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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

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dameronology · 2 years

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2am (eddie munson)

summary: finishing work late sucks, but it's nice to come home to eddie

a/n: this is so completely self indulgent because i did the late shift at work again and if i ever have to set foot in that bar again i will cry. which is tomorrow, because sadly i have to work for a living enjoy.

tags: @megmeg-chan @sunflowersturn @karasong

It was just after 2AM when you finally got home.

Your shoulders and limbs were heavy with tiredness as you dragged yourself through the front door, holding your breath in an attempt to keep quiet. The trailer had thin fucking walls and Eddie Munson, not unlike a child, would not have gone back to sleep if you woke him up. Save for the times when you were physically in bed beside him, he had a wicked creative mind that would snap into the action the second he rose. There had been many nights were he would leap out of bed at 3,4,5AM, just because he'd had a semi-decent idea for a song, or a new D&D campaign. You could see that had been the case tonight; there was a bunch of crumpled up paper on the dining room table, with pens strewn on the floor and lots of scribbled out verses.

It was almost like a physical trail to Eddie. One Reebok, then another, and then his denim jacket, a bandana and eventually, a pair of jeans half on the floor and half on the bed. He was dead to the world, duvet pulled up to his chin and one arm flipped out on the mattress where you should have been. You felt a pang of guilt at that - of course, he had no ill will towards you for having to work the late shifts that week, but Eddie was a clingy little (six foot) fuck and he hated sleeping without you. With Wayne working upstate for a few months, you'd moved in to the trailer to fill in the gap; that meant you hadn't spent a night apart in forever.

Peeling off your clothes, you reached across to his desk chair and yanked a t-shirt from the pile on there. It was semi-clean; it smelt mostly of him and a little of laundry detergent. You shimmied it over your head and kicked off your jeans, softly pulling the covers back and slipping into bed beside Eddie. He instantly reached out for you; one gangly arm around your waist, a hand reaching up to cup your head and pull your head into the crook of his neck. All the tension in your body melted away - tonight had been a lot. It was endless streams of rude customers and machine malfunctions and stress head managers. You knew it was bad to let your job stress become too much but weren't you supposed to make a living?

"You're home," Eddie murmured, voice slightly muffled by your shoulder.

"Sorry if I woke you," you replied.

"Mm, it's okay, I was trying to stay awake til you came in," he said. He glanced over to the clock on the nightstand, brow furrowing. "It's late. Like...really late. Did you only just get in?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to hide the defeat in your voice. "It's been a long night."

"That's like the third night in a row they've made you stay late," he pouted. "Are you sure they're not overworking you?"

His large hands moved down your body, callous thumbs ghosting over your arms, sides and then hips. They settled there, rubbing soft circles over your skin as he held your gaze. Eddie had this innate need to look out for you - like if anything was wrong, he had to fix it. He knew it wasn't always possible, but that didn't stop him from being concerned. It was hard for him to fully get the stress of full time work; he'd gone straight from high school into community college, but he could empathise with your tiredness. He could feel it in your bones, and the way you clung onto him, craving something soft after a shitty, long shift.

"Of course they're overworking me," you couldn't help but feign a laugh. "It's okay though. It's just for now."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Afraid not, Eds," you murmured. Your eyes met again, though you did try to avoid his gaze for a second - those sad puppy dog eyes of his were surely the thing that would beat capitalism. "Just...keep being here when I get home, yeah?"

"I will stay in this bed forever if it makes you happy."

Eddie pulled the covers further up over you, hands gently rubbing up and down your bare arms in an attempt to warm you up. The heating in the trailer was pretty shit; it was annoying at times but also a blessing in disguise, because he did not like to let go of you at night. It was sort of a comfort thing, knowing that you were always there. That only made you feel worse about all these stupid night shifts.

"Staying here forever sounds nice," you hummed. "I'm sorry I've been away so much lately. Even more sorry that all I do is complain about work-"

"- hey, don't be silly," he cut you off. "You're working your ass off, baby. I'm really proud of you."

"It'll be worth it, I hope," you said. "I know we're young and dumb, but maybe I'll get promoted one day. And we can use the money I'm saving for...for whatever we want."

It was hard to say at that point. You and Eddie had been together for the better part of three years, but all your conversations about the future had been pretty loose. Your early twenties were a whacky time, after all: you were too old to be a clueless about the future but too young to be sure about it. It was like this time was specifically given to you to just...be for a while. To move on from the weird world of high school and find yourself, before taking that new-found discovery and trying to make something of it.

That had pretty much been the last two years for you and Eddie. It felt like the older you got and the better you came to know yourself, the more intertwined you both became. Instead of growing apart and getting fed up like a lot of couples your age did, you just got closer. So maybe you weren't set on what you were doing - kids, family, houses, whatever the fuck else suburban hell had in store - but you were certain on who you were doing it with.

"That sounds perfect," Eddie gave you a soft smile. "Until then, you need to get some sleep."

It was easy enough for him to say, because Eddie Munson was exactly the kind of guy who considered napping to be a hobby. He seriously had sleeping down to an art; in bed, in the the bath, in his van. He used up so much energy being a golden fucking retriever every other second of the day that power naps were the key to his survival.

"Sounds like a solid plan," you sleepily murmured. "I love you."

"I love you too."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fan fic #stranger things reader insert #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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fryingpan1234567 · 10 months

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🎶drabble drabble drab-ble, drabble drabble drab-ble, it’s two in the mor-ning—🎶

they’ve consumed my brain. Timkon Thought™️

~ It’s no secret Tim Drake doesn’t like sleeping. Enough nights of insomnia, dream demons, and fear gas will do that to a person. But there are just some people who take it to a whole different level.

Tim goes to school during the day, works when he doesn’t have school, and patrols all night long— he’s known in the Batfam for staying out the latest of them all, often until the sun begins to rise and he has to go home to get ready for school. The only time he doesn’t do such a practice is when Conner visits, which fortunately is often, because Tim’s siblings get concerned when he hasn’t slept in over a week.

But still, even with Conner around, it’s a fight to get Tim to sleep at all. One almost nobody wins.

It’s late when Tim hears the living room window slide open, soft footfalls landing on the rug there. He’d be concerned, normally, if only for the fact that he’s already in his pajamas and would hate to have to fight without a mask, but he knows who it is. Maybe that person knows the sound of his heartbeat, but Tim knows the rhythm of his existence and no Kryptonian powers can match that.

Exactly as expected, Conner pokes the slightly cracked bedroom door open with the toe of his boot not long after. Tim was already in bed, but nowhere near sleeping. In fact, he had a near-full mug of the strongest coffee he could possibly brew sitting on the nightstand next to him, the laptop in his lap the only source of light in the room.

Having none of his boyfriend’s shit, Conner flicked the light on. Tim blinked hazily up at him.

“Hey,” he managed, slightly leaning forward and silently pleading for a kiss. Kon obliged, but flicked him in the forehead as he pulled away.

“Why’re you up?” he asked instead of answering the greeting. “It’s like two in the morning.”

“Uhh…” As Conner began stripping out of his patrol gear and unceremoniously dumping it all on the floor, Tim’s attention returned to the screen before him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Conner threw a shoe at him. It bounced off Tim’s shoulder. He didn’t even look up.

Kon sighed in defeat. “Didn’t you just get back from patrol, though?”

“Mm. Just a minute ago. Nothing exciting.”

They both lapsed into silence, the only sound in the apartment being Krypto’s snoring in the corner of the bedroom and the clicking of Tim’s laptop keyboard. Finally, freshly ready for bed, Conner flipped the light back off, plopped down next to Tim, and promptly flopped over in front of him.

Tim peeked over the top of his screen.

“Uh… hi?”

“Sweetheart.” Conner’s voice is muffled from the blankets. “Put the computer away.”

Tim snorted, keeping his gaze on the work before him as he took a loud sip of his coffee. It was already cooling down, and cold coffee is nasty, so he drank more of it to avoid dealing with it.

“Sorry, love,” Tim said softly as he set the mug back down, poking at Kon with a socked foot. “I have too much to do. You should go to bed, though.”

Like a curious puppy, Conner suddenly popped up and peeked over the top of the screen for an upside-down view of what Tim was doing.

“Well, what do you have to do?” he asked rather pitifully. Tim smiled at him.

“I’ve got, uhh, two papers and a presentation for school, a stack of pitches to sign off plus schedule a board meeting later this week for Wayne Enterprises, and then… sixty-seven cases Oracle sent me to deal with, looks like.” Tim squinted at the painfully bright screen. “And… I’m pretty sure that says three hundred missed text messages, but I could be wrong.”

“Jesus Christ.” Conner flopped back down again. “Can you put it off for tomorrow? I want cuddles, Timmy. Cuddle your poor boyfriend for once.”

“Hey, I- I cuddle you lots,” Tim protested, typing away with ease. “Like, too much. Jason told me he’d shoot me if he caught us making out in the library again.”

Kon barked out a laugh, startling the dog awake. “That was a bit more than cuddling, though.”

Tim kicked him off the bed.

Just as Tim started to worry, Conner crawled back up into the bed, this time moving to his side. It took the time of him worming under the covers and getting sufficiently comfortable before he spoke again, looking up at Tim’s coolly illuminated face. He was pretty, like always, even when sleep deprived and bathed in blue light.

Kon’s sigh dragged Tim out of his trance, finally looking down to face him. An involuntarily affectionate smile pulled at his lips at the sight of his boyfriend all sleep-warm and snuggly.

“Please just try to sleep,” Conner said softly, absently tracing patterns on Tim’s lower back. “If you really can’t, I’ll leave you alone.”

Tim hesitated. There was a lot of work to be done, there was no arguing that. But… wasn’t there kind of always a lot of work to be done? Maybe some sleep would improve his problem-solving skills, even if only slightly.

Picking up on the resolve, Conner gently closed the laptop for him and pulled him down, pushing it down to the foot of the bed. Almost immediately, Tim yawned hugely, nuzzling into Conner’s shoulder and inhaling deeply. Without the computer screen, the room was comfortably dark.

“Better?” he whispered, brushing Tim’s dark hair out of both their faces.

Tim sleepily smiled up at him. “Yeah.” After a moment, he added, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It didn’t even take twenty minutes before Tim tried to worm his way back out of Conner’s arms to resume his work, but fortunately, Kon was absolutely expecting that. His grip tightened enough for Tim to let out a surprised squeak and freeze, absolutely not expecting his boyfriend to not be awake.

Conner cracked an eye open. Tim blinked up at him guiltily.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

“Kon—“

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear it. Sleepytime.”

“Conner—“

“Sleepytime, Timmy.”

Sufficiently and effectively stuck, Tim huffed in exasperation, admitting to himself that he may have to give up. Luckily not in the worst of places to be.

It didn’t take long before Tim actually did drift off, the quiet thrum of Kon’s heartbeat acting as a lullaby. He didn’t even have nightmares.

Until he woke up, that is. The worst of the worst.

The perfect amount of sunlight filtered through the curtains, warmly filling the bedroom like a wake-up call in a fairytale. Conner was awake before Tim, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. Tim was still asleep on his bicep, like how they’d fallen asleep.

Kon noticed him when he shifted to stretch.

“Morning, sunshine,” he teased, watching as Tim did a full cat stretch, pillow kneading and everything. It was his favorite part of his boyfriend’s morning routine.

“Morning…” Tim trailed off with a yawn. “Hey, what time is it?”

Conner half shrugged. “Eh.”

Tim looked around for his phone before remembering he’d left it in the kitchen the night before.

“No, serious, Kon.”

“It’s, uh…” Conner squinted at his phone. “It is. Eleven-thirty. Almost.”

“WHAT—“

Before Tim could react much more than that, Kon promptly rolled on top of him to pin him to the mattress. Krypto poked his head up from his bed at the commotion.

“Absolutely not, pretty boy, you’re not going anywhere,” Conner declared gleefully. “That was much-needed rest and I think you should have some more of it.”

“nO—“ Tim shoved ineffectively at his boyfriend’s sides, trying and failing to haul him off. “I have— school—“

“We’re skipping.”

“But work—“

“Call out. I’m serious. You’re staying here with me and you’re gonna like it, He Who Never Takes Care Of Himself.” To aid his cause, Kon smushed a kiss into Tim’s forehead until he stopped struggling with a grumble about something that sounded suspiciously like Kryptonite. “Okay?” he added hopefully.

Tim seethed for a moment, but sensing there was really only one answer, his anger deflated almost immediately.

“Fine,” he relented. “This will not become a regular occurrence. I have things to do, asshole.”

“We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Tim skipped the next day, too.

~ not great, not proofread, whatever honestly

have a good day/ night/ 4am🥰

#dc #timkon #tim drake #conner kent #superboy #red robin

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scrapperjoe · 1 year

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Nijimura family/keicho recovery au breif overview

Aight to spare you the autistic novel writing ill keep things brief. Well, as brief as my hyper fixated dip brain can be with this crap...

First off, we have the accident. Keicho getting electrocuted by red hot chilli peppers, up on the power lines looking like that one time i accidentally dropped a chicken nugget in the oven. Yet somehow, by some plot device miracle, when the gang gets to his body with the spwf, hes somehow managed to be alive. Just hardly. But hes not dead yet.

So josuke, being the good guy he is, heals him; but not all the way. Just enough so he won't die.

Hes then rushed to the hospital and funky dr black jack stuff ensues.

Hed invoice

Hed obviously sustained very bad and disfiguring burns needing okuyasu to act as a skin donor for skin and nerve grafts being one of the only donors available, also needing heart and lung transplants as soon as medically possible. Along with all that hed needed one foot, and half a leg to be amputated along with his left hand. Without going into long term effects, its needless to say that yes, keicho is a disabled person now and goes through an arc of overcoming his internalized ableism and darwinistic views. An arc im holding off on writing because chronic migraines are a 🅱️.

He gets physical and mental therapy, and works on his relationship with okuyasu because once hes recovered enough to go home, he will need to rely on him quite a lot. Things start to level out where okuyasu can now stand his ground more, etc. Keichos past abuse is NOT swept under the rug and is held to a standard. If keicho gets snippy, okuyasu calls him out. Simple as that. However keicho doesnt do much of rebuilding with his dad though because of the bad past. He builds up a tolerance but overall avoids him.

Since keicho has poor use of his legs for a while due to nerve damage, he does a lot of reading and even sometimes writing and playing videogames to help out his hands with physical therapy. Upon allowing visitors in his room he'd become acclimated with josuke and jotaro, but being very hesitant to open up to josuke albeit having a silent respect. As such he became good friends with the higashikatas and would stay there when okuyasu got too busy with school himself. Keicho eventually developing a brotherly bond with josuke and seeing tomoko as his own mom.

Years pass after graduation, josuke is in med school, okuyasu works as a mechanic, and keicho can't work due to disability, mental health and chronic pain. Okuyasu eventually okuyasu settles down and has a lovely family of three kids, ritsuman the eldest, sensaki the middle, and hyakuko the youngest. Unfortunately, soon before hyakuko could even turn one year old, okuyasus wife walked out on him, leaving him to care for the family himself. Chaos ensued as keicho had to push through his limits thus setting back recovery and even screwing up their relationship. After 3 months of pain and chaos, it was clear they couldnt do it alone, so josuke moved in to help them out. Things then settle down and after a long time josuke and okuyasu start a relationship together.

The kids start to grow up and develop stands as well.

Ritsuman has a good caring heart for the family much like okuyasu, and a strong brave spirit much like josuke. Along with that hes quite smart and intellectual, loves playing baseball, listening to metal, and has a bit of a habit of cussing because keicho thought itd be funny to teach him to make okuyasus ex angry.

Sensaki is quite cowardly, and acts tough when really hes a softie who looks up to josuke and okuyasu. He tries to be a trouble maker to try and brush off the fact that he struggles in school and has vulnerabilities, something he grows out of in his late teens. Hes a huge akira toriyama and kamen rider fan who also loves mecha, tokutsatsu, and videogames. Often hyper fixates with hyakuko a lot.

His stand is named Keep Pushin. Its a fragile looking thing with a detachable shield as a chest plate that can make an invisible force field for as long as sensaki can hold his breath.

Hyakuko is an utter force of raw chaos. With people like keicho and tomoko influencing her and idolizing characters like akagi shigeru and violence jack, she was bound to come out real great. She eventually gets into a bunch of gang stuff and was quite clingy with okuyasu as a child, still is. Because of his ex leaving when she was so young, being bullied, and teachers talking down on her, she has a lot of internalized self image issues. Shes not the smartest with school, so you see the issue. She absolutely loves art, go nagai, nobuyki fukumoto, berserk, ashita no joe, and many others.

Her stand is named Earth Shaker, its ability is to make bubbles that she can control the shape, color (typically purple), elasticity, etc of. With it she can make maces, land mines, float, and even breathe under water with! Very limitless. Theres a tank on her back that refills with rest, and when it runs out she can use her own blood as fuel.

#jjbaau #jojos bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #okuyasu nijimura #josuke higashitaka #keicho nijimura #josuyasu #nijimurarecovery!#jjba oc

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tallmantall · 8 months

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James Donaldson on Mental Health - Back-to-School Tips for Kids Who Are Struggling

How resetting expectations and planning ahead can help children with learning challenges Writer: Rae Jacobson What You'll Learn - How can parents help kids plan for in the new school year? - What can families do to support kids who are struggling in school? - Quick Read - Full Article - Be specific about learning challenges - Make organization a priority - Talk about what to do when things don’t go as planned - Set up morale boosters - Don’t surprise kids with questions about school - Give kids space to try, and fail, and try again Back to Top Quick Read The first day of a new school year always feels like a new start. New school supplies, new classes, new teachers, new hopes and — for many kids — new struggles. Turning things around isn’t easy, but it can be done. And the rewards last long after school’s out. The problems caused by ADHD and learning disabilities can leave kids feeling confused and overwhelmed. All the other kids are done! Why is this taking me so long? Educate your child about their learning difference. Understanding how it affects them will make it easier prepare for problems before they come up. For example: You know your child’s ADHD makes it hard to stay organized. So you work together to find (and practice) strategies that help them stay on track. That way they’ll have the skills they need before school even starts. Setbacks happen, but they don’t have to be the end of the world. Planning ahead can help. Agree on what your child will do if they miss an assignment or fail a test, like talking to the teacher about extra credit. Remember, if something does go wrong kids may feel frustrated, sad or worried about disappointing you. Be kind and praise kids when they’re honest about problems at school. Foe example: “I’m so glad you told me your paper is late! I know you were worried about it. How can I help?” It’s also important to make sure your child has time to just relax and participate in things they enjoy. A little success goes a long way towards building (and protecting) confidence. At home, be thoughtful when talking to kids about school. Questions that seem simple, like “Did you turn in your report?” or “How did the math test go?” can be upsetting to kids. If your child seems upset, take their feelings seriously: “I know this isn’t easy to talk about — how can I help?” Avoid surprise school conversations. Instead, set up a regular time to talk and stick to it. When kids know what to expect, your talks will be calmer and less stressful. And you’ll be able to enjoy family time even when things aren’t going great in class. Let kids take the lead whenever possible. This can be as small as getting their backpack ready the night before, or as big as asking a teacher for help. Giving kids control (within reason) sends the message that you have confidence in their abilities. The first day of a new school year always feels like a new start. New school supplies, new classes, new teachers, new hopes and, if you’re anything like I was, a brand new chance to screw up. I have ADHD, and in high school I was undiagnosed and barely scraping by academically. Every semester I’d start off full of optimism and big hopes for academic success. This, I’d tell myself, was going to be “The One.” The One where everything changes, when I turn my act around, when I start — and stay — on the right foot. The. One. If you’re the parent of a child with ADHD or a learning disability you can probably guess what happened next. When you’ve got high hopes but no plan for how to achieve them, things tend to go off the rails pretty quickly. It never took long for The One to become just another one. Another year of barely keeping my head above water. It wasn’t until after I was diagnosed that things began to change. Once I understood why I was struggling, I was able to start creating strategies to address my problems — instead of just hoping that wanting things to change really badly would somehow be enough. Turning things around took a lot of hard work, understanding my strengths and weaknesses, learning how to ask for (and accept) support, facing difficulties instead of avoiding them, and learning how to be a little less hard on myself. It’s not easy but it is doable, and the rewards last long after school’s out. Here are some steps you can take to help your child lay the groundwork for an (actually) good start this year. Be specific about learning challenges When you have ADHD or a learning disability, the difficulties it causes often feel baffling, unmanageable and inevitable: The teacher has been talking for an hour and I have no idea what they said. How does everyone else know!? Or: All the other kids are already done with the quiz! Why is this taking me so long? Without understanding it can be easy for kids to disappear down a rabbit-hole of self-loathing: I’m such a screw-up. Or simply write the subject off: I’ll never get it anyway, so why bother? When it comes to learning disorders, knowledge is power. Helping your child understand their learning difference — not just what it is, but the specific ways it affects them both in and out of school — is the bedrock of success. For example: - If your child gets off track easily or has problems with impulsivity, “studying” with friends might not be the best way for them to prepare for tests. Agree that this year they’ll study in a dedicated quiet place at home and see their buddies afterwards. - If your child is easily overwhelmed by large projects, look at their syllabus together and make a plan to break daunting assignments down into smaller, more manageable pieces. - If they’re struggled with a particular subject, add support and planning from the start, rather than waiting until they’re falling behind. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space. #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Make organization a priority Disorganization and poor time management: twin agents of chaos and destruction. Nothing pushes a new semester off course faster than lost assignments, forgotten backpacks and late arrivals. If your child struggles with organization, help them be proactive. Discuss their organizational challenges and choose some realistic strategies for tackling them. Here are some tips to help you get started. Talk about what to do when things don’t go as planned “Everything is going to be perfect this year,” I’d tell myself. “Perfect.” Unfortunately, in real life things are very rarely perfect, and as soon as I inevitably fell short of the impossible goal I’d set, I gave up. Being able to recover and move forward from a mistake is one of the most important skills kids can learn. - Discuss what they’ll do if they miss an assignment or start to fall behind. This could include staying behind to talk to their teacher about extra credit, reaching out to the school’s resource center, or agreeing to refocus their efforts on getting a good grade on a major test or project that can pull their grade back up. - Address avoidance. When and if things do start to slide, many kids fall back on the time-honored strategy of “If-I-ignore-it-maybe-it’ll-just-go-away.” Of course, avoiding scary assignments or the gut-punch of a bad grade may feel better in the moment, but in the end it leads to disaster. Help your child face their fears in a healthy way by setting up regular check-ins and giving them positive feedback for being honest and proactive. “I’m so glad you told me your paper is late! I know you were worried about it. Let me help you get it done.” - Turning something in is always better than nothing. Kids are often embarrassed to turn in assignments that are late, unfinished or just not that great. But a zero (or many zeros) in the grade book is far, far more damaging than a C. Make an agreement at the start of the year that your child will turn in their assignments no matter what. For younger kids, or those that need a little extra incentive, you could add a reward: “If you get all your assignments in this semester, you can get the Mario game once school ends.” - Help them learn to manage mistakes in a healthy way. Slipping up is upsetting, especially when a kid’s confidence is already shaky. It can be easy to slide into self-recrimination, or feel like it’s not worth it to keep trying. Take care to validate their feelings — they may be frustrated, sad or worried about disappointing you — and let them know you appreciate them telling you about the problem. Then quickly change the focus to how they’ll move forward and what they’ll do to avoid similar problems in the future. Set up morale boosters Figuring out how to achieve and sustain academic success is a long process, and there are bound to be moments when your child’s self-esteem takes a beating. Creating some things to look forward to can help bolster a kid’s self-image and take some of the pressure off when things get rough. - Make sure your child has time to just relax. Don’t go overboard on extracurriculars. - When they do participate in extracurriculars, encourage them to find activities where they have the chance to excel. A little success can go a long way towards building (and protecting) confidence. - Plan a few specific events your child can look forward to that have nothing to do with school: Sleeping over at a friend’s house, going on a trip, getting a brand-new video game and having a day to just play. Having something good on the horizon can help make rough patches feel less consuming. Don’t surprise kids with questions about school When kids have a history of failure, conversations about school can be fraught. Questions like “Did you turn in your report?” or “How did the math test go?” may read as criticism or leave kids feeling upset and rattled. Avoid ambushing kids with questions about school when they’ve just gotten off the bus. Instead, agree on times when you’ll talk about what’s going on and what they need to do. - Validate your child’s feelings by acknowledging that school is a hard topic for everyone. “I know this isn’t easy to talk about — how can I help?” - Keeping conversations regular and predictable will help normalize them and make them more productive. And by setting boundaries around school discussions, you’ll be able to preserve peace and positive family time even when things aren’t going great academically. Give kids space to try, and fail, and try again Whenever you can, try to empower your child to take charge of their own needs. Whether that’s setting up their backpack for school the night before, arranging a study-session or asking a teacher for help when they’re struggling with an assignment, giving them the reins (within reason) will communicate your confidence in their abilities and enable them to practice being independent. That said, some kids need more scaffolding than others. Some, especially those who struggle with mental health conditions like depression or anxiety, may benefit from greater parental oversight. Assess where your child is realistically and move forward in the way that makes the most sense for your family. Finally, after all these years what I’ve learned is that there’s no cheat code, no “perfect” way to do better. It’s hard work, but work that pays off, both at school and long after. Read the full article

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ssplague · 3 years

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Alpha Bakugou & his late blooming Omega girlfriend 🌬🥀

PART TWO

Honorable mentions: @jazzylove @bakugoismisunderstood @koreylive

Okay since so many of you seemed to really enjoy this “Just thinking about”, I’m turning it into a short story. I’m thinking it will have four parts all together (including the original post). So I know I’d said that I’d give you a nice big dose of Scumbag Suki this update, buuuut that was before I knew this was going to take off like it did 🙈 The next one is entirely his POV so you’ll get your fill then!

Part 3

🌌✨🌠

“Suki, did you really have to be that harsh towards Izuku when we left the playground earlier? I know you dislike him now but….”

You trail off as you get settled on the plush, blanket lined floor of the small tent you and Bakugou had set up in your backyard. Supposedly there was going to be “A shit load of shooting stars tonight!” acording to one of your classmates. You were excited and insisted on staying up to watch, and as usual, Katsuki inserts himself into any and everything you do. Therefore; The two of you had rushed home after school, asked both your mothers and pleaded to spend the night together out in the yard. Deciding that you two were still at the age where anything other than star gazing was unlikely to happen, they allowed it.

Battery operated fairy lights were strung along the roof of the tent and a small lantern illuminated the center, giving the inside a pink and orange glow.

“Hah?! No way was I about to let stupid Deku come and ruin OUR sleep over! This is for me and you ________, no one else….just…us” a light breeze blew in through the open tent flap and treated Katsuki to be briefly overcome by your scent.

The two of you had your scent glands come in around the same time and still weren’t entirely used to it just yet. All both of you knew is that you favored each other’s scents over anyone else’s. It was kind of getting embarrassing how much you were beginning to enjoy your temperamental best friend’s spiced caramel aroma. So much so you had to make a conscious effort not to lean into him and sniff at his neck from time to time. He was subtle about it, but certainly didn’t mind bumping into or brushing up against you more often than ever to get a whiff of your intoxicating fragrance. Even getting hit with a face full just now had his brain feeling sluggish as beads of sweat began forming along his hairline.

A voice inside his head started incessantly growling “touch her, touch her TOUCH HER”. Under the guise of getting comfortable he shifted his leg to rest up against yours and his mind quieted instantly.

“I….I know that Kat…I wouldn’t have invited him anyway!” Your face began to redden as you brazenly blurted out; “I like when it’s just you and I, we always have the most fun”.

He instantly perked up at hearing that, but he couldn’t help but ask; “So you like me better than him? You think I’m BETTER than him?”. Leaning into you as he waited for you to answer his question, eyes narrowed.

“You know I do! Besides….” You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned towards him and inhaled deeply “You smell so much better than him too!”.

Oh hell now you’d done it ________, you unknowingly opened the metaphoric Pandora’s box.

He didn’t speak right away, just smirked back at you and enjoyed the devious expression on your face. After another minute spent invading one another’s personal space you were first to snap out of it quickly muttering; “M’sorry Suki I..I dunno what happened I shouldn’t have got in your face like that!”. You sat back up and moved your leg so it was no longer touching his. Unable to comprehend the sudden feeling of sadness at the loss of contact, or attribute it to the fact that you were no longer touching him. Katsuki frowned immediately and scooted back against you, “S’okay princess…s’not like it’s a big deal”. His use of the familiar nickname only succeeding to fluster you further.

The next few moments were spent in silence.

Surprisingly, It was you that eventually broke it asking; “Suki do you know…d’you know what mates are?”. You immediately began to play with the cheap desk telescope you’d brought out to avoid looking at him, your heart was beating a lot faster now. The startled look on his face would have informed you that your question caught him off gaurd; Surely you hadn’t just had the same thought he did?! Well either that or you could read minds….that wasn’t very likely, thank god.

“Ah well my mom told me it’s when two people decide that they want to always be together and get sad if they are ever apart…so they live together….and then other stuff happens that damn brats don’t need to know just yet” he finished lamely, confused as to why he felt so strange reciting his mother’s words exactly as she’d originally said them.

“I get sad when we have to go inside our houses at night and stop playing together” you said, the depressed tone of voice sounded like it was happening right then. “Me too…I wish we lived together cause then you’d always be with me” he confessed shooting you a nervous glance. Your eyes lit up and you beamed at him when the idea suddenly struck; “We have to become mates now Katsuki, we have to!”. You got up on your knees and began frantically shuffling things around the tiny tent. “If we’re mates then our parents can’t tell us we have to stop playing and separate at night! We’ll always be able to stay together!” Your sporadic movement and sudden outburst immediately infected your companion with the same frantic energy, albeit nervous, but excited all the same as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“You’re right _________! That’s a great idea”

“I know!”

“So uh..umm how uh…how do we do that?”

You stop smoothing the blankets out to stare at Katsuki, “You don’t know how?”.

“No” he admits glumly.

You can’t hold back the distressed whimper that escapes you and Katsuki is immediately at your side trying to console you “Hey princess it’s alright-“. “NO!” you exclaim “We need to do this to stay together forever!”.

Then you remembered something; “I see my mom and dad do this every morning”. You roll up the sleeve of your jacket and bring your wrist up, simulating the motion of rubbing it across the scent gland on your neck. Katsuki nods his head in understanding; “Oh yeah, mine do the same thing! Let’s do that!”. He lays back and stretches his neck out, “You do me first and then I’ll do you kay?”.

“Kay”

You nod and smile down at him, shuffling towards his head and bringing your wrist up to his neck. You hold your breath as your skin makes contact with his and start lightly rubbing over his scent gland a few times.

“S-Shit” he says softly, squirming slightly.

“What?! Did I hurt you??!” You ask.

Fear immediately replacing excitement and distracting you from reprimanding him for uttering a curse word as you usually would.

“N-No it didn’t hurt…please d-do it again”

You do, continuing thoughtlessly as you become enthralled by his peaceful expression and relaxed as he starts purring.

“Your turn”

You take his spot laying down on the fluffy blanket strewn floor, shivering with anticipation and the slight chill in the night air. His touch warms you from the inside out and you gasp at the sudden sensation. Relaxing once more, you look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and return the smile he’s giving you.

Neither one of you has any idea that this situation is going to come with serious consequences.

Eventually you remember the whole reason you two had decided to camp out in the first place; “The shooting stars!” You cry sitting up and narrowly avoiding head butting the blonde boy above you. “Hey!” He snarls. You stand and open the window flap in the tents ceiling, just as you do you see the first “star” shoot across the sky. “Woah! Quick make a wish make a wish kat!”.

He won’t admit it…but he does, and so do you.

As more stars shoot across the sky the two of you lay together; Happily curled up in the blankets, snuggling up together. Occasionally one of you brings your wrist up and begins to rub the others neck lazily, while continuing to watch the dazzling light show taking place above you. Both of you end up falling asleep long before it’s over. The sound of Katsuki’s continuous purring, lulling you into the most comfortable sleep possible.

Well that, and how his natural warmth just seemed to consume you….

Warmth…so warm at times it could get uncomfortable.

Like right now…too close…too hot

Your eyes snap open and you take in your surroundings; This is your dorm room, you’re at school right now, safe. Your clothes and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Not just sweat apparently; After waking up more you realize your lower body feels disgustingly sticky. Then a tingling sensation begins at the tip of your toes, rapidly spreading up your legs until it reaches the special place between them. Then it’s like a literal fucking furnace has exploded down there! Not to mention the heavyweight that has now come to rest in your lower stomach as it begins to cramp.

“Ow! ow! Ow!”

You try to feel around the bed for your phone, you could call one of your friends to come help you.Friends….that’s right they all left for the weekend! Wait not all of them left, Katsuki! He’s still here! That’s right, you were supposed to go over to his room, last night? Is it already morning? Fuck who knows.

You start to cry when you can’t feel your phone nearby on the bed, you don’t wanna look for it.

You don’t wanna be alone either though….Your scared. His room is just down the hall it’s not too far away, maybe if you just take it slow you’ll make it. You force yourself to get up, not even caring that all you have on is a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra.

You bend down to grab your slides out from beneath the bed and slip them on your feet before moving forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Your hunched over, one arm wrapped around your stomach and sweat freely dribbling down your face, coating your chest, sliding down the valley between your breasts.

Jesus, I must look like fucking shit right now.

As you make it into the hallway and start your journey all you can think about is how badly you want to see Katsuki. He always makes everything better somehow; That smile he wears just for you makes your heart sing normally. Right now you just let out a pained keen at the thought. Your inner omega has always been quiet enough to ignore in the past, but now she’s practically screeching like a fucking banshee inside of your head.

Just one word, over & over & over again:

Alpha

Alpha!

ALPHAAA!!!

With each screech your primal urges and instincts had began overwhelming you. Eventually reaching a point where the lines between the two began to blur. Making you feel more like a wounded beast that’s gone absolutely feral, while slowly dragging yourself down the hallway.

Once you get about halfway down you start to smell the familiar scent that you’ve become so fond of. Only it’s so much stronger and….muskier? It’s intoxicating, and so potent, you need more! Somehow your legs are moving quicker thanks to this new desperation manIfesting. Once you finally reach his door you have to stop yourself from breaking it down; Frantically pounding on it instead, and now you’ve started crying, salivating, and you’re just a goddamn walking train wreck… Somehow you don’t care, your appearance doesn’t matter, you just need HIM right now.

When the door opens you stumble inside.

The sound of his voice quieting your shrieking omega as soon as it reaches your ears;

“Finally decided to show up? Was waiting all fuckin’ night for you and…hey what’s wrong? Oh shit…fuck”.

Fuck is very right.

#katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #alpha bakugo #alpha bakugou #Katsuki bakugou #bnha omegaverse #omega reader #shorties

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.

can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)

Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Ushijima

You were having the worst week this week, from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.

Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh

“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”

He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks

“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.

“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”

His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.

As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:

Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.

Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.

When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.

You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.

You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.

Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.

The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’

He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.

He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.

You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.

“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you

“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain

“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.

“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face

“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”

You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.

Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.

Bokuto

The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.

Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.

You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.

The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.

When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.

You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.

It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.

On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.

On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”

Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.

Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.

You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.

Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.

They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.

One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.

‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.

He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.

He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.

You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.

“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes

You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said

The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.

Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu scenarios #haikyu #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu-fluff #haikyu x reader #ushijima imagine #ushijima oneshot #ushijima angst #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #koutarou x reader #bokuto scenarios #signedwithane😌

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class.

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop.

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock.

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend.

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way.

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk.

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends.

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone.

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice.

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature.

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off.

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing.

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused.

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white.

This.

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room.

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing.

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed.

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”.

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things.

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger.

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities?

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period.

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course.

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it.

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher.

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang.

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated.

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you.

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door.

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

“A friend,” he hissed.

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him.

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you.

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

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Since We Were Three (J. Oleksiak)

Summary: What happens when you go work for the Dallas Stars and your childhood enemy plays for them, too?

A/n: Here is a fun enemies to lovers I wrote. This is the first time I've ever written for that trope, but I want to write more so buckle up! Enjoy this!!

Warnings: people doing things enemies do (sorry, that's really vague), mentions of sex, breaking/spraining ankles

Word Count: 12.1k

You didn’t expect to move to Dallas; it wasn’t even on your radar. All you really remember is sitting at your parents' house back home and you got an email from your Linkedin saying that there was a position open for something you were qualified for. You didn’t even bother to look at where it was; you opened the application, read the prerequisites, and filled it out. You were desperate to get a job, so it didn’t matter. Only after you emailed your application did you realize where it was - Dallas. It didn’t even register in your mind at the time that your former neighbor and lifelong enemy lives in Dallas or plays for the Dallas Stars, the organization you just sent an application for. They were looking for someone to work in their marketing department. If you knew that your former neighbor and lifetime enemy was working for the Dallas Stars, then you’d probably not have submitted the application. You decided, however, that the pros greatly outweighed the cons, and you doubted that you’d ever need to interact with the players unless they had a marketing issue. You doubt they would, right?

You got an email three days later asking for an interview. You emailed them back saying that you lived in Canada and weren’t sure if you could make it down for an interview. Thankfully, they said that they’d be willing to have a virtual interview; however, you’d have to be willing to move to Dallas for the job. You knew for a fact that you’d be more than willing to move to Dallas. That wasn’t the problem. So, you and the Dallas Stars’ representative set a time for your virtual meeting. You had the interview, and it seemed like they liked you. You got an email three days later that you got the job; you moved to Dallas three days after that and started four days later.

You completely forgot about the fact that your enemy slash former neighbor was in Dallas until your mother brought it up.

“Hey, yn, you know, you don’t not know anyone in Dallas.” You were confused. You literally moved to a country in which you knew no one.

“Mom, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jamie, remember him? Jamie Oleksiak. You hated him growing up. Well, remember, he plays for the Dallas Stars. You should contact him.”

The normal warmth in your face immediately drained. Yeah, now you remember. The only reason you had the slightest inkling as to what Jamie was up to was because your mother and his mother were good friends. You don’t care for him at all.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright and tell your mother “no”, so you pivoted. “Maybe,” you said and your mother seemed to think that meant that you’d be reaching out to Jamie. You weren’t. You were going to do everything in your power to try to avoid him. There was no way that someone who worked in marketing would ever come in contact with any of the players, right? You didn’t work in media that was in constant contact with the team, and you didn’t work in anything to do with the contracts or paychecks. As long as you keep a quiet profile, you expect you should be fine, right?

This worked for your first season working with Stars. You were new and a few years out of college, so your more experienced colleagues made sure to observe what you were doing. You were happy with this. Before working in Dallas, you only worked for one small company and you were one of two people in the marketing department. The reason you were looking for a new job was that this company went bankrupt. Yeah, you were grateful for the oversight you received. You made it one year without seeing, hearing, talking to, or being around Jamie. The fact that the two of you were in the same city made your blood boil. You hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being, and you hoped to avoid him as much as possible.

You went into the second season thinking that you’d have the ability to remain anonymous to the team and stay in your lane. This, unfortunately, did not work. You went to work on the morning that training camp started. You sat at your desk and noticed that everyone was quite angsty. You turned to a friend and asked what was going on. She told you that someone from management was coming to find people to work for the GM, specifically, someone in marketing. You knew that you’d be the last one selected considering your lack of experience. You were wrong.

The minute the representative from the GM’s offices walked in and saw your application, you were swept up and taken to their offices. Happy with the new promotion, you didn’t realize that you’d be closer to Jamie.

The notion hit you nine days after you were promoted when Tyler Seguin walked into the office and walked over to you.

“Yn, right?” he says and you nod. “We need someone to fill in with media personnel and they asked for you.”

“Oh!” you say; you had experience in media but not that much to get a recommendation.

“Yeah, they said to be there at 1:30pm.”

“Thanks,” you tell Tyler; he smiles at you and waves.

So you were going to be getting closer to the team than you thought.

. . .

As you walked down the hall towards the locker room, you ran right into the wall. Except it wasn’t a wall.

“Oh, you’re not a wall,” you say mostly to yourself. It was a very hard and firm person.

“So, you’re telling me you would have walked into me also if I were a wall?” You look up and see none other than Jamie Oleksiak looking back at you.

His beautiful eyes made you want to throw up. There was no word to express how much you hated him. Literally just staring at him for a second made you want to run away and scream.

“I, no, I just thought I had more time before I had to turn the corner.”

“Sure,” he says in a voice that makes you want to punch him; however, looking at him, you know it wouldn’t hurt at all and do the damage you wanted. Since when did he get so big? “Hey, Yn. I heard you started working for the Stars organization. Welcome to Dallas.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not my welcome party. And I’ve been in Dallas for almost a year.” You immediately back up but trip over your feet. Jamie instantly reaches out and helps you balance. You feel your face suddenly grow warm. Why did Jamie’s enormously large hands have this effect on you?

“You always were quite clumsy growing up. Tripping and falling for me, I mean in front of me.” Jamie’s joke didn’t go past you. It infuriated you. He liked to think that you were in love with him. You weren’t.

“You know, the only reason I kept on falling was because you kept tripping me. It’s your fault.” You storm away angrily and head to where you need to be.

Jamie smiles after you. “That’s the feistiness that I remember.”

You turn around and glare at him. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be fun.

. . .

You’ve hated Jamie Oleksiak since he tripped you in daycare when you were three years old. The first three years of your life, you didn’t mind Jamie. Your mothers were best friends, and you were both neighbors. Your parents were both ER surgeons and sometimes they had to go in for emergency surgery. This was one of those days. Your father was already working and your mother was called in for emergency surgery, so Jamie’s mother was going to pick you up from preschool. You put on your small, sparkly light purple backpack and followed Jamie and his mother out the door. The minute you were about to cross the parking lot, Jamie stuck his foot out and you tripped and fell on your face. You didn’t immediately feel the pain until Jamie’s mother helped you up and mentioned that your face was bleeding. You touched your face and began to cry. Jamie tripped you purposefully and now your face was bleeding. From that day forward, you hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being. How could someone who was supposed to be your friend and care for you purposefully hurt you? Where was the logic in that? Why could Jamie purposefully hurt you unless he didn’t like you? He must hate you to want to hurt you.

It wasn’t just because he tripped you; Jamie began to make your life miserable. From taunting you on the playground to tripping you all the time. It continued into kindergarten and elementary school. Middle school was terrible. He taunted you and made fun of you. He always found ways to make anything you were enthusiastic about a reason to taunt you. He joined clubs because you were in them and so he could bring his stupid with him who would the experience unenjoyable for you. You remember your parents telling you to ignore him and Jamie probably had a crush on you. He didn’t. He just out of nowhere opted to make your life miserable.

It only got worse in high school. As his popularity grew in high school as a result of hockey, he only became more cocky and unbearable. He always found a way to make you miserable. Whenever you had any remote crush or boyfriend, Jamie always swept in and ruined it for you. By the time you graduated and went to college, you were ready to leave the horrors that Jamie brought on to you. You were quite proud of the fact that despite your mothers being friends, you had no idea about anything to do with Jamie’s life. You went to college and built a life that was the exact opposite of the misery that Jamie brought into your life.

. . .

You walk into the locker room and Carrie, one of the other media execs, greets you. “Yn, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“We need you to fill in for a few weeks with our media team because one of the media personnel had to leave for a family emergency. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Carrie laughs. “It’s not too hard. You just have to take photos and videos of the team during warmups, practices, and stuff like that. If you know how to use Instagram, then you should be great.”

“Well, then, I think I should be good.”

“We’re going to give you a separate phone to use that you can just keep at your desk in the GM’s offices.”

“Perfect, that sounds great.” You and Carrie continue to talk and work out the little details about your new temporary position. You walked back to your desk in the GM’s offices with a smile on your face. You were happy to have this new position. At first, I didn’t recall to you that you’d have to be in contact with the team. When you heard Jamie’s voice echoing through the halls, your blood began to boil. You definitely weren’t looking forward to having to have to work with him.

. . .

The day after you got the word that you were filling in with the Media Department, you started right away. You were told to sit in the practice arena ready to take photos and videos of the team. As the practice was ending, Carrie asked you to head to the locker room and take one-minute interviews with the players. She gave you the list of players: Tyler Seguin, John Klingberg, Esa Lindell, Roope Hintz, and, much to your disappointment, Jamie Oleksiak. You sighed. You really didn’t want to have to talk to him, but you were going to be professional and try not to let him get to you.

You walk towards the locker room and Carrie tells you to wait a moment; the players aren’t ready. After fifteen minutes of small talk, you and Carrie walk into the locker room. The players that you and Carrie were going to interview were sitting on the bench waiting. You glance around the room and Jamie is looking at you with a curious eye.

“This is yn; she’s filling in for a few weeks as media personnel whilst Tristain is out with a family emergency,” Carrie explains. “Be nice to her please.”

Jamie meets your eye again and smirks. You roll your eyes and some of the players notice with confusion.

“Yn, why don’t you start with Tyler and I’ll start with John and we’ll work our way around?” Carrie explains.

You nod. You glance around the room and take note of who you’d be interviewing. You were going to be interviewing Jamie Oleksiak much to your disappointment. You get through the interview with Tyler, but he stops you before you can move on.

“What’s with you and Big Rig?” Tyler asks.

You smile at him trying to hide your disdain for your former friend. “Nothing, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Tyler laughs. “If you say so.”

You move on and interview Roope next. His interview made you giggle like a maniac behind the camera, and you didn’t notice the glares that Jamie gave his teammate and you.

You finish your interview with Roope and get ready to interview Jamie.

“Hi Jamie, ready for your interview?” you ask professionally.

“Yeah, I am,” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher but it’s already got your blood boiling. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“So, Jamie, tell me, what’s been the best part of the start of the new season?”

He puts a smirk on his face and you know exactly what he’s thinking - you’re not going to get an answer you like. “Uh, I’ve liked that I’ve been able to rekindle our companionship.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what this is, and you have to give me a different answer.”

Jamie’s answer didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates and they were begging, no yearning, to ask more.

“Fine,” Jamie pauses briefly to think of another question. “I would say just being back with the team and skating with everyone again is probably the best part about the start of the new season.”

You nod and glance down at your list of questions. “What do you hope to get out of this new season?”

“Hopefully a Stanley Cup?” he says and quirks his eyebrows in a way that sends warmth to your face but also infuriates you. You nod in a sign of acknowledgment and Jamie can’t pass up the opportunity to get a rise out of you. “Maybe you, too.”

You instantly drop your notepad and glare up at him. What was his problem? Why was he like this? Jamie should know you hate him, so why does he suddenly think that you two were going to fix the hatred that’s been building for years? Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the room. “Can you please stop? Just so you know, I hate you, so whatever fantasy you’re playing out in your mind? It’s not happening, Jamie. Can you please stop making it harder for me to do my job?”

Jamie smirks. He knows he should stop, but he won’t. “I always liked watching you get frustrated at me.”

“Jamie! Just cut it out!”

“Is everything okay over here?” Carrie says, trying to calm the situation.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Jamie’s just rehashing things from our childhoods.” You explain.

“Wait, you two know each other?” John asks comically.

Jamie nods. “Know is not quite it, but yes.”

“What does that mean?” John asks

“That means that Yn hates me.”

“You hate me too, Jamie; don’t just put this on me. You’ve only ever made my life more difficult throughout every part of it.”

“Yn, why don’t you interview Esa, and I’ll finish with Jamie, that good?” Carrie suggests

“Yes, that works,” you walk over to Esa and breathe out a sigh of relief. Yeah, you knew that this was exactly what was going to happen.

You finished your interview with Esa, and you and Carrie walked out of the locker room to prep the videos to be posted.

“Dude, what did you do to make her so angry at you?” Esa asks. “It seems like your mere presence pisses her off.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it does,” Jamie admits. “I can’t remember why; all I remember is that one day we started hating each other.”

“I’d hate to be in your shoes,” Tyler tells his teammate. “A pretty girl hates you, and you very obviously like her.”

Jamie pales. He didn’t think it was that obvious to anyone, ever. “What?”

Everyone laughs.

“It’s obvious,” Roope agrees. “You like her. Just the way you looked at her and acted around her. You’ve got it bad.”

“No, I don’t,” Jamie grumbles.

“Dude, you were staring at her the entire time she was interviewing Roope. All the giggling made you jealous, didn’t it?” Esa states.

“I’m not jealous, and I don’t care. There is nothing but hate between us.” Jamie tries to defend himself. It’s useless; Jamie knows for a fact that he was jealous that Roope got to be on the receiving end of your giggles.

“Whatever, this is going to be fun,” John says.

It truly will be.

. . .

When you got home from work that day, you immediately called your best friend, Lisa, to tell her all about your day with Jamie.

“You know?” you being. “He’s just as infuriating as when we were children. He had the audacity to believe that we could possibly be friends. I mean, come on, the antipathy and rancor between us can be felt for miles and miles. He drives me crazy so much.”

Lisa was glad that you weren’t doing a video call because the smile on her face was wide. Deep down, she knows that there are other feelings besides this hate between you and Jamie; she just wasn’t sure if it would ever come out. “Maybe he wants to be nice again.”

“No, that’s not what this is. If he wanted to be nice and try to be friends again, then he wouldn’t have done exactly what he knew would drive me insane. It’s probably like caffeine to him; driving me insane is the coffee that wakes him up in the morning. You know, now, probably, he wakes up and hatches a plan to try to drive me insane.”

Lisa laughs. “Aren’t you taking this a bit far?”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m acting appropriately. You didn’t see his smirk; I wanted to punch him in the face so badly. Obviously, it wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him as he’s huge now.”

“Oh? Down there too?”

Your face warms suddenly, and you’re glad Lisa can’t see your face. “That’s not what I meant. He’s giant and super muscular. I guess you could assume that he’s packing quite a bit.”

“You know, yn, maybe this is just pent-up sexual tension and frustration. Maybe you just need to get laid and get laid by someone in particular.”

“You’re telling me that when we were seven when Jamie broke my ankle, that was pent-up sexual frustration?”

Lisa laughs. “Okay, maybe not your entire relationship was pent-up sexual tension. Maybe just now and parts of high school? You have to admit, Jamie is quite hot, now, right? Maybe the past few years of hate has led to the dire need to just sleep with each other.”

“Thank you for your take, but these past few days is the first time I’ve spoken to Jamie in almost five years. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Just talk to him. Maybe tell him that you want this to be as professional as possible and try to move past the hate. Yn, before you argue, just think of what working for the Dallas Stars could do to your career. That’s a high-profile job. Maybe if you try to be professional and polite, then maybe he will too?”

You wanted to contradict everything Lisa said, but you knew she was right. For your job to go smoothly, it was important for you to keep a professional attitude and any hate you have for Jamie on the backburner. “You’re right; however, I’m not promising that it’s going to work. I’ll try my best to be professional, but if he starts to aggravate me, I’m not sure if I can keep up that facade.”

“That’s why you talk to him. Maybe set up a time to meet up or something and just discuss what you have to say.”

“That would require me to unblock him on literally everything, even Facebook.”

“Does he still even have that?”

“He does; it’s not even his real name. It’s an alias. He only made it to try to talk to me and bother me. I doubt he uses it and it may be deactivated now.”

“This is besides the point. Yn, Jamie is obviously not going to try to be professional with you, so it’s up to you to make that clear.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The only lingering thought you had was whether or not this would work. Surely, Jamie could be a decent human being to you, right?

. . .

The next day, you went and sat in the practice arena ready to take the photos that your job required you to take. Today, you decided was going to be the day that you had that all too important conversation with Jamie. You really didn’t want to have that conversation, but you knew that it was important in having a not chaotic working environment for everyone, not just you and Jamie.

When practice was over, you waited outside the locker room for Jamie. He walked out on his own and smirked when he saw you waiting. He didn’t know for sure you were waiting for him; however, when he saw that your phone was off, he assumed you weren’t there for work.

“Hey, ynn,” Jamie says to you and your blood instantly begins to boil. Jamie knew that you never gave him the jurisdiction to call you that, yet he still used it. You wanted to call him out on it but thought better of it. You were here to try to be professional and rehashing this would contradict your objective.

“Hey, Jamie, can we talk? It’s about something important.”

Jamie’s smirk instantly left his face and worry washed over his face. You didn’t know that Jamie could be sympathetic towards anything you said. “Yeah, is everything okay?”

His response shocked you and it took you a moment to regroup. “Oh, yeah. I just want to talk about our relationship, well, lack thereof of one. I think that when we’re here at work, we should be professional. We should put any hate that we have for each other on the side while here so that we can have a better working environment.”

Jamie laughs. “This is what you wanted to talk about? This couldn’t have been a text? You had me so worried, yn.”

“It’s important to me, Jamie,” you protest. You didn’t want to get angry at him, so you calmed yourself down. “I think it’s better for both of us if we can just keep our history and past behind us while we are doing anything to do with the Dallas Stars.”

“If I were to take you out on a date, then we could hate each other as normal?”

“What?” you falter.

“You heard me, yn. You never had a hard time hearing what I had to say.”

“No, absolutely not. You will not be taking me out on a date, ever.”

“Come on, really?”

“Jamie, this is beside the point. I’m trying to move on from our pasts and you aren’t really making this any easier. Isn’t this what you said the other day? You were hoping for a rekindling? Well, this is the first part. Trying to put behind us any hate.” You were raising your voice now. “I’m trying to make my job easier, but you’re making it incredibly difficult. Jamie, all I want is to come to work and not have to worry about whether or not an outburst I make at you will cost me my job.”

Jamie doesn’t have anything to say. “Yn.”

“No, don’t do that. You know, the reason we hate each other is your fault, so you should be the one fixing things, not me.”

“What?”

“You tripped me purposefully when we were three and laughed at me.”

“Wait, this is what this is about?”

“No, that’s the first time you treated me terribly. It was the start of you belittling me and making me feel terrible. I hated going to school because I was always worried about you and your stupid antics.” Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes, and you try to will them away.

Jamie feels terrible now. “I’m sorry, ynn. I didn’t know.”

“Firstly, don’t call me ynn; you don’t get to do that. Secondly, seriously? You’re telling me that you didn’t know you were being a total ass to me? No, I don’t believe that because I know for a fact that your mother talked to you. Do you want to know how I know that? Because she apologized to me time and time again for what you did to me. Don’t you dare say that you had no idea.”

Jamie looks down at you and extends his left leg so it’s jutting out. “You’re right. I was a total ass.”

“Only took you twenty-plus years to finally admit that.”

“Come on, ynn,” Jamie says and you glare at him. “Yn, I’m trying here, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Oh my goodness, Jamie. Literally, that’s what I’ve been trying to do! You not willing to accept my proposition is the whole reason we’re rehashing this stuff.”

“Yn, I’m sorry. What can I do?”

You look at him and are shocked to see that he has remorse in his eyes. “Nothing, just let me be.” You take a step to the right and begin to walk away. Unfortunately, because Jamie extended his leg, you tripped over it and went crashing to the floor hurting your ankle in the process. You screamed out in pain; you always had weak ankles after breaking them in elementary school. Your cry out in pain brought some people out of the locker room.

Jamie’s eyes go wide in fear. “Yn! Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay? Jamie, did you really have to trip me?”

“Really? I didn’t mean to! My leg was just there, and you tripped.”

“It doesn’t matter; let me just get up.” You put your hands flat on the ground to help yourself up. The minute your leg is stable enough to be stood up on, you get up but fall immediately. You cry out in pain again.

“You might have sprained your ankle,” Roope says. He was one of the people who rushed out of the locker room when you first fell.

“No, I don’t think so. I just have very weak ankles after Jamie broke, I mean, I broke my ankles in elementary school.” Your correction of Jamie breaking your ankles does not go unnoticed by him. He wants to ask why but feels it’s not the right moment.

“Here, let me help you,” Jamie reaches for your arms and you move them away. “Really, yn? Just let me help you.”

Jamie and Roope help you up and put you on the bench in the locker room, and Roope goes to find a trainer to check on your ankle.

“I’m sorry, yn, really,” Jamie says with a soft voice. You begin to put your foot on the ground but Jamie stops you gently. “Put it on the bench. It’s important to keep it elevated.”

“It’s cold, though,” you pout.

Jamie laughs. “Here, put it on my lap then, okay?”

You look at Jamie hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trick, yn. I think I’ve hurt you enough over the years. Just put your leg on my lap.”

You do as he says and Jamie rests his hands on top of your ankle. Your face grows warm at the touch and you suddenly don’t hate Jamie. “So, you’re finally admitting that you made me miserable?”

“I don’t think I made you miserable,” Jamie says and you scoff. “Wait, let me finish. I think I didn’t make your life any easier. I’m not relenting any more than that, babe.”

You flinch at the pet name, but your face grows warm. Do you address it?

Jamie makes the decision for you. “Yn, I have a question for you.”

You nod, signaling him to continue.

“You were saying something about how you have weak ankles and then said something about me. This isn’t me trying to be self-centered or whatever. I just genuinely want to know. I don’t remember what happened.”

“Well, we were in elementary school and you once, I’m pretty sure it was accidental, put your hand out and it hit me while I was walking down the stairs and I fell. I landed weirdly on my ankle and broke it.”

“So you blame me?”

“Yes, absolutely. Do you blame me? You had a way of hurting me and making it seem like an accident.”

Jamie laughs and you giggle along; he’s about to comment when a trainer walks in.

“Let’s see what’s the matter here,” he says. You are suddenly extremely aware that your leg is sitting on Jamie’s lap and his hands are on your lap. The trainer examines your ankle. “It’s nothing too terrible; just a small sprain. I think if you keep it elevated as much as possible then it should be healed in a few days. Can you try walking on it?”

You nod and put your foot on the ground gently. Jamie puts his hands on your waist as you try to stand, and your skin is burning beneath his touch. “I think I’m good to get back to work.”

“You sure?” Jamie asks, concerned.

You nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you walk away from Jamie’s embrace. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Just ice it and keep it elevated once you get home tonight,” the trainer tells you. You nod and walk out of the locker room.

“What did you do to her?” Roope asks Jamie.

“Too much damage to ever fix,” Jamie says with a sigh. There was no way that your relationship with Jamie would ever go past professional acquaintances after what you revealed to him today. If Jamie knew one thing about you it was that you were strong and steadfast with your opinions and rarely changed them, especially when it came to people. Jamie doubted that he’d be an exception considering all of the past history there.

. . .

The days that followed your fall, you avoided Jamie as much as possible. You could proudly say that you didn’t hate him anymore. That’s not true. You still hated Jamie; however, when you heard his name, you didn’t immediately roll your eyes and get angry. Sometimes, you’d smile and other times you’d have no reaction. This shocked everyone because they all knew about the hatred you had for the Dallas Stars hockey player.

Shortly after, you were taken off of the media job and went back to your marketing job. The night of the home opener, however, Carrie comes up to your office with a request. “Tristain can be back at work but not for games at the moment. Do you think that you could fill in tonight? We had her on the schedule and no one else can be there.”

You hesitate; the only thing holding you back was the fact that you’d be seeing Jamie again.

“Sure, of course!”

You sort out the details with Carrie and are set to be available as part of the media team tonight for the home opener.

Later that day, you’re standing outside of the locker room filming the boys get ready for warmups. Once the video was taken and posted, you put the phone in your pocket and begin to head to the place you were supposed to be. However, someone grabs onto your arm gently and stops you.

“How’s your ankle?” Jamie asks softly.

This should infuriate you; however, his concern has you touched. You don’t show it though. “Better. I think I’d be better, though, if I didn’t have to worry about my ankles but oh well.”

Jamie shakes his head; he wasn’t sure why he was expecting anything else from you.

“I have to go, good luck tonight, Jamie,” you tell him and walk away. You’ll admit, your comment was quite snarky and unneeded. You feel bad for what you said, and Jamie was only trying to be nice. You had to keep up familiarities, right? You hated Jamie Oleksiak for the majority of your life, so why did you suddenly feel bad for what you said to him?

. . .

“Are you coming out with us tonight, Yn?” Denis asks. The team won and wanted to go out and celebrate.

You shake your head. “No, thanks for the invite though.”

“Oh, come on, why not, Ynn?” Jamie asks. Why was he asking you that? Did he not remember that the two of you have hated each other since birth? “Don’t not go because of me.”

“Funny. You think that I care about what you do or think. I just have a few things I have to do.” you lied; you weren’t going to admit that Jamie was the reason you weren’t going out.

Jamie smirks. “Fine, if you say so, but I will continue to think in my head that the reason you’re not coming out with us is because of me and the animosity we have for each other.”

“Well, look at you. Did you finally begin to remember the vocabulary we learned in high school?”

Jamie’s face turns red. Yes, he asked his sister to send photos of his old stuff from high school to try to impress you. He wasn’t going to admit it, however. Ever since that heart to heart in the locker room, Jamie wanted nothing more than to impress you. You went back to bantering and driving each other crazy; however, this was a lighter teasing and driving each other crazy. Some would even call it flirting. Would Jamie say he was flirting with you? Yes, absolutely. Would Jamie say you were flirting back with him? No, absolutely not. You hated him, so Jamie knew that whatever he thought you felt was obviously in his head.

“No,” he grumbles and some of his teammates laugh at him. The one thing that was sticking out to Jamie was that you didn’t correct him when he called you by your nickname. You went along with it. Was there some progress being made? “Enjoy whatever you have to do tonight, yn.”

You smile at him softly that has Jamie’s heart beating fast and walk away.

“Dude, you’re in deep with her,” someone says as they clap Jamie on the back. He didn’t have the energy to determine who was talking to him or contradict what they were saying. They were right; Jamie was in deep and he had no idea what to do about it.

After taking the video you needed for the Stars Instagram of the boys playing soccer at the next home game, you wave goodbye and head to the media offices; you once again had to fill in for the media team. You take five steps and hear a loud “ow!” from the one voice you despised. You turn around to see Jamie rubbing his head and staring down at his teammates. You can’t help but smile.

“Stop staring at her, you idiot,” Roope calls out and this gets a laugh out of all the boys. “Just ask her out instead of staring,” someone else yells. A deep red blush overtakes Jamie’s face and you can’t help but smile. You walk away with a giant smile on your face. You immediately shake it off. Why was Jamie getting flustered making you smile? You hated Oleksiak, right?

. . .

When you got home from work after a long day, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. You had a minor sinus infection and the day was exhausting. You had a massive headache and felt nauseous all day. There was nothing more you wanted to do was take a hot shower, curl up in warm clothing, and call it a night. You weren’t expecting to come home and see a DoorDash bag sitting outside your door. You knew for a fact that you didn’t order anything. You picked up the bag and noticed there was a note attached.

Yn,

I heard that you were feeling sick, so I bought you some soup.

Enjoy,

Jamie

Jamie bought you soup? Jamie was asking about you? Where did this come from? Why would Jamie extend any kindness towards you? Isn’t he supposed to hate you? Isn’t Jamie supposed to be making your life miserable? You’ll admit, after the incident where you sprained your ankle slightly, you and Jamie have been cordial. Whenever you both talked to each other, mean words were being passed around. However, it was more of a teasing and flirting meanness. Does this mean that you and Jamie were friends now? No, right?

You walk into your apartment and open the bag - it was Italian Wedding Soup, your favorite. Your heart warmed at the fact that Jamie remembered your favorite soup. Growing up, your grandmother always made this for you when you were sick. Sometimes, she’d bring some over to the Oleksiak house if anyone was sick there, too. You grabbed a bowl and ladle and put some soup in a bowl. The minute you took the first bite, you sighed in content. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was close. You started to immediately feel better. How did Jamie know this was exactly what you needed? You wanted to text him to thank him; however, you didn’t have his phone number and didn’t feel comfortable sending him a text through Instagram quite yet. You opted to write him and note and were going to leave it in his stall the next morning.

You finished the soup and began to feel better. You were happy and thankful for the soup, but you had one lingering thought. Why would Jamie do something like this for you?

The next morning, when Jamie got to his stall, he noticed that there was a gift bag sitting on the bench. He looked around to see if maybe one of his teammates left it there. It wasn't his birthday and there was no big milestone coming up. What was the message behind it, then?

“It was here when I got here,” John tells Jamie.

“He wanted to open it, but we told him that it wouldn’t be nice,” Roope says.

“I didn’t want to open it; I wanted to see who it was from. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, Jamie, just open it.”

Jamie grabs the bag and looks for a card or maybe a note. He removes a piece of tissue paper and sees a note. He smiles as he sees your familiar handwriting that always got Jamie’s heart racing back in high school.

Jamie,

Thank you so much for the soup last night. How did you know it was my favorite? I didn’t have your phone number, so I am leaving this for you. Enjoy a small treat from home! Again, thank you.

Jamie smiles and peers into the bag. Inside, Jamie finds a bag of snacks that are endemic to the Toronto area. Only, you would know what his favorites were. “It’s from Yn,” Jamie tells his curious teammates.

This gets a few raised eyebrows and snickers from the people that were currently in the locker room.

“Why did she leave you a gift?” Roope asks.

“I bought her some soup and had it delivered to her house yesterday because I heard she was sick. This is her thank you.” Jamie blushes with these words and can’t meet anyone’s eye.

“You got her soup?” John asks curiously. What did this mean? “Are you trying to date her?”

Jamie pales. “What? No. She just wasn’t feeling well, so I tried to make her feel better.”

John smirks. “How did you know exactly what she would want?”

Jamie, not realizing that his teammates were setting him up, answered obliviously. “It was always her favorite growing up.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because I loved her, still do.”

This was not the answer that everyone was expecting. “What?” someone asks.

“What?” Jamie looks up from the note to see everyone staring at him.

“You love Yn? The girl who hates you? The girl who you treated like absolute shit your entire life?” Roope confirms.

“I, yeah, I loved her. In middle school and elementary school, I just messed with her because she was a girl and, you know when you have a crush on a girl that young, you tease her.”

“No, you don’t,” Miro says.

Jamie glares at his teammate. “Whatever, not the point. I thought I was being obvious, and then in high school, I realized I was in love with her.”

“You wanted to treat her right, but you knew she’d find it suspicious.”

“I forgot about my feelings when she went to college and my career picked up, but when I saw her that first time I, just,” Jamie stops talking because he isn’t sure how to continue.

“Realized your feelings.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe just talk to her? Tell her how you feel?” John suggests.

“That probably won’t work. How do I tell her that I’ve been in love with her since we were three and I treated her terribly because I was scared of my feelings? Oh, and I ruined any possibility of her dating anyone in high school because I was a jealous idiot who couldn’t figure anything out.”

Jamie’s words get a few pitiful glances, “that sucks”, and pats on the shoulder. No one knows what to say or do. Jamie was in love with the one person who might never love him back.

. . .

Walking into the ballroom, you were trying to find your boss so that you could tell her that you were here. Tonight was the annual Casino Night and you were working behind the scenes to make sure the night went smoothly. This was the first time you were attending because last year, the marketing team didn’t need you to work it, and you also caught a cold right before.

“Oh, hey, yn’s here,” Carrie calls out and crosses your name off the list. “Perfect, you’re going to be sitting at the table in the front welcoming guests and stuff. You are going to ask for their name, ID, and ticket. Once you do that, you’ll tell them their table number and give them a gift bag. A few of the players will be serving as ushers tonight, so they’ll bring the guests to their tables.”

You nod. You want to ask who the players are, but you don’t want to sound eager.

“The organization assigned Roope Hintz, Denis Gurianov, and Jason Dickinson as ushers. They also put Jamie Oleksiak. I know the two of you have some hardcore animosity between you two, so if you don’t want him there, then we can get someone else.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” you tell Carrie. For the first time in your life, you were serious. Things between you and Jamie were cordial and professional. You still hated him like crazy but significantly less than when you were growing up. You weren’t even sure that you and Jamie would be at this point, but here you two both were.”

“Okay, great, why don’t I bring you to your station and show you how the software works,” Carrie says and leads you to the entrance of the ballroom. The next ten minutes pass, and you think you’ve got the software and system figured out pretty well that you should be okay. Carrie told you to organize the table in any way that’s fitting to your needs, so you begin to reorganize based on how you think you’ll be able to work more efficiently.

Walking to the front entrance from the back entrance are the ushers. Leading the pack is Jamie and Roope. They were walking and talking casually when Jamie suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Keep walking,” Jason says and smacks Jamie over the head.

“What are you staring at - oh,” Roope follows Jamie’s eye line and spots you organizing the table.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jamie says with heart eyes. You were wearing a dark green dress that fell just above your knees and matching green stilettos. Your hair was done in the way that you knew looked best. Jamie recognized it as the same way you did your hair for Senior Prom and graduation.

“You know, maybe tonight you should tell her?” Denis suggests.

“I don’t think so,” Jamie says with reluctance. “I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Then try not to stare or gape too much, then.”

Jamie nods. “We should head to where we need to be, right?”

The four boys continue walking to where you were. “Hey, yn,” Roope greets you.

You look up and smile. “Hi, well, you guys clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Jamie tells you, and the heat rushes to your face. So, Jamie was complimenting you now.

“Um, so, I’ll be greeting guests and taking their ticket information,” you explain. “Your job, which you've probably been briefed on, is to escort them to their table numbers.”

“‘Briefed on’?” Jason begins. “Are we in some kind of spy or FBI movie?”

“Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Not the point, but that’s it basically. I think Ryan from marketing will be here to help me with the tickets. Carrie told me that two of you will be on my side of the table and two on Ryan’s side.”

Ryan suddenly appears and greets you with a hug. “You look nice, yn.”

“Thanks, Ryan, you clean up well, too,” you say back to him. You don’t catch the glare that Jamie was giving to Ryan. “I was just explaining what we’re going to be doing tonight to the boys. Two will be working with you and two with me.”

“Perfect, thanks for briefing them; you four can talk amongst yourselves as to who you’re going to be working with. I don’t care either way.”

“See?” you look pointedly at Jason. “Ryan used ‘brief’, too. Oh, I also don’t care. Actually, I’m going to head to the washroom quickly before people start to arrive.”

You get up and walk away, but you don’t notice Jamie watching you leave. He was incredibly captivated with you and wants nothing more than to sweep you up and kiss you. He wants to profess his love to you and love you forever. Sadly, you would never feel the same way as a result of how he treated you growing up. Jamie is drawn out of his thoughts by Jason smacking his arm.

“Dude, you have to stop staring,” Jason says.

“Oh, you like her?” Ryan asks. “She’s quite a catch.”

“Oh, no, I don’t,” Jamie denies. He gets stares from his teammates. Jamie isn’t sure why he denied having feelings for you. You weren’t even here to hear them anyways.

“Good, I like her, and I think I’m going to ask her out. I wasn’t going to say anything if you liked her, but since you don’t, I should be okay to do so.”

Jamie nods but locks his jaw. “Excuse me, I have to go to the washroom, too.” Jamie walks to the bathroom angrily. Of course, Ryan likes you, who wouldn’t? Why couldn’t Jamie just tell Ryan he likes you? That way, Ryan won’t be asking you out. Too entranced in his thoughts, he runs right into you, again.

“Oof, wow, hi Jamie,” you say to him giggly after regaining your composure. “I should stop doing this, you know, running into you. Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“You look really angry and pissed off.”

“Oh, well, I’m not, so, don’t worry,” Jamie says in a voice that doesn’t express what he just said.

You laugh softly.

“What?” Jamie asks.

“You say you’re not angry, but your tone says anything but,” you explain with an amused smile. You look up to meet Jamie’s eyes, and you see the fury going on in his head. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Jamie brushes you off and walks away toward the washroom.

You want to yell after him, but you don’t feel it’s your place to do so.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Ryan says to you. “Jamie and Jason are going to be your ushers and Roope and Denis will be mine.”

You nod and sit down. So, Jamie was going to be closer to you than you thought. “Perfect.”

When Jamie gets back from the washroom and sees you talking to Ryan in a much too friendly manner for his liking, Jamie sulks again. This was going to be a long night.

Somehow, despite his anger and frustration, Jamie was able to put that all aside as he was working as an usher for the Casino Night. Just being near you and around you was enough to calm him down. Watching you interact with the guests made Jamie’s heart warm. He always knew that you were incredibly caring to everyone you met; he just didn’t know that your actions would make him melt and fall more in love with you. After about an hour and a half of welcoming guests, Carrie walks over and says that one group can go and get something to eat. She walks away and the six of you talk amongst yourselves as to who should go. The decision is made for you when two guests walk up to you and begin pulling out their IDs. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Ryan, Roope, and Denis head into the ballroom to have dinner. After welcoming them in, Denis ushers the guests to their table. You take a breath of releasing exhaustion and Jamie smiles at you.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of people to talk to; when I took this job, I thought it would just be marketing, not the rest of this, too,” you tell him. “It’s a very versatile job.”

“Well, if it weren’t versatile, then we wouldn’t have ever come into contact with each other, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.”

Jamie looks you in the eye. “Well, I think it’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?” you say to Jamie, and he nods. “I’ll take that into consideration as I make my decision.”

Jamie chuckles deeply, and you feel the shivers go up your spine.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you ask Jamie.

“Sure,” he tells you.

“Why were you, actually never mind,” you stop asking, seeing Denis walking back to the table.

Jamie was about to question why, but he sees Denis and another guest approaching. He takes this as the reason that you stopped talking. You put on a bright smile and begin talking to the guests and welcoming them. Jamie ushers them into the ballroom after you talk and gives you a wink. You feel the warmth reach your face; you see Denis shaking his head and you question him.

“Just give him a chance,” he replies to you.

“What?” you ask confused.

“I’m serious, just give him a chance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You will, just give him a chance when you realize you know what I’m talking about.”

You nod. What in the world could he be talking about?

Three hours after the event starts, Carrie comes over to the six of you and tells her that you were all relieved of your duties and were free to enjoy the event. You weren’t sure what to do now.

“Where are you headed?” Jamie asks.

“I’m not sure, you?”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“I’ve never been to one of these before, and most of my friends are working or have their own dates. I don’t have a table to sit at and don’t want to intrude.”

Jamie nods. He extends his arm for you, and you look at him skeptically.

“What?” you ask.

“Dance with me,” he tells you.

You want to tell him he’s crazy and that there was no way in hell that you were going to dance with him. However, you wanted to. You wanted to dance with Jamie, so you loop your arm through his and he leads you into the ballroom. The two of you find a spot on the dance floor and maneuver yourselves into a dancing position. Jamie rests his two hands on your waist and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. You giggle softly; your hands don’t reach because Jamie is too tall.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re too tall; I can’t get my arms to go around your neck,” you tell him.

“Oh,” Jamie says. His eyes suddenly light up. He removes one of his hands from your waist and takes your hand. “Now, you put one of your hands on my back. This work?”

You do as he says and nods. “Yeah, and now we dance!”

“That we do.”

You and Jamie begin swaying with the music. You remember that you had a question you wanted to ask Jamie, so you decide to prompt him with it now. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Yes, ynn?”

“Why were you so upset earlier?” you ask.

Jamie suddenly stiffens, and you begin tracing patterns on his back with your hand to try to calm him down. “No reason.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you just get angry for no apparent reason?”

“No, I did get angry for a certain reason.”

“Care to share? A penny for your thoughts?”

What about a kiss for my thoughts. “It’s stupid. Ryan just said something I didn’t like, so I got angry.”

“Oh, okay.”

Jamie smiles at you, and you both continue to dance to the song. When the song ends, you begin to release your grasp of Jamie, but he doesn’t do the same.

“Jamie, the song's over.”

“I know, one more?” he asks. You want to say yes, but you aren’t sure why you don’t want to. You aren’t sure what this shift in your relationship is, but you need some time to figure it out on your own.

“I’m sorry, my feet hurt, I think I’m going to head to the back with staff and just rest, okay?” you pivot.

Jamie nods and releases his hold on you. “I probably have to do some sucking up to the donors and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, probably,” you tease. “See you later?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Jamie says to you, and the two of you go your separate ways. You head to the back to find Carrie, and Jamie heads to his teammates.

“So, did you finally tell her?” Denis asks excitedly.

“No,” Jamie says glumly.

The team gathered at this certain location all shook their heads in annoyance. When will the two of you finally realize these things?

You’re sitting in the back kitchen with a piece of chocolate cake as the event wraps up. Carrie told you that you could just sit in the back if you didn’t want to go out. Yeah, that’s what you did. You didn’t want to see Jamie again because you didn’t know what the shift in your guys’ relationship was. You needed to talk to Lisa as soon as you could before you saw Jamie again. Sadly, the universe didn’t care that much about what you felt.

“Is this the pity party?” Jamie asks as he sits across from you. He grabs the fork in your hand and takes a bite out of your cake.

“Hey!” you jokingly scold. “And no, this isn’t a pity party. I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You could have come and found me, you know.”

You open your mouth to say something but close it right away.

“What?” Jamie asks with his mouth full of cake.

“Stop eating my cake,” you tell him and take your fork out of his hand. “Should you really be eating this anyway?”

“It’s cake.”

“Yeah, and you’re a professional athlete.”

“I don’t follow.”

You sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating only healthy things?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“But you’re eating cake.”

“Oh, now I get what you're saying,” Jamie says to you. “Just don’t tell the nutrition staff.”

“Then maybe you should wipe that chocolate icing off your face,” you joke.

“Oops, my bad,” Jamie begins wiping the icing off his face but misses.

“Here, let me,” you say and scoot your chair closer to him. You use your thumb and wipe the icing off your face. “Better.”

“Thank you,” Jamie says to you, and his face gets closer to yours so close that your foreheads are touching. “Yn, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you say to him, realizing how close your face is to his.

“You know how you asked me earlier today about why I was mad?” Jamie asks, and you nod. “Well, I wasn’t entirely telling you the truth. Yes, Ryan said something I didn’t like. When you walked to the washroom, I was staring at you because you were so beautiful. One of the guys told me to stop staring at you, and Ryan asked if I liked you. I don’t know why, but I told him no even though I’m so in love with you. Ryan then said that he was going to ask you out, and I got mad. I got mad because I want to be the one to love you, and I think Ryan might be the one to get that first.”

You pull back slightly, shocked. “What?”

“I’m in love with you; I always was.”

There’s no way you feel the same way. Where did that come from? “What? No, Jamie. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve treated me like shit our entire life. There is no way you’re in love with me. No, you’re not. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You get up abruptly and walk out of the kitchen.

You walk to go find Carrie, so you could tell her you were going to head home. You were going to tell her you feel sick, which you do. You find Carrie and tell her you’re going to head home. She says it’s fine, and you head to the exit.

“Yn, wait, don’t leave because of me,” Jamie says to you as you’re about to leave. Somehow, he found you and was following you.

“No, Jamie, if you didn’t want me to leave, you shouldn’t have said those things to me. Why? Do you hate me that much that you want to mess with me so badly?”

“What? No, of course not. I don’t hate you, yn!”

“That’s rich; I’m leaving. Goodnight, Jamie.”

You don’t see the fallen look on Jamie’s face as you walk away, but his teammates do. Jamie goes back to his table but doesn’t say anything. Why did he think you’d ever feel the same way? Because he was nice for a few months? No, he should have known better. This was his fault, and he had to live what he did.

You held in your tears until you got to your car. The minute your door closed, you broke down. How dare he do this to you? How dare Jamie say something like that to mess with you? What was his problem? Why would he do that?

You and Jamie both went home miserable that night. Jamie went home heartbroken, and you went home angry and annoyed. What happens next?

. . .

You called in sick the Monday after Casino Night. You weren’t ready to face Jamie even though you knew that you’d probably not see him. You weren’t sure what to think. Jamie was always someone that you knew would be in your life. However, you always thought he’d be there as your lifelong enemy who you happened to still be in semi-contact with because your parents were friends. As of late, though, you’ve been seeing Jamie as a friend. You weren’t going to lie, you found Jamie ridiculously attractive, and ever since the accident you had where you and Jamie finally talked, you began to see him in a different light. Instead of your first thought being how much you hated him, you thought about the good things he had to himself. You saw how friendly he was to everyone, and he always asked how you were. He had a selflessness to himself that you were starting to love about him.

“Why are you telling me all this, yn?” Lisa asks you exasperated. “I always thought that the two of you were perfect for each other, even in high school. Don’t lie, you thought about it, too.”

You pause for a moment carefully thinking about what you were going to say. “I guess you’re right. I did have a small crush on him in high school because, for almost six months, he was mostly nice to me.”

“And what about now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yes, please, Lisa.”

“I think you’re in love with him, too. I think you always have been; I think he’s one of those people that is always going to be in your life whether or not you like it. At first, everyone thought you two were going to be the best of friends and take over the world. That all changed when he tripped you and the rest is history, but I think it’s different now. This time around, you both are mature adults who, I think, subconsciously realized that the way they dealt with the crushes they had on each other was by absolutely hating each other. You both didn’t know what to do, so you’re coping mechanism? Hate each other senselessly because you didn’t know what else. Now, Jamie realized how he feels and wants that with you. He said it first, right? Maybe he wants to show you he’s changed and truly loves you now.”

“I guess you’re kind of right,” you tell Lisa. “I just, I don’t know how I feel.”

“Do you find him attractive?”

“Yes, of course, he’s gorgeous.”

“Did you always think that?”

“Yes, because he’s always been gorgeous.”

“Was one of the reasons you hated him because he was so gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Lisa,” you tell your best friend skeptically.

“My point is that if you truly hated him, you wouldn’t have called him gorgeous so quickly. I think you would have just denied finding him attractive and that’s that. Now that you know what nice and kind Jamie is like, I think you want more. You want to have more with him because you’ve seen what a great person Jamie is. Because you’ve seen the goodness, you want more and all of it. Can you say that you currently hate Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being?”

“No, I cannot say that I hate Jamie Oleksiak with my entire being.”

“Your first reaction to him telling you how he feels was not to punch him or to hurt him, was it?”

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” you say calmly.

“What was it then, yn?”

“In my head, and I don’t know why I said it, but it was ‘there’s no way you feel the same way', and I was surprised those words even formed in my head.”

“Don’t you see, yn? You feel the same way! You just didn’t know it! Your head and heart have been trying to tell you how you feel by spreading warmth to your face, making you feel shy, or just wanting to be around him. Yn, you’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“Holy shit, I’m in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“You’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak, yn.”

“Oh dear goodness, what do I do now, Lisa?”

“Apologize and tell him.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I can do that, right?”

“If you want to be with him, then yeah.”

“Okay, I can do that, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? What could possibly go wrong?”

. . .

Believe it or not, a lot. The next day, you were set to go back to work, but you woke up with a massive migraine, an aching cough, and a debilitating stomach ache. You couldn’t go to work feeling like this, so you called in sick for real this time. You finally had the courage to go see a doctor, and they told you it was just a bug. They gave you some antibiotics, and you were back to work in three days.

On the Saturday after Casino Night, Carrie asked if you could fill in for the media team, and you agreed enthusiastically. Maybe you’d finally be able to see Jamie and talk to him?

Unfortunately, that was not the case. You weren’t outright trying to talk to Jamie or get his attention, but you weren’t not doing that. You tried to act normal, but Jamie wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You were able to catch him alone after the game, but when you called out to him, he didn’t respond. You went home that night crying thinking you ruined something great without knowing you had something great at the tip of your fingers.

The following Monday, you were sitting in the GM’s offices when Jamie walked in looking for one of the team managers. You were the one of two sitting in the room, and Jamie walked to the other person who was on the far side of the room to ask if the manager was there. You’ll admit, that hurt.

You saw Jamie a few days later on your way to the locker room to give some paperwork to the coaching staff. You were about to turn the corner when your foot got stuck in a loose floorboard, and you went tumbling to the ground.

“Are you okay?” someone asks you as you try to get up.

“I mean, considering I just fell to the ground, no, but thanks for asking,” you answer and lookup. “Jamie.”

“Yn,” he replies back to you. “I’m going to go.”

“Jamie, wait, please.”

“What, yn? Are you going to reject me again because I don’t want to have that conversation with you, then.”

“When we both aren’t at work and in a public place, can we please talk?”

“Why should I agree to that, yn? Because, for your information, you’re breaking my heart. I can’t do this if you’re just going to make me feel terrible.”

You falter slightly when Jamie tells you that you’re breaking his heart. “I’m really sorry, can we just please pick a time and place to talk?”

“Sure, right here, right now.”

“Jamie, that’s not what I --”

“No, if you want to talk, then right here. I don’t want to have this conversation later if you’re going to reject me again.”

You’re getting kind of sick and tired of Jamie insisting that you’re going to reject him again because you’re not. “Jamie! I’m not going to reject you again! Do you think I’m some kind of heartless monster who loves to see you suffer? Guess what, I don’t! I hate that my words made you hurt and put you in a terrible mood. I apologize for that. You know you got to speak your mind, isn’t it time for me to be able to speak mine?”

Jamie is about to say something, but you stop him.

“No, I’m not going to break your heart, I promise. Just listen, okay?”

Jamie nods and takes one step towards you.

“Casino Night? You caught me off guard. My entire life, I hated you and that was all I knew. Wake up? Hate Jamie. Go to bed? Hate Jamie. You have to admit, though, you didn’t make it hard, but that’s beside the point. When I literally ran into you all those months ago, I picked up where we left off because that was all I knew. Then, come to find out, I didn’t like that. When I tripped over your foot and we talked? That was the shift inside of me. I didn’t know what I was feeling. The next few things I’m going to say I didn’t makeup on my own, Lisa helped me with it. She told me that I got to experience nice and kind Jamie, and I loved it. I did, I loved being on the receiving end of it. She was saying how I wanted more, all of the love and kindness you have to offer. She’s not wrong. I want everything you have to offer because I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“Casino Night? I didn’t know what I was feeling. If you gave me a bit more time, on my own, then I think I would have realized it soon. I’m not sure if you know this, but in sophomore year of high school, I had a crush on you because, for once, you were quite nice to me. I like nice Jamie because he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jamie Oleksiak, I’m in love with you even though I spent almost twenty years hating you. And, that’s all I have to say, so I’m going to go now.”

You begin to turn around, but Jamie’s next words leave you stunned. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were three.”

“What?”

“When we were three years old, I realized I had a crush on you. I wouldn’t have called it a crush, but I always saw how in love my parents were and one day wanted that with you. You know how children get ‘married’? Well, I wanted to marry you. I didn’t know how to process how I felt so I treated you like shit and for that, I’m sorry. I realized I was in love with you in high school, but at that point, too much damage was created for me to go back and change things. When I saw you again a few months back, I realized that I never really got over you, and I wanted more with you.”

You take a step forward. “So.”

“So?”

“So, we’re two idiots who are in love with each other, then?”

“So we are,” Jamie says to you with a smile.

“Now what do we do?” you ask.

“Well, I’d like to take you out for dinner and maybe kiss you? Then, take you out for dinner again and call you my girlfriend. What do you think?”

“I think you should kiss me now and we can just jump to the ‘I’m your girlfriend’ part.”

“That’s a deal,” Jamie says and leans down to kiss you. He places a gentle kiss on your lips before leaning back to take a breath. He leans in again, and you both deepen the kiss he places on your lips. All of five seconds pass when you hear cheering behind you. “I guess this is why you wanted to talk in private, right?”

You laugh. “Yeah, it was. Maybe you should listen to me more often.”

“Well, now that you’re my girlfriend, I guess I have more of a reason to.”

“And why’s that?”

“So I get to keep you and love you forever?”

You smile and say, “that I can do.” You perch upon your tippy-toes and kiss Jamie again. Who knew that two childhood enemies could one day learn to love each other?

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#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars x reader #Jamie oleksiak fic #claudia writes

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mrskurono · 3 years

Text

Schweiden Sex Education || Wakatoshi Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Tag(s): oral, semi public, slight age gap, talk of taking virginity, dirty talk

Character(s): Wakatoshi Ushijima (hq), with mentions of other Schweiden members

Word Count: 4k

a/n: I intend to make this a mini series so here’s to keeping one thirsty brain cell (:

part (2) (3)

The Schweiden team had always felt like a home to you. Really it was your home. And had been for the past six, almost seven, years now. The only ones who held supremacy over you were Nicollas and Fukuro. And that was a tenuous supremacy when you argued you did more work than they did to help manage the team. Mostly the veteran men didn’t argue with you.

And surprisingly neither did the newbies as they came in one by one. Each year adding another body to your roster and another mouth to listen to. Quickly though the Schweiden players always seemed to get the hint who was the mother hen of the eagle roost. Even the obstinate youngsters the team got within the last few years realized that.

Korai perhaps your hardest to twin. Like a true middle child. He raised hell when he could but learned fast you had no time for games. The other two though? The one to come after him was sullen but determined. You honestly appreciated the break Tobio gave you in comparison to Korai. But the older of the three newest recruits? He left you stumped.

Wakatoshi Ushijima. Or as Tobio and Korai repeatedly said, Ushiwaka. Came first. He was quiet and good at what he does. An obvious pick for the team. Like all your players you wanted to cultivate a good relationship with him. If your boys were happy then they played happy.

But unlike Toshiro who you could call if he was gonna have a bad day by the way he left his equipment in the Schweiden’s gym instead of the lockers. Or Fukuro who almost never had a bad day if there was a pack of spearmint gum set on the bench right inside the men’s locker room. Your newest eaglet was something of a mystery.

The first season you had him under your care was ruthless. He wouldn’t speak but maybe two words to you. And that was in one week. When you tried to make him feel more at home the man would look at you with a dumbfounded look and tell you his home was back in Japan. These gestures seemed to go right over his head.

Korai came along the following season and with another younger player you thought maybe Ushijima would warm up to you. That was a false hope as most of the season was spent rangling Korai for better or worse.

It wasn’t until the youngest Schweiden came that you finally had some insight to the stoic man. Tobio had off handed comments about their matches back in high school. Specifically his first year as he would repeatedly tell you that his team got to go to nationals that year and not his. This didn’t help you a lot but the other things he and Korai drug out of him did.

Soon you tried using Ushiwaka instead of anything else. Tobio and Korai insisted maybe he felt to formal around his manager. It would illicit a response of him looking at you. Just to quickly look away. Then it was anticipating things he might need. Extra towels, clean jerseys for practice, even snacks here and there for long practices. All of it met with him staring at you from either a distance. Or avoiding eye contact with you the second you were within arms reach of him.

Concerned he might hate you. You tried harder to win your player over. A happy player was a happy win.

“Ushiwaka-kun!” Again this week you flag him down as he enters the gymnasim with Tobio. In your hands are the water bottles you always keep filled for the men even if they bring their own, “And Tobio-kun how are you guys today?”

Like normal Tobio yawned, regardless of the fact it was two in the afternoon, “Fine I guess. Where’s Hoshiumi senpai?”

“Went to go get something for Fukuro apparently it wasn’t clear,” You had a good idea of what a normal Tuesday looked like for your men, “Do you want me to get Toshiro to practice with you two today?”

“Sure,” Tobio thanked you.

But it was Ushiwaka’s scowl that still you wanted to prevent. So of course you offered him a bottle, “I got the electrolyte power you like Ushiwaka-kun.”

Staring hard down at you. It takes you a moment to realize he isn’t staring at the white sports bottle. And indeed staring at you. Ready to open your mouth and ask what the problem was, Tobio nudges him in the side. Korai was seen coming back in from the other end of the gym with Toshiro. Meaning whatever kinship you were trying to cultivate was cut short by the men going to business with practice. Once again foiled in trying to make all your players happy. You sigh and go about the rest of practice helping where you can.

Throughout the practice though something seemed off. Every time you turned around you found Ushiwaka’s eyes on you. No matter where you were in the gym. Be it picking up volleyballs. Or bent over refilling bottles. His gaze followed you from a distance. Having not realized this much until you had unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt to let yourself breath.

Pulling away the fabric from your neck and collar to fan yourself a little. This was when you saw Ushiwaka's face nearly boring holes into you. First you thought he wanted something. But the second you went to go grab a water for him, the six three brute of a man turned away quickly. Stumping you once again for what he was looking at you for.

A second time that day, towards the end of practice, did your attention get peaked once more. You were standing around the men with clipboard in hand. Arms folded up under your bust and waiting for Fukuro and Nicollas to finish their spiel. That your gaze found Ushiwaka's gaze indiscriminately locked onto your chest.

Sure the team members were all taller than you but almost none of them looked at you like that. Even Korai who you always kept an eye on just because he ran his mouth so often. So when it was Ushiwaka's olive green eyes entranced by the dip in your shirt, you had to do a double take to make sure he was really staring at you.

Holding still you forget to listen to what is going on around you. Just staying still, breath caught in your chest as you wonder how long he’s going to stare at you. Unsure if he’s even noticed you watching him.

Soon there is a heat creeping up on your cheeks. The objectification almost a turn on. You wonder if he’s tried to look down your shirt before. Has he looked at you wearing shorts? Did he notice the one time you wore your leggings with the hole in the crotch? Each daunting thought made your insides twist with giddiness before that was ripped from you the second your eyes met his.

Like every time before, Ushiwaka looked away. Scowl on his face and refusing your eye contact. Even if he was just staring down your shirt he didn’t decide to keep looking at you for long. You thoughts a buzz as Fukuro called the meeting over and now you had something else to think about.

Thoughts stirred in you from that moment. Perhaps you were trying to get his attention in the wrong way. Practices and meetings didn’t change. But the way you presented yourself did. Keeping blouses unbutton lower. Tucking things up high with the threat of midriff always lurking. You took full advantage of showing yourself off with little comment from the older players. For as far as they were concerned was you were seeing someone outside work. It wasn’t knew for you to spruce up when you had a suitor. There was no suitor but there was someone who had noticed your change in attire.

“Pay attention!!” Korai raged about the third ball that went right by Ushiwaka’s head. This was getting worse by the day and Korai’s fuse was getting shorter.

“What? I was.” Ushiwaka frowned at his teammate like he was lying.

“Huh?? Really?? Paying attention??” Korai bolstered his chest at his fellow volleyball player, “Three balls what am I your ball boy??”

“No we have one of those.” Tobio interjected. Little to care about Korai getting bent out of shape but he did think it was ridiculous to hear that they didn’t have one.

“Ehh??? I know that!” Korai huffed as he chucked at ball Ushiwaka’s face, “I’m tired of this idiot sucking at practice!”

You overheard the Schweiden youngerster arguing so you look up from your paperwork actually not aware of anything. Practice was almost over so what Korai was getting bent out of shape over confused you and the rest of the team.

“I hit every serve.” Ushiwaka informed the shorter wing spiker like there was no validity to his accusations.

Korai made to mock him childishly and rolled his eyes before looking over at you for some reason, “If he wasn’t thinking about fucking you all the time then we could get something done!”

“Alright!” Fukuro clapped loudly like that was cover up what his teammate decided to blurt out, “I think we’re done for today!”

More than stunned you look behind you like Korai might have been meaning someone else. Even if you were showing a little more skin this past week you still thought it was a joke.

“He’s all pissy because he’s a virgin-” Korai started up again but Nicollas decided he’d put his foot down too to help Fukuro out.

“Wait and your not?” Tobio looked genuinely surprised at the white haired man.

“What?! No I’m not what kinda question is-”

“Clean up! Or laps now!” Fukuro hollered.

Fukuro’s laps were hell.

Stunned by that entire transaction right in front of you. It takes a moment before you really even register what Korai said. But it’s then that your eyes dart right over to Ushiwaka. He’s still a virgin? You couldn’t tell it Korai was being a shit or maybe, there was some validity to that?

Sure your cleavage was slightly self indulgent to make yourself feel good. But knowing that you had become a possible fixation was....almost hot?

Now it was your turn to not take your eyes off your teams wing spiker. Had a normal person been called out like that then they would be a mess or at least red with embarrassment. Ushiwaka seemed, unphased. While they cleaned up and didn’t earn actual laps. You hung back with the dwindling fact that Korai told the truth and wasn’t just trying to start something for being crabby.

Having taken too much time after the little outburst. You ended being one of the last people to leave the gym. Nicollas and Toshiro waved you good night. With a small apology for earlier. You laughed it off and chucked it up to Korai being himself. When you turned around though you saw one of your members was still practicing sole. Ushiwaka.

Clipboard hugged to your chest you watch him for a second. Still no illicit response for what happened earlier. Was he just staring at you because he didn’t like you?

No answer as he looks at you once. But then drops his volleyball in the bin to disappear back into the locker room. You guessed you should probably head home now. Only to be stopped with a wicked idea surfacing in your mind.

You could just ask? Where was the harm in asking?

Setting your things back down you make your way back to the men’s locker room. Vacant now so you knew no one was back there but the wing spiker.

Searching the locker room you spot the younger man over by his locker. Of course getting his things. Maybe things really were in your head and Korai was talking out his ass. But when you watched him peel off his jersey your lady brain had other ideas.

It had been a while since you’d gotten any. Passing into your late twenties did that as did travel and working with a team of constantly sweaty men. So the last time you might have actually seen action was more than a few months.

Your grip on the edge of the lockers you leaned into tightened. He was, god he was delicious to look at. An impulse and you push away from the locker.

“Ushiwaka-kun!” You hail him but before he can register the intruder in the locker room, you have yourself pushed up against him. Looking up at him with the perfect view down your blouse, “...is what Korai-kun said true?”

For the first time, in almost three years, the glimmer of a response shown on the man’s face. It was subtle. And you would have missed it had you not been watching him so closely. But the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in the most guilty swallow of a man’s life. Korai was right.

Fueled by the temptation of untouched skin. You push yourself up on the man’s lips without question. Knowing full well that no one besides you had touched them. Kissing a virgin never in a million years had you thought it would turn you on like this,

Almost entirely one sided. Not for the sake of the feeling of Ushiwaka lean his tall frame into the kiss. He purely did not know what to do when your lips met his. Stunned by the fact he’d stared at them for countless hours with lewd thoughts always surfacing. Now that it was actually happening though the volleyball savant had no idea what to do.

Pulling away with a lingering touch on his chest. You realize just the bridge of his nose has gotten a dusting of blush on it. He really had no way to word anything. Perhaps Korai’s loud mouth was the best thing to happen to either of you.

“Let me,” You whisper like someone is going to hear you in the vacant locker room, “Let me show you.”

His thick brows pinch in the middle and he’s left wondering what you want to show him, “What can I see?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. He had no idea and here he was going to take a hasty kiss as enough. You weren’t though after the years of misunderstanding. Now you found a language you could talk to him in.

“Let me show you, what to do,” You look at the hand pressed against his chest. The toned muscles underneath as wonderful to touch as you imagined. Licking your lips you struggle to keep your composure as the need to be the role model came before all else, “Let me teach you about sex and....I’ll guarantee you’ll be the best at it. Promise.”

Nothing but humming taking over any thoughts he had. Just like every time he caught a glimpse down his manager’s shirt. It was the same body tingling hum Ushiwaka got from that as well. Without an idea what to do or say it was Korai’s brash words that came to mind. He told him to always say yes to a lady if she mentioned sex. And looking down at you. The fact sex and the dip in your shirt were right there in front of him. Ushiwaka understood he had to say yes.

“Yes.” He found his eyes locked in on your clevage again. This time it was hard not to be when you pressed your body up against him, “...Yes please.”

Goosebumps prickled over every inch of you. The way your loins aches was unreal. You hadn’t been this giddy and horny since you were a teenager. Quickly to seal the deal you meet his mouth again. This time taking it a bit slower. Until you put your arms up around the back of his neck and pulled him into you, “...lesson one, kissing.” You brush your lips against his and hum, “Kiss me back and follow my lead.”

That was hard. First it was just him pressing harder into your lips than you were into his. When your lips parted though and your tongue grazed his bottom lip is when Ushiwaka dialed it back to truly let you take the lead.

With the sweet taste of his lips on your own. Wrestling for dominance over the kiss was nothing. Seconds in and you had your tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he at least got the hint to bring his hands up to your sides. Not much but it was something. Ushiwaka was at least trying to take more in the sloppy kiss than he had when you first kissed him.

Finally when you pull back for a breath. It’s more than obvious the tent in his jersey shorts. If his untouched lips tasted this good. Could the rest of him be as delicious.

“Sometimes....” You started slowly, drawing a hand down his neck and peppering his collar bone with kisses, “We use our mouths to kiss more than just lips.”

“Like necks?” Ushiwaka, though holding a steady tone still, was gripping your sides even harder. Outwardly he wouldn’t let on but his body was reacting magically to your touch.

“Necks...” You murmur against his and trail down, “Chests...Stomachs....Private areas.”

Pushing him to sit. Perhaps a smart choice if he’s never experienced it before. You kneel between the wing spiker’s legs. Bringing yourself close to his clothed cock as it stood at attention for you and only you. Of course you lick your lips.

Untouched. Unsoiled. All for you to taste.

Your palms rub against his thighs. Finally the first normal sign he was enjoying himself as Ushiwaka’s moan was dampened by the fight to keep it down. His eyes shut tight and chest heaving a little. You smile as you bring your face close to his groin, “Don’t keep it in....that’s the part of the fun.”

This was true in fact when your lips pressed to the clothed underside of his cock. A deep throaty groan leaving the man. You could smell his precum through his shorts. At this rate you knew to thread carefully less he blow the second your fingers encircled him. And desperately did you wanna taste that cum.

Careful to free his cock from his shorts. You take a moment to not believe this man is a virgin with the length he is packing. Long, girthy, and a sight to be hold. Your mouth begins watering not just at the idea of him being untouched. But at the beautiful cock before you.

“I’m going to touch you....so I can get it in my mouth,” You don’t lie about the showing him thing. Deliberate in your movements. Hands touching up his thick thighs. Until finally the moment of truth. Your fingers curling around his base as Ushiwaka groaned unable to stay quite like he hoped.

The wonderful musk of his precum. And the sight of him nearly shaking in his seat. You could feel your slick coating your cunt lips and threatening to really ruin your panties. Patience was needed though. If you were going to teach him properly.

“Do you wanna look at my tits while I suck you off?” You offer. Eyes shut but he had spent so long staring at them you couldn’t keep them clothed.

Ushiwaka’s green eyes open, contrasting the red tint to his face, and he looks down at your chest so close to his cock, “...yes, yes I would.”

Wasting no time you let go of him just to peel your top off. A reward for him like the blowjob you were about to give him wasn’t enough.

You press your breasts into his thighs. The warmth of your chest sending a shiver up the man’s spine. Nothing compared to the way your hand felt gripping his cock though. Not the slightest idea how delightful his cock was either. So when you finally made a glutton of yourself and swallowed only about two thirds of his cock up. Well, Ushiwaka thought that was just a moment of heaven on earth.

The warmth of your cheeks wet and velvety. Enveloping his cock like nothing his hand could do. Even in his wildest ideas he never conjured up the idea this is what it would feel like. It was near too much.

You cheeks hallow as you struggle to take all of him. Desperate though. You press more into your mouth as your tongue works over time. Loving the sight as his head tips back and lips part slightly. Finally something you could read from him.

Eager to taste more you bob your head up and down on his cock. Sucking like your life depended on it. His precum soiling your tongue just as your juices seeped into your panties. Even the tingle of your tits pressed to his thighs was turning you on. Seeing him above you, gripping the edge of the bench and heated expression ruining that stoic look. It certainly was something you could get use to.

But no for long. Maybe not even five minutes in and you felt the jerking twitch of his cock. Faster than even you anticipated. It didn’t keep you from pulling your lips off his cock. Instead you wanted it more.

Eyes locked up on his face. Lips slurping what of him you could while your hand moved with you to jerk him off. Ushiwaka had no idea what to do with his hands or what to even say. The way you looked at him left him frozen as the undeniable need to cum finally was too much.

Warm spurts of cum filled your mouth. Before you were ready so some of the precious treat leaked from your cheeks. A choke and a sputter when you couldn’t keep up with the cum load he was giving you. Almost missing the guttural, almost whiny, moan that left the man above you. Face twisted in pleasure. It drove you to suck him dry of all that cum he was feeding you in his pathetic excuse for stamina. He really was a virgin.

Finally with the taste of his cum on your lips as you cleaned his cock off for every last drop. You look up at the mess of a man and smile. Certainly the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him in two years. You find it easy to believe he wasn’t going to back out of this sex education arrangement now.

Making your way back up his chest. Hands drawing up his toned muscles until you were at eye level with him. You gently press your lips against his. Not too much. Not ready to overwhelm him with the taste of his own cum. But enough that he does figure to lean into you and wrap his arms around the exact spot he did before.

“Do you want me to teach you?” You mumble against his lips.

That same swallow from before. Now though he was a little dazed looking at you as the warmth of your skin was something entirely new, “Yes.”

The want in his voice makes you grin, “What do you want me to teach you?”

“Everything. I want you to teach me everything.”

#schweiden adlers #ushijima wakatoshi #ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #hq ushijima #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq #haikyuu #hq smut #threethirst #schweiden sex ed series

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chasing-classics · 3 years

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It Takes A Man- Ray Diaz x Reader (2)

Pairing: Ray Diaz x Reader

Warning(s): Language, angsty feels, mentions of cheating, SMUT

Summary: In the aftermath of your night with Ray, you struggle to move on from the Diaz men, but find difficulty in forgetting the man in question. What happens when you reunite?

A/N: This will not be a full-length story, I think it’ll just be a fun little miniseries that I’ll work on between drabbles and oneshots, but so many of you loved the first part that I couldn’t help but post the sequel earlier than anticipated. Enjoy, my little deviants!

Part 1

You huffed, barely making it through your front door before the handfuls of grocery bags collapsed at your feet. You cringed, shaking your head upwards at the thought of how all the fresh fruit you just bought at the corner bodega was now bruised. Shuffling your feet, you prodded the cans of various sauces and whatnot out of your way, casually closing the front door with your foot and tossed your purse on the nearby sofa.

Your new apartment had finally been put together in your hasty move from the Diaz household. The drive was not so bad, it was long enough to put distance between Oscar and yourself so that you two could avoid any awkward/angry confrontations on the street. But you were relieved, as was Cesar, that it was no more than a 15-minute drive, 25-minute to half hour walk in case the youngest Diaz brother and his friends ever wished to stop by. The pang in your chest whenever your thoughts drifted towards Cesar was still an entirely fresh wound. The way he yelled and cried in your arms the night he came home still made your e/c eyes well up with tears. You would never forgive yourself for the role you played in the separation. Oscar was by no means innocent; his actions were unforgiveable. He cheated on you more times than you would ever care to admit. He made a fool out of the one person who held him down, the one constant in his life. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t still bitter.

Cesar knew the breakup was looming, in the months leading up to that fateful night you and Oscar had gone for each other’s throats. Initially he only left the house to take care of ‘’Santo business’’ but the smell of cheap perfume contradicted that immediately. Despite your valiant efforts, Cesar walked in on you once or twice just crying your eyes out until they became so painfully puffy. History certainly repeated itself in the Diaz house. The only difference was that you managed to get out in, mentally exhausted but physically fine, while his mother had overdosed not two years after Ray was locked up. Cesar partially felt betrayed by everyone involved. Oscar, Ray, and even you. But Oscar had been the real target of Cesar’s anger and hurt. Had Oscar not made Cesar join the Santos, Cesar would’ve had a normal life and possible ticket outside of Freeridge. Had Oscar not been a complete jerk to you, Cesar could’ve had some resemblance of a family left. He still had you, he still had Oscar. But it was never going to be the same.

That said, what you and Ray had done was anything but innocent. ‘’Fuck,’’ you huffed, tossing your keys in the dish by the entryway. As much as you probably should’ve forgotten all about that night. As much as you tried to dismiss the reminiscing, you found yourself in a losing battle. About the way Ray had felt filling you. The drag and pull movements of his manhood along your velvety walls. You involuntarily shivered and cursed yourself as your mind clouded over in a haze of lust.

‘’No. . .no, we aren’t going back there,’’ you chided, working to tidy up the place. ‘No matter how much I may long to. . .’ you mentally noted as your actions quickened in a pathetic attempt to block the mental image of Ray hovering over you, filling your tightness. The familiar pitter patter of butterflies in your abdomen alerted you of your arousal. The blush that steadily spread across your cheeks did the same.

Ray and you had seldom spoken in the nearly 40 days it took for you to find an apartment in a safe part of Freeridge (upon Oscar’s insistence, to your shock) and for you to gather your belongings and move out (thanks to the efforts of Sad Eyes and Tito, also upon Oscar’s insistence and your shock). When you had said a quick goodbye to your ex of five years and the boy you practically raised since he was a small fourth grader, the longing look in Ray’s eyes was not lost on you. Whereas Cesar walked you to your car, Oscar hung back on the porch trying his best to seem unbothered, Ray leaned against the side gate of the house. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he made sure to stay out of Oscar’s line of vision. You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching you. To know that look in his eyes. You had the same look as you drove way, only concealing it as to avoid another fist fight between Oscar and his father.

The apartment itself was nice and homey. Your job in real estate, selling mostly houses in Brentwood, made sure that you could afford nicer furniture, a stocked fridge, and lunch money for Cesar. He would alternate, opting to camp out on your charcoal gray couch while Oscar enjoyed the benefits of a newly single life back home. You feigned ignorance or uncaringness whenever Cesar showed up late at night with a sympathetic look in his deep brown eyes, but every time you thought about the girls drifting in and out of the only home you had truly known the past five years, your heart clenched in your throat.

Sad Eyes had been another figure who graced your doorstep every now and then. He insisted it was because of the friendship you and he had maintained since high school, but something told you he was keeping tabs on you. The one, single one night stand you had partaken in a few nights ago just so happened to be cut short (too short) when Sad Eyes conveniently began pounding on the door. The situation had Oscar’s hypocritical jealous antics written all over it. Nonetheless, Jose was a good friend of yours’ and he along with Tito and the other Santos were a big help in setting up the place to your liking.

As you drifted around the entertainment area, around the balcony, and around the kitchen watering your various plants, your brows furrowed. The one person who hadn’t really visited you, aside from Oscar of course, was the one man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your night with Ray was far too passionate, or so you thought, to be just a one-time thing. As sick and twisted it might be, as horrible of a person that made you, you couldn’t help but yearn to have another night with the Diaz patriarch. Subconsciously, your hand drifted to your collarbone, sighing through your nose as visions of his strong, rough hands exploring your flesh resonated within you. Part of you shrunk back into your shell, your subconscious telling you that Oscar had clearly taken after his father when it came to breaking hearts. That Ray probably hadn’t been with a woman since being released from prison. That you were just an easy fix, a convenience for him in the form of an insecure and emotionally exhausted hyna. He didn’t see you anything other than a tight hole to keep his dick warm. You bit your lip, hands clutching the kitchen counter until your knuckles turned nearly pale.

But the other part of you felt in your bones that it was not just an easy fix. That, yes lust fueled and spurred his actions, but there was something about the way he looked at you as you drove away from the house. Something that screamed ‘’more.’’ An enchanting, debauching look. Interest, maybe, but still more all the same. More.

Your fingers danced down the valley of your breasts, down your abdomen, until your fingertips made contact with the top of your leggings. Admittedly, you had forgone wearing underwear this particular day, out of laziness, but you were certainly not complaining as your fingers met the wetness of your tight folds. An airy sigh escaped your lips, eyes closed as those fingers danced along your sensitive folds like little ballerinas.

Your other hand began kneading your still clothed breasts, becoming rougher in an attempt to mirror the way Ray had done. Whether it was the forbidden, sinful nature of that night or not, no other man, not even Oscar had made you feel so erotic the way Ray Diaz had. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your moans steadily flowed past your lips like a gentle choir. The middle finger curled in the depths of your core, your index finger gently rolling the sensitive pearl above. The faster your digits worked, the easier it became to imagine Ray’s touch. The smell of his shampoo with the slight musk of his sweat from working out in the front lawn. The way he grunted every time he slammed into your core. The way his eyes went nearly black from pure lust and primal desire when he looked over your quivering form.

‘’R-Ray,’’ you whimpered to yourself, panting as your fingers worked diligently.

‘’Don’t stop, nena.’’

Your eyes flew wide open, your mouth following suit as the man of the hour stood in your front door, learning against the frame. That infamous, lopsided Diaz smirk left no room to question where his boys got it from.

‘’Don’t stop on my account,’’ he repeated, uncomfortably shifting his weight to his other leg, a very noticeable bulge catching your attention immediately. You gulped.

‘’How the f-fuc. . .wha. . .why?’’ you screeched, hand quickly retreating from your pulsing, needy pussy much to your discomfort. You were convinced that he could feel the heat of your blush from across the room.

‘’The front door was unlocked. I know it’s a safer neighborhood, but you still need to-‘’

‘’I meant why the hell are you here?’’ you didn’t mean to sound as bitchy as it had came out, but you were slightly jilted from the way he had ignored you the pas several weeks.

No calls. No texts. No surprise visits. Until now.

The smirk faded from his handsome face, becoming more serious although his eyes showed the slightest hint of a mix of shame and sorrow.

‘’Y/n,’’ he sighed, eyes turning to look down at the floor. It was amazing how, for a split second, the father of two and former Santos member had morphed into a nervous young man. You could almost pinpoint what he looked like younger.

You stilled, heart still racing violently in your chest. He had rarely called you by your name before. Even before you two had sex, it had always been ‘’nena’’ or ‘’mamacita.’’ In fact, you were sure he only used your name once. When he came inside you and sealed your fate. You suppressed a shiver, but Ray quickly caught the effect he still had on you. He regained some of his courage, standing up straight. Your eyes quickly surveyed the way his muscles automatically flexed as his arms folded up and crossed his chest. Damn him.

‘’I’m sorry I haven’t called or visited. . .I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything to do with me considering. . .,’’ his thoughts trailed off, not wanting to discuss the way Oscar had blown up after catching you. One thing you admired about Oscar, that despite his temper he never laid a hand on you. He would rage and toss some furniture in the opposite direction and yell like a madman. But his rage was mostly directed at Ray that night.

‘’We need to talk to you, hermano,’’ Oscar’s deep voice cut the silence as you resisted the urge to glare at the Santos’ leader.

‘’Okayyy?’’ Cesar offered an awkward smile, sitting at the dinner table. The same dinner table that just moments prior had been flung on its’ side as Oscar raged throughout the house. You had barely tossed the scattered food into the trash can before Cesar walked in.

Ray cleared his throat and retreated to the side door of the house, probably smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves as the ‘’adults’’ had their talk.

‘’Cesar,’’ you started, reaching across the table to gently grasp his hand. When had he gotten so big? You never once tried to be the mother he had lost to drugs as a five-year-old. You never took away the authority figure that was forcibly bestowed onto Oscar. You were just Y/n; his brother’s girlfriend. But you knew you were the closest thing Cesar ever had to a mother/motherly figure. And you had fucked it all up.

‘’What’s going on?’’ his thick brows knotted in confusion. You hesitantly glanced at Oscar, him biting back a glare towards you as he sighed.

‘’Y/n is moving out,’’ he mumbled and if you didn’t know Oscar any better, you could’ve sworn there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

‘’Wait.. . what?’’ it broke your heart hearing the confusion and panic in Cesar’s voice.

‘’Cesar, it’s ok. I’ll still be here whenever you need me. It’s just,’’ you trailed off, your own voice wavering as you tried to muster up the best way to explain things.

‘’No it’s not ‘ok.’ Why are you leaving us? Leaving me?’’ Cesar’s voice steadily rose, yanking his hand away from you. The gesture made you wince.

‘’Cesar,’’ Oscar’s tone slowly shifted to that of Spooky.

‘’No! Tell me why she’s leaving. Why is she really leaving!’’ Cesar stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair to the floor. Somewhere outside Ray coughed on a nicotine coated cloud. The room filled with uncomfortable silence.

‘’Cesar. Sometimes, people just fall out of love. Things happen. Life happens. Sometimes even adults make really shitty decisions and they change on each other,’’ your voice remained soft as you sadly looked up at the boy you helped raise. You resisted the urge to look at Oscar’s gutted expression, knowing that if you did you would surely lose it. It had been that exact moment you regretted not leaving the house as soon as Ray walked in just hours before.

Cesar’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, but once his chocolate brown hues fell upon his brother, they quickly hardened with anger.

‘’You did this. . .you fucking had to get your dick wet that bad that you didn’t even consider her! She did everything for us! For you! She was there for me when you weren’t! You were too busy being Spooky that you couldn’t be fucking bothered!’’ he snarled.

‘’Watch your fucking mouth, Lil Spooky,’’ Oscar steadily rose on his two feet, towering over Cesar. You stood as well, ready to jump into the lion’s den if necessary.

Cesar scoffed, a mocking smile on his lips before it quickly gave way to the coldest glare. He looked nearly identical to Oscar. ‘’You’ve given Ray so much shit for leaving us and abandoning his family. . .in reality you’re no better.’’

Oscar lunged forward, the two brothers tangled up as fists were flying.

‘’Oscar stop!’’ you screamed, throwing yourself into your ex, dodging fists left and right. Ray barged back into the house, getting a grip of Oscar as you shoved Cesar in the opposite way. The sound of Oscar’s fist coming into contact with Ray’s jaw echoed throughout the house.

‘’Get the fuck off of me! Get the fuck off of me!’’ Oscar snarled, desperately trying to shove his father off him to no avail. What Ray lacked in height when it came to Oscar, he made up with in strength. You could see Ray struggling to rein in his anger and maintain his grip on his son. Tears filled your eyes as well as Cesar’s as the two of you fell to the floor, watching the two men struggle.

‘’Had enough?’’ Ray grunted. He still smelled like you, and that more than anything broke Oscar.

Oscar managed to shove the Diaz patriarch off, falling back against the wall as he huffed, tears clouding his vision. His eyes fell on you and for once, he saw the damage his infidelities caused blow up in his face. His baby brother crying into your arms, begging it all to stop as you cried to yourself in the corner. Both of you looked so small, you looked so defeated. He had fucked up. You met his broken gaze, shaking your head as if you could will all of this to evaporate. You had fucked up. The next morning, you began looking around Freeridge for apartments. The next few weeks, Oscar helped you load up your car as you moved twenty-five minutes away from the only home you knew. The day after that? You gathered the rest of your belongings and bit back a sob as you held Cesar in a crushing hug. As you looked over his shoulder, you saw Oscar leaning against the porch’s structure, biting his lip as he looked down at you, fighting the urge to ask you to stay. To work through it. But he quickly realized that was what he had been asking of you throughout all of these years. And that is why he remained silent as you pulled out of the Diaz’s driveway. He didn’t move until your car was out of sight.

You shook your head, leaning against the island in the middle of your kitchen. Your hands rubbed and massaged at your temples, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent the tears from falling. ‘’That was on me,’’ you whispered, voice croaking with emotion. You jumped when you felt Ray’s strong hand on your shoulder. You gasped as a jolt of electricity passed through the two of you. Judging from the quick intake of breath, Ray felt it too.

‘’I’m so sorry,’’ he whispered. You straightened out, looking up at Ray despite still only reaching his collar bone. The inner struggle was clear as day in Ray’s eyes. He was undoubtfully attracted to you. But more than that, he admired you. The way you cared for his sons. The way you managed to handle the lifestyle of the Santos while still obtaining your classy demeanor. You were capable of holding down a family. And although you were insecure thanks to what his eldest son had put you through, Ray wanted nothing more than to reassure you of your worth.

You hesitated for just a moment, before lunging upwards and meeting Ray in a passionate kiss. A kiss that conveyed all the words you wished to say, but didn’t have the strength to voice. His hands clutched your hip and cradled the side of your neck as he returned the kiss tenfold. Whether it was lust, genuine interest, curiosity, or some weird concoction of all three you found it entirely all too easy to throw caution to the wind around this man.

You nipped at Ray’s bottom lip playfully, biting back a grin when you solicited a low moan from him. Pride be damned. Morals be damned. You had no obligation to Oscar anymore. Cesar didn’t need to know about this. It would just be a secret between the two of you.

The whimper that escaped your lips as he forcefully tugged off your top sent shivers down Ray’s spine. He grunted when his eyes feasted on the exposed skin. Without him even asking you, you unclasped your bra and stood topless in front of him. He dove down, expertly taking your nipple into his hot mouth and began twirling his tongue around your hardened bud. You moaned mewled, hands running through his short hair and roaming his broad, muscled back. Your eyes rested on the faded Santos cross on his arm, whimpering when he nipped at your sensitive skin.

‘’R-Ray,’’ you moaned lowly, mouth falling open when his hand made contact with your ass in a playful slap. You had no time to recover before he pulled away from you, gently turning you so that your front was pushed and pinned against the cool surface of the granite island. You hissed as your already hard, sensitive tits pressed against the freezing surface. You rested your cheek against the counter, shivering as Ray yanked down your leggings.

‘’Fuck,’’ he moaned, seeing your wet core fully exposed and presented to him.

‘’You’re going to be the death of me mami,’’ he whispered, pressing his bulge against your gaping hole. You bit your lip at the heat that emitted from his still clothed cock. You knew what was awaiting you and your insides coiled at the anticipation.

Each of his massive hands took a firm hold on the globes of your ass, gripping them and spreading you apart so that you were on full display under him. You let out a shaky breath between panting when his hot saliva met your tightness. His thumb spread it against your folds, teasing your clit before diving two fingers into your awaiting cunt. Ray all but growled at the way you gripped his digits. The delicious way you pulsed and clenched excitedly around his middle and index finger. He found himself constantly thinking, ‘I could get used to this.’

‘’Ray,’’ your needy voice broke him out of his thoughts as he folded over you, you feeling ever muscle of his chest against your bare back as he pressed light kisses against your shoulder before finally meeting your cheek and then your plump lips.

‘’I need you,’’ you whispered, leaning into his kisses and sighing when you heard him pull himself from his pants.

‘’You have me, princessa,’’ he grunted, working himself with one hand as the other tangled with yours’. ‘’You have me, all of me,’’ he groaned thrusting his hips forward and filling you with a brutal, singular thrust. You cried out, the burn of him stretching your tight canal was familiar and slightly painful, but divine all at once. His hand clenched yours, as if assuring you that you were ok, his lips still kissing the tears that threatened to escape the corners of your eyes.

‘’Fuck y/n,’’ he groaned, savoring the feel of his cock dragging within your tight pussy, pulling you back towards him as bit, only for you to bounce forward as he thrusted back into your core. He set a fast, brutal pace as the sounds of his thrusts echoed off the walls. You were grateful that your neighbors were at work, the wanton mewls and cries that escaped your lips would’ve surely caught their attention. As his hand held yours throughout the entire time he fucked into you, the other had a firm grip on your shoulder. Pinning you down so that you couldn’t slip from his cock and pulling you back to impale yourself on to his thickness.

You attempted to burn the sounds of his grunts and groans, as well as the squelching of your tight core every time his hips snapped against you from behind, but soon became overwhelmed. He was heavy and hot inside of you. You could feel exactly where he was every time he was seated inside of you. Your body bounced in tune with his movements, but the feeling of his heavy, throbbing manhood in your cunt was something you’d always savor.

Before you could even speak, waves of euphoria crashed within you as your release fell over his still hard cock. You could only cry out his name, panting it out as his hold on you tightened. He pressed fully against you, curling over your back as his cock throbbed and pulsed violently, painting your insides with his release.

His arms wrapped around your front, dragging you so that you rested against his chest, impaling you on his still solid dick. With awkward movements he led you past the kitchen, into your bedroom while every step you took resulted in another jolt as you practically balanced yourself on his cock.

Ray only pulled out briefly, laying you on your back on your mattress. He hovered over you, panting as his eyes glazed over at the sight of you. Your hair sprawled out like a crown around you, chest heaving with your labored breath and the post-orgasm tremors that shook you. What really caught his attention was the sight of your pretty pussy, still impossibly tight, dripping with his load onto your sky-blue comforter.

‘’Ray,’’ you whispered, reaching up for him. He laid over you, crashing his lips against your lips, seating himself back inside you. Your hands clawed at the white tank he still had on, only or him to pull away slightly and yank it off, tossing it carelessly into the corner of your room. His sweatpants were next along with any other article of clothing he had previously worn. All that was left was himself, bare and all.

Your leggings had been long abandoned in the kitchen and the moment his bare skin met yours, your fates were sealed. It was hot, passionate, deplorable, mind-blowing, wicked, otherworldly sex. Your nails embedded themselves into his back and shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips as they crashed into you. Your moans mingled with one another, lips and teeth occasionally clashing against each other as he moved in you.

‘’It’s been too fucking long without this tight pussy, princessa. My pussy,’’ he growled, hammering into you as you struggled to keep up with his thrusts. Your clutched the comforter beneath you as that familiar coil began curling and tightening within you. He was reaching new depths, exploring new parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. And all you could do was lay there, moan out his name, and take it.

‘’Fuck, Ray, yes, fuck it feels so good,’’ you whined, throwing your head back as he began nipping and sucking on the column on your neck.

‘’Cum for me, mi reina,’’ he grunted, every muscle flexing as he moaned and panted above you. His hands were wrapped around your hips, dragging and pulling you upwards to meet his thrusts. The coil was impossibly tight, tears running down your cheeks and falling onto the bed below from the sensation of it all.

But came you did, violently around his manhood. You shook underneath him, mouth warped into an ‘’o’’ shape as you sighed and moaned under him. His thrusts sped up, to your shock, and it all came to a close the moment he pulled you to him, tucking his face into the base of your neck as his hot, thick load filled you once more.

As he pulsed within you, your pussy clenching and unclenching from the aftermath of two mind-blowing orgasms back to back, you simply laid there. You basked in the aftermath of it all, shivering when his load began dripping out of you and pooling onto the blanket, leaving a quarter-sized dark spot in its’ path. Once your breathing returned to normal, Ray met your eyes, a softness in them. His mouth met yours in a comforting, warm kiss. He was still inside you when you closed your eyes and fell into a satisfying, deep sleep.

When you had opened your eyes, it was visibly night-time. The orange glow of the streetlights illuminated your bedroom from your sheer curtains. Ray was knocked out beside you, one muscled arm thrown over your side in a protective manner. A small smile graced your lips, widening when you felt the strangely satisfying soreness between your legs.

You quietly got out of bed, maneuvering around the apartment to get a glass of water while trying not to disturb Ray. You had no idea where this was going to lead you. You weighed the possibilities. To date your ex-boyfriend’s father just seemed so ridiculous and wrong. No matter what Oscar had put you through with his infidelities, to go ahead and enter a relationship with his father just seemed cruel to you. And what would Cesar think if he were to catch you and Ray together? At the same time, you didn’t want to say goodbye to Ray. Aside from great sex, you felt a genuine connection with him. He was older, yes, but he made you feel things that nobody ever had. You huffed, sipping on your water as you felt the beginnings of a headache approaching. A sudden knock and turn of your front door startled you to the point you nearly dropped your glass onto the hardwood floor.

‘’Y/n,’’ Cesar’s voice was muffled, but clear as day through the door.

You gulped, body stiff with shock and fear. From your bedroom, the mattress creaked as Ray sat up, eyes groggy with sleep.

‘’Y/n?’’ he called out, getting up to check what the commotion was.

‘’Fuck me,’’ you sighed, mind racing and heart rising to your throat once more. You were so fucked.

#on my block #Ray Diaz #spooky diaz #cesar diaz #omb fic #ray x reader #freeridge #ray diaz x reader #Smut #on my block smut

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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (14)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: it’s time they got down to business… or isn’t it 😳

words: 6.2k

chapter fourteen

You spent nearly the whole Saturday on the phone with Inna – because she refused to let you hang up until you gave her a play-by-play of last night’s party (and all that happened after) – and, by the time you finally ended the phone call, you were half-deaf from all of her—supportive but rather alarming—screaming.

And then, before you were ready for it, you and Jungkook had another Sunday night dinner at his parents’ house.

Admittedly, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable seeing his parents again after having learnt that they gave the push that convinced Jungkook to cut his ties with you off, but this feeling only clouded your mind for about fifteen minutes – or, in other words, for the period of time that it took for Jungkook to arrive from his house to your dormitory.

By the time he got here, all that was left in your mind – and in the air around you as soon as you opened the door to let him in – was ease. Routine.

Like you were supposed to spend every Sunday night with his family, holding hands with him under the dinner table. Like this wasn’t somehow weird or unusual, or even awkward. Like this was how it’d always been – with no seven-year-long gaps – and how it was always supposed to be.

Even touching Jungkook after the last time you’d seen him was, most surprisingly, not at all different from touching him before your last conversation. It still caused lighting bolts to explode inside of your stomach, and you were used to the sensation by now.

The only difference was that now you knew.

And knowing allowed you to truly come back to the life you were once a part of.

It felt like the last time you’d been to his house, you only allowed yourself to set one foot in, holding yourself back in case this would all go wrong and hurt you, but now you were ready to try again. Now you were ready to go into it with your whole body – open chest and all.

Sure, the possibility of getting hurt was still there – even if it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook joked about how his mom was more excited to see you than him – but sometimes you had to believe—not just hope—that nothing bad was going to happen, in order to make it true.

And truly nothing bad seemed on the horizon as Jungkook – true to the promise he’d made earlier this week – took you to the ice cream shop near his home as soon as dinner was over so you could pick up some desserts for yourselves. You found the chocolate-chip cookie-flavored ice cream – the one he knew you loved – and all was bliss.

“What is it with you,” you asked him when the two of you walked out of the shop and Jungkook was happily licking two different flavors on his cone – strawberry and mint, “and these flavors?”

“They’re good together,” he defended, pushing his cone towards you. “Want to try?”

You scrunched your nose. “No. I’ll stick with my chocolate—”

“Boring.”

“Hey,” you gave him a look, unaware of the chocolate around the corners of your lips and how utterly irresistible it made you look to him, “you’ve been picking the sweetest flavors of ice cream ever since we were kids. Don’t call me boring if I choose to postpone my diabetes diagnosis.”

“Neither of us is getting diabetes,” he said, absentmindedly extending his hand to wipe the chocolate from your lips and then sucking his thumb into his mouth.

You forgot what you were talking about for a moment as you looked away from him, your face burning hot at the sight, but your hands freezing cold from the ice cream.

Jungkook didn’t notice and carried on.

“Do you remember when we used to collect those wooden popsicle sticks for no reason when we were kids?” he asked.

“I—yeah, I remember,” you said, taking a distracted bite your ice cream and then wincing when your temples froze. “I-I’m pretty sure we had a reason, though. You said you wanted to build a Trojan horse.”

“Oh, that’s right!” his face lit up just like it did that day when you were eight and you told him you’d help him build it. “I never had enough patience for a project like that. Why did you get on board with it?”

“Because you were really excited for it,” you replied as nonchalantly as you could manage – even though you could see it in his eyes when you looked at him, he did not think this was nothing; it was important to him – and then hid your face in your ice cream again.

Jungkook watched you for another moment, his heart beating peacefully but his mind buzzing with memories. You always ate your ice cream the same way – nearly all of it at once – ever since you were a little kid. He’d always made fun of you for it – not cruelly, because seeing the exhilaration in your eyes and your ice-cream-covered face always made him feel inexplicably warm inside – but now he wanted to grab your hand, stop you, and clean your lips with his own.

“I still have the popsicle sticks in my room,” he said while his ice cream melted in the paper cup in his hand.

“You do?” you asked, turning to look at him and making his suffering so much worse when you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why did you keep them all this time?”

Jungkook was glad you’d reached the gate of his house because that meant he could turn his back to you as he fumbled with the lock – it wasn’t a complicated mechanism, he just needed to look at something else for a bit – and tried to get his lungs to function properly again.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally opening the gate. “I guess I was hoping to still build that horse one day.”

You scoffed at this – Jungkook gave you a dignified look in return – and lingered by the gate for a second before you realized that he’d stopped to let you enter first.

“I’m not mocking,” you explained in response to the look on his face. “It’s actually great that you kept it.”

His mouth dried up when he closed the gate and turned around to walk towards the house before noticing how warm your gaze was. Then, to avoid you reading through him and figuring out what he was feeling, he stuffed a mouthful of ice cream into his mouth.

“It is?” he asked with a slight lisp and then hissed as the freezing sensation went straight to his brain.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a more wary look in your eyes now that Jungkook was in pain from the self-inflicted brain-freeze. “It shows that you’re waiting until you’re mature enough to be able to invest your time into something that requires a lot of patience.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily – you assumed it was from the cold – and lead you past the impeccably-kept bushes in his front-yard, and towards the entrance into his house.

“Yeah, no,” he said, finishing his ice cream in a few large bites that must have very literally frozen his throat. He tried not to let it show as he said in a very breathy voice, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

You shrugged your shoulders, slowly finishing your own ice cream as you brought your free hand over the vines that ran alongside the front wall of his house. “Maybe you don’t realize it.”

“Or maybe I kept the sticks because they reminded me of you.”

You stopped in front of his porch steps, unsure if you heard him right.

Swallowing the final bite of the chocolate-filled waffle cone, you looked at him in confusion – that was easy to mistake for disbelief, “hmm?”

Jungkook climbed up the steps – two at a time because he was always too impatient but, this time, also because he felt like he’d spoken too soon and he needed to put more distance between himself and you – and did not turn around to look at you until he fished his keys out from the pocket of his jeans, and unlocked the door.

“Yeah,” he said then, only giving you a glance as he opened the door and nodded his head inside, waiting for you to walk in first. “I still have a framed picture of us from middle school on my dresser.”

“Really?” you asked, looking at him even though he was now obviously avoiding your eyes.

There was even more surprise in your voice and it stung – you shouldn’t have been surprised about the fact that he cared enough to keep pictures that immortalized your friendship; but you were, and that was his fault – making him feel more self-conscious than he already was.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said and, smiling nervously, he stretched his hand behind his neck to scratch a nonexistent itch. “You want to see it?”

“Oh,” you were still standing on his doorstep while he was inviting you to his room. “Sure, yeah.”

You’d been to his room before – many times, in fact – so you hated the way the hairs on your skin stood up in anticipation. This wasn’t supposed to be any different from any other time you’d been in his room – was it? – and yet, you couldn’t help but remember that this was what you’d told yourself the last time you’d been there, too.

You two weren’t even the only people in his room that day – to celebrate the end of middle school, he’d invited his whole class – but, in your memory, everyone else was blurred and so dim that, sometimes, when you thought back on that day, you weren’t sure anyone else was even there. Or anywhere, for that matter. It’d felt like it was just you and him.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook suddenly brought you back to the present – and helped you realize just how hot your body was in spite of the excited shivers that ran down your back when you remembered his invitation – and you blinked before staggering inside.

Unaware of the several trips down memory lane that you’d taken while simply standing by his door, Jungkook extended a hand for you to take – and you took it, the movement automatic, as though you were in a well-rehearsed dance – and lead you towards the staircase.

You walked into his father on your way up the stairs, but he was on the phone so he merely gave his son a nod – and a smile for you – and then went on his way.

“You know, usually,” Jungkook said, sneering at the dismissal from his father, “parents would tell their kids to keep the door of their room open.”

Shivering again – but acting like you were most certainly not affected by the feeling of his palm against yours – you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“They would,” you said, licking your lips in an unconscious attempt to conceal the effect his not-at-all-innocent observation had on you, “but you’re twenty-three years old.”

He peered at you over his shoulder as he lead you down the second-floor hallway – nearly tripping over his feet when he saw you lick your lips – and then turned towards his room.

“Yes,” he said, “thank you for the newsflash,” and, stopping outside of his bedroom, he explained, “I meant, my parents never said that sort of thing to me. Not once.”

“Oh,” you caught on and lowered your eyes. “So, you brought a lot of people over, then?”

Jungkook smirked – you didn’t see this at first, but, when you raised your head again a minute later, confused by his silence, the smirk was still there – obviously very pleased to hear the not particularly well concealed shades of jealousy in your voice.

“None, actually. You’re the only one of my friends who’s been here,” he said then. “And I’ve already told you, I’ve never dated before.”

You were still unsure if he was pulling your leg. “Well, you don’t have to be dating people to bring them over to your—”

He pulled you into his room by your hand, not letting you finish your question. He closed the door and, this time, you two were really the only people here.

“I’m not like that,” he told you then, “but I understand where you’re coming from.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking him when you spoke, “you do?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the paper cup of ice cream – that was as empty as your mind when Jungkook kept on holding your hand even though, now that you were in his room, there was no reason for it – on his desk, and then leaning against it to look at you. “It’s a nice campus tale, me constantly having girls over. But the only times I did sleep with someone, I didn’t do it in a place I lived. Nothing against that, I’m just a private person in that way, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head once and turned away from him, choosing to watch the starved pigeons, which crept around his backyard, through the window. “That sure makes your reputation better.”

Jungkook snickered, reluctantly letting go of your hand – but only because you were unconsciously pulling away from him – and attempting to explain, “I don’t mean to say I have sex outside—”

“No, I-I…” you cut him off – your flustered state intrigued him further – as you walked over to the dresser that he’d mentioned before. “I get what you mean. It’s an interesting version of “don’t shit where you eat”, but—”

He laughed, the sound taking you by surprise and cutting you off.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” he said, his eyes glistening with humor. “But the saying fits, I guess.”

He plopped down on his bed as he said this and the conversation about how many people he’d slept with had run out – which was good, since you hadn’t braced yourself for a discussion about your experiences in this particular area.

Instead, you took a minute to take the rest of his room in; it had changed so little since the last time you’d seen it. But it was the picture – that was right there where he said it was – that really took you back to the time when you spent nearly every afternoon in this room.

Jungkook smiled as he watched you reminisce, but not because he liked to see the way your features softened as you admired the picture from your childhood, but because you fit in this room far better than he did.

“Are you here a lot?” you asked as if having read his mind.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you told me you moved out a while ago…” you said, “and the room looks just as I remember it, so I just—”

“Oh. No, I’m—I’m not here a lot,” he admitted. “But I do come when I visit my parents.”

“Which is once a year?”

He acknowledged the jab by pursing his lips and retorting, “a lot more than that now that I have you with me.”

You hummed in response but your mind was already elsewhere as you pointed at the ceremoniously locked nightstand in the corner next to his bed, “what’s this?”

It looked so eccentric and out-of-place – not the stand itself, but the chain that ran along both sides of it, a trusty lock in the middle – that you couldn’t help but feel curious.

Jungkook, however, leaped on all fours and crawled over his bed to guard the nightstand with his hands – as if you were Cyclops and were about to burn through the stand with a laser beam from your eyes – a defensive look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he said even though this was obviously the most interesting piece of furniture in his whole room, “just a decoration.”

“With chains—?” you tried to ask but Jungkook jumped back to his previous position and patted the spot on the bed next to himself.

“Come on,” he said. “Sit. Do you remember the last time you were here?”

He knew this was the only way to change the topic – and the defeated look on your face confirmed his expectations – but, when you remained standing across the room, he patted the bed again, more eagerly this time.

“We celebrated our graduation from middle school with the other kids,” he said because you didn’t show any other sign to let him know whether you remembered or not. Jungkook could feel that you did, but, regardless, he still continued, “we played Truth or Dare. Remember?”

It was ridiculous he even had to ask that. Some days – and even more frequently now that you were talking again – your middle school graduation was all you could think about, even all of these years later.

“Barely,” you replied but you both knew it was a lie. “It was a long time ago, lots have happened since—”

“Someone dared you to kiss me,” he said with an innocent expression on his face – because he was just refreshing your memory – but it was quickly replaced by an amused grin when your eyes widened in surprise – not because you were shocked he’d said it, but because saying it aloud conjured up a much clearer image of that day; probably because now you knew that the memory of that day was as fresh in his mind as it was in yours.

“Sure,” you said, laughing weakly to hide how warm your hands, your face, and your whole body was. “That was a thing that, uh… happened.”

“So,” Jungkook was grinning but it was only an attempt to conceal his own anxiety – if he stopped grinning, he was going to have to handle the rapid beating of his heart inside of his chest, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do that just yet. “Truth or dare?”

The question sobered you up from the intoxicating memory and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“We’re not fourteen and in middle school anymore,” you said. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” he urged you again, “truth or dare?”

You knew better than to insist he dropped this – there were barely any people more demanding and frustrating than him; you couldn’t even name one – so you didn’t waste your breath trying.

Groaning because you knew he wouldn’t be pleased with your answer – just like you weren’t pleased with him even suggesting this game – you said, “truth.”

Jungkook smiled knowingly because – just like you’d predicted – he was absolutely expecting this and had, therefore, prepared accordingly.

“Who was your first kiss?” he asked without wasting a second.

God, this was going to be a long night, you started to realize. Now you weren’t sure if the ice cream was even worth it – maybe you should have left after dinner.

Meeting his expectant gaze, you tried your hardest to convey all of your hatred for this game through your eyes – but Jungkook wasn’t watching them, he was watching your lips as he waited for your answer – and then you finally said, “you.”

You were almost expecting triumphant fanfares to go off somewhere outside of his house but, instead of that, Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, indicating that your answer had surprised him – even though it really shouldn’t have; you may not have been his first kiss, but you had never even wanted to kiss anyone who wasn’t him.

He was obviously going to inquire about this further – but what was there to ask, honestly? – but you were categorically not going to let him.

“Truth or dare?” you fired.

Jungkook closed his mouth, decided – begrudgingly – that this was a fair play, and then, true to himself, replied, “dare.”

“Show me your mysterious nightstand.”

He looked disappointed and more than ready to refuse – good, now he knew how you felt – but got up from the bed nevertheless.

He walked over to his desk first and got a singular key out from under the fake-bottom of the top drawer – courtesy of his Death Note phase – before slowly sliding it into the lock on the nightstand across the room. Turning it until you both heard a pleasant click, Jungkook took the chains off and huffed as he looked at you before doing anything else.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see inside so you couldn’t brace yourself for anything but, as Jungkook opened the door of the nightstand, you realized there was no possible way for you to prepare for this anyway.

There were piles of pictures inside – polaroids, of you and him at the lakehouse your families used to rent out every summer – old cut-outs from the school newspaper, showing you, as the president of the Student Council, and the principal of the school. There were the old dog tags you two had gotten together at a fair one spring – because he kept accidentally ripping every friendship bracelet you two ever had – and there were the remote-controlled cars that you’d gotten him for his tenth birthday – you’d been saving up for them that whole year.

Scanning the contents of the nightstand – while Jungkook watched you, biting his lip – you noticed that he had a copy of almost every single movie you’d ever shown him – the DVD of The Sixth Sense, of course, resting at the very front – and, more than that, he had post-it notes glued to all of them with notes ranging from as obscure as, “She said it’s good” to direct quotes from you, “She said I would like it because it’s violent enough to keep me at the edge of my seat but it also has meaning. She smiled a lot when she told me about it.”

And then, as if your heart wasn’t already beating fast enough, you saw the popsicle sticks on the very bottom of the nightstand. Most of them were just scattered there, long forgotten, but some were glued together in what was supposed to be the base of the Trojan horse you two had never gotten to build.

You pulled back, feeling like every time you inhaled, a new memory returned to you, each heavier than the one before. When you finally removed your eyes from the mementos of the past and looked at him, your chest was so full, it was weighing you down.

“You—” you started but the words got lost on their way out of your throat. You tried again, “you kept all of this—”

“Of course,” he said, closing the nightstand now that you weren’t looking at it anymore – he didn’t bother with the chain – and then returning to his previous spot on the bed. “I couldn’t bring it all with me when I left the house because I didn’t know where I was going to go. And I couldn’t leave it all hanging around my room because… well, because I didn’t want my parents to turn the room into a home gym and throw everything out.”

“B-but why—”

“Because it’s important to me,” he replied, knowing what you were going to say, “because these are the things that you and I did together. It’s us. You and me. I kept everything that reminded me of you.”

His words soothed the old wounds but it opened up new ones, too, because, in the seven years that you didn’t have any contact with him, you’d done everything you could to erase him from your life completely – throwing anything that reminded you of him out, until your room and your whole house was void of any connection to him – while he did the complete opposite and attempted to preserve as much of your past friendship as it was possible.

“My turn,” Jungkook said, his voice shakier than it’d been before. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t want to play anymore. You felt like you physically couldn’t play anymore.

“Jungkook—”

“Truth or dare?” he repeated, more persistent this time.

Sighing because this was hopeless, you replied, “truth.”

He shook his head. “You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

You should have seen it coming and yet you still felt a pang of annoyance that completely broke you out of the blissful state the contents of the nightstand had put you in before.

“Yes, I can,” you protested. “You just watched me do it.”

He didn’t give in. “That’s against the rules.”

“There are no rules in this game.”

“Yes, there are.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who made them?”

“Me,” Jungkook said, crossing his legs to find a more comfortable position. “My house, my rules. You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

“Fine, you dick,” you replied – he almost smiled at the name – and settled, “dare, then.”

It was almost funny, really, how easily the words came to Jungkook as he dared you, “kiss me.”

If you’d have turned your head to the old clock on his wall by the desk, you would have noticed how the arrows had stopped – they stopped long before tonight but, in that moment only, they showed the right time. Almost as if Jungkook wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting to say this to you. Everything in his room had been waiting, too.

Jungkook thought you’d do it -- he thought you’d turn your head, look away. Look for an excuse to back out of this.

That’s why he didn’t kiss you but gave you an opening to do it yourself, using the game as an excuse. And, in the quiet moment that passed, he waited for your eyes to leave his, refusing the opportunity. But they never did.

You didn’t think you could tear your eyes away from his yearning gaze – just like gravity prevented you from floating off into space, the force of his eyes prevented you from pulling away. Instead, they pulled you in.

And so you kissed him again, seven years later.

It was just a touch first – you barely registered the feeling of his lips against yours – but, before a chance to pull away even presented itself, the touch melted, locking your lips together.

He tasted like the strawberry mint gum he kept in his car.

He tasted like the flavor of the ice cream he’d picked today.

And, although you’d refused to try it when he offered outside of the ice cream shop, you couldn’t deny it when you were kissing him – strawberry and mint went so incredibly well together.

He tasted like the best friend you’d day-dreamed of kissing before you went to sleep at night.

He tasted like everything you’d ever wanted.

And, belatedly, the triumphant fanfares did go off somewhere in the distance – although it could have just been the sound of your hearts, calling out to each other through your chests – but the only sound you could hear clearly was the sound of his mouth moving against yours as he deepened the kiss, standing up on his knees on the bed and gently pushing you forwards until you landed on your back and he was leaning on his elbows on either side of you.

There were many things you knew about Jungkook – your knowledge coming from all of the days you’d spend together as children – but there were also several things that you didn’t know.

For one thing, you didn’t know what his kisses felt like when there was no one watching.

And now you did as his tongue tenderly brushed against yours, growing more impatient by the second, until you had to hold onto his chest with one hand and wrap the other one around his neck to prevent yourself from completely melting under him.

Furthermore, you didn’t know how long he’s waited for this.

And now you did as his warm body pressed against yours, freezing cold and almost screaming in the parts where he couldn’t physically touch you.

Kissing him felt relieving because you’d waited for this, too, and uselessly tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need his arms around you as much as you did.

It felt freeing because now you could finally admit to yourself how much you’d wanted to kiss him and have him catch his breath against your neck before bringing his lips back to yours again.

But it also felt dangerous because you couldn’t stop – you didn’t want to stop – and, not being in control of your surroundings and, most importantly, of yourself, was something that you knew would have dire consequences. You needed to prepare for this beforehand, consider every possible outcome and—

But then Jungkook pushed one of his thighs between your legs, kissing you harder—deeper—and you no longer cared about being in control of the situation.

Sighing into the kiss – until he nearly passed out because he’d imagined this before and, for half a moment, he was afraid this was all happening in his head again – you abandoned all of your inhibitions and held onto him tighter, kissing him back with matching intensity.

And that moment – the one moment when you gave in to him completely – was precisely when someone knocked on his door.

However, even though you had both heard it, neither of you reacted to it, your mouths not pausing for a moment and his fingers never leaving the spot under your shirt – right above your waist – where they’d come to rest.

A moment later, you thought you’d only imagined the knock – the sound was already so far away in the distance, it didn’t even feel like you’d really heard it.

In his case, precisely because this – kissing on his bed in his childhood room – was actually real and not just a figment of his imagination, Jungkook simply assumed that everything else had to be happening in some other world where he wasn’t kissing you. In a world that didn’t exist. In a world that didn’t matter.

And so, naturally, he didn’t pay attention to any foreign sounds, focusing on the feeling of your skin, your lips, your touch, you, instead.

But then the knock came again. Shameless, truly, because it had to be obvious what was happening inside; it was impossible not to hear someone knock on the door of a room that was as empty as Jungkook’s bedroom.

This time, you both paused. But Jungkook – who hadn’t lived with his parents in a long time and, therefore, couldn’t remember their habits – was curious if, perhaps, the knocking would go away if unanswered, and so he went back to kissing you a second later.

Much to his—and yours—irritation, however, it didn’t seem like the knocking was going to stop. If anything, it started to get more intense and your hand – the one that pulled him closer to you by his shirt – ended up having to push him away slightly.

“Jungkook?” his mother’s uncertain voice reached your ears, but when you saw his face when he pulled away from you, you felt like you may as well have imagined that sound, too, because the sight of his puffy lips and wide, blown-out pupils made you lean forward to connect your lips again, if only for just a moment.

Jungkook was convinced you hadn’t yet grasped the effect you had on him; he couldn’t just stop kissing you out of the blue like that. And so he leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours until he felt you kiss him back. And then you broke the spell by turning your face towards the door as you tried to speak.

“It’s your mom,” you said, completely out of breath. “You should open it.”

Growling with frustration, he pushed himself off of you and climbed off the bed, not giving you a second to get up and make your activities less obvious before he was throwing the door open a lot more aggressively than he’d intended.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you two were back yet,” his mother said, seemingly unfazed by her son’s obvious frustration. “I just got the pie out of the oven, so the dessert is ready. Your dad and I were waiting downstairs, are you two—”

“We got ice cream,” he reminded his mother in a surprisingly gentle tone – even if his body remained stoic – and then glanced over his shoulder at you. “Unless you’d like to grab a slice?”

“Uh, I—thank you,” you said, standing up from the bed and desperately attempting to fix your hair while still remaining polite, “but I still feel full from the ice cream. A-and your dinner was wonderful, too, of course.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” his mother smiled at you and then gave her son a nod. “If you feel like getting tea with us, we’ll be in the kitchen, okay? Sorry I barged in on you like that, you didn’t tell me when you came back home, so I didn’t—”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook said, still in a hurry. “We ran into dad, though. He knew we were back.”

“He did?” this seemed to surprise her. “Huh. He didn’t tell me.”

Huh, indeed. Maybe his father had his own ways of making sure Jungkook kept the door of his bedroom open.

“Well, no matter,” his mother added. “I’ll leave now. Sorry again!”

She smiled at you once more before she walked back to the staircase. You couldn’t tell if her eyes had been glittering because of the few glasses of wine that she’d had with dinner, or because she was able to tell what had been going on in this room before she came in.

Or maybe she was just happy that you were both home, safe and sound, and hanging out in his room – just like back in the day.

“Well,” Jungkook said after closing the door of his room. He wasn’t trying to conceal his disappointment, “that was my mom and her perfect timing.”

You chuckled. “Ah, she could have come in later. That would have been worse.”

“Yeah?” he liked to hear that you’d been imagining what could have happened later, as he walked back to you. “What do you think we’d have been doing?”

“Anything,” you replied, ignoring the fratboy in him but allowing his arms to comfortably wrap themselves around your waist. You replied to his smile with one of your own but did not dare to close the distance between you, only choosing to carefully rest your hands on his shoulders. “Do you know what time it is?”

Jungkook groaned, knowing that you must have understood his mother’s arrival as a sign that it was time for you to go home. “No, don’t start with the time!”

“What?” you asked, surprised by his agitation. “Why not?”

“Because it’s always the time that interrupts us,” he said, knowing how pointless it was but still cursing the time, the place, and almost the entire universe. “The night always ends before I’m ready for it.”

“Are you ever ready for it?” you asked but, in all actuality, you were asking him something else.

“No,” he said, answering both of your questions. “I’m never ready to leave you. You could stay over, you know.”

He’d once called you the most ambitious person he’d ever known, and yet there was nothing you wanted more than to stay here. Stay for a night. For however many nights it was possible.

But there were too many things to think about, too many outcomes to consider. You’d barely grown used to your relationship as old-friends-who-were-fake-dating before you kissed – mostly unprovoked and largely because you wanted to, not because he’d dared you to – and opened up the door to a whole new world.

“I…” you spoke, swallowing slowly. You knew you were someone who had to learn how to maneuver the magical carpet first, before hopping on it and flying away. That was who you were. “Thank you. But I think it’d be best if I went home tonight.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing and fully expecting you to say this. He wasn’t going to object because you’d already taken a huge step—a leap, really—over your own self when you responded and kissed him, and he didn’t want to pressure you into giving in and making any similar decisions before you were ready, no matter how much he wanted you to make them. No matter how much he wanted you.

But he was still going to give you a hard time about this. Because that was who he was.

“Leaving me wanting more, yeah?” he teased.

“Not leaving you,” you said. “Just leaving.”

He loved the way this sounded like a promise – and he would keep replaying your words in his head until the next time he saw you – but he didn’t show it, taking you by the hand instead.

“Let me take you home then,” he said and then threatened, “you should know before we go, though – I am fully determined to make you feel bad for abandoning me when I needed you the most.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” you replied, making him smile in appreciation before leaning in to press a quick—almost chaste—kiss to your cheek.

He pulled away to open the door of his room and then walked outside, taking small steps and deep sighs, his theatrics always very sharp.

“Off I go,” Jungkook began, “starting my journey of loneliness—”

“Is that from a song?” you asked, interrupting his improvised monologue as you followed after him.

“It’s from my life,” he replied shortly. You tried to suppress your laughter and he continued, more dramatic now that he’d noticed he was entertaining you, “off I go, into the dark cavern of solitude. All by myself, all over again...”

Each one of your involuntary giggles only encouraged him, so Jungkook kept this up all the way to your dorm and then he found a way to keep going over text messages, spamming you with his Shakespearean delusions until you threatened to block his number if he didn’t stop.

And then, after testing you for another half an hour, he finally did stop and went to sleep – alone, but with the memory of you that was so strong, it was like you were there with him.

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percabethfeelsfandom · 3 years

Text

Writing Prompt: Home

Percy stood by the bulletin board in the Big House, fingers tracing the edge of a photo of him, Annabeth and Grover. His sixteen-year-old face smiling widely at him with his arms thrown around Annabeth and Grover’s shoulders.

Seven years later, Percy still remembered taking the photo. The day before he was set to go back to Goode, his first time going to the same school two years in a row. The happiness that was in their features hadn’t lasted long. But it was nice that this moment was immortalised.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

Percy found a smile rising to his face as he saw Chiron duck his head to avoid hitting the doorframe, joining Percy to look at the other photos of campers that had accumulated over the years. Faces that Percy had grown up with, and new ones.

“Can’t help it. Every time I come here...it’s like travelling back in time.”

Percy removed his hand from the photo and let it drop to his side. Chiron gave him a small smile and looked fondly at the collage of photos. In the corner there was even a faded photograph of Chiron smiling smugly while Mr D held a goblet disapprovingly.

“Does it feel different coming back?” Chiron asked. Percy stepped away from the photos and went to stand in front of the window glancing out to look at the fields outside.

“Yeah. In a good way, but…” Percy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it, “I feel bad I guess. That I left. This was home for so long.” His fingers itched to move so he brought them to the necklace that still hung around his neck. All the years later he still tried to wear it every day, even sometimes underneath his work clothes. The beads had a permanent place around his place and sat perfectly in the hollow of his throat, a constant familiar presence.

“You didn’t leave, Percy,” he reassured. Percy thumbed his first camp bead, staring at the glowing trident.

“Didn’t I?”

“No. You deserve a life outside of here. It’s because of you that you have a world to go to, you deserve a chance to live in it. It’d be foolish of you not to.”

“You make it sound like I did it alone,” he gestured to the photo collage, “Each of those people played a part. Every person that steps foot into camp played a part in that. They deserve to be out there too.”

“When they know what they’re up against then they can. Until then I will train them.”

“Don’t you ever wish we could do more?”

“Every day.”

“I feel like I ran away from the fight.”

“Every hero yields in the end. And yielding is not always a bad thing.”

“So why does it feel like it?”

“Why are you so full of doubt? You seemed so sure, so happy with your decision before.” Percy thought back to when he had finally managed to graduate high school, and made the final decision to go to college and move away from New York. The sharp pain that had settled in his chest when he had watched Camp grow smaller and smaller the further they went. The pain hadn’t eased till Annabeth had gripped his hand, reassuring him that they’d be back. That this wasn’t forever.

Percy sighed deeply and reached into his pocket to press his fingers against Riptide for comfort.

“Things have changed. And I guess- I’m scared,” Percy let out a choked laugh. Things had definitely changed if he was able to admit he was scared.

“Is everything okay?”

“Annabeth’s pregnant.”

Chiron’s eyes widened before his face broke out into a smile.

“Congratulations!” He reached down and patted Percy on the shoulder. But Percy didn’t mirror his smile. Slowly Chiron retracted his hand and gave him a questioning look.

“Are you not happy?”

Percy rushed to correct him, shaking his head wildly.

“Oh gods, I’m ecstatic, don’t get me wrong. But...Annabeth and I always said we wouldn’t have kids unless we were positive we’d be bringing them into a safe world...and now that we are- I don’t know if it’ll ever be safe. Like we’re demigods for Hades’ sake.”

“Is that why you came back?” Percy nodded.

“I don’t know anywhere safer than here. It’s like I never want to let her out of my sight.” Almost to prove his point Percy looked out to the fields again, trying to get a glimpse of Annabeth who was at her cabin, catching up with family members and any of the campers they had once trained with. Though he knew exactly where she was, Percy could feel the edge of anxiety heightening his senses, hyper-aware of any possible dangers.

“And I guess, I wanted advice. I know you don’t have kids of your own, but, you have this camp. When I wasn’t with my Mom and Dad, I had you. I already asked my Mom how she did it; how she lived with the fear of having a child in our world.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she loved me too much to ever feel scared.”

“That’s all a parent can do Percy.”

“That’s not very helpful,” he huffed. Chiron laughed and gestured to the doorway, leading the two of them out of the Big House and to the centre of camp where the cabins were.

“You asked me if I wished we could do more, to help them,” he nodded in the direction of campers in their orange shirts, playing volleyball, their laughter drifting in the wind. “Each day, for the years I have been alive, I give them my knowledge about protecting themselves, I teach them our history so that they may one day learn from our mistakes. I love them and watch them grow. Sometimes they leave and sometimes they use the knowledge I’ve passed on and they create a life of their own, and save the world along the way. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes what I’ve taught them isn’t enough...and they don’t. It’s an endless cycle when you think of it, this role I chose. But what more can I do when I have dedicated my life to this. The world still needs heroes, and as long as those heroes need guidance I will give it to them. What more can I do when I’ve given them a chance?”

“You were raised by a brilliant woman, Perseus, she gave you the best chance she could by loving you. The best you can do for your own child is the exact same. And with Annabeth by your side, I have no doubt you’ll achieve that.”

“Did you have a good talk with Chiron?” Annabeth asked as she pulled the blanket over her legs. Percy helped her adjust the sheets, tucking her in and sitting next to her. They’d been given the Poseidon cabin to stay at for the meantime; Percy’s two half-siblings on a quest together.

Though they visited every summer, being back in his old cabin, even in his old bed, was giving Percy an odd sense of deja vu.

Percy nodded, but his attention was elsewhere, noting all the new scratches and the weapons hung on the wall that didn’t belong to him. His heart went out to his siblings, the call for a quest, taunting him after so many years of him wishing it would be someone else when he was younger.

“Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth said softly. Percy turned to her fully and shook his head, trying to clear it with thoughts. Annabeth’s face was etched with concern, and Percy placed his hands over hers, which laid over her stomach that was starting to show.

“I’m okay.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Coming back after all this time,” she said looking around the cabin as well. Percy nodded again, readjusting himself in the bed so he could hold her closer.

“We visit every summer though,” he pointed out, but Annabeth shook her head and then leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s different, we’ll be here for a while, we don’t need to leave at the end. We don’t need to always look behind our shoulders, at least not for now. It’s nice.”

“Chiron said something today...I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Hmm?” Idly, Percy traced circles on her shoulder as he brought his arms around her.

“Something about giving heroes a chance, that’s what it all comes down to. Doesn’t it? No matter how good you are, powers, training, knowledge, all of that goes out the door, because it’s up to the Fates isn’t it?” Annabeth sat up straighter turning to him.

“I like to think we play a part in it as well, just because the Fates have a say, doesn’t mean all choices are taken away from us. We chose to leave camp. And I don’t regret that.” She said firmly.

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?”

“Because I know you, Perseus Jackson.”

“No matter what the Fates have in store for us, Percy, I’m willing to go through it. If it means I’m by your side. I know we didn’t want to come back to Camp, but is it so bad when it ensures our safety? This was our home growing up. It’ll be a great place for our child to grow up, then we can leave when it’s safe again.”

“We left because we thought we’d be safe. Now I’m wondering if we should’ve stayed so that we could’ve avoided coming back...does that make sense?”

“Perce.”

“Yeah yeah. I know. I’m not upset about being here exactly. But after everything, I just thought we’d done enough for the Fates to believe we could get a break from this world. Let us live in ignorance for a bit. It’s selfish but maybe we deserve to be a bit selfish?”

“I know.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Percy’s, closing her eyes.

She pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek before laying down, signalling that she was finished with this conversation. The pregnancy was constantly leaving her tired, and even now, Percy could see the purple beneath her eyes despite the excessive amount of hours she was sleeping. Carrying a demigod child was taking a toll on her, and it was slowly killing Percy. He made sure he tucked her in tightly before leaving his cabin and making the familiar trek to the water where his thoughts finally began to calm.

He looked out into the deep blue of the night, and the seemingly bottomless ocean.

“I know you’re listening, Father...I don’t think I want to talk. But if you could listen? I think I just need that,” Percy paused, waiting for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he eased himself onto the sand and rolled up his pants so that he could dip his feet into the low tide.

“After the war, it was so hard for me to leave camp. Especially after Gaea took me. I felt that every time I left I’d come back and see my home in ruins. Everything I’ve done since I found out I was your child has been to preserve this Camp. It means more to me than a location probably should, but it was always there for me to come back to. But after Jason, I needed to leave. I was so tired of coming back to a camp and seeing one less face. I know it wasn’t my fault, but it felt like I was being taunted, that I couldn’t save him...because I was somewhere else. Leaving after college was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And now coming back, I’m scared that once I leave something bad is going to happen again. It’s not just Annabeth on the line anymore, I could risk it with her because she can protect herself but if our child is at risk? What do I do then?” The words were rushing out of Percy like a dam breaking, and he was stumbling and gasping over his words as tears welled up inside his chest, demanding to be released.

“Coming back means leaving. And I don’t think my heart can take it.”

There was a soft breeze and Percy felt the water at his feet grow colder. He looked up from where he had buried his face in his arms.

“You cannot let fear rule your life. Or you will forget to live.”

Percy scoffed at his Father and shook his head, not bothering to stand up. Other gods would have been offended, but Poseidon looked down sympathetically at Percy and sat down, lowering himself to Percy’s level.

“Let me rephrase that. Fear will always be a part of your life, it will always be there because you are my son and Annabeth is Athena’s daughter, you are Heroes of Olympus, and with that title, someone or something will always be hateful-”

“Is this meant to make me feel better?” Poseidon let out a chuckle and Percy rolled his eyes.

“Let me finish. Fear will always exist. But there are things that are more powerful than that. Think of your mother, her fear of Gabe, and her fear of monsters finding you when you were young...neither ever stopped her loving you, it made her fight harder to protect you. Your own fear of your prophecy didn’t stop you from fulfilling it, because you cared too much for your city and your friends. My own fear of my brother when you were accused of stealing the bolt didn’t stop me from claiming you. The same applies here. Your fear of coming back and leaving Camp Half Blood doesn’t make it any less your home. It will always protect you.”

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whydoyouwantmyname · 4 years

Text

Imagine being Sirius’s daughter {Part Two}

Part one

-Remus took you to James and Lily’s funeral, knowing that you had no idea what was happening, but he had to go..... he had to know it was real.

-He also took you to Peter’s funeral.

-On full moon nights Dumbledore would come get you from the cabin and take you to Hogwarts. He had a spare bed set up for you in the office, and you would sleep there under the window, Fawkes perched at the foot of your bed standing guard.

-When you were older some nights you would stay with Hagrid in the Hut. He loved having you around, and would teach you all about the garden, the grounds, and the magical creatures.

-You often asked Remus when your father was coming home. He didn’t tell you until you were three that Sirius wasn’t coming home for a very long time.

-The first year you lived with him, he would find himself going to bed heartbroken, exhausted from trying to be strong for your sake all day. His tears freely falling as his mind flashed back to a happier time.

-After that first year it happened far less frequently.

-Remus built you a spare room, and filled it full of the books Lily bought you from the flat, along with photographs of the past events.

-He also got your stuffed animals that represented the Marauders, and added to it a stuffed Lily. They sat on your bookshelf.

-One of the photos was of Harry and you, and when you first saw it you asked, “What happened to Harry?”

“Well, he went to live with Lily’s sister.”

“Can we go see him?”

“Unfortunately not, see Lily’s sister is a muggle, and Auntie Lily always said that her sister was not a fan of wizards. So I doubt she would find our presence welcoming.”

-One night you were sitting at the table when you asked, “Uncle Mooney, did Daddy kill Uncle Prong and Auntie Lily?”

“No my love, he didn’t. They were killed by a very bad wizard, who wanted to hurt Harry.”

“But why? Harry is just a harmless baby, right?”

“You are far smarter than your father.” Remus smiled, “You are right my love, but this wizard was scaried of Harry, and that why he attacked Uncle Prong, and Auntie Lily.” Remus sighed, before standing, “I am going to my room very quick, is your bag packed for Hogwarts?”

“Yes Mooney.” You replied with a smile, as he retreated towards the master room, and towards his bed. Crouching down he withdrew a old shoe box and pulled back the lid to reveal a stack of envelopes, each filled with parchment addressed to both you and him, your father’s handwriting filled the pages. However it was the envelope at the bottom of the stack that Remus needed to reread.

Mooney,

I have to apologize, for these last few months I have been withholding a secret from you, I thought you had turned on us. I was convinced that you had switched sides, and convinced our own friends, our brothers that you couldn’t be trusted. This assumption also lead me to make the worst decision of my life.

I convinced James and Lily to name Wormtail as their secret keeper, in fear that you had told Voldemort I was the Potter’s secret keeper, since I was their closest friend, and The Godfather of their child. James was insistent that he didn’t trust anyone more, but my desire to protect my family led me to lead them to their ultimate demise. That is why I went after Wormtail, and unfortunately he escaped. My guess is he is in some sewer somewhere as the rat that he is, cowarding away from the truth of his crimes.

I am sorry I ever doubted you, and I am sorry my decisions have now no doubt forced you into the role of fatherhood, a role I know that you have always longed for, but never felt you desired. I know Dumbledore has probably brought you my sweet [Y/N], and asked you to take her in. I know you love her as much as James, Lily, and I did, but that you are scared she will judge you once she learns of your condition. I promise you she won’t. I only ask one thing of you Remus..... don’t let her grow up thinking her father betrayed his friends, tell her the truth, tell her I love her.

My dearest brother, I love you, and I ask that you forgive me for what I have done. I will make this up to you, and when I get out, I will not only hug my daughter, but also you.

Padfoot

-Remus never told you about the letters

-The day after you returned from that trip you looked at Remus, “Uncle Mooney, can we plant lilies?”

“Of course Love.” He smiled, as you both went out to the car he had stored away in the garage, and drove to town. That afternoon you both planted Lilies in the entire flower box infront of the cabin windows, a smile on both your faces as you chattered.

-Hargid loved when you visited, you were obsessed with learning about the different creatures on the grounds.

-Remus loved having you in the cabin with him, he tried as hard as he could to raise you the way he imagined Sirius would want you to be raised.

-Remus hated your traumatic threes, he remembered Lily once joking with Sirius about how you will be a rebellious two year old once you hit the terrible twos, but he was not prepared for it to hit when you were three.

-However there was no doubt in his mind you were Sirius’s child, even at a young age you and your father shared a similar sense of humor.

-When you weren’t being a rambunctious toddler, Remus enjoyed taking you for strolls in the forest, he would watch as you touched every tree, and tried to smell all the flowers. He would carry a book with him as well filled with all the different plant varieties, and whenever you found a new one, you and him would sit on the forest floor and rummage through the book until you identified the plant.

-The night after the full moons were always the hardest on Remus, he was still wide awake from sleeping all day, but Dumbledore always brought you back after the great feasts. Remus would sit with you on the couch as you raved about all the professors he had loved while in school, and then at 9:30 he would put you to bed. As soon as you would drift off though he would sit there and watch you sleep, his mind racing with all the possibilities life had to offer you. It also though was flooded with the occasional dread, for you were the daughter of Sirius Black, a man who was now marked as a traitor and a murderer, he feared this would make you the victim of relentless teasing, and isolation among your peers. But he couldn’t let that consume his thoughts as he watched your chest rise and fall.

-Remus always made you pancakes for breakfast, a lesson he learned from Lily when he went to visit her one summer before their fifth year. Her handwriting still graced the page of his journal, which he had open on the counter every time he made them, even though he had already memorized the recipe.

-Snack time always consisted of chocolate.

-He began homeschooling you when you turned 4, your favorite lessons were writing, and defense against the dark arts.

-You once asked why your father never wrote you, Remus lied and said he had no idea, even though Sirius wrote you and him letters constantly. He stored them all in the box.

-When you would go to Hogwarts McGonagall would always bring you into her classroom after lessons were over, and tell you about her days as a quidditch player, and about how your Uncle James was the best chaser she had ever seen.

-You figured out Remus was a werewolf, you were five, and while he tucked you in you let it slip that you knew. He just looked at you in disbelief, but you just smiled, “I mean it makes sense, Uncle Mooney, I mean why else would they call you that?”

“How long have you known about my.... condition?” He finally asked, disbelief still in his voice as you shrugged, “Since about a month before my fourth birthday.”

-One day you offered to stay with Remus during a full moon, however he looked at you and smiled, “No my love, I will be fine, besides I know then that you are safe, and I promised your father I would keep you safe.”

-When you were in the castle, Snape avoided you.

-Dumbledore had already guaranteed that you would be attending Hogwarts, much to Remus’s joy.

-Normally he would read to you from the thousands of books he has filled your room with, however occasionally you would look at him and ask for a story about him and the rest of your family, and with a pained smile he would reminisce about the 10 years of friendship he had.

-When you were 5 he explained to you what Azkaban was, and how that’s where your father was.

-When you turned 6 he took you to Diagon Alley for the first time, you absolutely loved it.

-You were 7 when you asked Remus, “Uncle Mooney, how did Voldemort find Uncle Prongs, and Auntie Lily?”

“What do you mean darling?”

“Well they were in hiding, he shouldn’t have been able to find them, I mean they were apart of one of the most intelligent wizarding organizations in London, and I am sure the Order would have the necessary tools to hide them. So how did he find them?”

“Only one person knew where the Potters were hidden, they were the secret keeper...”

“You mean my father?” You cut him off, as his eyes met yours, “Are you trying to tell me Daddy turned them over to...”

- Your eyes were watering, and Remus watched as your mind processed the new information. After several moments of silence you bolted from the kitchen and slammed your bedroom door.

-After a few hours Remus softly knocked on your door, “Love, can I come in?”

Your room was silent, but the door slowly opened several seconds later, and the imagine broke Remus’s heart. Your eyes were rimmed red, and bloodshot, your face flushed, and the shine of your tears reflected the cabin lights. Your fingers did a quick pass against your cheeks as you whispered, “My father would never turn on the Potters.”

“I know Love.” He lied, because even though he got letters daily from Sirius, pleading to his best friend to believe he was innocent and to give him any news of his little girl, Remus wasn’t sure if he even believed Sirius.

-That night Remus told you the story about how he first met you, and how shocked he was when James called him after speaking to his mother, who had spent the whole day helping Sirius prepare to be a father. You smiled the whole story, as you cling to the black dog plushie Lily had bought you.

-After that you both never brought the subject up again, however you always knew your father was innocent.

-When you turned 8, you had basically mastered basic potions, and whenever you visited Hogwarts, insisted on showing Snape.... however he would tell Dumbledore to watch, and leave the dungeon.

-The day before you turned 9, it was a full moon, meaning you spent your ninth birthday in the castle. You desperately wished that Remus could have been there, but before you left he gave you a big hug, “I promise Love, when you get back I will have the grandest cake for you.”

“You say that every year Uncle Mooney.” You smiled before looking to Dumbledore, “You know if you two would just let me go to Olivandars you wouldn’t need to come collect me all the time.”

“Yes, and we would all get in trouble for you having a wand before you come of age, and for using magic outside of Hogwarts.” Dumbledore reminded you as you rolled your eyes at him, both smiling as the Black sas came out.

“Yes, but Dumbledore if I remember correctly you have connections within the ministry, prehaps...”

“I fear not even I would be able to save you from the punishment of those crimes, however don’t worry my dear, two more years, and you will have the wand of your dreams, and be able to practice magic at Hogwarts, just like everyone else.”

“You two are no fun.” You retorted as the two men just looked at each other and chuckled.

-That night you went to Hagrid’s hut, the lights shining on the freshly cut grass as you climbed the stairs alone. Your tiny fist pounding against the wood as you waited for the warm glow from inside to wash over you. When Hagrid opened the door however you saw he was wearing a party hat, “[Y/N]! Just the angel I wanted to see.”

“Hello Hagrid, seen any exciting creatures today?” You leaned forward and hugged the tall man, his lips curling up as he replied, “It just so happens I did, tell me [Y/N], have you ever heard of a Billywig?”

“Don’t joke like that Hagrid, Billywigs are only in Australia, and besides they are extinct.”

“I saw it in a book, see Professor Kettleburn was here showing me one of his new textbooks, and they have a whole section on those nasty little buggers.”

“Oh, I do love when he gets new textbooks.” You smiled as you noticed the small cake on the table, “Hagrid, why is there a cake on the table?”

“Well it isn’t every day that your favorite little girl turns nine.” He replied, “Baked it myself, figured you would rather a homemade chocolate cake instead of one made by the elves in the kitchen.”

-It was a small, round, pink cake, with your name written in green frosting (it looked very similar to the one he made Harry on his birthday), a huge smile on your face as you looked over to him, “I love it.”

-That night you slept on Hagrid’s couch, which had happened many times before. Fang laid on the floor in the front of the couch, your hand gently touching his fur with your finger tips, as Hagrid laid a quilted blanket over you.

-That day you sat in Dumbledore’s office, your nose in a book from the Library, your legs curled up under you as you flipped through the pages. Fawkes sitting with his eyes on you as you sat in silence, which was interrupted by a chuckle from Dumbledore.

“[Y/N], have I ever told you about the time your father played muggle music on his Walkman at top volume, and danced around the great hall when he returned from Christmas break?”

“Never.” You replied, closing the book, and looking towards the elder, for he had never really told you anything about when your father attended school, or was in the order.

“I believe the song was called Cry For Me Argentina, somehow James and him had planned out an entire choreographed dance, in which James was throwing rose petals behind your father, who was dramatically twirling down the center aisle of the Great Hall. Poor Remus and Peter trailing behind them, trying their hardest to make it look like they knew what was even going on.” Dumbledore reminisced, as you smiled.

-That’s how the rest of the night went, and at some point McGonnagall joined in, adding her own stories. “Your father is the reason I stopped using the word serious, ever time I did in class, or in the common room he would reply, They’re not serious, I am.”

-When you returned that evening to the cabin, Remus had decorated the entire cabin, streamers hung from the ceiling, as the floor was littered with balloons. The table was set, and platters were stacked high with all your favorite desserts. A bowl filled with chocolate sat on the coffee table, and in the middle of the counter space sat a chocolate cake, covered in your favorite fruit, and homemade frosting.

-He let you stay up extra late that night, both of you sat on the couch with your noses in books. Once midnight came around, you looked to Remus, and excused yourself. After hugging him and shutting your door he let out a sigh and opened the drawer to the side table, his hand pulling out a perfectly new envelope, addressed to you, and opened. His fingers slipping into the tear and extracting a piece of parchment,

My Sweet [Y/N],

Today you are nine, oh how I wish I could see you. I am sure you are just a beautiful as I was at your age, and probably just as troublesome to your Uncle Remus. Someday I hope to see you again, or hear from you, so that I can tell you just how much my heart longs for you. I can never make up for the years we have lost, I have tried to think of a way a thousand times but every solution is never enough, nothing I can ever say or do will ever make up for the fact that I am the reason they are dead, and that the real traitor is still free, probably hiding in some dumpster somewhere, as the guilt of his actions naw away at his soul, or for the fact that my best friend is now the one tucking you in at night, and reading you stories, and feeding you chocolate after 10pm, just like he did to me countless nights. You are in good, safe hands my darling [Y/N], but alas they are not the hands you belong in. I would kill for just one chance to see you again on your birthday, I can still picture in my head how you looked on your first birthday, when your Aunt Lily decorated her entire flat, and slaved away for hours on your cake. Poor Prongs had to come hid out at our place just to avoid stressing her more. I doubt you remember that, but sometimes I like to think you do still remember them, and how much they loved you. You were the star we all needed in our blanketed midnight sky, and I can only hope you are that same joyous light for Uncle Mooney, who sometimes forget there is joy in life, and that our alements don’t define us. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you, or the little family we had.

Happy Birthday my Love,

Dad

-Remus’s eyes watered as he read the letter over and over before walking into his room and adding it to the box, his mind wandering far from the current moment in time, and back to that small flat 8 years ago, when they were all smiling with happiness on your first birthday.

-That night he chose to stay in his own room, and look through his own memory keepsakes from his time at Hogwarts, tears freely running down his face as silent sobs scratched at his throat.

-When you awoke the next morning, he had already dried his tears, and wore a smile for you, as though nothing had happened.

-When you turned 11, Remus took you to Diagon Alley, and bought you everything he remembered needing his first year of Hogwarts.

-You were so excited to go to Ollivander’s, your grin was ear to ear as he stated, “No doubt you are a Black child, you have the same wildness behind your eyes as your father and uncle, let us hope however you are not as twisted as...”

“That is quite enough.” Remus interrupted, “We would like to see your finest wands please?”

-That was the first time you had ever experienced someone directly saying something negative to you because of who your father was, your heart torn as you took the first wand into your hands, “Unicorn hair core, black walnut wood, 10.5 inches.”

“Well give it a flick dear.” Remus encouraged, however at the flick of your wrist, all the wands rocketed off of the shelves.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ollivander, but I think we might need to try another.” You smiled shyly, as you placed the wand down immediately.

“I would say so, let me see if we have something more appropriate.” He forced a smile as he retreated towards the back, “Prehaps this will be more family appropriate, your grandmother had a similar one, Dragon heartstring core, black walnut, 8 inches.”

-When you gave it a flick, a small beam shot out of it, and landed on the papers, causing a small fire to overtake the top of the stack. Withdrawing his wand Remus quickly extinguished the flame, however Ollivander’s attention was on something else, and quickly he turned on his heels and made his way towards the wands scattered on the floor, mumbling to himselfbefore loudly exclaiming, “This is the one, I can feel it my dear, almost exactly as another wand I sold back in the day, it is just a 1/4 inch shorter, measuring at 10 inches, it’s made of cypress wood, and the core is unicorn hair.”

-Remus’s eyebrow raised as Ollivander named off the characteristics of his own wand, but before he could say anything you had the wand in hand, and without even a flick, it immediately started to shine, a slight breeze overtook the room as Ollivander smiled, “The wand chooses the witch Miss Black, and it seems you have far more in common with Mr. Lupin than you thought.”

-When you returned home you looked at Remus, “Thank you for today, I had a lot of fun.” You smiled

“No problem Love, however I am exhausted, so how’s about we turn in early for the night.”

“Of course Uncle Mooney.” You replied as you turned into your own room, and shut the door, leaving him to stand in the living room and wonder about the future.

-He addressed his issues to Dumbledore the next time he saw him, “You don’t think the others will bully her for her father’s crimes, do you?”

“I highly doubt any of her peers will even know the story of her father’s crimes, she will be fine Remus.”

“And what shall we do about Sirius, I mean I wouldn’t put it past him to send her a letter while she is at school. I don’t want her head filled with his lies.” Remus inquired, as he looked out the window to see you tending to the lillies.

“Sirius is no threat to her at Hogwarts, she will be safe Remus, I promise.” He reassured him as he let out a shaky breath, “I would hope so.”

“Besides she has Black blood in her, and was raised by 1 of the best tricksters in Hogwarts history, and was brought up with James Potter, she can no doubt handle herself if trouble arises.”

-You were insistent on taking the train your first year, even though Dumbledore offered to take you straight to Hogwarts, “I want to be treated as a normal student Dumbledore.”

“And so you shall.” He smiled

-Remus was secretly falling apart on the inside when he was walking you to platform 9&10, his mind filled with thoughts of all the trouble you could get into, the things you could be bullied for, but also at the sense of loss he was going to feel, the longest he had ever been away from you in the past nine years was 24 hours, and now he wasn’t going to see you again until Christmas. However all of that melted away when he saw your smile, and for a second it was like he was seeing the smile of an 11 year old Sirius Black.

-You got to 9 3/4 beautifully, Remus right behind you as you pushed your cart towards the enormous train, the platform was filled with adults and students, all trying to sort through the chaos.

-Before boarding you wrapped Remus in the tightest hug you could muster, “I’ll write you every day, and I promise I will be on my best behavior.”

“I know Love.” He whispered, as you looked up at him, a excited smile on your face, “I love you.”

“I love you too Uncle Mooney.”

-Those were the last words you said to him before boarding the train, his feet planted firmly on the platform until the train pulled away, his eyes watching as the train got smaller the further it went towards the horizon, until it was completely out of sight. A shaker breath released from his lungs, unaware he was even holding it in, as the reality of the situation set in, for the first time in a long time..... he was completely alone.

-Upon arriving home, the cabin was pitch black, and silent as the grave. His hands reached out towards the light switch, which flooded the room with a harsh yellow glow. His feet carried him straight into his room, to where his bookshelf stood. His fingers running across the spines of each book until he found the one dated for 1979, withdrawing it he looked at the cover of the photo album and retreated to your room. Once inside, he took a deep breath and was overwhelmed with the scent of you, a ping of sadness overtaking him as he sank onto your mattress, and opened the book to see the animated faces of his friends. Each page holding a memory, both before and after you entered their lives, as he relived the moments in his head. He stayed up all night looking at all the albums he had created those past 11 years.

-When you boarded the train, you were looking for anywhere there was available seating, and you knocked on the glass of the first one you saw, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.” One of the two identical ginger boys exclaimed, his face was slightly rounder than the other boys, and his smile was large as you sat down across from him, “Are you a first year too?” the other asked.

“Yeah, I’m [Y/N], and you are?”

“I’m Fred, He’s George.” The rounder faced one replied

“I’m George, he’s Fred.” The other replied right after

-You spent the whole train ride joking with the twins, and found that you all had a similar sense of humor. However soon the conversation shifted, “So which house do you think you’ll be sorted into?” George asked

“Probably Hufflepuff, honestly I have a sweet tooth, and the closer to the kitchen the better.” You joked as the boys chuckled.

“Well as Weasley’s there is only one house we’lol get sorted into.” Fred replied cocky, “Our whole family has been Gryffindors.”

“Ah so you are lions.” You joked as Fred and George let out fake roars, just as the train stopped at a platform. With smiles you three rose and made your way towards the exit, and once on the platform you heard a familiar voice, “All first years come with me, everyone else make your way to the carriages.”

-“Hagrid!” You exclaimed, separating from the boys as you ran towards the half giant, who extended his arms open and caught you.

“[Y/N]!” He exclaimed, “mighty fine seeing you here, how was the ride?”

“Splendid, just like I imagined, tell me, did the elves make Yorkshire pudding tonight?”

“Course they did, it wouldn’t be the first day feast without it.” He smiled, “However your friends seem to be looking a wee bit confused.”

-When you turned around Fred and George were just looking at you, and with a smile you joked, “What, have my lions never seen a half giant before?”

“No, we are just wondering how you know each other?” Fred questioned

“Now that boys is a secret I shall never tell.” You smiled, before taking both their hands, “Now come on, we don’t want to miss the boats.”

-It was in the boat that you met Lee Jordan, and soon realized he would be joining your friend group.

-Once outside the great hall you turned towards the boys, “Now we make a promise here, no matter what house we get, we will still all be friends, no matter what.”

“Unless one of us gets Slytherin, no one in Slytherin ever turns out being a good guy.” George replied

“Even if one of us gets Slytherin.” You replied, to which the three sighed, but ultimately agreed.

-When McGonagall started calling names you smiled at the members of staff, and watched as each of your friends got sorted into Gryffindor. Finally you heard McGonagall’s voice say your name, “[Y/N] Black.”

-A hush feel over the great hall as you approached the hat, McGonagall smiled at you as you slowly took your place upon the stool, and felt the fabric of the talking hat touch your hair, before it’s voice filled your head, “Ahhhhhhh another member of the Black Family, this should be easy to sort out, I mean you’re a descendant from a long line of Slytherins. I think your father was the only oddball of the family, what you might call a black sheep.”

“Please, don’t put me in Slytherin.” You thought, your eyes closed as you thought it louder

“Oh why not, someone with your talent could excel in Slytherin, besides who doesn’t love a cunning woman with a bit of poisoned blood in her veins. I mean your father was a traitor, whose to say you won’t be the same.”

“My father was not a traitor, he was a loyal friend, and a fighter. He would never turn his back on his family, because you might say I am a descendent of Slytherin but everyone in my family were...”

“Gryffindor!” The hat screamed, as the table cheered loudly, your eyes opening as your face cracked a smile. Your feet excitingly carried you to the place beside George, as you looked toward Dumbledore, who wore a proud smile on his face as well.

-Your first week of classes was a breeze, Fred and George were baffled by the fact that you knew all of them, and were glad that you were their friend, since you were clearly the brightest witch of your year.

-You went to Dumbledore’s office once while you were free and looked at the hat sitting atop the shelf, “Are you sure you put me in the proper house?” You asked

“Of course I am, you showed true bravery standing up for your father, and loyalty. Both are vital traits of a true gryffindor.”

-You and the twins were inseparable, and within the first two weeks of school were already plotting on who to prank, and how.

-You sent a letter to Remus everyday as promised, and everyday he would send you a reply. However a month into school, you one day received two letters. The first was from Remus, but the second bore no return address.

-You waited until you were in your dorm room to open it, safely seated on your bed, you closed the curtains and tore the envelope open, withdrawing the parchment, you read the scribbles on the page,

Dear [Y/N] Euphemia Black,

Hello, it is odd to think that these are the first words you will ever be reading from me, even though I have written you a hundred times before. However knowing how stubborn your Uncle Mooney is, I doubt he has even told you that I have been writing you since they locked me away.

Where to begin, words can’t even describe how I have been feeling since they ripped me away from you, nor can anything make up for the lost years of communication we have had. Not a single day goes by where I don’t envision your beautiful [Y/E/C] eyes, or how your face looked, or remember how you used to dart around the house like a child overdosing on sugar. Truly your impact on my life has been the only thing keeping me sane in this insane asylum prison all these years. I am sorry I can’t have a similar impact on your life.

You are 11 now, meaning g you have just started the best adventure of your life, it was at Hogwarts that I met your Uncle Prongs, and Mooney, and unfortunately met Uncle Wormtail as well. I wish some days I never met that traitor, or that I wasn’t so self absorbed in my own beliefs. I was wrong to doubt your Uncle Mooney, when the real traitor was right under my nose the whole time, and I gave him the loaded gun to destroy our entire friend group, and your childhood. No child should ever have to endure what you and Harry did. How I wish I knew where he was, since I doubt that they would give Mooney both of you, and I have no idea where Auntie Lily’s family is. I just know where you are, and that you were safe in Uncle Mooney’s cabin all these years.

I would love to hear from you, written on the back is how to reach me. I have so many years to catch up on, and so little time to do so.

I love you my darling, never forget that.

Dad

-By the time you reached the end of the letter you were crying, and every time you reread his words more tears started to flow down your face. Soon your vision was blurred and the words manifested into blobs on the page, but by that point you had already memorized most of it.

-You stayed in bed the rest of the day, and once night had fallen over the castle you made your way to the common room where a very concerned set of ginger twins sat on the stair to the first year girls dormitories with Lee., who was leaning opposite them in the doorway.

When he saw you Lee looked at you with concern, causing the boys to turn and look as well. Wasting no time they jumped up and wrapped you in a tight embrace. When they pulled away Lee wrapped you in a embrace, and then they led you to one of the secluded couches. They kept asking you what was wrong and finally you broke, and told them that you just found out your pet hamster had passed away. Not wanting them to know your family secret.

-The next day you responded to your father’s letter, and started what would soon become a weekly interaction with your estranged father.

-You never told Remus or any of the professors you were in contact with your father.

-your father was so happy when he received your first letter, and cried as he read the seven pages of parchment that you sent him.

-You helped the tricksters with their assignments, and the pranks.

-McGonagall couldn’t help chuckling to Dumbledore one day, and stated, “Isn’t it funny how she has found herself her own group of tricksters?”

“It is, especially since she has become just like Remus.” Dumbledore compared to her as she groaned, “Does that make the Weasleys James and Sirius?”

“I fear it does.” Dumbledore replied

-You were at the top of the class when Christmas break came.

-Before leaving you and the boys decided to do secret Santa when you all returned from christmas break. Each of you wrote your names on a piece of parchment and put it in a hat, drawing one by one. You were the last to draw, and you had gotten Fred.

-When she went home that Christmas Remus was waiting for her anxiously on the platform, however before you were reunited with your uncle, Fred and George followed their brothers towards their family, each of your hands in one of theirs as they led you towards the other Weasleys to introduce you.

-When they heard your last name they immediately knew who your father was, and why he was in Azkaban, but later that night after Arthur expressed his concerns Molly defended you, “We can’t judge her because of her father, and besides, did you see how smitten the boys were to introduce us to their best friend.

-When you saw Remus, you broke away from the twins and ran towards him, your arms snaking around his neck as he picked you up.

-You immediately introduced him to the twins. He looked at both of them and smiled, “So you are the boys my niece has told me so much about?”

-When you got home, you immediately started tell Remus about all the non secretive stuff you left out of your letters. Once you got inside though you looked at him, “Uncle Mooney, have you ever heard of the Marauders Map?”

“Why?”

“Fred and George knicked it from Flich during one of their detentions, and on the front of the parchment it states master Mooney, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prong. I only know four men whom go by those names.”

-He told you everything about the map, and you immediately wrote to the twins to tell them how to open the map. When you were done, and sent the letter off to them, you turned slightly and looked at Remus, “Uncle Mooney?”

“Yes Love?”

“Why have you been hiding my father’s letters from me?”

-He was silent, his face paling, as his hand slightly started to shake. He felt hot suddenly and lost the ability to talk, as you continued, “I want to see them please Uncle Mooney.”

-All he whispered was, “How?”

“He told me, please Remus.” His real name sounded so foreign slipping off your tongue, “I deserve to know.”

-He got the box, and sat at the dining room table, as you slid into the chair across from him. Your fingers casually slid along the lock as you opened the lid and revealed 9 years worth of unread letters. Remus’s eyes focused on the table, never lifting as you read each letter in silence, and finally you reached the first letter, where he had pleaded to his friend his innocence.

“You had all of these for years.” You whispered, “And yet you still doubt him?”

“[Y/N]...” his voice was barely audible, but the heartbreak in his tone and body language was loud, your watering eyes meeting as he took a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“Yet you knew my father was reaching out, that he is rotting away in a cell alone, and you..” your voice cracked, “you let him rot in there alone.”

-You left the table immediately, and went into your room, where you stayed for two days, until you came out to Remus asleep on the couch, the house a mess. You immediately started cleaning as you walked around, along with covered Remus with a blanket. When he awoke, you were seated on the floor facing him, his eyes bloodshot as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

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