as Jiho stood in front of him.

"What did you do?!" Jiho was frustrated and angry, to say the least.

"Let's calm down," Renjun, the forever pacifist meekly attempted to delute the situation in hand.

"No! I told you, Jaemin! We told you to stay away from her!" Jiho.

"Are you blaming him? Your friend is a pathological liar who likes to play with peopl--" Jiho angrily turned towards Jeno, making the boy stop his rant.

"You're not part of this." Jiho then looked at Jaemin again.

"We're done, Jiho. I don't want her anymore. I don't want anything to do with her--"

Jiho smirked, "She left, Jaemin. She pulled out of school."

The room filled with silence, and it was so loud. Nobody wanted to say anything, partly because they were waiting for Jaemin to react.

"She-- what?" Jaemin was shocked. His body didn't know how to react. Every bones started to feel loose, it was so eerily quiet that it feels like he can count the seconds it takes for his heart to beat again.

Jiho's tears started to flow. "She was sober for six months, you know? We thought we finally fixed her-- she was doing fine. And then you-- you just had to come in and ruin everything."

"I don't underst--"

"I don't want to blame it all on you, because I know you're also hurt-- but Jaemin we begged you to stay away from her. But you didn't. You--" Jiho sat down, hands on her face, shoulders shaking.

"S-she--" Jaemin couldn't form a sentence.

"Where were you? In the past three days, Jaemin, where were you?" Jiho took a sharp breath, raising her head and looked at Jaemin once again.

"I was at my mom's..." Jaemin answered meekly.

"I found out last Thursday. When you saw us fighting at her apartment, that was when I caught her doing drugs. I was trying to--, fuck, I was trying to throw it away and then she got angry and started to talk about you. I guess she felt that you were by the door and started to talk about you.." Jaemin remembers that clear as day. The day you visibly changed right in front of his eyes.

"She left Sacred Heart last year because of the scandal. It hit her so bad, and that's when it started. She was introduced to drugs and later diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Me and Jeonghan knew her from our childhood and we did our best to help her. And then she went out with Jeonghan and that's when our falling apart happened. She broke my brother's heart and I can't even blame her because I know she only did it because she wants everyone to leave her. She thinks she's a burden to everybody. And then Nurse Suh came into the picture and helped her to get free medication, and when she did, eventually her addiction stopped. And then you happened, and for a while she was so happy. But suddenly Nurse Suh cut her off and the medication stopped. That's why she drove you away, Jaemin. You know what she told Jeonghan before she left? She said that you didn't deserve to be with her."

"She can't leave, did you check the apartment?" Denial. Jaemin can't process everything yet. He doesn't want to.

"Her stuff's out of the apartment. We found this," Jiho pulled out a polaroid picture. Jiho reached out to Jaemin, swiftly before letting go of the photo.

"She's a good person, Jaemin. She's just broken. I know you did your best, but we can't help a person who doesn't want to be helped. I just hope you don't hate her forever." Jiho then walked away.

Jeno, Haechan and Renjun was silent. They didn't say anything, not to disturb their friend's moment of silence. One by one, the left the room, leaving Jaemin and a photo that had a glimpse of a moment where you were once his.

It was the picture of you and Jaemin. Happily smiling. Upon seeing the photo, Jaemin finally broke down.

At the back, there was something written.

Hi, Jaem. Thank you for the food you've been sending! Although I didn't eat it, I still know that it's delicious!! Remember when we talked about photography? How I love people's smile? Guess what? I think yours is my favorite. So please keep wearing it. You're precious, Jaem. I am so sorry for everything. I hope you get the love that you deserve. Do me a favor and forget me, will you? -y/n :)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"Is it on?" Jaemin was a giggling mess, infront of you as you filmed him beside you on your bed, nothing but the sheets.

"It is! Okay, ladies and gents,--"

"This man right here," You booped his nose, "Just gave me a mind blowing orgasm about.. hm, six minutes ago?" Jaemin laughed at the camera, before wiggling his eyebrows at it. "I did, one of my proudest talents."

"Shut up!" you laughed. "Anyways, Mr. Jaemin-ssi. Tell the whole world your age and what you want to be when you grow up!" You giggled, focusing the camera on his bare face. His eyes heavy, smile reaching his eyes.

"22, and yours." He whispered as he looked at your eyes instead of the camera lense.

"What? You barely said anything!"

"I just did what you told me, baby. I told my whole world what my age was and what I wanted to be." Jaemin can see the sudden rush of color on your cheeks. You frowned cutely.

"You're a loser." A tinge of smile you desperately hid made Jaemin laugh. He likes it when you pretend you don't like his corny takes.

Jaemin then grabbed the camera, now turned it to you, also nothing but the sheets and bare face. Jaemin is convinced this is what heaven must look like.

"Now to my pretty interviewer-- aren't you gorgeous?" You jokingly cleared your throat, smiled so big that it could make anyone blind.

"Hi, I'm y/n, Jaemin's pretty interviewer."

"So, my pretty girl. 5 years from now, how do you see yourself?" You were a bit unprepared with Jaemin's question, he sees it the way your smiles faltered a bit.

It took you a minute before you answered, "Better. I hope I can be better so I can take care of this little manchild." You somehow turned it light, grabbing the camera from Jaemin and pointing at him.

"Well, y/n from 5 years from now, I'm glad-- I hope, I'm still there by your side."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"Yeri, I've told you a hundred times, she's my mother so you need to treat her with respect!" Jaemin can't help but yell, just as he followed Yeri out of the restaurant.

"She doesn't like me, Jaemin! Gosh your mother is so-, I'm not dealing with her shit anymore, Jaemin!" Yeri yelled back, stomping her feet as she walked toward's Jaemin's car.

Yeri is Jaemin's girlfriend for four months. He went out with her upon his father's request and to his mother's dismay. His father thought Jaemin could finally settle down with a woman after you.

Jaemin can't help but grunt, looking up, frustrated and honestly just tired. Everyday he questions why he's even with Yeri. The girl did nothing but drain his wallet, disrespect his mother and treat him like a trophy boyfriend.

"She's not allowed in our apartment anymore," Yeri said as she settles herself on Jaemin's passenger seat.

"What apartment? It's my apartment and you sleep there, Yeri. And you can't just-- ban my mother from my place!" Jaemin has already forgotten the time where him and Yeri never argued.

"Did you see the way she looked at me? And you're gonna sit there and not defend me?" Jaemin admits that his mother did have a distaste with his girlfriend, but never once did his mother did anything to show that. She is not that kind of person and Jaemin's sure he's not the only one to vouch for that.

"She was trying to make a conversation and you blatantly ignored her, Yeri."

"I didn't like her tone." she rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone as Jaemin drove. He decided not to talk anymore, mostly because he doesn't want to argue anymore.

"What're we doing here?" Yeri saw that he parked outside her apartment complex.

"I need time for myself, Yeri. I can't handle you anymore." He expressed with utmost respect.

"Are you kidding me? You're kicking me out of your place?!" Yeri squealed, almost making Jaemin cover his ears.

"You can disrespect me but not my mom, Yeri."

Yeri smirked, crossed her arms on her chest, and looked at Jaemin. "You're trash, Jaemin. Such a fucking mama's boy. I bet this isn't even about your mother, huh? Still about that bitch who left y--"

"Get out or I'm gonna have to drag you out, Yeri. Please." Thankfully, Yeri did get out, but not walking away before she slams the door, making Jaemin flinch a bit. He makes sure the Yeri actually went in the building before he drove off.

He pulled out his phone, texting his mom. He decided that he'll just go back to the restaurant and apologize for Yeri's behavior. He knew that his mom was hurt, and he can't let the night pass without comforting his mom.

Luckily, the restaurant is near where he was so it took him about ten minutes to go back. Getting out of his car, he wondered if his parents are still there.

Looking further inside the restaurant, he didn't notice someone walking out the door so inevitably, he bumped and collided with a man. He quickly bows, "I'm sorry, man."

"No worries," Jaemin was a bit perplexed on how deep the man's voice is, but shrugged it off anyways.

"Felix!"

Jaemin felt his heart stop a beat. He knows that voice.

"I'm here," The man responded.

Jaemin was frozen on the spot. He was afraid to look behind him and put a face in to the voice he just heard, but he's sure as hell he's not leaving this spot without knowing who it is.

"Excuse me," This time, the woman was much closer to him as she walked pass Jaemin.

His breath hitched, time slows down as he saw the back of her head.

Before she could even take a step further, Jaemin grabbed her wrists, not thinking of anything,-- just the fact that he desparately wanted to see her face.

"Hey!-- What,-- Jaemin?"

There you are.

Jaemin gulped before blinking to see if he was just hallucinating but there you really are. "Y/N," he whispered, more to himself.

"You know him?" The man, who he assumes was Felix, asked, looking at Jaemin's hands on your wrist. It brought Jaemin back to reality, and swiftly let go of your hand.

"Y-yeah," Your cheeks burned, not letting your eyes away from Jaemin. It was like everyone else blurred out, and you two were the only ones in the room.

"You okay, man?" Thats when Jaemin realized that his jaw was actually a bit slacked, staring at you for a solid minute now. He shook his head to look at Felix,

"Yeah. Uh, y/n, how-- how are you?" Jaemin's breathing was starting to get abnormal, as he was really shocked to see you here.

"Good," you cleared your throat, "Great, actually. Uhm, Felix, this is Jaemin," "Jaemin, Felix." The two shook hands, Felix was still visibly confused but Jaemin was still stuck on you.

"Old friend?" Felix asked.

"Is that what she told you?" Jaemin, glancing on you.

"Yes?" Felix was starting to feel uncomfortable, as he had no clue what the heck is happening in front of him. You two looked perplexed and out of it, to say the least.

"I--, We need to go, Felix. Hey, uhm, Jaemin-?" It was obvious you were aghast, just like Jaemin.

Jaemin looked back at you again, "Yeah?"

"I'll see you around?" You uttered.

"Okay." Jaemin said quietly.

The two started to walk away from Jaemin, but Jaemin was left there frozen. In his own thoughts, drowing in memories about you. Everything came crashing back on him and it was overwhelming. After so long, you still had that power over him. You still manage to get his guard down.

This is fucking dangerous. Jaemin shouldn't even feel like this. One look, one word-- and its like his whole being fell again. Is destiny truly fucking with him? He took so long-- months, to get you out his system. Or at least burn it so deep inside his brain along with the memories you have. And for what? All of it being opened like a freshly sewed wound, all because of a three second interaction?

That night, Jaemin went home with a feeling so familiar. Like he wanted to find you again. Just like the first time he saw you at that cafeteria. He wonders if he'll see you again.

Actually, no. He will make sure to see you again.

---

"You can't break up with me,"

Jaemin sighed, he didn't know what else to do. This was the only way Jaemin thought of, specially after his encounter with you. He knew the effect you had on him that night wasn't the innocent 'seeing your friend after long time' type of thing. He knew there's more to it.

"I'm sorry," and he really is. He didn't want to string Yeri along, and doesn't want to give her false hope that this relationship is going somewhere.

"Is this about your stupid mom? Fine, I'll apologize!" The thing with his mom was also a big thing in coming to this decision. Jaemin likes to think that even if he didn't see you that night, this breakup was inevitable. It was coming, sooner or later.

"Don't-- don't call my mother like that, Yeri, please. And no, there's more to it. Please, I want a clean breakup," Jaemin didn't want to elaborate, he didn't want to hurt Yeri even more.

"You can't leave me, Jaemin! We have a party to attend-- I already told them about you! Do you want me to be embarrassed?" Of course. Of course its about the fucking party.

Jaemin was a trophy for Yeri. Handsome and rich, Yeri bragged about having him in her palms. Jaemin never complained about it but it does bother him. And Yeri bringing it up now just showed him how Yeri never really cared about this relationship.

"You can find a new boy toy, somewhere else, Yeri. I'm done." He's not gonna lie, there's still a pang of guilt when he walked away from Yeri. He knew it was unavoidable, yet it with you in the picture again, it does play a huge part.

"A fucking toast for the newly single man! I'm so proud of you for letting that devil reincarnate go!" Haechan was beyond sober, as he welcomed Jaemin who just came a few minutes earlier.

"You really did it, huh?" Renjun smiled, putting his arm around Jaemin's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess." Jaemin shrugged. Every moment feels important to him. He doesn't have any idea when you'll show up again. So he better not drink even a drop of alcohol, just in case.

"Why the long face?" Jeno was buzzed aswell, completely leaning on the bar couch. Eyes barely open, he's been drinking quite a lot lately.

"Nothing," Jaemin doesn't want to say anything about you and his' encounter, he didn't want to jinx it.

The bar was loud and busy, yet Jaemin was quiet and stuffy. He does feel relieved, breaking up with Yeri was a huge weight off of his shoulder. But he can't get off his mind the words you said.

"I'll see you around?"

Where exactly is around? When will you see him? Is it in the same restaurant? Will you text him to meet? Is that Felix guy your boyfriend?

"You're such a bore, Jaemin. Not even a shot?" Its a mystery how Jeno managed to stand on his feet with how drunk he is but he still did, handing Jaemin a shot, which Jaemin refused.

"Not in the mood,"

"Whatever. Y'know, eversince that gi-"

Before Jeno could even finish, Renjun, which had a little to zero alcohol in his system quickly pulled Jeno down beside him.

"I'll sew your mouth close, Lee. Now sit down and let me fucking find the other Lee." He was referring to Haechan, which also is drunk out of his mind, but still ran into the sea of people on the dancefloor.

"I need a breather," Jaemin decided to go outside the bar, but making sure that Jeno is well situated first before leaving the poor man laying in the couch.

In every other situation, he would've loved to match Jeno's energy and got drunk as much as his best friend, but this time he is truly not in the best condition to do so.

As soon as the bar's door closed behind him, the sudden silence was almost deafening. Which Jaemin wouldn't tell if its much worse than being inside, since he was left with only his thoughts and the street in front of him.

He crossed the road into a nearby convenience store, wanting some water or any drink that could possibly soothe his mind.

"Thank you," He bowed to the cashier, as he paid for the drink in hand.

The store was empty. Just him, the staff, and some random music quietly surrounding the store.

He sat by the stools, contemplating if he should just go home. Phone dead, he disregarded the idea of calling Renjun, who he is sure would prefer to be with him in this quiet convenience store rather than to babysit two grown adults who can't seem to handle their alcohol.

Dropping the phone on the side of the table, Jaemin quietly opened and drank the coca cola he bought. He just now realized that this was his dinner. He forgot to eat. Funny, Jaemin being a big advocate of not skipping a meal, skips a meal.

The dingling sound of the door was heard, Jaemin never bothered to look because again, this is a 7/11. People come and go. A slight set of footsteps was also prominent, seemingly roaming around the store.

"Can I sit here?"

Wide eyes, heart skipping a beat. The music was suddenly gone and everything else blurred out.

"Y-Y/N." He stuttered. He can't swiftly grasp the situation before you sat down the stool beside him.

"Hi." Your hair a bit shorter, cheeks a bit fuller, carrying a shade of pink, your figure covered with a thick coat.

You placed a couple of kimbap in front of you and a coca cola, same as his.

"What are you doing here?" Jaemin, carefully picking his choice of words as to not show any signs of discomfort.

"I was passing by and.. actually, no. I followed you here." For a moment there, you sounded like you wanted to lie, but backtracked and told Jaemin the truth.

"Did you now?" Jaemin remembered when he followed you that one time, and it feels like the tables have turned.

"Yeah, figured we needed to talk." You were timid, can't barely see Jaemin eye to eye. From his memories, you were always confident with what you say. So seeing this demeanor in front of him was a change.

"How are you?" Jaemin asked, genuinely curious.

"Never been better," You answered back, with a full chest and a heave of deep breath like you were relieved.

"I'm glad," Every last word was quickly followed by a complete silence.

After a few moments of deep thought, Jaemin wasn't sure what to say. Yes, before you showed up, questions was flooding in his brain. Asking for answers on why you left, why'd you lie and most importantly, why did you break him for no reason.

Jaemin's thoughts mustve been loud, hence the next dentence that came out of your lips.

"I'm guessing you have questions?"

Maybe Jaemin should've had a few shots before, to ease the tension and gain liquid courage, because fuck, he doesn't think he can handle this tonight.

But for the months you were gone, Jaemin isn't gonna pass this rare chance that you showed up, much more, showing up to talk to him properly.

"Why'd you leave?" Three words that circulated Jaemin's mind on those months you were gone. A question he asked himself a lot of times.

You were still for a bit, likely thinking about the answer. Jaemin could explode at any moment, he feels.

"I signed myself up for rehabilitation."

This wasn't the answer Jaemin expected. Its somehow a blow, to him, because he was angry at you for flaking on him for no reason. But now that you answered one of the many questions he had, it made Jaemin regret some of the things he had thought of about you. His guilt crept in.

"I-, I didn't know."

"Only a few knew about that. You were one of the unlucky ones to have suffered from it, so I thought you needed atleast an explanation." You smiled bitterly, still looking outside, whilst Jaemin looked at your side profile.

You continued. "I assume Jiho had filled you up with some of my dilemmas after I left. But trust me, Jaemin. I never intended to hurt you. You're so undeserving of the things I did but I had to make you hate me. I knew you cared for me back then, more than I had anticipated and I never really wanted to give myself that. I knew I can't receive love I didn't deserve. And I can feel it too, Jaem.." you paused.

Jaem. Oh how he missed the way you called him that.

".. I can feel that you really wanted to fix me. And you truly tried your best. But back then I didn't want to be fixed. And its unfair to have you selfishly. I never slept with your friend, I just made you believe that. I wanted you to despise me, to never think about me ever again." Well, you failed on that part, big time.

"Just hoped you gave me a chance to take care of you," Jaemin muttered.

"I'm not that evil to give you a burden like that,"

"You were never a burden to me,"

You let out a humourless grin, "I'd like to believe that, but we both know that's not true. For as long as I remember, I had been apologizing for just.. existing."

"I could've been there, y/n. I could've helped you."

"No, Jaemin. I don't think so, cuz even then, I couldn't even help myself." You spoke with great sincerity.

Another cruel moment of silence passed, and it was the most intense yet. None of you spoke, as if your thoughts were connected and understood each other without even saying a word.

"You really fucked me up, you know." It was now or never for Jaemin. Might as well open the can of worms now, and regret everything later. He might not have the same courage and opportunity as now.

"I did. And I'm so.. so sorry."

"But it's fine, y/n. I was young and naive, I guess I needed that. I already forgave you, fuck it, I don't even need to because I never truly hated you. All I did was love you, and even after you broke me, I still did." Looking into the distance, after so many failed attempts, he finally said it out loud. He was ready to risk it all, again.

"And I knew that, Jaemin. And maybe, I did love you too but back then I didn't know what love is. It was so scary and overwhelming that even from a distance, I already despised that kind of feeling."

"Are you... happy?" Jaemin thought about the man you were with. And at this moment, your answer was crucial, as it was a defining moment of what step or path he should go next.

"Yes. Are you?" Looking at him, you saw his eyes fill with unspoken comprehension of what its like to be happy and sad at the same time.

Happy that you're doing great, sad because he had just accepted the fact that you're much better with somebody else.

"I have no idea." And that was the truth. He wasn't sure if theres a word that could describe how he feels.

"Yeri, right? I heard from someone that you're with her. She seems great," Oh, what a great timing.

"We broke up already."

You widen your eyes and smiled awkwardly, "I'm sorry,"

"No, its okay. It wasn't working anyways. It was bound to happen sooner or later. You and Felix?"

"He's a great friend. He helped me with sobriety and therapy." Friend? Is that so?

"I thought you were dating," Jaemin liked the way this is going, it gave him hope.

"No, not really, never had anyone after you."

Is Jaemin supposed to be proud? Nonetheless, he felt a slight flutter in his chest. He was about to make a decision that will ultimately trash the imaginary walls he tried to build.

"Have.. have you thought about what we could've been?" Oh, what a risky question.

"Yeah, even back then, I always dreamed about an alternate universe where I wasn't so fucked up and actually tried something with you." Okay. You seem fine now, you seem on track. It wouldn't hurt to try again, right? Jaemin wanted to slap himself. Do he really want to risk it again?

"You could still.. try." The answer is yes.

You furrowed your brows, tilted your head a bit, "I don't think you deserve another heartbreak, specially from me, you know?" You chuckled, yet Jaemin was serious. This time, he's set to have you. He has to have you.

"I'll gladly let you break my heart again, y/n. Trust me, you'll only find yourself inside."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Maybe Jaemin was setting himself up for another heartbreak, but this time he was certain. He was certain to give it his all-- everything he has to lose. You were worth every piece of his heart.

He kissed your lips like he held his entire life on it, like every moment were his last. Running your hands on his hair, you two blindly roamed around your apartment. Luckily, Jaemin still had the entire apartment sketched in his brain.

You felt his hands lower, lifting up your ass, signaling you to jump and cling onto him. You gladly did, and like a feather, he lifted you without any struggle. Lips still tangled together, Jaemin lowered you into the soft texture of your bed.

"I missed you so much," Jaemin groaned as he parted his lips from you. Seeing your face against the dimly lit room was majestic. Not long before he lowered his face onto your neck, giving it open mouth kisses that sent shivers down your spine.

Slowly, he tugged on your shirt upwards, lifted it and revealed your soft pink laced bra, covering your breast. Jaemin didn't waste time grabbed one of you breast, caressing it gently, just enough to bring you pleasure without discomfort.

"Hmm, I missed this," He groaned again.

You whined, being sensitive to every touch he gave you. His hands worked like magic, pulling down your bra and swiftly latching his mouth on your left nipple, while still caressing the other. "Ah, fuck.. baby." you moaned.

You can feel your core dripping already, desperate for any kind of friction. His expert hands left your boob, yet not leaving your skin, just lowering to the area you were sensitive the most. In a split second, your pants was undone and a cold breeze on your center gave you goosebumps all over. "So wet for me,"

"Yes.. yes, please, touch me." You begged for him. You needed him.

"You don't need to beg, princess." Just then, his middle finger applied pressure on your dripping core, igniting a spark that felt so good-- you couldn't help but buck your hips onto his hands.

He was gonna love you, and you were gonna love him. Tomorrow's uncertain, but today was sure. You were meant to be his, and he's meant to be yours.

Let your heart get what it wants. If you get hurt, then you have to endure. Jaemin endured the entire time and its your time to gamble.

While Jaemin was still devouring every inch of your skin, you took this chance to touch his clothed member- already rock hard, seeking freedom from the confinement of his pants. You traced it before gripping it through the fabric, making Jaemin hiss in pleasure.

"Take.. it off." Barely composing a sentence, Jaemin understood the assignment and pulled away, to undress himself. His top came off first, and just like a reflex, your hands quickly find his toned chest, down to his abs. You can't help but bite your lip, seeing his body again after so long. The only difference is, this time, he has a more mature build.

Tracing your hand down to his lower abdomen, and even much lower, and helped him undo his pants. As he disregarded all of his clothes, he didn't waste time and quickly lowered himself again to you. Kissing you with burning passion, he grind his hips onto yours, and you felt his hard length poking your thigh.

Using your hand, you grabbed it by the base, Jaemin reacting so sensitive made you excited. Your hands doing up and down motion, pointing finger tracing the slit on his pinkish tip.

"Fuck.. fuck baby, god." Jaemin couldn't help but groan deeply, urging you to move faster. Your movement all of a sudden halt, as Jaemin held your wrist, stopping you. "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that." His dark voice whispered.

"Already?" You smirked at him.

"You underestimate your effect on me, baby." Truly, you were the only person who could melt Jaemin into a puddle if you wanted to.

His hand balancing himself on top of you, as the other held his cock, lining himself onto your entrance.

"Ah.. ah, shit," You moaned, caused by the stretch. A slight tinge of pain but quickly replaced by a wave of intense pleasure as he deeply plunges until you take all of him.

"So.. so fucking tight, oh fuck." Jaemin waited for your signal to keep moving. Which you did, by lifting your hips up to create any sort of movement. He swiftly pull out, just to go in again.

"I love you," Jaemin cried from pleasure, his tempo slowly gaining speed.

"I love you so much," you replied, grabbing his face to look at you as he fucks you with intense affection.

"Y/n, y/n.. I love you." He repeated like a mantra, going in and out repeatedly. You can feel your insides creating a bubble-- soon going to pop. He examines all of your features, "Cum for me." He murmured.

You nodded in response, biting your lip, yet not losing eye contact. A sudden wave of pleasure struck, and before you knew it, you're shaking under him. "I.. I love you."

"I'm cumming, shi..." You locked your legs on his waist, as he stilled so deep, reaching levels of your insides no one has ever reachex before. He cums, deep inside you and you felt his warm, thick ropes of cum paint your insides. His body collapses on top of you, heavy breathing surrounded the apartment.

Honestly, Jaemin didn't care if you hurt him again, Heck, break him again and again. Run away if you can, but he would make sure that he'll be here, always waiting for you. Break his heart for all he cares. You'll only find yourself there.

"Let's go, baby. They can't wait to meet you." Jaemin smiled at you softly, opening the car door before letting you in.

"I really get the feeling that they hate me." You nervously said, as Jaemin went around the car and sat at the driver seat.

"They actually did, back then. But now they're a lot less dumber." You laughed at him.

This was the first time Jaemin will introduce you to his friends. Even tho you knew that they already know you from the past, you wanted to introduce your new self. The self thats much better.

As you arrived at their shared apartment, you can already hear the noise behind the door. You looked at Jaemin with anticipation, as he opened the door.

"There she is! Hi, y/n!" Haechan, which you have encountered before, greeted you with a big smile. He was approaching with wide arms, which Jaemin quickly swats away.

"No." Jaemin simply says as he put his arms around you and dragged you further in the house.

There, you saw Jeno and Renjun playing Jenga. As soon as you sat down, the tower had fallen. Renjun frowning, Jeno with a big smile.

"Oh hi, y/n. Renjun just lost in Jenga, again." The cocky grin was present in Jeno's face.

"That doesn't count! We should play again, this time with y/n!"

You were quiet, but not because you were uncomfortable, but because you were slowly digesting everything. You felt so belonged with these people that its felt a bit weird, in a good way.

You smiled at them, looking back at Jaemin who's walking towards you with a drink in hand. "Thirsty, baby?" His smile was enchanting, and so, so gorgeous.

The time goes on and it all felt natural. It was the first time you saw Jaemin laugh that much, and it made you happier than ever. Then and there, you have concluded that you will never hurt this man again. This time, you'll try to make this work, because you knew he was the only one for you.

And even if the gods and the heaven above curse you for loving selfishly, you wouldn't care. Jaemin is the perfect man for you. And you can't let that smile fade again.

"What're you thinking?" Jaemin whispered, above all the noise from his friends.

"I love you."

And if you thought Jaemin's smile couldn't get any bigger, it did.

"I love you." He answered.

This time, you'll get your happy ending. You choose your happiness and Jaemin. Forever, you will choose Jaemin. Because you realize that after everything, even fiction itself, got nothing on this man.

-end-

A/N: I know it took so long to publish but again, I'm a bit busy! But how was it?? I hope you liked the first installation of my series, diary of the heart breakers! Thank you so much.

taglist: @cutiepeas @legbouk@hyuckissed @bockhyun @hibernatinghamster@shookyungsoo@sundamariis@sharkipoonis@ohmykwonsoonyoung@carelessshootanonymous

next part >> Inevitably Yours

[mauvecherie-writes]

poison: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!girlfriend reader

tags: 18+, mdni, usage of drugs (weed), nudity, making out, explicit sexual language, no actual smut. no plot - just a scenario. NOT EDITED

summary: sometimes the best way to relax is to share a bath with your lady and smoke on some sativa.

notes: I’m not quite back yet - but this scenario was sitting so heavy in my mind. I also needed to give you guys something as I get my shit together. Please like, comment and reblog I love you 🩷

w.c: 1.9K

fic song:

reader’s list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @angelinaevans @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout

Baby 🩵: Hi Princess, my flight just landed. Hope you’re still at my place. I really need you right now.

You: Hi baby, of course. I can’t wait to see you 😘.

His assistant had already sent you the time that his flight was going to arrive at Heathrow so you were already awake, getting everything ready for him. Starting off, you make him a full brunch bowl of ackee with tomato, garlic mushrooms, cinnamon coated plantain with charred corn and toasted sourdough. Your passion had always been cooking but since your relationship with Lewis began, you spent more time working on vegan based food that the both of you can enjoy.

As his plate is in the warmer, you freshen up and get the bath salts and rose petals ready. Considering that it was only 3:43pm, you decide that it was a justifiable time to get your stash box out. Blue Dream was already in your grinder and after the weekend, Lewis had - this was something that he was going to need. You roll two joints and place them back on your rolling tray.

Once everything is prepared, you walk back to the living room and just as you sit down, you hear the chiming of the security system.

“Princess!” You hear Lewis call out for you. You hop up from the couch and run towards the foyer. Seeing your face causes a tired smile to spread across his lips and he opens his arms. You jump into them and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Hi my baby.” You whisper against his cheeks as you place kisses all over his face repeatedly causing him to chuckle as he tightens his arms around you.

“Hi.” He mumble back as you finally capture his mouth. “Mmm.” He hums as your lips move passionately against each other. You giggle into the kiss as his hands move to your ass and cup the flesh into his palms.

“I missed you.” Lewis sighs as he pulls away.

“I missed you too.” You reply as you get down from his waist and bring your hands to his face and you begin caressing his cheeks. He curls into your touch which causes your heart to melt. “Let’s get you settled in.” You tell him.

As he was eating, you wall back to the bathroom and prepare the tub and you turn on the jets to keep the water warm. Once everything is ready, you call for Lewis to come to the bathroom.

“Can you get naked for me?” You instruct. Lewis smiles at you as he begins to strip from his travelling clothes. Before the soak in, the both of you take a shower where you are washing him. This is the best part of your day. You love taking care of Lewis.

Getting to do this for him is one of your favourite ways to show Lewis how much you love him. With you, he just gets to let you take care of him.

Then you got into the bathtub, with a few candles lit and music playing in the background. You’re sitting on his lap with your thighs on each side as you bring the joint to your lips and spark it alight. You can feel his eyes on you and it warms your body far more than the water.

“You know I shouldn’t be smoking that.” Lewis muses as you take in your first inhale. You exhale the smoke over his face and you smile as he blinks through it.

“Your next race is in over a week. You’ll be fine.” You reply as you bring the joint to his lips. He takes a couple of puffs, inhaling the smoke and letting it settle in his chest before he exhales. You places the joint down and wraps your arms around his neck.

“Your presence is so calming.” Lewis compliments.

“Me or the sativa?” You ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Both.” Lewis chuckles. He wasn’t much of smoker anymore so he is feeling the effects of the weed a lot faster than you are. You’re already halfway through the first joint thus seeing his reaction to it is a little hilarious.

As you speak, Lewis lays kisses on your chest and caresses the skin of your back.

“How have you been baby? Talk to me.” You say as your thumbs lightly brush the back of his neck.

“Since the announcement, I feel like there’s been this bad energy hanging above my head.” Lewis confesses which causes you to pout.

“Awe baby.”

“I’ve always been the one to pick everyone’s spirits up at the factory. But for the past couple of years, I feel like no-one is really having my back.”

“I know they’ve been with you for close to thirty years now but with them, you know that the only loyalty they’ll know is to the check that pays them.” You explain. “But at the end of the day, you made the best business decision for you. Don’t let anyone on that team make you feel bad about that when they chose what they think is the best for them.”

“You really think I made the best decision?” He asks you as he licks his lips, looking up at you.

“We’re not even halfway through the season, alongside me, there are millions of your fans who would agree with me that you indeed make a good business move.” You lean forward and place a soft kiss on his jawline. “2025 is going to come and you’re going to show them why they fumbled the baddest bitch to ever do it.” Your last statement causes Lewis to laugh.

“The baddest bitch huh.” He raises his eyebrow as watches you take a hit from the second joint. You shift your body so that you press your back against his chest and he takes the joint away from you and takes a puff.

“You’re right though. I can’t keep feeling guilty about the car’s poor performance and taking it onto my shoulders when they barely do that for me.”

You hum in agreement as you stroke his arm, drawing patterns nonchalantly over his tattooed skin. “You’re bigger than the sport. When you leave, they’re going to be nothing without you.”

“I love the way you gas me up.” He chuckled as he leans down and places kisses along the length of your shoulder.

“Not only are you the undisputed goat of the sport, you’re my man. It’s a part of my duty to make sure that you never forget that.”

Lewis continues to place kisses on your neck and shoulder with his arms wrapping around your front. You sit there in silence for a while as you share the joint, just holding each other and enjoying the music in the background.

“You got any projects coming up?” He asks you. That was the end of the previous conversation, which is fine with you. Recently, you’ve began to hate speaking about Formula One. It has become draining for the both of you - which is telling because, you’re Lewis’s girlfriend, witnessing everything from the sidelines. You couldn’t possibly imagine what it feels for Lewis to be living in it.

“I’ve been curating some pieces for some people to add onto my blog. I’m helping to style Megan in a few days so I’m really excited about that. Oh! And the readers really love when I upload the pieces I’ve done for you.”

“You should just be my full time stylist at this point.” He states as he passes you the joint.

“Hell no.” You immediately answer. “I love you and I love styling you but you take a lot of work - you’re a perfectionist and that’s annoying especially when I know what works for you and what the girls want but you argue with me.” Rolling your eyes at the end, a move that causes Lewis to laugh.

“I know what I like.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“And I know what you need. Fashion is more than putting a good two piece on.”

“Okay, okay.” He relents as his quiet laughs vibrate through you.

“Would you even pay me?”

“I would pay you and then some. Even give you some special favours.”

“Oh? What kind of special favours?” You enquire even though you know what type of favours they would be. Lewis turns you back to face him. You position your legs on each side of his waist. You could feel his soft cock against your inner thigh but you weren’t going to turn your attention to that. You’re more focused on how faded he looks, how faded the both of you are.

His eyes are sitting low, his beautiful lashes nearly touching his cheeks with a slow smile playing on his lips as his hands go under the water and settle on your ass.

“You’d get to be with me more.” He begins but you interject.

“I’m practically with you all the time as it stands.”

“Yeah.” Lewis mumbles before tucking his head into your neck and nibbling on your skin. “I’d get to touch you, you’d get to touch me. Whenever and wherever.”

You bite on your lip and then you begin to feel his fingers curling and gripping into the flesh of your ass to pull you closer.

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” You take the joint from the rolling tray to take a big puff and then grab him by the jaw before exhaling the smoke into his mouth and put the joint back down. Lewis lets out a light grumble as your hand curls around the back of his neck and you pull him forward to meet his lips.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours as you continue making out. Lewis’s hand travels up the length of your back, putting pressure on you so that your chest is pressing against his. You nibble on his bottom lip, pulling it into your mouth as your manicured nails dig into his shoulders.

Lewis moves his head so that your lips don’t part any further and one of his hands grips one side of your head, keeping you in place as he makes love to your mouth. You sigh softly as rushes of pleasure shoot up and down your spine before settling in your abdomen.

You love the way he kisses you. It completely consumes you every time. The way his mouth moulded against yours, his tongue entangling with yours, his fingers exploring your body like it was the first time.

Itching to be closer to him, in an act of frenzy - you grind your hips forward. His dick begins to harden beneath your thighs but you’re too enthralled with the way he’s kissing you. It sends shivers down your spine. Lewis’s jerk upwards when you roll your hips again which causes you to giggle and finally pull away from the kiss.

“I think this bath has done what it needed to do. I need you in bed. Now.” His voice is low and full of arousal and your thighs clench at how deep his voice has gotten. He slaps the side of your breast which causes you to squeal.

You jump out of the water and reach for the drying towels.

“Drop those towels Princess. You’re not going to need it for what we’re about to do.”

ru’s letters 💌: let me know what you think. also would you like these type of one shots where it’s just a scenario? 💋

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Daddy Kink Dew/Phantom again...

I'm so insane about them.....

CW for daddy kink and "baby boy"/"Daddy's good boy" used, spanking

(but this is NOT DD/LB that is a no go for me. I just like the name usage)

Super long post!

It was a joke when Phantom used it first, the entire pack cuddled in the common room when Dew came out holding plates with the help of Mountain.

"Don't be up too late tonight, we have practice in the morning."

Phantom had just chirped, thanking him and he's gotten a little sassy thanks to Swiss and Rain! "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say dad."

"See? It's things like that, that makes me think you're a dumb kit."

"Oh, sorry, lemme- wha'ever say daddy." He's mocking a baby voice, flicking Dew off while munching on his garlic bread with such a shit eating grin.

Swiss is losing his shit, the girls giggling in return. But Dew? He's just staring at Phantom before he scoffs, waving his hand away as he goes to his room to eat in silence.

Second time, Dew is yelling about something in the practice room. Something-something-cant find the strings he put away.

"You aren't being helpful right now!" Dew just hisses at Aurora.

Phantom, again, "Careful Rory! Daddy ang'y."

Once again laughter but now Dew is just hard fucking glaring Phantom, to the point the newly summon just slowly shrinks and hides behind Swiss. He and Dew don't talk the entire practice anymore, but Phantom can feel the glare and burning eyes. They're worried they honestly upset Dew, but too nervous to say anything with the potential he may be angry at them.

It's when they get back to the den, Phantom slinking to his room, going to close the door before it's caught and Dew pushes his way in, locking it and grabbing Phantom by his collar.

"Think you're fucking funny, huh?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I was just trying to play! I'm sorry!"

Poor bat can only yelp as he's forced onto the bed, feeling Dew bite his bond mark and keep his wrists down. "Pissing me off every fucking time you open your mouth." Goes right up to his ear, voice low. "Guess daddy needs to teach respect again, doesn't he?"

Oh....

Oh.

Phantom just shivers, his face already so warm with blush it doesn't help that Dew is literally heating up. Dew goes straight to his hair, yanking their head back and slowly starts grinding on their uniform pants. The sheer amount of force Dewdrop uses to yank Phantom's clothes off is insane, then moving the quint over his lap. There's one hand on Phantom's neck to keep him down, the other slowly rubbing over Phantom's curved ass. Dew hasn't stop growling the entire time, his body heat practically making Phantom get a sun tan if it could.

"I'm sorry, Dew, I-"

SMACK!

"What was that?"

"I-I said I'm sorry Dew!"

SMACK! SMACK!

The hand holding his neck squeezes, Dew just smiling so wide and Phantom can feel his chubbed cock against his stomach.

"I'll give you one last chance, Phantom. What did you say?"

Their breath is shaking, tail around their thigh. "I'm sorry..." He can feel Dew's hand twitch on his ass. "...Daddy."

"There we go."

The fire ghoul just rubbing his hand over Phantom's ass again before finally stopping his growls. He brings his hand back and another impact is made, Phantom yelling as more and more are brought down. His claws are digging into Dew's pants, tears streaming but his cunt is getting wetter by the second. The position is so... Embarrassing, exposing. Here he is literally being spanked like a rowdy kit. It's ridiculous!

"Do you know how long I've waited to do this to you? Huh?" Dew is purring now. "Bend you over my lap and spank that attitude out? Everyone's been an awful influence on you lately... You're not my good boy anymore."

"I... I am! I'm a good boy..."

Dew shakes his head, fingers massaging into the red handprints he left. "Tsk, no... You're not! But that's my fault, isn't it? I've neglected you. Let you get away with too much."

Phantom just keens, his ears twitching as the hand on his neck let's go and he's adjusted again, now his back to Dew's chest. Their legs are forced open by his arms, one hand grabbing his tit, the other quickly rubbing his clit.

"Daddy will get you back in shape, don't you worry, baby boy."

The voidling is a mess, feeling Dew pinch his nipple while circling that sensitive bundle of nerves. He can feel Dew sucking on their neck, Phantom's moans vibrating on Dew's lips, his hands never once stopping--even as Phantom tilts his head back with a loud cry, thighs shaking as he squirts on both Dew's lap and reaching the floor. Yet... Dew doesn't stop his fingers.

Rather, the pack leader keeps going. He's at the same pace, but the hand on his chest moves down to his cunt as well, finger fucking him too. Their wings are fluttering, pushing against Dew as much as they can, moans free falling as their body racks with shivers and pleasure.

He doesn't know how long it goes own for, or how many times he's came (enough for Dew's lap to be a small puddle), but now it's gotten to oversensitivity and borderline painful.

"Daddy- Daddy, please! I can't- I can't cum anymore-"

"Awhh, just two more, baby. Don't you wanna be daddy's good boy?" Dew is whining, nipping Phantom's jaw.

"Please."

His attempt to plead is ignored as another orgasm is forced out, but Dew's hands are moved away which Phantom's body is grateful for. His fingers are covered in slick and cum, sticky and white as he brings one hand to Phantom's mouth and the other to his. They open obediently and licking at their own mess, sucking Dew's fingers clean with another whine.

Once Dew pulls his hand away and is satisfied with the cleanup, he rolls them over, Phantom pressed down in the bed. He can hear Dew undressing himself and only moving back to shake his pants off. He's right on top of them again, kissing and licking up Phantom's back before pushing in, and those purrs are back to growls.

"Always so fucking tight."

Poor bat is crying again, eyes rolling back as he adjusts to Dew, his cunt welcoming him despite the strain. His moans are so choppy, high pitched little un-un-un, but occasionally he'll slip out a "da-ddyyyy-" in between. They're fucked with little to no care, Dew's claws dug into their hips and chasing his own orgasm.

Another slap against Phantom's ass makes him howl, lifting his head some while Dew's voice rings out again. "You're gonna be good for daddy from now on, aren't you?"

When he can't respond, the hand goes to his hair and lifts, Dew hissing in his ear. "Aren't you?!"

"Yes!!" God, his poor cunt is tired yet yearning for more. "Yes, yes daddy! Gonna be good for daddy forever!!"

His ear is nipped at, and he's shoved back down. Dew loses any control he had, just railing into Phantom's tight and slick heat like a rabid ghoul in a rut. His knot latching and dragging Phantom back, hand against the arch his spine is in.

Just like before, another orgasm is ripped through Phantom once Dew's knot locks in, sobbing as his mate is rutting against him before it pops, flooding his insides with more warmth. They dead weight, Dew following with a tight grip still. He nuzzles himself against Phantom's sweaty neck, inhaling his scent and catching his breath.

"Gonna be daddy's good boy..." He gives another hump and Phantom can't even open his eyes again. "So fucking delicious, baby."

Phantom is covered in marks and the whole damn pack has heard him, but doesn't dare say a word as Dew is lingering right next to him; Petting through his hair and whispering sweetly to him. The leader moves for just a second and comes back with a sandwich, Phantom sitting on his lap and absentmindedly purring.

"Open."

A little 'ahh' and Phantom bites down, his tail wagging and nuzzling into Dew's shoulder. "Thank you, daddy."

Dew has the biggest shit eating grin, kissing Phantom's cheek before he hold the food up once more.

[msmk11]

James and His Damned Owl

James Potter x gn!muggle!reader

Word count: 1.5k

CW: Mentions of food/eating, mentions of alcohol, ornithophobia

Summary: Having a wizard boyfriend is strange to say the least. While it certainly has its perks, it also has its quirks… In particular, you’re not very much a fan of the magic world’s choice in pets.

Author’s Note: So you know how this type of fanfic is called self-insert, well this is the most self-insert fic I’ve ever written. Reader is me, I am a reader. BIRDS ARE SCARY, okay?! Anyways, this fic is the silliest one I’ve written so far and I had so much fun doing it! I hope you enjoy :)

Having a boyfriend who is a wizard is strange in a number of ways. Truthfully, when James first confessed his secret to you a few weeks ago, you laughed right in his face. It wasn’t until he pulled out his wand and literally started doing magic in front of you that you believed him. It’s safe to say you were in shock, and you’re not quite sure that feeling has faded yet. After James gave you a day or two to process the news, his magic usage around you went from 0 to 100. More times than you’d like to count, your mischievous boyfriend has scared the ever-loving shit out of you by randomly appearing in your home or on the street out of thin air. Now too, instead of walking or driving to your house like a normal person, James will randomly tumble out of your fireplace in a burst of green flames. Not only did you nearly die on the spot the first time it happened, but you’ve since bitched to James many times about how the soot he tracks in is ruining your very nice rug.

The moving pictures he has gives you the creeps, you find it laughable that he prefers using a quill and ink to a pen, and your head swarms every time James mentions some spell, potion, or magical creature whose name sounds like complete and utter gibberish.

But, despite your groans and whining, you do really think that James being a wizard is super cool. Like a child seeing a magician, you’re constantly begging your boyfriend to do different things with his magic so you can ooh and aah over them. When you found out James is an ani- animungal? Anamatronic?- the thing where you can turn into an animal, you were even more ecstatic. Admittedly, you may have once or twice begged James to assume his deer form so that you could ride on his back through the woods like some Disney princess probably would.

Magic has its perks too outside of your own personal entertainment. For example, now, instead of having to do dishes when one of the two of you cook dinner, a flick of James’ wand has them cleaning themselves. Other chores are now taken care of similarly, leaving you with a lot more free time to be with your lovely boyfriend.

This evening is one perfect example. After getting off work, you were surprised to find James waiting outside your office, a bouquet of pretty pink flowers in hand. The evening sun rested lovingly on his peaceful face so that his brown skin seemed to actually glow. It was a wonderful surprise and your trip back to his flat was much more pleasant than usual- defined by clasped hands swinging between you and teasing conversation.

The night only seemed to get better when you arrived at James’ place and were met with the delicious smell of garlic and pasta. The table was set nicely, and your two plates were already prepared, kept warm by the wonders of magic.

Things were perfect. Maybe a little too much so.

******

When you and James finish dinner, he stands and grabs your plates. Usually, you would protest- claiming that whoever didn’t cook has to do dishes- but you know magic will take care of it all. James then kisses you quick before taking a trip to the bathroom.

As you’re sitting at the kitchen table still, reveling in your full belly and nursing your glass of wine, your peace is rudely disrupted. With it being pleasantly warm out this evening, James had left the windows open. This seemed like a great idea until now- when a big brown owl comes swooping into the kitchen.

While anyone would surely be startled by the bird’s random appearance, you are especially so because you’re terrified of birds. The bloodcurdling scream you let out is akin to someone who is dying- but in your mind is appropriate for the situation at hand. A string of curses leave your mouth as you jump up and hesitantly back away from the owl perched on one of the kitchen chairs. You grope for the counter behind you, never taking your eye off the owl as you maneuver around the island to hide behind it.

Of course, your scream has resulted in a panicked James and shouts of your name. He comes barreling into the kitchen in only his shirt and boxers, wand at the ready. He whips his head around, looking for you and the supposed threat that caused you to scream. He calls your name again and your head pops up from behind the counter.

“Lovey? What is it?” He asks anxiously.

You whimper a little and, with a shaky hand, point at the big bird across the room. When James sees what you’re pointing at, he visibly relaxes and lowers his wand.

“Oh, him? That’s just Hootie,” he tells you casually, “Probably should’ve mentioned I have a pet owl.”

You stare at him in complete and utter shock then shrilly squeal, “How’d you forget to mention that you have a pet owl?!!”

James shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and places his wand on the counter, walking towards you, “Well, I guess I didn’t really think too much about it. It’s very common in the magic world to have one, so I didn’t consider that it’d be abnormal. It’s just like having a dog in the muggle world.”

You don’t respond with any English, instead sputtering anxiously.

James crouches beside you, “So are you going to come out now? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You shake your head no aggressively and shrink into his side, “No way, Jamie. Birds are terrifying- with their big beaks and beady eyes. And who knows what diseases they carry- no offense.”

Your boyfriend wraps his arm around you and soothingly rubs your side, “Awe, sweetheart, I didn’t know you’re afraid of birds.”

“Oh yes, very. Have been since I was five and a bird pooped on me at the zoo.”

You don’t miss the chuckle and small smirk on James’ face and huff, pulling away.

“It’s not funny Jamie! It’s a real fear!”

He puts his hands up in surrender, “I know, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It is a real fear. But it’s an irrational one, you know.”

You huff again and roll your eyes, grumbling under your breath. James then stands and stretches out his hands, “Here, why don’t you come meet Hootie and see birds aren’t all so bad.”

You hesitantly take his hand and stand. You slowly walk out from behind the counter and only make it a few steps before the damned bird shifts, ruffling its feathers.

You squeal again and let go of James’ hand, this time hiding behind his broad frame, “I don’t think I can do this Jamie.”

He turns around and looks at you softly before pulling you into a tight hug. You relax a little against his chest, but your eyes never leave the owl over his shoulder, “I believe in you, lovey. Why don’t you let me go first, to show you that Hootie won’t hurt you, and then we can try together, yeah?”

You hesitantly reply with an okay.

James lets go of you and turns around. He walks over to the brown owl easily and coos a little, petting its back softly as it nuzzles into his touch. The owl then juts its head out, seeming to be waiting for something. James, apparently, knows what this means, and reaches behind him to grab some sort of pellet out of the cabinet and feed it to the bird.

“Okay, sweetheart. Now why don’t you come over and give Hootie a pet.”

He walks over and grabs your hand. Your smaller one fits into his nicely and you grip onto it with a death-grip. The two of you slowly make your way over to the owl and stand beside it. You sort of half stand behind James while still holding his hand. Fingers intertwined, James slowly starts moving your joint arms out, “Ready?

You very slightly shake your head and then your palm makes connection with the soft feathers of Hootie. The bird stares at you with its big eyes and, like it did for James, nuzzles into your touch.

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases a little and you decide that maybe birds aren’t so bad.

As you pull away, James squeezes your hand gently, “See? You did it. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Just as you’re beginning to feel proud of yourself too, the owl shuffles a little and rotates its head 180, so it’s no longer staring at you. The range of motion it has terrifies you and you scream again, running down the hall away from James and his damned owl.

[reality-detective]

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5. Iodine: Promising Approach🧪

Natural Remedies 🤔

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER NINE — EDDIE the OBVIOUS and the LADY SPHINX

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: a tense dinner at rick lipton's place reveals some part of al munson's reason for returning to hawkins. your saturday morning detention is tense, and you and eddie both get more than you bargained for when you crash hellfire club to profile them for the school newspaper. content warnings: MINORS DNI AS ALWAYS warnings for smut, cunnilingus, dick-fondling, p in v, reference to drug usage, slight perv!eddie, silly teenagers having silly teenage fights that actually aren't so silly (kinda antagonistic ronance version!), reference to childhood physical abuse, al munson jumpscare, lacy's dad jumpscare, both lacy's real first name and surname is used in this chapter. no description of body type. just descriptions of a good time eye emoji eye emoji word count: 16.4k

Dear Lord, 

Grant me the serenity to accept the shit I cannot change, the courage to change the shit I can, and the wisdom to seize a damn fine opportunity when I see one. 

Amen. 

When Al Munson cooks a spaghetti dinner, you know he means business. 

Once a line cook with aspirations higher than diner fumes, always a line cook with aspirations higher than diner fumes.

He learned to cook on the grill, but perfected it in the joint. During one of his stints, a homecoming tour of the state of Kentucky, he fell in with this web of wiseguys who made him stagiaire in their makeshift kitchen, slicing ghostly slivers of garlic with a razorblade. 

Al’s insisted on the method ever since. Even now, hunkered over in Rick Lipton’s kitchen, preparing a meal for which Eddie’s already lost his appetite. 

Eddie had already given up on the whole there are a bunch of knives right there suggestion, knowing his father loves few things like he loves performing his whole Kiss the Cook bit. He plays it to the hilt, an exercise in tart, rich, floral smarm that beats out the complex flavoring of his tomato gravy by a country fucking mile. Down to that bullshit Serenity Prayer. 

“Courage to change the shit you can? Man, you can barely change your underwear!” Rick heartily chuckles, heaping pasta onto his plate. The way the noodles slide against each other, thick and glistening like worms full of nefarious promise, makes Eddie want to ralph. 

He hadn’t had much of an appetite for anything since he’d visited the nurse’s office. 

He felt weird. Strung out. Guilty. And angry. Guilty like, what got into me, why’d I do that and angry like, why’d I leave you just standing there like that, and why’d you let me.

“C’mon, kid, you look famished,” Al pulls that anger-inducing Cheshire Cat face, placing a solely ornamental leaf of basil on top of the dish Rick passes. This fucking asshole. These fucking assholes. In cahoots together. “Wayne’s Hungry Man dinners ain’t hittin’ the way they used to, huh?”

Al’s smile doesn’t slice through the tension of the room nearly as clean as he wants it to. Eddie feels Wayne stiffen at his right elbow, sees Rick divert his eyes from across the table.

“Well, Dad,” Eddie says, forcibly stabbing and winding his fork through the spaghetti, “You know what coulda solved that?”

“What’s that, huh?”

“You staying out of lockup for longer than the duration of an MC5 song.”

Al doesn’t falter. Eddie bets he could open-palm slap him and that shiteater of a grin wouldn’t slide from his face. 

“I’m here now, ain’t I?” his father clicks his tongue, digging right into his own dish, “You really gotta learn to live in the moment, kid.” 

Eddie’s spaghetti-filled mouth starts to form around the indignant words, I’m not a kid! but Al beats him to the punch. Quite literally. 

“Though, judgin’ by those scuffs on your knuckles, looks like you did somethin’ without thinkin’ it the whole way through first. Huh?” Al slurps his pasta noisily, and Eddie feels Wayne tense even more, if that’s possible. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

The sense memory of silver flashes colliding with Billy Hargrove’s face in the parking lot, the sense memory of you and your vicelike grip trying to pull him off before he killed him. The sense memory of bile blowing through his veins, stumbling upon those lowlifes talk to you like that. Rage blackout. Yadda yadda.

According to rumor, Hargrove was lucky that Eddie didn’t cave his entire cheek in. He still couldn’t totally see out of his right eye, the swelling was that gathered and insistent. 

Eddie lets the question droop in the air, before eventually mumbling, “S’nothing. Just– shit at school.”

Wayne had been the first one to ask him, obviously, catching sight of his bandaged hand when he came upon Eddie staring a hole into–you guessed it–yet another Murder, She Wrote rerun, following your encounter on the examination table. 

Eddie had given it the brush off so Wayne had given it the brush off. He was no stranger to his nephew bearing busted knuckles, even if it did make the old man’s blood chill every time he saw it. Those interactions always reeked of you poor kid, like Eddie was the perpetual victim. Got under Eddie’s skin a little.

But Al asks him like he knows something. And Rick won’t look at Eddie. 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your lovely new neighbor, would it?” Other shoe, meet short, hard drop. 

Eddie’s grip tightens around his fork, and in the back of his mind, he summons the spirit of the sharpest tongue he knows.

“Who?” He’s this close to prank calling people using his Lacy impression, that’s how good it’s gotten. 

Al cradles his cheek against his palm. His eyes, the eyes that might as well have been scooped out and shoved into Eddie’s skull, they’re such iris perfect replicas, search his son for cracks in his composure. Al stabs, stabs, stabs aimlessly into his dinner. 

“You’re a lot of things, Eddie Munson,” he says, “but you ain’t dumb.”

“Truly do not know what you’re yakkin’ about. Can I eat?” 

“Come on, Eddie boy! You out there getting into scuffles over that little gold-plated piece’ah something?”

“Can I eat?”

“A little forbidden flame, maybe, two’ah you?”

“Can I eat?”

“Can’t say I blame ya. If I were… twenty years younger.... Or maybe she likes ‘em a little more mature. Think I got a shot?” Al’s teeth are starting to grit, spittle starting to fly. Frenzied in the way he’s trying to eek a reaction out of his kid. “Huh? Eddie?”

Al’s lecherous suggestion of you toed the line of too much for the Munson men, it seems. Eddie and Wayne’s voices overlap. 

“Maybe we leave that girl out of this, Al–” “–can I eat, or what?”

SLAM! Al’s fist comes into direct contact with the hardwood of Rick’s dining room table, plates and cutlery and glasses clattering nervously. Rick jumps a little, groaning under his breath. Wayne drags a hand over his eyes. 

“You can answer the goddamn question! Shit!” 

Eddie, for his part, should probably feel a little scared, his dad raring up on him like that. Instead, he just lets his wound-up fork sag in a pile of spaghetti and leans back in his seat. The thing with Al Munson is this– his bark has always been way bigger than his bite. Especially when he’s as coked up as he is right now. 

Ever since he’d roared into Rick’s driveway in that eyesore of a muscle car (alright, it was a little cool– but in, like, a lame Dukes of Hazzard kinda way), Al had been operating in sharp angles and backed-up nostrils. 

Shit, Eddie would be shocked if there wasn’t residue on that razor blade he used to slice the garlic. That stupid, reckless, peacocking-as-a-father motherfucker. 

He folds his arms, waiting for Al’s tone to pitch on down, for the tremor in his hand to act up, for him to say–

“Sorry. Sorry,” pressed through a line of grit teeth, “I just… Hmm.” It’s like Al is actively trying to plaster the mask of his charming grin back on his face but it keeps slipping out of his fingers. “She’s a real dime. Smart as hell too, huh? Shame about–”

“Al, what’re you gettin’ at with all this?” Wayne asks, and thank god he does. Eddie doesn’t know how much more dancing around the subject he can take, but he won’t be the one to bend first. “What did you bring us up here for? And don’t–” the eldest of all Munson holds a hand up, “--say you just wanted to get together. I don’t buy it. Eddie sure doesn’t buy it. And if Lipton here buys it, he’s a fool.”

Al shrinks, a snot-nosed kid under the magnifying glass his big brother holds to him. “Wayne–”

“You bring us up here to make us part of that goddamn stupid high school feud with that girl’s father? You really spin out that far?”

It’s not often that Wayne speaks up, but when he does, boy. Can that man dress a situation down. 

Al falters. Wayne has that ability to knock him out at the knees, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask him how he does that. 

“Listen. Alright. It’s not– alright,” Al clenches his hands in fists, a flex in and a flex out. A gesture Eddie notices, because he does it too. As if he’s trying to grasp the last threads of trust from them. “With that girl’s old man permanently benched so to speak, there’s an opportunity for another batter to step up. Okay? Jail sentences get doled out like Halloween candy–who knows that better than me, right?--but life goes on. There is… an opportunity here. Work still needs to get done. Work that I could’ve– that I can do.”

Eddie knows that his dad doesn’t realize he’s saying a lot of nothing, because Al’s always saying a lot of nothing. Vague promises with no real end to them. What catches him this time around is the glint in his eye, hidden behind the drug-induced one, and the glint of a gaudy ring on his finger. A green gem stamped in the middle, like a cat’s harvested eyeball. Huh. 

“... let me make good on this, boys. For once. Let me take care of y’all.” Al huffs a faux-humble breath, glancing toward Rick for some kind of illustrative reassurance. “Y’know, seeing how it screwed up that little girl, seeing her big, upstanding daddy go to jail and all, I really–,” a swallow, for dramatic measure. Gunning for Best Actor here. “--felt it. Made me think, Eddie, of all the times when you were just a squirt… Made me wanna do right by you, is all.” 

“How much of that doin’ right have you got up your nose, Dad?” Eddie sneers, putting two and two together. Of course this is what he’s back for; not to sell, couldn’t possibly be that simple in the convoluted world of Al Munson, but to supply. To get a suit fitted, pretend to be the big man. “Try before you buy isn’t exactly the most cost-effective policy.” 

“Jesus, why, why have you got to make this so hard on me, kid?” Al is just about wringing his hands right now, scaling the apex of his desperation. “You have an in! You have the in!” 

The in, of course, being Eddie’s connection to you, and by proxy, your dad. Al’s like a bloodhound that way, sniffing out the few good things that Eddie has going for him from miles off and tearing them right from his hands and acting like he’s doing Eddie a favor by making him his man on the inside.

“This whole town could be ours if you would just–”

That does it. Eddie leaps from the table, chair clattering to Rick’s warped wooden floor.

“I don’t want this whole town, are you fucking crazy?!” he yells, spittle flying, “And–and I certainly don’t want it if it’s anything to do with you!”

What the hell would make Al think that Eddie would hitch his wagon (which, granted, ain’t in too great a shape–he’s barely passing any classes, thanks to a pickup in business he guesses he can thank his dad for) to the living sunk cost fallacy that his father is? What the hell does Al Munson want with that kind of fantasy, one where he’s king bastard of the Hawkins cockwalk when he can’t even stick within county limits for more than a couple of weeks?

Well, Eddie actually has a pretty good idea, one that occurs to him like a lightning strike as Al struggles to keep his temper level. Let Eddie look like the tantrum-throwing brat.

Yeah. Exactly. 

He’d wind Eddie into whatever scheme he was cooking up and ditch it, half-baked, leaving Eddie in a kitchen with all the smoke alarms going off. Elbow deep in an unsalvageable mess, because Al could never follow through on anything. 

He’d have Eddie exploit your relationship for a couple of instances of, “That’s my boy.” Because Al still thought that trick worked; making him believe he’s loved, valuable, wringing every last drop of loyalty out of him because a boy needs his father… and a father needs his boy, y’know!

Fuck that. 

“We should split.” It’s Wayne who says it, batting away the apologetic glance both the Munson men get from Rick– like he’s Al’s keeper or something, managing his moods. Like he isn’t raking in a cash cow from Al’s great Ray Doevski replacement theory. 

“No, c’mon–” Al half-heartedly protests, like he could still save the evening but can’t really be bothered. 

Wayne follows Eddie’s furious stalk out the door, tearing a cigarette from a soft pack as he hauls into the passenger side of the van. 

Eddie, a tightening ball of rage, whacks the steering wheel with one good thump. He’d been stupid enough to entertain Al these past couple of days– out of confusion more than anything else. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.

“The in,” Eddie mockingly mumbles as the van roars to life and he peels out against scattering gravel. 

Wayne has his cigarette pinched between his thumb and index and lets that settle for a beat or two. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Fists flexing around the wheel, Eddie knows very well he’s been caught red-handed. There’s no way Wayne had gone this long without suspecting anything, even after he’d specifically warned him. More of a suggestion, actually; Wayne knows that Eddie will do whatever he wants, regardless. 

Unfortunately, he’s like his father that way. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Eddie says, a shoulder shrug, a mirthless lilt in his tone. “She…”

Again, Wayne stays silent. Waiting for Eddie to tell on himself, like he always does. 

“She doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this,” Eddie arrives at, voice a little choked. “Whatever Dad’s planning on doing–”

“Neither do you,” Wayne reminds him. This is where Wayne and his stoicism pulls Eddie up short. Neither do you, and the only way you avoid the blowback is if you two avoid each other. But at that same time, Wayne always knows where Eddie’s heart is at. Knows that his heart is too big not to follow. 

Even if Wayne hasn’t seen you two together, laughing ‘til you’re stupid like the kids that you are, can’t he see…

“Why can’t this be easy?” Eddie asks, his voice small. Echoes of a littler him, one that Wayne would pick up in the truck after school. Head hanging, backpack trailing, kicking pebbles and cursing the world. 

Instead, through a sage swirl of smoke, Wayne’s hard stare seems to peel back some. He’s always known where Eddie’s heart is at. Eddie’s starting to think he wishes he knew less. 

—

Jesus Christ, are you ever sick of learning your lesson. Of reflecting on what you’ve done. 

It’s exhausting, and more to the point, pointless, and even more than that, boring. 

Truth is, you’re beginning to second-guess your adoration of brilliant thinkers. Those motherfuckers knew too much, and in the past week, you’ve found yourself yearning for the days where you got by on knowing nothing but the good stuff! The juicy gossip, where the best parties were at, what lipstick could not stand up to what nail polish! When intellectualism was a bedtime story you’d read to yourself under the fucking covers and you didn’t have to decode the labyrinth of your own stupid feelings! 

Sure, you felt like a husk most of the time, but you’d take that over this graceless stumbling shit!

You should be allowed to smash the windows out of Billy Hargrove’s car and no one should be able to say boo about it! God!

Instead, however, you’ve been caught up in an as-yet-unprecedented display of seething and sulking. People are still whispering about you, natch, glancing at your belly like you would’ve if that heinous spawnous prank was played on anyone else. At the very least, they still have the good sense to flinch when you match their stare.

Billy Hargrove’s two week suspension means you don’t have to worry about seeing his ugly face, but it also comes with the two week guarantee of not seeing Eddie. 

And the probable delay of your Hellfire article. Which is paramount. Obviously.

Speaking of Eddie, there’s too much speaking of Eddie to do. 

You keep replaying the sneak attack from Al Munson in your head, him sliding his aviators down his nose to get a look at you. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Payin’ my respects. Your father, shit. Shame what happened to him. He was– well. I was gonna say he was a ‘good man’, but that sounds kinda funny, don’t it?”

It wasn’t about Eddie, except it was about Eddie, because every stupid thing is about Eddie.

Especially the fact that you’re sitting in your college-going beau’s chariot, about to slink into Saturday detention. If it weren’t for him…

“Lacy?” a voice calls from the driver’s seat. “You alright?”

You snap to, rearranging your face into something definitive and sharp and pleasing to the eye. Because you’re fine! You’d said as much when he snuck you into the basement of his parent’s house–why wasn’t he back in school yet–and said as much when he squirmed against you, asking you if you were okay in that weighted way that really meant can I put it in yet. 

You’d gotten on all fours because it allowed you to roll your eyes when he was all, oh, woah! sliding it in from the back. 

You’d reached around and teased your clit to attempt a climax. Trying to imitate that clumsy rhythm from the nurse’s office. It didn’t quite stick–paled in comparison, like a Simon and Garfunkel tribute act made up of people that didn’t secretly want to fuck each other. 

And then he gave you a ride this morning. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to bore yourself out of misbehavior– but you’d told him that you had newspaper business to attend to. 

“I’m fine,” you brightly declare for the fourth and final time, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. It was a weird gesture, but the shine had buffed off. He’s cute and all, but you two had gone to see Paris, Texas at the Hawk and he didn’t get it.

He didn’t get how much you clowned on him for not getting it afterwards either. You hadn’t been able to get it out of your head, the way he shrugged away from you at the diner as you ribbed him for his plodding misunderstanding of Harry Dean Stanton.

Coldly, you thought of the trade-off that you and Eddie had agreed on. Repo Man for Paris, Texas once it came out. You had to pretend you liked Repo Man a lot less than you actually did to swing that one, because Eddie wasn’t keen to lock in to some movie about a dude crying in the desert or whatever unless you angled in the fact that you owe me for making me sit through all that machismo. 

“You love machismo. You wanted to nail that sweaty little punker, I saw you squeezin’ your knees together.”

“For Emilio Estevez? Please. I had my eye on the old guy. ‘Ordinary fuckin’ people, I hate ‘em’--that kind of shit really does it for me, Munson, you know that.”

“That why you’ve been entertaining the pleasure of my company for so long?”

“Down, dog.”

Anyway. Fuck. 

“Listen, Lacy, I gotta tell you s–”

“Can’t right now! I’m already late and Fred is gonna have my head,” you chime, all saccharine, climbing out of the car. “Call me!” You pray that he doesn’t. 

Slam. What an extraordinary waste of time. 

As instructed, you make your way to the gym, which you think is a little weird. Detention usually denotes writing pointless, go-nowhere laments on how sorry you are for being such a bad kid, right? Think on your sins, yadda yadda yadda. 

Typically enough, no one’s here on time. Everyone’s late. You’re perched on the bleachers like an asshole, sitting alone like an asshole. That’s the goddamn ticket, isn’t it? You’re alone in all of this. You always have been. 

Like, for example. The Al Munson walk-on role into the surrealist tragi-comedy that is your fucking life. You can’t tell that to anybody. Not Eddie, naturally, not your mom, not Nancy because then you’d have to explain the continued and complicated Eddie of it all, not Ronnie because just because. And the ickiness of it hangs off your every move, and you can’t shake it, and no one can share it. 

You’re beginning to wonder if that’s true of all the parts of you. The ickiness. It’s all a little heavy, isn’t it? 

As if on cue, hearing ickiness called by name on the wind, Mr Kaminsky pushes open the gym’s double doors. 

“Oh, what the fuck.”

“Had to see it for myself.” Your loathed History teacher says, full of glee.

“Sir, if this is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, I have to say, you’re not my type.”

“Careful up there, Doevski. There’s more detentions where this came from.”

“Freak accident. I can’t be caged.”

“Well, let me enjoy the exception to the rule!” Kaminsky claps, and you jerk at the echo. 

You sigh so hard you almost unlatch something. “What elaborate torture have you got planned for me today? Want me to run laps or something? Because these shoes aren’t built for that.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lacy,” the teacher digs, “We’re still waiting on your comrades.”

“I’m late, I’m late, I know I’m late!” a familiar voice comes skidding right up behind Kaminsky, baseball hat askew, mud stains on the knees of her overalls. “Some goddamn lunatic tried to run me and my bike off the road–”

“Ronnie?”

“Hey, Lacy!” she calls brightly and breathlessly, slamming herself down on the bleachers beside you.

“Ron, what’re you–”

An unmistakable heel-click rounds its way into the gym, and in walks Nancy Wheeler with her face all pinched like a porcelain doll. She receives your big ol’ center-piece-missing jigsaw puzzle of a look with a knowingly arched eyebrow.

“You’re late, Wheeler,” Kaminsky tries, but Nancy’s already consulting her wristwatch. 

“Detention starts at nine sharp, right?” she says, impenetrable as always. “It’s 8:58.”

“Then can I have my admission of lateness struck from the record, actually?” Ronnie asks and Kaminsky shoots her a withering one, consulting his clipboard. 

“Alright, we got one more. Give it the goddamn two minutes, but then I’m bumping her to suspension. You wanna count it, Wheeler?” he scoffs. Wow, so he’s like a round the clock douchebag. To everybody. 

At what you only can assume is 8:59, the mismatched gangle of Robin Buckley comes slinking over the waxed floor, looking half-awake and pissed off–more pissed off, you might argue, now that she registers her company. She perches on the furthest end of the bleachers, pointedly away from the loose gaggle of you, Ronnie and Nancy. 

You shoot Ronnie a look like, what’s the sitch there? Thought you two were getting all bosomy. 

Ronnie just shrugs. 

“Alright!” Kaminsky claps the clipboard again, “So, this is a fun group. Bunch of smart girls who got caught doing idiot stuff. We’re gonna make you pay for that today. Sound good?”

The whole bad bunch of you just stare at him, slit-eyed. 

Your collective punishment, as it turns out, comes in the form of scraping old, disgusting, errant gum and other mystery sticky bullshit from the bottom of the bleachers. 

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Kaminsky sagely says, handing you each a tiny chisel from the art room, “And I understand that some of you are violent offenders,” that’s a pointed look at you and Ronnie, by the way, “but please. Don’t use this opportunity to take another girl’s eye out. Your community college acceptance is riding on it.” 

Motherfucker. Everyone knows Ronnie Ecker is in the running for valedictorian.

He leaves the four of you to your own devices, promising to check up on you all in a solid forty-five. 

“How many times you think he can beat off in forty-five minutes?” Ronnie immediately asks as the teacher disappears through the door. 

“Depends. Is he doing it in the shameful privacy of his three-door rust bucket or the clandestine confines of the AV room?” you question. 

Nancy makes a gagging sound but adds, “And is he using his imagination or Ms Kelley’s yearbook picture?” 

Nasty Wheeler! That girl has truly endeared herself to you.

Robin, however, doesn’t weigh in at all. She just sort of glares and angles herself onto the nearest bleacher rung to start scraping the age-old mastication from the wood. Tension in the air.

“Buckley’s got the right idea,” you say, twirling the chisel in your fingers, “Sooner we get started, sooner we get the grossness over with…”

Ronnie sticks close by you, which is nice. You always like having her in proximity. Nancy, who’s nothing but work ethic in everything she does, starts furiously working on a corner a little ways away from you both– and Robin. 

It doesn’t take long, maybe fifteen minutes of silent, resigned scraping, for you to get bored. And disgusted. 

“At what point do we get to do the whole prison thing of what are you in for?” you say, sitting up and letting the blood rush back to your head. 

“Well, yours goes without saying,” Ronnie chuckles, “going all batter on Hargrove’s car like that. Did you actually bust a window?”

“Just swung it around,” you say, driving your heel into the bench, “I may have inherited the felony misdemeanor gene, but I didn’t inherit getting caught. What about you?”

Ronnie flicks another gum wad off with her chisel, “Actually, you might wanna ask Wheeler about that.”

Your brow furrows. “Nance?” your voice rings down to the lower rungs, “Ronnie here says you were implicated in her detention-getting.”

“Yeah, um. Well, I heard about everything when you went–”

“--totally awesome psycho–”

“--in the parking lot and… I just. I wanted to clean up all that shit. From your locker. And then Nicole came by, smacking her stupid gum, and it kind of got ugly.”

Nicole. The irony of it, Nicole, gnashing out shittalk about you and Eddie in order to impress whatever unfortunate member of the wrestling squad she’d dug her press-ons into this week. Nicole, who’d already invaded Eddie’s territory, much to her apparent shame. 

What a majorette of a bitch.

You would’ve given anything to be ringside for this, her versus Nancy.

“You toed up to Nicole Summers?” a little pause, your voice goes smaller, “For me?”

Nancy sits up, her perm clouding around her. She points her chisel Ecker-ward.

“Ronnie was the one who smacked all her books out of her hand.”

Ronnie pffts. “Like she hasn’t done that to me a million times. Eye for an eye.” 

“Nicole wouldn’t even go near her on account of that one time she bit that one kid for catcalling her.”

“Oh, stop,” Ronnie’s gathering a blush, batting her hand all coquettish. 

“Wait, that was real?” you say, eyes darting between them, “I thought that was just some freak rumor we came up with.”

Rabid Ecker was one of the less clever nicknames your group of crown ghouls had come up with, so it obviously didn’t stick too long. 

“We?” Nancy scoffs, not mean.

“The royal ‘we’,” Robin Buckley drawls from her prostrate position on the bleachers. That sounds mean, the bite in her voice. 

Your hackles can’t help but rise at that cold snap in her tone. Does she have a fucking problem, or something? 

“And why are you here, Robin?” you call, hands knitting in your lap.

“I was with these bozos,” she says, a note-faithful mockery of your pointed voice, “For some godforsaken reason… and now I really wish I wasn’t.”

“Why’s that?” you press.

Nancy’s whole upper half tenses. “Robin–”

Robin’s chisel clatters on the bench, a toss made out of frustration. She looks to the three of you with pursed lips before letting loose. 

“Steve found out,” Robin says, “About the pregnancy test thing. In like, the worst way he could possibly find out, which is so goddamn unfair, unfair in the first place because of Nancy not telling him–like, I get it, your choice or whatever but you guys have been together for, like, a really significant period of time and you know how he feels about you–”

You and Ronnie can’t even get a breath in before Nancy rises from her seat, fingernails digging into tiny little fists at her side. She’s all spit and fury, she’s on Robin.

“Oh yeah, the worst way he could find out, Robin, the worst way which is that you blabbed to him!” Nancy yells, ricocheting around the gym, “‘Oh, I couldn’t help it, he asked me what was wrong and it all just came out–’ Give me a break! I mean, are you really that co-dependent that no one can tell you anything in confidence without you running to tell Steve?”

Robin’s face seizes in a snarl. “Are you really that stupid that you forgot to use protection with your long term boyfriend?”

“What is your problem?” Nancy’s voice whistles through her teeth, sheer exasperation, “How is this any of your business?”

“Should we stop this?” Ronnie whispers, with no intention of moving.

You shake your head in tiny, tiny increments, gossip monger past getting the best of you. “I kinda wanna see where this goes.”

“He is my friend, Nancy! And you broke his heart, dumping him right after– after–!”

Both your and Ronnie’s mouths drop into an ‘o’. You’re kind of disappointed–a big Wheeler-Harrington bust up and you weren’t first on the call list?! 

“Jesus, Robin!” Nancy spits, perm flying, stomping towards Robin, “Get a personality! Sublimating yourself onto Steve Harrington isn’t doing you any favors!”

“Why, Nancy? I thought you loved him.” What confusing wording.

“I–”

Okay, these two girls are walking right into shit you can’t take back territory. You and Ronnie rush the bleachers, breaking the negative space between them both. 

“Ladies! Break it up!” 

“You heard Kaminsky! We’re all holding chisels, this could get ugly fast!” 

You look to Nancy and her eyes are glistening. Reddening with the heat of anger and frustration. Robin’s jaw has hardened into a tough clinch, arms bound around her chest. Ronnie, she just lingers awkwardly, not quite knowing where to look. Your hand goes out to Nancy’s elbow, and she jerks away from you at first. 

“Let’s go. Come on.”

“We’re supposed to be chiseling,” Nancy seethes. Your eyes roll, no patience for this go-nowhere brat routine, and you lead her to the other end of the bleachers anyway. Saying something like, we’ll take one end, Ronnie and Robin take the other, we’ll get this shit cleared in no time.

Nancy starts working furiously, but that’s kind of not what you had in mind here.

“You broke up with Steve?” you ask, point blank. Like she’d ask you. 

She keeps chiseling for a few heavy, angry seconds. “I wasn’t gonna tell him, you know. I wasn’t gonna tell him, and we were gonna be fine. He could have lived without knowing. And then–fucking Buckley– and he had all these questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like why didn’t I tell him. And why was I so put out by the idea. Like, why didn’t I want to have his hypothetical baby at age seventeen… stupid shit like that.”

“He’s sensitive.”

“He’s a moron.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” as if you didn’t have irrefutable proof in her favor. But that was the old Steve Harrington, wasn’t it? He’s meant to be some soft-hearted do-gooder dream boy now, right? 

“No, Lacy, he’s a moron,” Nancy hisses, spit flying again; you’ve never seen her like this. Blue eyes bold and frightening with conviction. “Why should I have to tell Steve about something like that if it’s just a big nothing? If I was never even actually pregnant or whatever? Why can’t I just have that to forget about myself? Why do I owe him part of every single goddamn decision I make about my life?” 

This is a bigger conversation, isn’t it? What you’d once regarded as poor Nancy and her perfect boyfriend, boo-fucking-hoo is now poor Nancy and her perfect boyfriend, stifled by his redemption.

“At least if he was still an asshole, I wouldn’t feel bad about breaking up with him. After all this.”

“Now it’s just like you’ve kicked a puppy.”

“Exactly.”

“What total bullshit.”

Nancy shoots the tiniest smile up at you, a stiff little nod bobbing her neck forward.

There’s a long beat as your focus reframes around Nancy. All the two of you wanted were lives of your own. Existences not indebted to anybody, good or bad. Shit.

“I’m the sublimator, by the way. I know that,” Nancy whispers, great big eyeballs glittering at you, “It’s easy to… fold into someone like Steve when, y’know… you’re not exactly likeable on your own. I just. I wanted to hurt her. She doesn’t deserve it. But I wanted to.” 

Her chisel gestures towards Robin, working alongside Ronnie in relative silence that Ronnie awkwardly tries to puncture.

You understand that. Wanting to hurt people after you feel like they’ve breached your trust. Even accidentally. And doing it. And the ugliness of the shame after, you’re familiar with that too.

You reach forward and brush a little lint off her collar. “Thanks for getting in trouble for me, by the way. With that stupid prank and everything.”

“What are you talking about?” she scoffs softly, “You covered for me. And you didn’t have to.”

“Hey,” you hold out your pinkie finger. It’s the least you can do. “Promise is a promise, right?”

—

The members of Hellfire Club gather in an awkward row, standing under the odd, warm glow of the drama room lights like a police lineup of suspects least likely to score a date to homecoming. Sorry, Ronnie. 

“What do you think,” you say, swiveling your focus to Jonathan, who’s standing there twice as awkwardly with his camera slung around his neck, “Should we take ‘em outside, make ‘em do Abbey Road?”

In the middle of it all sits the man who can’t help but be of the hour, what with the throne and the glowering and the gravitational pull. Eddie, slumped into that wild set piece left over from god knows what drama club production of, like, Henry VI or Pirates of Penzance or whatever, is so beyond unhappy with what’s unfolding in front of him. 

Good. 

Ronnie clearly hadn’t even fluffed him into the idea. Which she offered to do, when you’d hitched a ride home on the back of her bike after the tension of Saturday detention dissipated. You’d firmly nixed the idea, the sneak attack being the whole point of this thing. 

You’d also learned that a two week suspension was no way no how going to keep Eddie from sneaking in and running this Hellfire session, which meant your article wouldn’t be delayed after all.

So, nah. Good ol’ Ronnie, she just let you stalk in there with your notebook and your pen and your glasses and your Pentax-wielding Jonathan Byers, ready to entirely fuck up Eddie’s day, which gave him no opportunity to protest or call for embargo. Because if he did, it’d raise eyebrows of suspicion and everyone would be like, I thought you two were weird trailer park friends? Is something going on? Something emotionally incoherent and ambiguously erotic? Should we tell everyone? Should we call the Mayor?

“Capital idea,” Eddie says, not exactly to you, but to those in general attendance like he’s playing to the cheap seats, “Maybe I can mow them down in my van and save them from this torture.”

Your smile tightens and Eddie matches your expression, both your mouths straining against your skulls. Wisecracks will not save him. He should know that by now. 

“Let’s get a couple of the maestro while I excavate the disciples’ brains,” come the instructions and a swift pat to Jonathan’s shoulder. He flashes you a bewildered kind of look.

“Wh– how do you… want him?” 

Incredible phrasing. You glance at Eddie, but not really at him–not enough that he can register and sucker your gaze in. Bathed under the dramatic glow like he was born to sprawl all cock-kneed on a throne like that.

“Exsanguinated and hung on a meat hook, preferably,” you say to Jonathan, “But, I trust you. Do whatever.”

As you gather the rest of the Hellfire denizens at the end of the table to interview them talking head style, Jonathan Byers slinks towards Eddie. 

Eddie shifts uncomfortably, less equipped to keep up that fuck you stormcloud persona when he’s at the other end of a focusing lens. Plus, Byers always kind of gave him the creeps. Not to be a dick, but. Here we are. 

Byers, to Eddie’s complete and utter horror, clears his throat and attempts to scrounge up some semblance of conversation. But, of course, it’s Jonathan Byers so it’s not fucking small talk. Any other day of the week, Eddie could get behind the notion of eschewing such how about this weather we’ve been having type social norms but Byers decides to jump in with–

“So you guys are…” he trails, leading the witness. Snap goes his little aperture. That’s unfair. Means he caught Eddie’s immediate facial reaction which, hands up, he has never been good at hiding. 

“Neighbors,” Eddie supplies in a rush, twisting on his throne again. “She can… hear me yelling about DnD from my trailer. S’why she’s here. To shut me up, I guess.”

Byers adjusts his stance, capturing Eddie from a lower angle– a little more badass looking, he hopes. Frame the fucking curls, for god’s sake.

“Gotcha journalism,” Byers quips. Byers quips. 

Eddie’s mouth relaxes and he huffs out a little, “Exactly.”

Byers shifts yet again, clearly covering all wondrous angles with his dinky little thirty-five millimetre whatever the fuck. 

It’s not that this whole sneak attack article for the Streak thing is getting under Eddie’s skin– Eddie didn’t even have a chance to acknowledge it getting under his skin. You just breezed in here and started sticking bamboo spikes under his fingernails, like the little warmongtrix you are. 

And now you’re sitting at the end of the game table, ruby red end of your fountain pen pointing at Gareth, noting down everything he says without even the slightest hint of condescension. These dorks are looking at you in awe and fear, save for Ronnie who just looks smug, and you’re listening to them. Really listening to them. Your face fixed with that hard little glare that tells him you’re recording the minutiae of their answers. 

Eddie digs the pad of his thumb into his lip. Why would you want to do this? Why aren’t you avoiding him at all human cost? What is your angle here?

“She’s cool, y’know.” Click, goes Byer’s camera again. “Lacy.”

Eddie’s voice comes out distant, his focus tugging away from you super, super slowly. 

“I heard you blew it with her.” 

Byers, caught off guard, lowers his lens. “She told you about that?”

Eddie shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’d be easier to pretend like the idea of you and Byers hanging out was nothing if Byers and Eddie weren’t both classified outsiders. 

“Well, uh,” Byers fiddles with something on his camera, shrugging in turn, “It was weird, talking to Lacy back then. You know. She was kind of–”

“She’s different now.” Eddie answers too fast, springing to a defense that didn’t call for him. He sits up a little bit straighter, spine iron-rodding, and tries to recover.  “I mean. She’s retired the whole icy Swatch rat bit. She’s not, like– pretending to be something.”

Jonathan gets this look on his face. One last click of the camera. 

“I wouldn’t know. I blew it, remember?” But you didn’t, man.

Little does he know. 

“Are we done?” Eddie says, launching himself from his chair and slapping palms on the table. His DM screen shakes. Byers steps back with a flared little danger zone! look tossed your way. “We’ve already lost–”

“--fifteen minutes of glorious game time?” you drawl, crossing a final ‘t’ in your notes. “Of course. My apologies. Tight schedule?” 

Your eyebrow arches as you flash your eyes up at him. His jaw flares. You– you’re good. You’re vicious and you’re good.

“Theee tightest,” Eddie grits through the falsest of grins and jerks his head, waves flying and the rest of his little Hellfire sheepies following in motion to take their seats. 

Ronnie takes her time, mumbling under her breath, “You sure this is a good idea?”

And she was right, with what she’d said before. You are using this as an excuse to get in his face–bolstered only by the fact that he had now gotten in your pants, and you weren’t letting him slink off that easy. Especially with the workplace cameo appearance from Al Munson that you had just been forced to live through. 

You’d been looking over your shoulder ever since, expecting to see him leering at you over those sickening aviator sunglasses. 

“Oh, I’m positive,” you assure her, turning to Jonathan. “I need, like, one or two shots of them playing then you can take off.” 

“Waiwaiwaiwaiwaiwaiwait,” Eddie interrupts, an arm raising over his head to signal halt, “Okay, so first, you storm the castle with your little camera boy without my approval, now you think you’re going to stay for the game?” His ire is genuine. “It’s Hellfire Club, Lacy. Members only. We don’t need bleacher bunnies.”

“Oh, come on, Munson!” you lilt, situating yourself on an abandoned desk, away from the game table. “The people want to know how the Satanic sausage is made.”

“The people being?” 

“Your critics and fans. What is this all for, if not to piss off Hawkins’ Presbyterian and garner a whole new legion of Hellfire acolytes, huh?”

“We don’t need any help from the press on that front.”

“Really?” You drag out your single-word answer, using the seconds to count the minimal amount of players in the room. Not even Ronnie could boast 100% attendance, with her marching band obligations clashing with Hellfire sessions. Eddie glares at you. Yeah, yeah. 

“A–actually, Eddie… I think it’d be… pretty cool,” Gareth says, waver slowly fading out of his voice. “I mean, if we’re in the school paper, my Mom’ll be less suspicious that we’re like–”

“--doing k-bombs in the drama room…” you mutter, loud enough that only Jonathan can hear. 

“--and stuff.”

Eddie exhales so hard his nostrils flare, his shoulders tense, he’s about to shit. 

“And who else would like to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Gareth the Treacherous here?” he snarls, looking pointedly around the table, “Jeff? Dougie? Cyrus? Ecker?”

The dorks erupt in yapping agreement, totally swinging for Gareth’s angle. 

“Shut up!” Eddie barks, throwing himself back onto his throne. Ringed fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But this, in the business, is what they call a mutiny. Don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re all gettin’ swirlies with half of the Weekly Streak stuffed in your goddamn mouths.”

That’s creative. He really could have had a fruitful career as a bully if he wasn’t so gooey in the middle. 

“Munson, I promise you can ride circles around me on a motorbike on live TV if this all goes to shit.” 

You make a fluttering hand motion that reads proceed, which he, naturally, hates. He stares at you, like white light white heat searing through stares at you. And then his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath.

What follows is… exactly what you should have expected, actually.

Eddie Munson transports the present-and-correct party of adventurers back into the eye of their campaign. Their mission? Infiltrate a cult of royal knights that have been bewitched by a high priest who is forcing them to sacrifice the kingdom’s innocents in order to fuel his dastardly arcane magic. The plot is… involved. You’d done a light touch of research on how exactly the dragons and the dungeons all worked, so to speak, but it didn’t really seep into the membrane. It’s something you could only really engage with if you saw it in action– you’d have to rely on Eddie and company to fill in the blanks that the extensive lore left. Like, how exactly did these mythical dice come into play? How does a character sheet set you up for success, or failure? What the fuck is a skill check and why does it read so complicated? 

And fill in they… kind of did. 

Aside from the technical aspects, you find yourself suckered into the story. Quite literally, gripping your seat as Ronnie’s character–a highly capable bard, from what you understand–attempts to escape the hateful royal sect and find her way back to her party. They’d taken her hostage, and she’s managed to escape her chains but they’re ruthless, on her like dogs. Eddie illustrates every sweaty, panicky movement as they close in on her, and your fine, painted fingernails are dug into every word.

Eddie weaves these stories like gossamer– both in the sense of delicate intricacy and destructive nature of that big red monster thing from Looney Tunes. Each plot twist is created to elicit a sense of true foreboding, embellishing how effective his storytelling is. It forces each and every person at the table to face fear head on, dig deep and use what they were given in order to prevail, even if they’re shaking in their boots while doing it– shit, this is good, you should be writing this down.

Blindly, you sketch the word gossamer into your journal, not tearing your eyes away from the table. You barely notice the flash going off to your immediate right– Jonathan Byers’ lens pointed right at you. 

“Uh–” you start, Jonathan reaching to grab his jacket from behind you as the game goes on. 

“I’m headin’ out– gotta pick Will up from…” he trails off, but you fill in the blank. Nancy had mentioned that Mike was hosting his friends for a DnD session tonight too, and the party naturally included the most junior Byers. You nod, checking the time– Jesus, where had the last three hours gone?

“Tell Nancy I said hey, if you see her,” you say, “and thank you.”

Jonathan shrinks into himself, bashful. “Don’t worry about it.” A beat. “I still want that Echo & the Bunnymen, though.”

Your face peels into a grin that says don’t worry, I”m good for it! and you wave him off. The Hellfire party don’t even notice his leaving, except for Eddie who, being judge, jury and executioner, notices everything. 

“...and on that sweltering note, germies and Eckermen, we must bid each other good eventide. Until next time.” 

An operatic groan of disapproval goes up from the players, and you realize this must be a regular thing. Eddie always leaving them wanting more. Tease. 

“I know, I know, if you had it your way, you’d be locked in here, pissing in buckets and the show would go on all night,” Eddie jeers, rising from his seat to start collecting his stuff, “but I wouldn’t inflict that on the janitorial staff. ‘kay? Scat. Outta my sight.”

With great indignation that swiftly turns into backslaps of appreciation, the Hellfire Club moves out of the drama room one by one. You stay put, and Eddie avoids your eyes completely.

Folding shit back into that madly overstuffed DM folder, he throws a strained-casual, “Need a ride?” to Ronnie, the last straggler. 

She shakes her head, smile barely contained. “Uh-uh! Two wheeled my way here and I’ll two wheel my way back– you, uh, have fun though.”

“Bye, Ronnie,” you call after her, voice properly piercing through the air for the first time in hours. Eddie reacts like he’d completely forgotten you were there. Which, impossible. It’s also impossible for him to keep up the whole punk-ass overlord act when it’s just the two of you. As it is now.

Alone, together. Again. 

There’s a charge between you, as if that even needs pointing out. Like the electric fences surrounding McCorkle’s farm. 

You and the wagonful of your one-time buddies, Carol and Tommy and Tina et al, used to drive out there more than a little under the influence. Your favorite trespassing activity was reaching out for the electric fence, hooking your fingers around it to feel the darting shock permeating your skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Can’t that, like, fry your brain?” Carol’d ask you, slugging back the last of her beer as Tommy and Steve Harrington attempted to tip a cow in the background somewhere. 

“Try it, Care,” you’d giggled, half drunk and half coursing with adrenaline, half alive and half dead, “It feels weird. It feels good!” 

You’d woken up the next morning in your plush bedroom in Loch Nora, two little blisters on your fingers, smarting from all that pleasure seeking. Did you regret it? Or did it just make you want to do it again?

Eddie still doesn’t look at you as he speaks from the opposite end of the table. 

“Get everything you need?”  

“No,” you answer, short. “Missing my key interview.”

Now he looks. Now he has the nerve to. And irises lock on irises, Eddie frozen in place. He knows he’s not getting out of this. 

What’s more, you don’t think he really wants to.

“Pretty controversial subject matter,” he says, tone a whole shade softer than the commanding voice of God he’d used through the duration of the session. A little higher. Nervous. “What with the panic, and all.”

“Me and controversy are bedfellows,” your shoulder darts up, “I’m the big spoon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod; your tone is as marble-solid as ever, eyes trained and undarting, “Like when I implied the Tigers were straddling a generation-defining line of bold faced failure. I got in a lot of trouble for that.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth twitch a little. “Define ‘a lot of trouble’ by your standards.”

“They made me print a retraction!” You’re genuinely incensed by the memory, hitching forward in your seat, “I mean, how insane? ‘Bad for school spirit,’ they said. Like I’m some kind of pep exorcist.”

Eddie tongue folds in between his teeth and he turns his head a split second too late. You can see him biting back a snicker, or something, and point to Lacy and yadda yadda yadda—but you smile, and the tension feels like it’s waning. Thank god, because it is suffocating you. You take your in and up you get, moving to the seat closest to his right-hand side.

“Can we get started?” The fountain pen is uncapped, the notebook cracked, your legs crossing. Eddie sinks back into the throne, his face warming up under the yellow stage lights.

“Okay. Hit me with your best shot.” Fire away.

You’re quick with it. “Why this?”

“Really? That’s your first question?” Eddie looks bemused.

“It’s the least rudimentary of all the Ws,” you explain nice and plainly, plucking up fingers to illustrate your points, “People know who you are–against their will, mostly. People can glean what the game is–or will, once I put a fine point on the… everything that just happened there. What people don’t get is why. Why indulge yourself in this?”

His fingers knit together in his lap, nearly shy.

“Because it’s fun.”

“Nope, too vague.”

“Vague?”

You physically knock the notion with a waving hand, leaning closer over the table, errant miniatures and spare pencils still scattered there.

“Basketball is fun. Chess club is fun. Throwing rocks into a rusted can of SpaghettiOs is fun if you can make a case for it. Too vague. Didn’t come here for the everyman answer.”

“What did you come here for?” That’s loaded. The way he’s daring himself to look at you is loaded. How soft his voice turns is loaded.

“The Munson answer.” It hangs in the air like someone dropped off the gallows. “Dig for me.”

A long, metastasizing beat. Resistance is futile, as it is and ever will be with you. Eddie hitches his arms across his chest, hiding a smile in the heel of his palm. Flattery works with him. Even if you'd never call this flattery. 

“Escape,” he eventually tells you.

“Go on,” you press.

“There is this… insatiability when it comes to fantasy. To stories like this, the kind with big, thriving worldscapes. Reading ‘em, even writing ‘em– it’s good, but it isn’t enough sometimes. Sometimes you want to wrap yourself up in the reality of elsewhere. Travel to a world where things are different.”

“But not idyllic.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. 

“No. If these campaigns were just… the bad guys are defeated by a mighty sword that you and you alone always happen to have on you, that’s not a campaign. That’s a circle jerk.”

“The idea is to be challenged. To fight for something.”

“Right. To adventure. Beat the odds.”

“And you can’t do that alone.”

“Well, you can. I think that’s called, like, writing a book.” 

“Ohh-kay, Eddie…”

“No, no, no, I mean,” Eddie shakes his head, planting his elbows on the table top, “Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the thrill of the unknown? Of not knowing what the other characters are gonna do, or what sick twist the dastardly, brilliant DM is gonna pull out next?”

He’s on one now, so you don’t stop him. Eddie’s eye takes on that mercurial shine, the same one he had while he was cruise directing the campaign. You wonder when he got like this—got bit by the God complex bug. Here, he could dare people to defy him when he’d been the defiant one his whole life. 

You think about a littler him, yearning for escape. 

“It also doesn’t work if everyone wants to be a hero. Too many heroes spoil the stew, okay, so you need to find other, y’know, likeminded weirdos who fall into different alignments. Those alignments only work when they’re played off other characters. Your merry band of outlaws or pirates or underdogs or whoever. You work together, or you betray each other, or you come back together because of some mighty sworn oath and you see your mission through. It’s not about winning or losing, y’know? Whatever happens out there,” he gestures to beyond the barricade of the drama room doors, “doesn’t matter. Whether life’s beating the shit out of them or not, my little acolytes, as you call ‘em, sit at this table and they’re part of something bigger. Something thrilling. Magical. Alchemic. They’re part of–”

“--a team.” You think about a littler him, yearning for people to escape with.

Eddie flaps his ever-animated hands. “Not my phrasing. But.”

“That thread runs through it all,” you say, drawing a line down the center of your notes with the inactive end of your pen, “Teamwork. Belonging. Victory– an escape from the mundane to victory, especially when you can’t find it elsewhere.”

Eddie’s chin rests on the back of his hand as he squints at you. “Sounding a little sportsmanlike there, Lacy.”

“And?”

“Thought you weren’t pulling for the everyman answer.”

“A hook’s a hook’s a hook,” you quirk your eyebrows, “–and, when you put it that way—” 

“When you put it that way.”

“—what really makes you any different from, say, the Tigers?”

“Besides the cult of personality surrounding all jocks–”

“As if you don’t court your own little cult of personality—“

“—we actually win our campaigns.”

You start to retort, then stop. Letting that sink in.

“Oh. Oh, that’s good,” you say, sketching it down. 

“I foresee letters to the editor in your future,” Eddie says, and he’s smug about it. Anything to aggregate the status quo, no matter what the blowback might be. 

No one in their right mind here behaves like him. He just… does whatever he wants.

You find yourself wanting to touch the fence. 

And maybe it’s that you stare at him a beat or so too long, but Eddie shifts his gaze down to the wood grain, flexing his hand. Scabs still marring his knuckles and all. 

“It wasn’t broken or anything, then?” you ask, gesturing to his hand. 

Eddie looks back up with a drag. You can feel what’s coming.

“Oh no, it was shattered,” he tells you, eyes-wide earnest and lying through his teeth, “My bones just heal super fast. My mom, she ate a shit ton of canned spinach when I was in ute.”

“Right, the calcium—”

“Nah. Rare botulism side effect,” he shrugs like, whaddaya gonna do!

Dumbass. 

“Rare Botulism Side Effect is a good album title.”

“I’ll tell the guys.”

Silence falls again, and if you reach around, there’s something close to normalcy in there. Among the spikes and confusion. 

“Um,” Eddie’s face contorts into a tiny cringe, “I found out what the… what the prank was, by the way. I obviously wasn’t here to witness the whole masterpiece theater of it all but– but Ronnie told me.”

A tight and ugly feeling constricts your chest. You look away, nodding through a grimace. You’d opened your locker with the practiced caution of someone diffusing a bomb since that whole incident, which sucks as someone who derives real joy from slamming metal doors. 

“Pretty creative bit, huh?” is all you offer. 

“Almost too creative for Hargrove,” Eddie counters, uprighting a fallen miniature with one finger. 

“Are you trying to say I was being hysteric, jumping on his car?” It sounds like you’re offended, but. 

“No,” Eddie meets you right where you’re at with this sparkle framing his stare, “I’m saying it was probably a collaborative effort. You could go seek even more batshit revenge, if you wanted to.”

“And would you be there to stop me before I cut Carol Perkins’ breaks?” 

You can see Eddie biting his tongue between his teeth oh-so-lightly… Saliva catching in the low light. It’s warm in here. Stuffy. 

“Prob–” 

“I miss you.” 

You cut him off in such a harsh, unforgiving way that Eddie feels his words rammed back down his throat. He blinks a couple of times, tempted to shake his head to make sure he heard you right. But there you are, your sight line running clean through him. You couldn’t be talking to anybody else. 

“You do?” His voice is so small that his lips barely move. His lips, teased by his tongue, wetting them. 

“Don’t act brand new. Everything’s harder without you. You have to know that.” 

He gets snagged on the angles in your voice. By without you, he can only imagine you mean since he started giving you the cold shoulder and you started hitching rides in that college dork’s Ford Cortina. And by everything, he can only imagine…

“Lace…”

This is hard. This is horrible. This is uncomfortable and risky and as exposed as you have ever been, but it’s necessary.

“I can’t stand the tension of not being around you,” you say, breath feeling harsher as it speeds past your molars, “And I can’t stand the tension when I’m with you either, with you and wanting to–... so what do I do, Eddie?”

You focus on him, adjusting as if you were looking through the viewfinder of Jonathan’s Pentax. Eddie’s face, bewildered and angelic, with his parted mouth and his honorific glow of the stage lights haloing the frizz in his hair. He looks like something you want to commit to memory, as if to say see?! How could you deny this? 

You rise from your seat, ever the investigator, and bear over him with hands on the table. Cards on the table, too. A genuine question smarts in your mouth, too sour candy you have to spit out. 

“What do I do, Eddie?”

Eddie inhales with a sharp touch as you stand up, inspecting, demanding. He goes to tell you I don’t know… in the meekest of tones but the arch in your eyebrows says don’t you goddamn dare. You terrify him, and you make him dig. 

“Forget it. Forget about all of it,” he breathes, almost tasting your perfume, “We can reset. Blank slate. Pretend like we don’t know each other. Pretend like none of this ever happened. It’d be better. Safer. Easy. Right? We could totally do that. We’ve fooled everybody so far. Even ourselves, into thinking this was… we could...” 

“Fuck you,” you say in a soft rush. 

Eddie only realizes that you’re both smiling when you kiss him. It’s clumsy at first, teeth knocking and everything, your hands winding around his collar and your frigid fingertips finding his neck. The shock of your skin on his, the matchstick crack of your mouth on his propels Eddie onto his motherfucking feet. He leans over you, knocking you into the table as your tongue works its way deep into his mouth. 

You give him an, “Mm,” and if feels like an ascent to heaven.

Sparkles in the static makes the stuffiness evaporate, makes the room come alive. Your legs part to invite him closer to you, your hands faster and more insistent than his are. You pull at the hem of his Hellfire shirt and yank your head back, a string of saliva married between your mouths. 

Fingers are more bold than they were in the nurse’s office, weaving the leather out of Eddie’s belt buckle. A deep ridge etches between Eddie’s eyebrows and his hands are propped in a mid-air surrender. Your eyes, your everything fucking eyes, are weighted with want. And challenge. Because you always do have to get one up on him. 

“Reset this.” You tug at his zipper. “Tell me to stop.” 

“Lacy…” Eddie whispers, watching you pull at the waistband of his boxers with his mouth agape. He��d dreamt about this. Thought about this. His cock about jumps into your hand like you’re Snow White and it’s a goddamned hummingbird. Pen marks on your fingers. “Jesus, y–...”

Eddie’s arms angle up behind his head, like a strung-up marionette, fabric of his shirt ghosting against his nipples in the stretch. This only makes him angle his hips further into you, eyelids flickering and his blood breaking the speed limit on its descent. Fuck, and then you fucking touch him– fingertips along the length of him, featherlight and goading. 

Eddie’s groan is broken, half-caught in his nose. You’re looking at him like he’s a bad puppy, like you’re teaching him a lesson in scolding masking adoration. You’re beautiful and he wants to tell you so, but it all comes out in a whimper. Your hand closes around his cock, thumb brushing rii-iii-iight along the ridge of his head.

“Tell me to stop,” you echo yourself, and you’re fascinated that it comes out sounding like you know what you’re doing. You don’t. You’ve never been thrust into a net of feeling like this, never had anyone look at you the way Eddie is now– like he’d throw himself on a bed of open flames for you, so long as you kept touching him. It’s drunkard-making. It’s a full headrush. The gradual glisten of his reddening head looks delicious to you. 

“Tell me to s–”

Grip tightens around him and Eddie moans from right in his sternum, his arms dropping to cradle around your head. He can’t believe he’s doing this, he can’t believe he’s fucking doing this but–

“Stop,” he gasps, fingers winding in your hair. His entire spinal cord is begging him to buck into your hand, your mouth, your anything, but he steels himself. “Stopstopstop, Lacy. Fuck– fuck.” 

Your eyes widen, cheek in his palm. “Really?” Said in the most painful, the most misread did I do something? lilted tone. Your hand doesn’t exactly go slack right away. 

“Yeah. Yes,” Eddie murmurs, eyes screwing closed and opening again, the most manual effort ever put behind a blink. “I c–I didn’t do this right, the first time. This is stupid. This is so stupid.”

And so your hands go, and you feel the anchor of your heart slowly dropping… But Eddie drops his face right down to yours. 

“You deserve… so much more than giving me a handy on school property,” he tells you, and feels almost coherent about it. “Hot as it is. Right out of my… nastiest dreams as it is.” 

Oh. Oh. The corners of your mouth pick up as Eddie presses his forehead to yours, just about evening out his breathing. 

“Had a premonition about this, didja?” The pressure of his face on yours, his breath on yours, his skin on yours. It’s nice.

“Came to me in a vision,” he grins, crooked. Slides his thumbs along your cheeks and kisses you, slowly and noisily. “I’m a prognosticator.” Tongue half in, half out your mouth. Your heartbeat sinks between your legs. In a good way. “Been known to prognosticate.” 

“Five dollar vocab word,” you mumble into his mouth, can’t help but push your body against him like a cat begging for attention. Eddie’s lips latch to the space right below your ear, a place where his mouth makes you feel like cymbals are clashing in your stomach.

“Come home with me,” he says, the note of pleading in his voice making your legs go numb. His nose and his lips dragging against the side of your neck, begging you to focus on the details and not the bigger picture. “Please.” A swallow. A beat. A ragged whisper. “... I missed you. Too. Y’know?”

“I do…” you sigh into his curls, readjusting his boxers, “actually need a ride… so.”

—

The van ride back to Forest Hills is tight with a tension that makes you both laugh, your mouth still buzzing from the kiss Eddie’d laid on you right before he’d helped you into the passenger seat. Even after he’d insisted you not touch him from the drama room to the parking lot, insisted because, “This thing,” he’d gestured to his crotch, his hard-on painfully zipped into submission, “this thing is gonna get me hauled over by the cops!”

“Don’t laugh!” you scold, mouth straining around the gleaming smile you’re suppressing, body all giddy. Voice ringing clear and high even over the cranked radio. Sabbath, naturally, Vol. 4. Wheels of Confusion sounds like treacle to you, mixed in with his laugh.

“I’m no-oo-oht!” Eddie says, syllables punctuated with chuckles, “I just– I am expressly escorting you back to my place! To, like, have sex with me!” His hands beat against the wheel, teeth sunk into that pretty bottom lip, giddy-upping so hard he actually does swerve the van a little.

“Woah!” you yelp, “Eddie, the road! You should’ve let me drive, you’re feral!” 

Eddie moon eyes at you, reaching over to pinch your chin. “Lace, please don’t get all sore about this, but I will never trust you behind the wheel of this van. She’s a delicate piece of machinery and you would drive her like it’s the demolition derby.”

Narrowed eyes and all, you kind of have to concede. You’ve never been the best behind the wheel, a road rageaholic, and if you were to add feeling as frisky as you do now on top of that sundae… you press Eddie’s DM binder into your lap a little harder. Down, girl. He doesn’t help, thumb stroking your chin and everything. 

“This is suh-rreal.”

“Stop zooming out so hard or I’m not gonna have sex with you!” You’re kidding. You’re so completely kidding. If he doesn’t touch you someplace lower than your neck soon, you’re going to disintegrate. 

But Eddie pauses. “Like, you don’t. Have to.” Panicky, freezy. Hastily pulling on his good guy hat. “You don’t– by the way. It’s whatever you want. Call timeout at any time. I know I’ve been kinda–”

“Eddie.” 

“...you still want to though, right?”

The giggling dies down as you edge closer and closer to your respective trailers, darkness washed over them like a swathe of dark blue paint. The lights in both trailers are out. Nobody home. Wayne, something about the weekend, something about overtime. Your mom… who knew. She’d been moving around in shadows more so than usual lately.

Everything out there is dimmed, except you two. Eddie doesn’t waste a second once the motor shuts off and the radio is silenced; he slams the driver door shut but the teensiest knot of hesitation tightens in your stomach before he reaches the passenger door. 

And then he reaches the passenger door, gathering you out of it and pushing you up against the side of the van. Snapping you out of it instantaneously using the bare force of his mouth against yours. 

“Eddie…” mumbled, your lips barely unstuck.

“Sorry. Shit, sorry. I just really like kissing you.” 

Something pops in your chest; he’s… Jesus, he’s so sweet. Coal-eyed and excitable and lovely, kissing you with nothing left to spare.

“Hey. Redirect,” you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your waist. “Come to my place.”

Eddie casts a wide glance back toward your double-wide. The forbidden castle. “Your… y–are you sure?”

“Sure that my bedsheets are cleaner than yours, yes.”  

He murmurs, “Bedsheets,” with a darkened gaze and a grunt. Bedsheets. You wanted him in your bedsheets. “Get your key. Get your key. Get your key before me and my dick have a shared brain hemorrhage.” 

That new lock doesn’t stick at all, thank god. 

Eddie, ordinarily, would nosily register all of his surroundings– he had an extremely barebones idea of your place, cast mostly in darkness like this, from that first night he’d driven you back from the fallout at Harrington’s. But he’s too busy nosily exploring your throat with his tongue, recording and archiving every breathy sound you make as you tug him toward your bedroom. 

Cardboard boxes still trip you up a couple times. Did you ever unpack, or what?

You break from his heady kiss, vision doubling, taking in a lungful of air as you push Eddie through the door. Spine flattens against it as it shuts, the noise drawing a little bit of sobriety into the room. You reach to hit the floor lamp on and your bedroom is illuminated in a soft, orange glow, a scarf thrown over the bulb to diffuse light. A half-effort to make you forget where you were sometimes. It works; the edges of everything softens, which is such a contrast to the definitive presence that he is.

Eddie’s chest is heaving. He attempts to get his bearings but he can barely get his eyes off of you, squirming ever-so-slightly, ever-so-sexily against the door. Like you’d captured him.

Lips swollen, watching you watch him from the door, he turns a little shy and turns to look at the ephemera around him instead. 

He’s standing in your bedroom.

You’re far more cluttered than he expected you to be. 

He expected pressed sheets and a pristine dressing table, like a prison cell designed by a set dresser from Dynasty. 

Well, that’s wrong, actually. He expected that of the Lacy people thought you were.

On the walls are a couple of tear-outs from the Rolling Stones he’d helped you liberate from your porch in Loch Nora, a mission you’d bought him breakfast for but didn’t have to. But mostly, every surface in the room is covered in piles. Piles of books, records, tapes, pens, jewelry, nail polish. And the clothes. They hung from everywhere, bursting out of your tiny closet space like bodies trying to escape. 

It’s confused in here; feels like someone who has unearthed parts of herself that she hasn’t been able to organize yet. Eddie wants to comb through it like a collector at a rarities market, he thinks, running a finger along the spine of a porcelain cat that sits on your dresser. 

“Place is filthy, cheerleader.”

“You’d know about mess, freak.”

The only really neat, clear space is, fortunate for tonight’s entertainment purposes, the bed. 

As he’s sliding his jacket (jackets, plural) off, Eddie’s eye travels to the window. 

“Did you fix your blinds?” he asks, pivoting back and forth on his heel. 

“My blinds?” you parrot. The blinds that had been broken when you moved in. The ones that sure were shuttered now. You’d made a point to fix them with whatever was left out of your first paycheck from the Bookstore. “How’d you know about my blinds?”

He could’ve lied, if he caught himself quicker. If he didn’t straighten up his back like someone had snapped him to attention. “Uuh.” 

It dawns on you like a flashlight in the eyeballs. “Were you… watching me, Munson?”

Not spying, mind. Not peeping. Watching. Eddie sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, because whether or not he’s ever going to get to be here again kind of hangs in the balance right now. 

“That. Dep…ends. What do you,” Please don’t kick him out. Please don’t kick him out. Look at the line of your fucking body as you round on him, staring him down like you want him for dinner. Christ, he hopes you want him for dinner.

Eddie swallows roughly, tone bumpy, face a dime store Halloween mask of nonchalance. Paper thin. “What do you think about that?”

Fact is, he’d subsisted on a couple of very guilty glimpses of you. Catching sight of the lines of your bare back and taught shoulders would keep him in jerk-off material for a week, just thinking about kneading out your knots and undoing your bra clasp with his teeth. 

Eddie felt positively Victorian about it. Maybe you’d flash an ankle at him next and he’d be institutionalized for hysterics. 

You look at him with the same pinpoint as you did earlier. Like you’re studying him. And then you edge closer, closer, nudging his knees apart. Echoes of the nurse’s office. 

But this isn’t the goddamn nurse’s office. You’re not straining to adapt to the element of surprise. You know that the breath Eddie takes, shuddering and wondrous as you tilt his chin up to look at you, is a sound you want on repeat for as long as you can bear to hear sounds. 

“They’ve blinded men for that, y’know? Before.”

Eddie can’t answer. Just let out a huh! as your fingers trace his jaw, thumb brushes his lip. His hands squeeze the curve of your ass, fingers beg into your thighs as he watches you, dumbstruck. His tongue unconsciously presses to the tip of your thumb and he hears your breath hitch.

A sustained shock travels up your neck.

“I mean, was it worth it?”

“Was it w… Lacy.” Eddie’s hands have breached the hem of your skirt and with a groan, his face burrows into the silken fabric of your shirt, like he’s trying to nudge it off with his nose or his mouth. Fingers are working mindlessly to loosen some article of clothing from your body and it makes you feel buzzy and trancelike. “Don’t ask stupid questions. I might have fuckin’ carpal tunnel because of you.”

Jesus. He makes you feel so…

Desired. Needed. You’ve never felt that way before, and you don’t quite know how to navigate it. So your buttons start coming undone with the work of one hand, the other shoving Eddie by the shoulder to lean back on your bed. 

Eddie, here, among all your things. Disparate in your shabby little dollhouse, looking at you like you just swallowed the sun. 

Your shirt comes off, and Eddie, in a game of match point, tugs his off too. Pause comes over the both of you. You’d seen him shirtless before; shower-bare in his trailer when the first security breach happened, a crack in the containment whatever you were pretending your relationship to each other was–affable enemies, irritated acquaintances. He’d looked at you like an animal cornered, tendons tense under his tattooed skin and you’d wanted to drag a finger or two down the center of his chest. 

You didn’t, though. You’d sniped, asked where the cigarettes were. 

This is all one big case of making up for lost time.

You’ve been looking at him so long, bra strap slipping off your shoulder, that Eddie leans forward. As if to come get you. 

Remember me? I’m real. You can touch me. Touch me, please.

His warm arms pull you to him, pull you onto the bed, pull you against his lips. It’s gentler there; not as furtive. It says, hi, I’m here. Your arms, tugging him closer as he eases you beneath him say, good, I’ve been waiting. Eddie brushes his nose against yours, you laid down with your hair fanned out on the plush comforter. 

Both your pulses must have stuttered at the same time.

His smile is serene but you can feel his forearms trembling. “I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

“Don’t,” you tell him, very quietly while his hand nervously tries to find the zipper on your skirt, “I just got you back.”

Your hips lift to help him and you’re wiggling the thing off and you’re wiggling your tights off and he’s thrashing his jeans off only to land back between your parted legs with bouncing recoil from the mattress. Laughter biting in one another’s mouths. The nerves are teeming off him in waves and it makes you want to kiss him all over. 

The feeling housed in your body is different; not jittery, but struck somehow. This doesn’t feel like the way it usually feels, the way it does when you disappear into spare rooms at parties or the shadow of Skull Rock or hitch your leg up against the center console of someone’s shitty car. It doesn’t feel rote, like you’re doing it to stack up experience points– that is a Dungeons and Dragons term you found particularly interesting. How many bad tongue kisses had you accepted just to feel like you’re progressing, instead of waiting for someone who wants to taste you like Eddie does? 

Your bodies caged together, you feel the eager, hard, tragically clothed line of him rub against your center. Eddie manages to free your bra clasp on the first try, which you almost goadingly applaud him for–but he cuts you short with a bewitched stare, his lovely, hot mouth laving over your nipple as he slips the fabric away. It tears the first real moan from you, your back arching into his kneading fingers as his tongue curves over your tightening bud. 

Eddie can’t believe what he’s hearing. He can barely see straight, but he’s trying to commit every second of this to a glorious Technicolor memory, sound and image capturing working overtime. The sound that comes from your beautiful, balmy mouth sounds fresh out the packet–like you’d never made it for anyone before. The look of suppressed surprise on your face confirms as much and Eddie feels like he might explode. 

He, too, has no idea what he’s doing but he can’t help his hips from jerking into you as he plays on. Playing with your nipples, remembering that making them glisten with his spit will make you whimper, and so will kissing the center of your sternum. He’s watching wide-eyed and fascinated as your brow furrows and your legs tighten around him. He’s a wonderful student, when he wants to be.

Eddie is throbbing, and there’s too much cotton and lace between you. 

There’s also this other thing, and it comes out of him like word upchuck as you try to tease his boxers down around his hips using only your feet. 

“I oughta tell you,” Eddie whispers, voice all raspy, all boyish with his hair tickling your collarbone, “I’m, uh. I’m not good at this.”

“At what?” He’s got one hand roaming over your chest, the other making indents in the meat of your thigh. It feels like he’s holding your breath right in his hands.

A new shade of pink rises high in Eddie’s already straining cheeks. He really doesn’t want to have to use his words to spell it out. “Thiii-iiss.”

Oh. A rivulet of cold realization runs through you. Nicole. Cass. Girls daring themselves to get near to him. Experience points. The great freak experiment project. 

“This isn’t that.” Your hands hold his chin, perhaps a little roughly, to make sure he’s listening. And Eddie is, breath baited. You press your forehead to his like he pressed his forehead to yours. “It’s not.”

He’s really about to ask you, what is it, then? but that feels like something you can work out later. Eddie lets you tug at his lips and you let him tug at your panties, arching up so you can wiggle them down your legs. His eyes cast to the downy hair at your mound, and it’d usually occur to you to apologize for your unshaven legs, as if it mattered. 

But the way he regards you doesn’t call for that; it calls for you to open up for him. Spread.

A rough pad of a finger runs along your slit, feeling the generous drip that’s gathered, and Eddie moans as your breath hitches into an animalistic, “hahh!”-- he’s edging down your body to bury his face there. He wants to feel you, smell you, taste you. You tense at the sudden contact of his palms pressing your thighs open, his nose against your clit and he feels it. A jolt of worry passes through him. Did you not want that? “Sorry–”

“Don’t– no, Eddie, don’t stop,” you strain, laugh a little, “You just… surprised me. Keep– keep surprising me. Please.” 

Shockwaves break through you as he gingerly offers his tongue. And more, and more, until he’s lapping at you with a vigor and no real direction. You dig against him, made speechless by the building ache in your core.

In your fantasies, you hadn’t anticipated him being so giving–so eager to please and explore. Like all things, this moment projected itself in your head with the hard edges of some imagined cockiness, Eddie telling you to spread your legs and you, nymphlike and fluid and still somehow holding all the indiscriminate ‘power’, doing so. 

But this? This is soft and messy and spitty and real. Eddie is drooling and babbling into your pussy with the uncalculated effect of someone who has improvised his whole life and it’s tearing you at the seams. A satisfying little rip, every keen movement he makes.

You know when you’re close to climax, that familiar feeling of your cunt suckling at nothing, but it doesn’t feel as jagged as the first time he brought you there. Urgently, you tug at his hair, claw at his shoulders, begging for his attention. 

“Eddie,” you gasp and his hands flex around your thighs at the sound of his name in your mouth. It’s yours, he wants to tell you, rutting heedlessly into the mattress from his position between your legs, keep it! Please! “Eddie, Eddie– come here, come to me.” 

Your velveteen voice summons him, his face glistening from the exploration of you. Embarrassment threatens to ping at you, but it flames into want, seeing how wet and obscene he looks. That’s all from you? 

Eddie does as he’s told, heart pounding– and the sensation of fabric dragging against the raw tip of his cock nearly makes him pass out. 

“Fuck! Fuck, you–” he stammers as your hand pulls his heavy length free, balls tightening under your firm touch, “N-not fuck you, obvi-ously, but–hunh–okay, kinda fuck you…”

Eddie’s lips fold against yours as he attempts, with shuddering arms, to brace himself over you. He whines at your dexterity, swiping his head against your entrance. The wetness from him, the wetness from you– the sheer impact of sensation slices clean through him. It’s not a tactic, you’re not teasing; you’re angling to get him inside you. You need to get him inside you, your entire body is begging for it. 

“Baby, please, please, I’m not gonna last–”

“Who said you had to?” you ask, voice a drop of dark syrup. Just for him. “Who said you had to?”

The earnestness in your eyes gives Eddie pause– for all of a pulsating second. 

“I want you… inside. Don’t you want to feel me?” you ask with real conviction, thumb swiping over his moistened head in a way that makes his vision go galactic. 

Eddie yanks your hand away, kissing roughly it, nailing it beside your head as he tries to ease into you. 

“Want? It’s all I want–fuck, it’s all I fucking think about, Lacy–huhh–”

His first attempt results in a gasp of pain– the sting, the stretch, it’s a little much a little fast. The sharpness has you wincing and has Eddie searching your face with an arrested kind of guilt.

“Y–shit, baby, are you–”

“I’m okay,” you recover, hand steadying on his flushed cheek. “Just–slower. Ease it in. You’re– you’re pretty remarkable, Eddie.” 

“Remarkable?” he mumbles against your cheek, focused and slowly lining his head against your entrance. “Really?”

“Prodigiou—ss, uhh–fuck!” Whispered swears come streaming from you as he sinks right into the velvety constraints of your cunt. 

Your eyes roll right back, mouth tipping open and the grip of you arresting around him makes him cry out into your chest. 

Eddie’s cock is long and heavy and thick, constricted to the point where you can nearly feel every ridge of him. It hurts, the stretch of him aches, but it’s delicious–pinned and sweetly painful.

“Prodigious–is a five dollar–fuckin’--vocab word–” he strains, lifting his hips ever so slightly– you’re clutched onto him so tight that you move with him. Eddie open-mouth groans against your neck. “Lacy, Jesus, you’re so tight–you feel so good–how the fuck do you feel so good? Who invented you?!” 

There’s a tinge of a giggle in your moaning, which doesn’t let up. Eddie’s voice rings out like a church bell, making one slow stroke inside you, then another. Then another, then another, picking up speed, groans chorusing into the hollow of your neck around the lewd sound of his flesh slapping against yours. The sound alone brings you close to cumming. “Oh, pleasepleaseplease, fuck, Lace, I’m g– fuck, I’m–”

The way Eddie’s hands are carving permanent marks into your hips, the way his movements are halting, you get the idea that… “You holding out on me?” you ask him, short of breath around your panting but demanding still, “Don’t you dare–don’t you dare.” 

“Lacy, uhh– please, ’mgonnafucking–”

“Cum for me? Are you?”

Your fingers tug at his curls so you can look at him as his face tenses. Eddie’s hair is flattened across his head, face glimmering with exertion. You drag your lips against his forehead, the salty flavor of sweat breaking across your tastebuds.

“For you, for you, shit, only for you–only for you, only fucking ever–fuck–”

His dark eyes have been blown out since he pulled you to the mattress, eyelids flickering over his irises as he pistons into you with speed that hurts but you love it. 

You barely hear yourself beginning a prayer of dirty little succors, but there it is, easing him through his orgasm as he shudders a load between your legs. “You feel like nothing on this fucking earth, you know that, you’re so good for me...” The tension breaks with one final rasping cry, his expression dissolving into a softness as he exhales a lungful, neck stretching to lean into your touch. 

A couple of half-cracked dry sobs escape him. 

Looking up at you, cradled against your shoulder, Eddie’s cursing himself for every second he’s wasted not doing this with you. 

And you, looking down, are stroking his damp curls from his forehead and cursing yourself. You’re going to burn the world down for this boy.

“Lacy. You–”

And then, y’know, the fucking front door of the trailer clicks. 

Little too much deja vu for your liking these days! 

Immediately, you seize upwards, jolting a confused Eddie with you– which breaks your heart, in a way, seeing him darty-eyed and shocked out of his bliss so fast. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” These are not like your prior ‘fucks’, he can register through the haze of his post-nut state. These are bad fucks. So he responds in turn, “Fuck?”

“My mom!” You hiss, naked and scrambling. Panic crests on you like a wave, a wave that should have been an orgasm mind fucking you, and your fingernails tear at the comforter beneath you. 

“Under, under, gogogo!”

Because if there’s one thing your mother, in all her former-center-of-attention glory, loves to do? It’s enter a room uninvited. 

Case in fucking point–

“Lacy?” A perfunctory knuckle rap from the other side of the door, just as you manage to hide Eddie by shoving him behind you and tenting the comforter around you both. You’re praying to anything with a little more gusto than God that it works. And then, enter your mother and her cloud of Shalimar. 

Soon as she opens the door, you can tell something is terribly off. 

She’s smiling, face as serene as the Virgin Mary. Usually she’s got a sharpened dagger of a glare, just for you. Two of you haven’t been spending much quality time lately, see. 

“Lacy! What–” your mom’s brow knits, but it’s a look of amusement. Which freaks you out. She’s looking at your just-fucked-by-Eddie-Munson hair, isn’t she? The mascara that’s surely streaking down your face? Does she know? Can she sense he’s in this very room? “--what are you doing?”

“Napping. Crying. What does it look like?” you snap, hiking the comforter up a little further and begging that she doesn’t notice Eddie’s incriminating clothes strewn across the floor. 

Eddie, for his part, is not breathing. He’s crouched behind your bare ass, a position he’s in no rush to get out of, arms caged around your thighs like a petrified child. This is almost funny–or would be, if he wasn’t scared shitless of everything your mom would definitely do to him if she discovered him buck ass naked in your bed.

Dreamily, Eddie reminds himself that he’s buck ass naked, in your bed. He smiles into one of your cheeks and considers how biteable it is.  

“Well. Wrap it up,” your mom says, tone still light, and you twinge at the irony. At least you’re on the pill. “I have a surprise.”

Slam. Door shuts. Your lamp wobbles with the force of it and Eddie emerges from behind you, like a freshly-fucked groundhog. 

“She sounds happy,” he mumbles, arms sliding up around your waist. 

You want to kiss the mirth out his mouth but you have to shove him back behind you first– cue your mom, doubling back through the door. Jesus!

“What was that?”  

“Nothing!” you say, shortly and breathily because Eddie nips at your fucking ass cheek back there. “Just–you sound happy, mom!”

She shakes her head at you, a smile curving her tulip colored lips, like a mom from a detergent commercial. Y’know, were it not for the whole Italian widow getup she’s alway sporting. 

“Get on with it already.”

You count to a full five before you even let out a breath, snapping your attention back to reality and the fact that Eddie Munson is very naked in your very bed. 

“You gotta get out of here,” you tell him, and you want to kill yourself about it. 

The both of you balance on your knees. Eddie tugs you into him with shining, begging eyes. Standing almost at full attention again, already.

“Jesus, that thing’s impressive.”

Eddie’s fingers wind around the hair at the nape of your neck. Despite the brief jolt of fear from your little interruption just now, he’s all romance–totally suckered, rose-colored glasses, the whole bit. Thoughts not exactly creating a straight line just yet, but he doesn’t care. He’s had his hands all over you for the better part of an evening now, and he doesn’t want to let up just yet. It might kill him. It might kill him. 

There’s no unringing this bell between the two of you, and he knows that. 

And you knew it first, because you know everything first. 

“You sure?” he hums into your sweet lips, “You absolutely positive? Because I could be real, real quiet…”

Eddie’s also thrilled by the fact that he seems to know instinctively what to do to turn you on. 

“What if I don’t want you to be real, real quiet?”

You kiss him back, sighing and sliding a single finger down the length of his cock. 

“Lace…” he whimpers to you, his commandant fantasy of being dominant in the bedroom officially, officially escorted out back and shot. He wants to please you too badly. Be the jester in your court that makes you cackle and makes you cum.

“Lacy!” a shrill yell comes from the hall. Your eyes snap open, Eddie’s dancing with amusement and yours heaving with alarm. 

“Fuck, okay, go! Window!”

Another scramble, you tossing jeans and socks and the rest of Eddie’s uniform at him while you clean yourself off, try to pull a robe around yourself. A stray thought occurs to you as you watch him trip over himself, ripping the hole in his jeans a little further–you hate what he wears, but you love it on him. And off him. And…

You yank up those blinds and unlatch the window with a faint smile. Nothing about you two makes any conceivable sense–

Eddie starts out the window, shirt barely pulled down his torso and his shoes in his hands, then turns to hook you to him by the elbow. Smiling with the full blush of his mouth, he kisses you. Firm and knowing and whole. 

–except that. That makes sense.

The pad of his finger clears a lock of rumpled hair from your forehead. 

“To be continued?” Eddie searches your face, with those crazy dark brimming universes of eyes. 

Your heart is leaping in your ribcage. You nod sharply, gleaming back at him. 

“I’m comin’ back for you, Lacy Doevksi,” he tells you with all the brazen confidence he can muster. “And I am gonna go down on you until I drown. On pain of death, I swear it.”

“Go!” you command, and regret it as soon as he drops out of your bedroom window. Eddie starts a cant toward his trailer across the way. 

“Faster!” you hiss, just as an excuse to watch him. 

He pivots mid-jog, hair swinging wildly, his hand grabbing at his crotch. 

“You try runnin’ with a hard on! Witch!” 

It’s far, far, far too quiet once he’s escaped through the front door of his trailer.

It's not fair, you think. You should be basking in some kind of afterglow, sharing a stupid cliché cigarette, you feel like you should be... celebrating this.

You shouldn't have to keep running away from each other.

The warmth the two of you had created, through mere physical friction or just how much you… you like each other, rapidly dissipated into a chill as you advance through your bedroom door, to deal with the other thing.

Surprise, you thought, What kind of goddamn surprise could mother o'mine have for me? Did she boost a bank? Did she win the Indiana Sweepstakes? I don’t want to know about any g–

“Lorelei.”

The universe has a way of shoving you back in place when you get ahead of yourself.

You don’t just stop in your tracks, you’re repelled a half-step backwards. The centrifugal force urging you away, telling you there’s an immediate threat in the heart of your home. 

No one uses that name anymore. Not even him. Not since you were fourteen.

“Daddy.”

Your father sits at the shabby dinette that you and your mother don’t even share meals at, sits there in the suit he was sentenced in. A rich navy pinstripe, chosen because gray would have been too flashy and black would admit defeat. “Of course!” your mother had said, marveling at his ingenuity. But the pantomime of his defense was wearing real thin on you; whispering at school had started growing louder and louder and you were finding more and more chips in the porcelain of your father’s worldly facade. 

“Why not compromise. Wear charcoal,” you’d said, leaning against the kitchen counter in Loch Nora, drinking orange juice from your parents’ wedding crystal as the movers taped up your boxes, “You can plead guilty and still look smug about it.”

Your father had smacked the flute from your hand and it shattered in forty thousand pieces on the ground. You didn’t move, didn’t breathe, because you knew if you did, you’d be next. 

Navy it was. And navy it is. He sits at that dinette like he’s expecting white jacket service. You swear even more gray has started glimmering through his hair. Flashy. 

“Should I ask how you’re here?” you say, stiff and scared. Your mother, standing at your father’s shoulder, tuts and sighs. Can’t you just enjoy this? she silently bemoans.

“Good behavior,” Ray smiles, “Can’t say the same for you. Can I, Lorelei?”

“Principal Higgins called,” your mom chimes in, “Or rather, that odious little secretary called. You think you could get a Saturday detention and they just wouldn’t tell us?”

“That’s why he’s here?” You laugh a little, inwardly. “With all due respect, Daddy, that’s a terrible reason to break out of prison.”

To your surprise, your father chuckles too. Makes your blood run cold, obviously. 

“Y’know, I really didn’t anticipate this for my homecoming, I gotta tell you,” he says, shifting in his seat and plucking a cigarillo from his jacket pocket. “I mean, honestly. I thought, a nice bottle of Beaujolais–”

“We’re fresh out,” you gesture to your cringing mother.

“--a dinner at, Christ, Enzo’s, since that’s where our budget is at now,” his lighter flicks and ignites the end, “But no. I have to sit here and cross-examine my daughter about… fraternizing with the lowest of criminal elements.”

The lack of self awareness here is off the fucking charts. It makes your blood pressure spike.

“Take a seat, Lacy,” your father so gallantly gestures to the vinyl backed kitchen chair in front of him, “and tell me all about Eddie Munson.”

Chair drags aggressively against the linoleum. You sit, and swear that the next time you’re caught off guard by anyone’s father, it’d better be God himself. 

This bit is getting old.

author's notes: so i'm not fucking around when i say i need to hear everyone's thoughts on what just happened immediately. i really do think that happenings-wise, this was my favourite chapter to write thus far. felt cathartic, from the al munson to the hellfire article of it all. anyway. onto the good stuff - like i feel like everyone who reads this series will have clocked this but of course i lifted the garlic slicing right out of goodfellas. i just think it's a perfect al munson attribute to have - al munson kicking out the jams instead of picking up his kid i know that's right - our dukes of hazzard ref is a tribute to my own personal al munson fancast - not that paris, texas but this paris, texas. (and you know when lacy eventually gets eddie to watch it he CRIES. they both cry) - i should probably put the repo man trailer in here as well - speaking of another fancast! the manager of forest hills trailer park is, of course, to me, in my heart, carl rodd. - the best song off of abbey road by the beatles, fight with the wall - SHOULD WE CALL THE MAYOR - lacy promising eddie that he can ride circles around her on a motor bike is a reference to hunter s thompson being ambushed on canadian television by one of the hells angels he wrote about in his book. dude rolls onto set on his hog. it's crazy. - eddie is kinda gossamer coded - cow tipping? at mccorkle's? anybody? our love is god - god wheels of confusion is kinda horny sounding huh i think that this might be the shortest references recap so far in the series?? one of them anyway. probably because i wrote 4k words of FILTH. anyway, thank you all so much for continuing to read this fucking thing. we're almost at the end of this part of the story which is wild to me. now let me get on your ass and remind you that REBLOGGING FICS IS ESSENTIAL TO YOUR FIC WRITERS HEALTH. SO ARE COMMENTS AND SO ARE ASKS so send those pls :) love you hellcats. be well, cats

[blorboscran]

糞団子 (特製ミートボール ブラックガーリックソース掛け)/ Dung Pie aka Special Meatballs in Black Garlic Sauce (translation unofficial)

was a dish available at Dark Souls Café with a requirement of 1500 souls (cost of 1500 yen). Dark Souls Café was a re-theme of OZ Café that took place from Jan 6th 2014 to April 6th 2014 to promote the game Dark Souls II, which as of the opening of the overlay, was both yet to be released and reportedly unfinished.

Dung Pie, said to be tastier than its name, was topped with a dark demi-glace. Like other dishes at Dark Souls Café, it appears to have been dyed black with edible charcoal and was possibly a variant of OZ Cafés typical bar and grill fare, Australian cuisine. OZ Café is permanently closed.

Dung Pie was Dark Souls Café’s last item categorized as “Others”. It was also a permanent menu item, so unlike some of the monthly special food, it was possible to order Dung Pies during Dark Souls Café’s week-long Valentines event. It is unclear how many couples attended.

In addition to its disclosure of being meat, Dung Pie was described with the items’ in-game description, explaining the strategic usage of them as fetid projectiles before breaking fiction to reassure the reader with something to the effect of, “This is what Dark Souls is all about.”

[saintarc]

LOVE AT FIRST BITE. LOST CHAPTER #II.

♱⃬ ͏ ⠆ TEETH GRAZING AGAINST HER PURE SKIN. the burning ecstatic bite under the moonlight that allowed ecstasy into the prince's mind.

🦇 ͏⠆ a bit of really minor nsfw, minor religious themes, mentions of skin cutting, blood sucking, usages of "dear/dearest". 2200+ words.

taglist ⌇ @steleir @tojiluv @ellzbellz @theblueslytherin @krokietino @purplepursepaint @katiemrty @saturvue @tsxkkis @httpshujii @syomi @tnt-kokoo @suniika @camilo-uwu @mimifoodlover @whynotelli @rollssas

WHERE THE FIRST ROOSTER CROWS, the unrested soul of the hardworking and determined vampire hunter sets her feather pen on the table to rest her sore arms.

what could cause it to be of such soreness? well, that is simple. born a silvernalle, they are meant to write down every single detail from the finest hair to the soles of the feet of any vampire that they came across. all written in the book of the silvernalle’s vampire records.

so far, not a single information of the current prince of the vampires, zuko, is recorded into the pages of the old book. that's when you know that there are two possibilities.

one, he is not that old of a vampire. two, nobody in your lineage has managed to get any information on the vampire prince at all. perhaps he is just so skillful that his existence had finally resurfaced after generations.

regardless of the lack of information on the vampire, you know what you are doing. respected young hunter of the vampires, y/n silvernalle. head of the silvernalles ever since you were fifteen of age.

quite the accomplishment in your opinion… to be the youngest head and one of the few females who managed to become heir.

what did society expect if you're the last few standing silvernalles in existence? possibly even the last with pure hunter blood? there is no way you are going to simply sit by and burn away all the activities committed by your vengeful ancestors. with you alone, you cannot erase the existence of the vampires by yourself anyways.

“lady silvernalle, here are the reports of nearby villagers regarding the sightings of recent and low-class vampires,” seira hales, young assistant and precious friend of yours, placed a pile of papers above your desk. “i’ve checked some of them, and none of them mentioned a single description of the vampire prince you engaged with.”

“i’d like to think it's because the prince hasn't made his existence known to the world until that night,” you set your quill aside and momentarily stared at the papers before averting your gaze onto seira.

“my stomach cries in anger. shall we get lunch, seira?”

COFFEE-DRIPPING SCENTS, honey pastries, and a little bit of a torn and worn-out cushion seats. it is not far from when the clock strikes at the fourteenth hour of the day, and two souls have not gotten their fair share of lunch yet.

now they are seated comfortably in the soft and lukewarm heaven of an old inn where it is almost like a bakery, but not really. the inn sold the likes of alcohol and beef. choices vary. there are many meals to choose from.

you chose a simple and nice stew to ease your mind and body which has been working nonstop ever since the encounter with the royal vampire. whereas the daughter of greatly adored hales ordered a healthy bowl of salad and bread at the side of it. both of you were given a cup of wine to complete your meal.

knowing your friend, assistant, and apprentice, you always wait for her to say her graces before consuming her meals. though you might not be as orthodox and religious as she is, you'd clasp your arms together with her and remain silent as she thanks the lord for the food.

seira’s faith is just as important as any garlic and holy silver swords. she has knowledge on exorcism and whatnot that a priest obtains throughout his years of priesthood. it is a skill of the hales family and also their duty to assist the silvernalles in pursuit of vampires. for both families have mutual feelings towards those bat-like monsters.

so the consumption of both your meals were carried out as usual, along with the discussions on how to terminate the other nightly creatures that might cause some distress to humanity in the silent night. all that is left for you and seira to do is to pay for your meals before heading back to the silvernalle headquarters for more studies.

the moment you set your payment on the counter, the corner of your eyes caught an unforgettable image that you thought you'd never see in the light of day. the image that was burned, etched, and marked at the back of your mind, slowly crawling up to make its familiarity into your conscious mind.

without uttering another word, your feet carried you away from the counter to chase after that familiar figure. to put simply, you ran after it, leaving your assistant behind to shout out your name and question where you are headed. but that doesn't matter.

what truly matters now, is that the vampire from that night isn't actually walking under daylight where he should be cinched to ashes the moment the sun hits his skin.

you cursed under your tongue and went out of the tavern where the figure had just left. and that was it. nothing else, nothing more. not a single trace of the monster from that night is seen ever again. at least, not to you, because your arms just received a message which resulted into goosebumps.

an eerie message that spoke to you through the slight appearance of the familiar vision. a message that tells you that this isn't going to be the last time you will ever see him in all his glory.

THE HOWLS OF THE WOLVES were loud tonight, as the perfectly full moon shone its wondrous atmosphere all over one part of the world, where it is brightest.

despite all the nightly howls and the dangers of a lonely girl walking through the night, you continued to venture through the trail in the middle of a field. the moon seemed to be the only company you have for the night, for it is seen as the largest in the field.

you are so so wrong about that assumption however. you knew the exact moment when there was an icy feeling that just electrocuted down your spine that you are indeed not alone with the night sun at all. this chilly feeling that gathered and remained all over you, giving you a gift of goosebumps that covered all over your arms.

this feeling is familiar. you know of it. it is the feeling of something that is about to go wrong. terrible even— if it starts to get all cold and you feel the urge to crawl up into a ball just to keep yourself warm while avoiding the rotten feeling.

mere goosebumps alone with a little bit of fearing the night wouldn't stop you from getting to your destination though. you are determined to get there even if a certain vampire is watching you with a pair of dark scarlet eyes and an insatiable lust for the red liquid in your body.

“make your presence known, won't you?” you said, voice echoing through the night as the chilly wind pulled and danced along with the flow of your voice. your breath came out as a collection of cold mist.

you could almost feel a super tiny smile that cracked a little as you first saw it that day in the ball of the vampire princess. the fake and everlasting smile that could enchant women so easily, even though it was so tiny— barely visible to the eyes.

“oh! i was found out,” the vampire exclaimed, giving you a little shrug as his face quickly twisted into a frown and a glare at once. “bold of you to walk alone during dusk, silvernalle girl.”

“bold of you to assume i’m afraid of the dark as a silvernalle, prince.”

in your boots, you kept weapons in there. weapons of all sorts are always strapped around your body, possibly even in your body, if you were extreme enough to cut open your skin just to store anti-monster weapons. with the same silver dagger you used against the fellow vampire standing before you, you grabbed it and swung it at zuko's direction.

his eyes widened at the sudden attack. not wanting to feel the burn of the same blade again, the prince does his best to dodge it in hopes of eventually kicking it away from your grasp.

you got into a little brawling battle with him. and honestly… it was no easy task to land a hit or even a single graze on his skin because of how agile and perfect he is at hand-to-hand combat and especially, dodging.

“it seems his highness is good at combating, and dodging,” you grabbed the dagger that fell off and ran to the vampire who let out a sigh.

“i am a vampire after all. we're just naturally good at it,” zuko dodged, using his hands to attempt a few chops and a few jabs on your vital points using his fingers and the sides of his hands. however, you too, are a professional at the art of dodging hits.

this went on for about a few more moments, before zuko finally had enough of this little hit and dodge game. the vampire prince had finally cornered you until your back hit a huge tree trunk that the moon seemed to favour tonight.

“enough playing around,” zuko kicked the blade that was on the ground away. he kicked it so far that you couldn't even see where it disappeared to. just as you were about to grab another weapon from somewhere on your body, zuko already has your hands above your head, locked within his tight grip to prevent your itchy fingers from pulling out another silver weapon.

“what was your name again? y/n? y/n silvernalle? yeah probably, i heard your friend called you that,” said zuko. “did you know, in the history of silvernalles and vampires, there was once a hunter named y/n too. she's killed by my ancestor, count roku though. isn't it a shame? you're pretty much a little copy of her, from the pictures that roku drew of her.”

you gritted your teeth and glared at zuko. “and? what has that got to do with me? just because i have the same name as someone who died by your darn ancestor, doesn't mean it has anything to do with me.”

zuko’s scarlet eyes looked down at your leg which he knew were attempting to kick him off of you. the man went closer to you, way more closer than he should've… and he placed his knee between your thighs, catching you by surprise.

before you could scream or even let out a single whine, his hands already slapped against your mouth to cover any alluring noise that might escape from your lips. your legs have failed to move.

“shut up,” zuko tells you, his voice getting more aggressive the more you struggle against him.

“i hope you know you're enticing and beautiful enough that the officials of dark romania all have their eyes on you now. i will mark you as my territory, silvernalle, so you can hunt me without having to struggle with thousand year old great grandpas.”

your eyebrows scrunched in confusion at his odd choice of words. he wants you to hunt him in peace without having to worry about powerful vampires that he calls ‘great grandpas’. so he is going to mark you.

exactly how? you do not know. regardless of his suggestion, you do not want to be marked by a vampire nor carry the scent of one into your daily life. for your honour as vampire hunter.

all you could do was shake your head slightly against his hard grip on half of your face. you cannot do anything about it. the strength of a royal vampire is more than that of a normal powerful thousand year-old one. you yourself has basic knowledge about such a fact.

“oh, dear, i promise you, it won't hurt.”

you squeezed shut your eyes and held in your chokes, even after zuko’s harsh grip against your face loosened and left your mouth, you kept your lips sealed. there's something about his words that makes you lose the ability to fight back. it murdered the spirit of the brave lion in you with just a few words.

the prince’s fingers were on the lower part of your face again. but this time, they gently swipe across your lower lips. all gentle gestures right before he leaned into your neck and his two canine teeth grazed against your skin. such an odd feeling you felt. the cold hands of a vampire caressing your lips and his mouth moving to mark you as his.

all of these while you suddenly lose hope at this moment and feel your body succumbing to the vampire prince. it was such a sad and disappointing sight honestly. a silvernalle is shamefully standing still, allowing a vampire to fill your entire body with his rich and royal scent as he takes your blood as a form of his satisfactory meal.

a tear of your ancestors escaped from the corner of your eyes, all while feeling the itching pain of the fangs buried deep in your skin and zuko’s fingers now cupping your face. your thighs closed in on zuko’s knee, squeezing it from the hellish burn on your neck.

the moment you blinked, zuko has already ceased his marking and is now staring right into your pitiful eyes.

“i need more of you,” he whispered, “but i can't,” his cold yet gentle hands left your cheeks. you already miss the feeling. you unconsciously grabbed his hands, just moments before snapping out of his enticing. you gripped it tightly, fingernails buried deep into his skin just like how his fangs were in your skin.

“i will fucking kill you, zuko,” your eyes snapped out from his spell and splashed daggers right into the core of his undead soul. “you will regret ever tempting me, bastard.”

the same tiny smile surfaced on zuko’s lips. “i'm waiting, my dearest sweet little hunter.”

© SAINTARC 2024, LOVE AT FIRST BITE. DO NOT REPOST OR ALTER.

[brynnterpretations]

Headcanon request for The Boys' favorite foods/meals?

The Boys' Favorite Foods/Meals ☻

Annie January (Starlight)

Steak de Burgo. It's a beef tenderloin either topped with or marinated in butter, garlic, and herbs, and is an intrinsically Iowan meal that started in her hometown, Des Moines, and reminds her of all the best things about home. She has really fond memories of going to the Dallas County Fair with her friends and mother and enjoying some with some Coca-Cola. The meal made everything feel OK and normal, and continues to do so for her now.

Billy Butcher

Pastrami sandwiches. Growing up halfway down from a kosher deli in the heavily Jewish community of London's East End, he and Lenny would often find comfort in spending late hours there eating sandwiches and matzoh ball soup when their father was in his worst moments. Still, he's mostly distanced himself from the memories that come with the dish; the guy just really likes pastrami sandwiches, and will devour even the biggest, meatiest thing of it in one minute tops. It's slightly concerning and always ends in acid reflux.

Frenchie

New York style pizza, specifically with marina, mozzarella, and basil. Unlike most of The Boys, Frenchie doesn't have many memories attached to it, but that's what he likes about it — it's entirely separate from his past life (to this day, the guy can't eat pelmeni because it reminds him of Little Nina). He knows all the best spots in town, and actually has several Yelp accounts dedicated to rating pizza. He has several because his usage of colorful language has gotten him banned.

Hughie Campbell

Grilled cheese and tomato soup. He's been eating it ever since he was a kid; it started with his mom making it, then his dad, and then him, so it's a huge comfort dish for him. While his go-to answer would, of course, be grilled cheese and tomato soup, Hughie also has a guilty pleasure for grilled cheese and Spaghetti-O's, which he has at least once a week. He's a big carb guy.

Kimiko Miyashiro

OK, bear with me: McDonald's cheeseburgers. As much as Frenchie expanded her palate (she's got a special fondness for margherita pizzas), she loves McDonald's cheeseburgers due to them being the first thing she ate once she left the Shining Light Liberation Army. Specifically, she likes a plain McDonald's cheeseburger with extra cheese dipped into a medium McFlurry. Do not judge. Our girl has been through enough.

Marvin T. Milk (Mother's Milk)

Pecan salad, typically with a sweet vinaigrette. It's very specific, but when M.M. was a broke SUNY student trying to stay healthy, he would fuck up a good chicken pecan salad from the nearby SuperFresh. You know how if you have too much of something, you get sick of it? M.M., a creature of habit, is not that type of guy. It's become a meme in the office to see how many times he comes in with a damn pecan salad (or a green chia smoothie, which almost won over the salad).

[preposterousgreen]

Angeal makes sure to closely supervise Zack whenever he practices cooking in Angeal's kitchen. It's not because he expects Zack to burn the place down or cut his fingers off; Zack has proven to be a fast learner as usual.

No, it's to make sure that Genesis doesn't sneak in and say anything potentially confusing about which is a garlic clove and which is a bulb. Angeal is pretty sure that Zack's trooper buddy is feeding him a steady stream of misinformation on garlic usage as well.

[foressfaction]

"Friends"

-a quick one read by foressfaction

WARNING: substance usage, abuse mentions

After everything, even in the time when Toby thought he was truly by himself in all of this, a group of four kids strolled up to his table at lunch. Toby glanced around beforehand, seeing if there was any other reason for them to approach the table, but he was the only one there.

“Toby, is it?” One of the kids spoke out, the only blond one in the group, and what looked to be the ‘leader’ of the bunch.

Toby averted his gaze down, keeping his head facing the table but his eyes soured back up to meet theirs. He gave nothing but a nod and nervous table taps with his middle and pointer finger.

The brunette’s reaction forced soft chuckles from the group. “We couldn't help but notice you sitting here alone, hell if anything everyone here thinks you'd shoot up the school any day now i mean hah..”

They said that so casually, so calmly. Toby’s face morphed into a small glare, not expecting anything but insults and sarcasm from these kids, but their next sentence caught him off guard.

“That point aside, would you maybe wanna hang out with us after school? Maybe at around 7?”

Toby’s eyes shot up again, his fingers halting to a stop with the tapping. “Me?” Toby could only spur. He genuinely could not believe it, though part of him told him that it wasn't real. “Are you being serious?”

The blond boy gave a nod, pulling out a small yellow notepad. “You got a home phone?” He asked Toby, holding a pencil in his free hand as well.

“I do not, no..at least that i-i know of.” Toby’s fists clenched in a tic, he immediately knew it might be genuine when he didn't get a negative reaction.

“Aw well uh, here.” The boy wrote something down on the notepad, sitting it down on the table in front of Toby. “Here's where we can hang out, since ya got no phone, i trust you'll show up.” The kid playfully winked at Toby, earning small giggles from his friends behind him. “Assuming you have no friends now, we're sure you will.” One of the others remarked.

Toby looked down at the notepad, tracing his finger over it and picking it up to recall what it read. ‘behind the bus barn, 7pm, bring drinks. (you know what kind).’

He gave a confused sequence of blinks before folding it up and putting it into his hoodie pocket. “Alright..” He responded, feeling something sink to the bottom of his stomach. An adrenaline rush, but he didn't know what kind. Was it exciting? Was it fear?

•••

Later that evening, Toby ran up to his porch, having just walked home in the damp, foggy weather, giving it just rained and is still spurting out a few sprinkles here and there. He guessed his father wasn't home yet, seeing that the car wasn't in the driveway. Upon opening the door he spotted his mom in the kitchen, making what smelled like garlic bread. “Spaghetti?” Toby asked, smelling the hint of tomato sauce and garlic.

The brunette woman turned with a small smile. “Mhm~” She hummed. “Oh oh, and make sure to set the table before your father arrives, you know he hates seeing me do things by myself hah.” She slightly joked but there was a hint of seriousness to her voice.

Toby nodded and dropped his backpack by the door, rushing over to assist his mom, getting plates and silverware out. All but a pair of tableware for himself. Connie noticed. “Honey are you gonna eat?” She asked, her eyebrows curling upwards. She wanted her son to eat. She was watching him practically starve himself.

“Oh, I was just getting t-to that, um, actually I have to meet some friends, they said they'd have stuff and- i didn't w-wanna let them down and not eat what they might have y’know.”

Toby watched his mom’s face light up. “Friends? Oh that's great that you have some! Oh i can't wait to drive y'all places, manage sleepovers, ohoh! I have so many board games in the attic that you all can play-”

“mom- mom it's fine really-” Toby was certainly caught off guard by her excitement, and he wasn't one hundred percent sure they were serious about this either.

“Fine? This is awesome! I knew you'd make friends.” She pulled him into a tight hug. Toby understood her happiness but her over excitement was making him embarrassed.

Just then Lyra walked into the door, still in her work uniform. She looked exhausted as usual. “Hey did I miss something? Why are we all hugging?” She asked.

“Toby made some friends today, and has plans!” The brunette woman exclaimed, still hugging him.

“Oh my god can I drive you?” Lyra added, also seeming pretty excited.

“it's not that serious guys please-” Toby was dying in embarrassment. He didn't think his family would react so positively, like he just got elected as president or something.

“But um, I'm alright with walking.”

•••

Toby stayed in his room after that, letting his family eat. He made sure to pack a bag as well, having taken two bottles of alcohol from the cabinets without his family noticing. Of course he didn't plan on drinking any of it, he was only 15 after all, and didn't exactly like alcohol, at all. Knowing how it can make people act. He did this so he could fit in, seeing as if maybe he brought such a drink as they asked, that they'd like him more.

He now sat at his desk, watching the clock on his dresser. He figured if anything he should start heading there now. “It's behind the school right? I-is that where the barn is..” He muttered to himself, pulling his old shoes back on. He didn't change or anything, not seeing a reason to. He threw some washcloth into his bag to keep the glass bottles from clinking against each other as he walked out.

Toby opened his room door, shuffling out. The bottom of his jeans slightly drug the ground as they were rather long, so the sound of him coming down the hall was pretty noticeable.

He held the bag over his shoulder, shrugging up the second he saw his father looming over one of the walls near the door. He didn't know what the man was doing. He honestly just hoped he wouldn't get caught with the bottles.

He already talked to Lyra about him being safe and that it would all be fine. Obviously she had her doubts after he told her everything, saying things like how friends wouldn't normally immediately schedule a hang out somewhere as secluded as the bus barn.

After literally begging her to just let him go alone, she finally gave in and let it go. However, all but his father knew he was leaving, so as he brushed by to open the front door, his shoulder was grasped firmly.

Toby froze up, avoiding eye contact.

“Where you goin’ boy.” His deep, raspy voice echoed into Toby’s ears. He flinched, biting back on his tongue.

“T-to see some friends..” Toby choked out, visibly sweating as he stared down.

The man glared at him, his grip tightening then eventually he let go, giving the boy a shove out of the house.

Toby stumbled out, holding his bag tight.

“Uh huh,” the man grumbled out, closing the door.

Toby was now left to walk back to the school and around towards……wherever the bus barn was.

•••

“maybe befriending upperclassmen won't be that bad..” Toby thought out loud, stepping onto the school property. He made it around the building, hoping everyone had left already and that he wouldn't get in trouble for this. Eventually though, he caught sight of the others, the four kids. They were all huddled around what looked to be an old bonfire area. Toby could hear them laughing from where he was, hearing it grow closer with each step.

One of the kids seemed to notice him, waving over. “Toby! You made it.” they exclaimed.

Toby inched up, his feet crunching the gravel underneath. “Yeah.” He responded to the other. Toby sat down on the ground as the others sat on the tree stumps.

“Well?” The one blond kid spoke up, staring right at Toby. At first he didn't understand what he wanted, then he remembered. “Right-.”

Toby pulled his bag off of his back and pulled the two bottles out.

Immediately the kid next to him snagged it out of his hand and looked at it. “oh ho ho, Jack Daniel’s, our buddy has the good shit.” They all laughed as they passed it around, pouring it into their red party cups. “Tell us man, where'd you get this? You certainly couldn't pass as an 18 year old, much less 20.” They all laughed.

“My dad.” Toby mumbled, not feeling a need to say much more, flinching as the now half empty bottle was slammed back towards his chest. He took it.

“He must be rich then, this stuff costs a fortune.” They remarked, each taking big sips.

“I bet you steal this shit every night, I know I would if I had it in my house.” one of the kids admitted.

“Oh no, i d-d-don’t drink.” Toby choked back from continuing the sentence any more than it needed to be.

“You a goody two shoes or somethin’?” the kid next to Toby nudged him rather hard with their elbow.

“Yeah, don't like the taste? Does it burn going down?” Laughter exploded between them all.

Toby shook his head with a nervous laugh. “yeah it's the taste, i uh- don't like the taste.” That was a half lie. Toby avoided alcohol in fear that he'd end up like his father. Addicted and abusive, but of course he couldn't tell them that. They were already seeming tipsy.

“Nice hat,” the blond remarked, taking notice of Toby’s hat.

“Is that from the mail place? Yeahhh it is.”

“It's my sister’s, she l-lets me wear it.” Toby explained, taking the compliment to heart.

“ohh you have a sister? Is she hot?” one of the black haired kids snorted out, making them follow along laughing.

“what?..” Toby was caught off guard, not completely understanding. Were they making fun of Lyra?

“Don't speak about her that way-” Toby’s eyebrows furrowed, not fond of their tone to the mention of her.

“Aw why not? What're you gonna do—”

Their voices faded out slightly, and there was a hint of static that Toby could hear. The bus barn was surrounded by trees, and they were the only bit of sound and life for maybe miles aside from the road in front of the school. Toby sorta just stared off to the distance before he felt something get yanked off of him.

One of the kids snatched the hat off of his head and threw it to one of the others. Toby immediately stood up and darted his head from each of them.

“Hey!-”

“C’mon ever heard of Monkey in the Middle?” they laughed, tossing the hat between all four of them.

Toby was having trouble jumping and trying to catch it, grumbling out. He came too close to one of the other’s, being tripped and shoved down hard into the gravel. The static had never been so loud.

“You're a bunch of assholes!” Toby growled out, clenching the rocks.

“What, did ya think we actually wanted to be friends with you Ticci?” The main blond kid came up and grabbed Toby by the hair, pulling his head up and shoved him back into the gravel hard. All Toby could do was grunt. He didn't understand, he didn't get why he deserved this, and he was angry for allowing this to happen.

‘i should've just stayed home..’

A hard kick was lodged into his stomach, sending him to fly back and roll amongst the tiny rocks. They were also kicking them at the boy.

“Is everyone this way wh-when drunk?!” Toby growled loudly, hoisting himself up, now holding his arm that got a little scraped up.

“You're so easy to hit around. Maybe if you weren't so easy, things like this wouldn't happen to you.” The blond kid spat with an evil smirk, going straight for the face. Toby caught the kid’s wrist and pulled him down beside him.

The static in his ears became louder and louder, making his eye twitch.

“oh! Didn't think you had it in y—” The kid was caught off by the brunette slowly crawling onto him. Toby wrapped his hands around the older male’s throat and began to squeeze.

The blond boy immediately began to struggle, staring back at his drunk friends that stared in shock, too stunned to even move. The kid could mutter nothing but gurgles and coughs as Toby only squeezed harder, his dark eyebrows furrowed. His eyes were glazed over with malice. The boy pulled at Toby’s grip, scratching at his roughly bandaged hands, this didn't help his situation at all.

Toby heard nothing but static, whispers lingering around in his mind. He may have even cracked a smile.

“Y-yOu’re crazy!” the kid stammered out with a stutter, kicking at the ground. He was choking out too much and wasting his energy, and eventually, his body stopped

Toby didn't let go until he watched the other’s eyes close, loosening his grip shortly after.

He felt the other kid’s stares on the back of his head, standing up with a huff, rubbing his nose where he then pulled off some blood.

Toby looked back to the kids, noticing their look of fear, even in such a state of intoxication, they were terrified. Two ran over onto their bikes while the other took off running. It took till their full disappearance for Toby to look back to the unconscious boy and realize just what he did. His shoulders dropped, and his heart raced. He walked over to his hat that laid on the ground, putting it back on.

‘What have you done…’

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Guesses for which character will be associated with which dish in the upcoming Sonic cookbook.

Blue is confirmed, either through the preview pages or name-drops in the title; or, in Chip's case, "it showed up in his game"

Red is "most likely"

reasonings for a couple down here:

Eat n' Run definitely sounds like Sonic

"Future-proof" with "Egg" tarts is confusing. My main guess is Eggman but Silver/Nega aren't off the table

"Perfect Note" could, as @birdsareblooming mentioned to me, be a reference to Tails Music Maker. Other than that, Vector's the main musician of the gang

"Eat Red Spheres" is def a reference to classic gameplay

"Tornado" Chips is very likely for Tails's plane

"Royal" Roasted Pinwheels, huh? Blaze.

"My Daily Respite" is also very vague. Could be Eggman?

"Burrito Blasts" could really be anyone, considering we all blast a lot. Shadow's probably the most likely with his usage of chaos blast.

"Luxurious Light Fare" – Luxurious sounds like a word Rouge would use. Other than that, I got nothin

"Island's" Bounty Salad seems like an Angel Island thing

NO idea what "Sumptuous Salad" could be. Maybe Eggman?

"A Simple Deduction" is either Eggman or Tails, they're the only ones who talk like that

"Leaf Swirl Salad" could be Sonic swirling up leaves as he runs, or something Big or Sticks eat in the woods

"Bangle Bagels"– Amy's bracelets could be considered bangles? My main guess is Rouge because her main thing is Jewelry. Bangles are also v popular in south asia so it could be Blaze, but I've never seen her wear any.

"Unlimited Potential" is a chaos emerald thing, right?

"Simple Pleasures" sounds very Big, but I could also see Knux or Espio

"When a Flatfoot's Flat Broke"– "Flatfoot" is a term for a detective or cop, and well. Vector be broke

Anything with "Ninja" in the title is probably Espio

"West Side Island" Sandwich is prob Tails

The "Rival's" Chili Dog is def Shadow being annoying <3

"Villain" Sub and Perfect "Egg"dog being next to each other is interesting; it's possible they'll have two of the same character in a row but maybe we'll have another villain?

"Catch o' the Day" is def Big

"The Master Meal Plan" sounds like Master Emerald, so Knux

"The Garlic Collector" – I put Rouge for "collector" but I SWEAR that title is a reference to some old mystery novel?? I just can't put my finger on which. So it could be Chaotix if that's the case

"Tangled Leads" could be Tangle buuuuuut it's more likely to be Vector with the "Mystery" angle

"Hidden Truth" is also a mystery angle but the usage of "hidden" seems like they'll use Espio

"Timeless" Comfort Food makes me emotional like ok Silver

Blaze's kingdom is ocean-based so she's def the "Sea-Born Monarch"

Tails and his Mint Candy, man

"Seven Rings in Hand" def references Sonic and the Secret Rings. Whether it's Sonic himself or Shahra in here...

"World Uniting" sounds a lot like a Sonic Unleashed thing

"Edge of Darkness" is something a hot topic kid would come up with so it's Shadow

The "Family Cookie Recipe" and "Mother's Specialty" both sound very much like Cream. But again, two in a row? Family cookie could also be Robotnik fam maybe? And mother's specialty could be Rouge's unseen mom?

"Colorful Companions" seems to be a ref to Sonic Colors and the wisps

"Caffeine Control" is this one isn't just "eat the coffee beans directly" then what is the point

"Diamonds in the Sky" couuuuld be Rouge cause gem ref but that's DEFINITELY a ref to Sonic R

"Vim n Vigor" idfk dude it's probably Vector just for the alliteration

[wordycheeseblob]

Ikerpi OC

Sigfrit Brant, 27, obsidianite defector

(Old) name: Sigfrit Ritter von der Marwitz

Mind you, an obsidianite defector who's still alive is no joke

In the early days slipped into Rhodelite to assassinate Cyran but was caught in one of Clavis's schemes and could not return. Didn't die but couldn't live either. So she's hanging out with those two weirdos now /aff

Many wanted to kill her at first. Some still do. She's pretty smug about it.

Likes: the smell of orange trees in bloom. Good bread. White asparagus. Garlic.

Dislikes: sarcasm and self-deprecation jokes are the bane of her existence.

Characteristics: thick accent. Pragmatic.

Weaknesses:

(cease resistance, your joke is about to be explained),

subtle in intentions but not socially.

Incredible foresight but terrible luck.

Little alcohol tolerance (oh the SHAME) but the trick is consuming some yeast before the night out.

Creative outlet: engineering.

Unintentionally finds Clavis' traps and feels compelled to comment on their faultiness. Clavis takes mental notes to improve later. (Much to Sariel's chagrin) not often but sometimes dismantles parts or tinkers with the occasional trap (much to Clavis' chagrin)

Hobbies:

finding blind spots and hidden passages, oversights and generally observing people and everything that's happening 'under the table' and on the surface.

Used to be Propaganda back in Obsidian.

Reading Obsidian's grim fairy tales to kids in Rhodelite.

Telling Cyran he's let his guard down

Yes, she witnessed whatever mishap you need to know so badly about (bad luck & timing) will she tell you? Depends.

Picking nettle or mint at the cemetery for pharmaceutical usage.

But she won't tell you any of that because it's somewhat shady.

Her 'hobby' is taking long walks and drinking with the soldiers