#I’ve seen him every single day that’s embarrassing

[diari0deglierrori]

Oh happy birthday to the man I’ve seen more than any other human being in the past week!

[cherienymphe]

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you. 

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason. 

“You always come to pray at least three times a week…”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you. 

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation. 

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements. 

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was—am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

“I want you just as eager to get on your knees for me…”

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

[reverie-starlight]

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

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

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

[heavenbarnes]

under no circumstances did your simon want anyone from work knowing you existed.

far as the 141 (or anyone vaguely military) were concerned, simon was single.

when johnny tried to play matchmaker, he just assumed simon was guarded. when gaz harped on about this girl from his gym, he just assumed she wasn’t his type.

the boys lived with illusions of simon returning to an empty, sterile, sad excuse for a home. hardly a home, probably a shoebox of an apartment with the bare basics of furniture.

maybe a rhythmic drip of a faucet to keep him company.

never even an inkling of an idea that he might be coming home to you.

you who kept the home clean, but lived in- warm and loved in. soft things at every corner, soft bed you both slept in, soft couch for him to hold you on. doesn’t smell sterile, smells nice, smells like-

well, you.

it wasn’t shame, embarrassment- if he could, he’d tell any poor sod who’d listen just how much he adored you.

simon thought himself the luckiest fucker alive for even knowing you, let alone loving you. he’d die a thousand lonely times if he did anything to lose you.

safety.

“this job doesn’t lend itself to lovers” price’s voice had rung loud in his head.

he knew his captain was right, he trusted his word more than he trusted his own mind. but his captain hadn’t met you yet.

he hadn’t seen that look you could give him, fluttering lashes and a hazy smile. he hadn’t felt the way you held him, when the days were long and his actions were unforgivable.

he didn’t know that you’d forgive every terrible thing simon had ever done, without a second thought.

you weren’t just a lover, you were the start and end of it all. his big bang.

nobody was ever supposed to know you existed.

simon had been so careful, so fucking careful- he’d suffered days and nights keeping your existence secret. it still wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t johnny’s fault, he didn’t blame johnny but that was one person who knew you in the greater context of “ghost.”

one too many.

“d’ya know L.T’s got a pretty thing at home?”

gaz had laughed, laying another card on the table as he did it.

“and who’d that be? her majesty the queen?”

price even snorted a chuckle out his nose, surveying the hand he was sure to play.

“wouldn’t give me a name, all he’d give me w’sweetheart”

“simon’s got a sweetheart named sweetheart? yeah, and i’ve got a chance at beating the captain”

sweetheart.

security measure two, when the first fails. no names, an alias that was easy to remember. no slip ups.

thankfully, everyone thought johnny had been chatting shit (as he often did) and didn’t care to push further.

but rumours only grow.

simon felt like he was living his life checking around corners. he was used to it at work, but when he was home he was meant to be free.

he couldn’t breathe knowing you could be compromised- that there was a chance he could lose you when he feels like he only just found you.

and when you were finally compromised? hell hath no fury.

there was only one option, they wouldn’t stop hunting you. they knew you were the only thing simon was scared to lose. to him, there was no other way.

price’s hands might’ve shook as he placed the folded flag in your hands, royal blue and silken. returning his mask to its rightful home, skull plate staring back at you.

where his eyes should be.

“if there is anything we can do”

all you could do was a blank stare right through him- show no emotion, show no fear. simon’s words were banging around your head.

that unmistakable feeling of eyes on your back as you retreated, carrying what was left of “ghost” back to your home. to your bed, military corners still tucked perfectly.

gently laying the flag to rest, running the mask through your fingers. what could a ghost really feel like?

bringing it to your lips, pressing a sweet kiss to its centre- where you usually might, before you’d send him off to fight for his country, always assuming he’d come home.

he’d been so careful, it wasn’t enough, everything had changed.

he had to change.

he let you pull the mask over his face, tracing the shape of the skull under a gentle finger tip. standing on your toes to press a kiss-

right between the eyes.

“something isn’t right, he kept this secret damn near the whole time we knew him- he dies and suddenly it all falls in our laps?”

gaz and johnny tailing price as he tore through the base, your file tucked under his arm. thin wee thing that it was, barely enough to piece together an idea.

might as well be chasing ghosts.

“simon sacrificed his life to keep that one safe, why the fuck would he let the details out? when he’s not alive to protect-“

the door was nearly off its hinges with the three men bursting through, putting the fear right through the wee thing at the desk.

“where are simon riley’s ashes?”

“oh, i’m sorry- they’ve already been claimed”

“who? by who?”

whilst the poor girl was gingerly sliding the record towards price, johnny was letting himself into the back room. a space that’d once contained simon’s urn, empty spare the twisted plastic full of fine grey dust.

“cap’n, you’re gonna’ want t’see this”

gaz was nearly vaulting the counter, snatching the ashes out of johnny’s trembling hand.

men with precision aim reduced to a murmur.

“who the fuck did we cremate?”

both men looking to their captain for- for what? help? a fucking clue as to what they’ve really got themselves into?

no use.

price was running a finger down the log book, settling on the name “simon ‘ghost’ riley.” signed out within the hour, only thing left being some poor fucker’s ashes and a set of initials.

signed out by S.H

S.H

sweetheart.

[donatellawritings]

idk what this but reader has a collection on panties and Rafe goes crazy for it.😶

rafe is such a loser when it comes to lingerie lol

you were not shy about showing off your body. you loved wearing obnoxiously mini micro-skirts and skin-tight low rise yoga pants, you especially loved the slight peek of the waistband of your panties that shined through. sometimes, you’d even allow the ridiculously thin band of your thong to sit a bit higher on your waist. you felt a light need to show off your underwear, mainly due to just how expensive the flimsy fabrics were. rafe didn’t mind swiping his card, if it kept you dolled up and content, he was also secure enough with himself to where a swell of pride who burst in his chest whenever you’d bend over and your lace panties would come into view.

dressed in your plush robe, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you struggled to choose which pair of panties you would wear for the day ahead. your wispy eyelash-clad doe eyes widened at the wide array of thongs and panties that filled the shelf of your dresser. you loved accessorizing and contrary to popular belief, your selection of underwear was, in fact, an accessory. with a defeated sigh, you licked over your pouty lips, “papi, can you help me with something?” you called out, huffing with a frustrated pout as rafe’s heavy footsteps grew closer and closer to you.

acknowledging you with a chaste kiss to your temple, rafe snakes a toned arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder as his gaze followed yours, “y’having trouble picking one?” he questioned, earning a nod from you as you wordlessly pulled away from him, taking a seat at your makeup cluttered vanity, mentally checking out of the frustrating, yet feeble task. rafe was quick to scan the nearly full drawer, the wide array of pinks, lace, and silk underwear causing him to swallow thickly — he needed to see you in every single one. “what about this one, mama?” he held up a baby pink thong with black lace trimmings.

with an annoyed roll of your eyes, you shrugged, “i already wore those, papi — i don’t even want to go out anymore,” you whined, tears of frustration glazing over your usually bright eyes. there goes your spoiled little girl peeking through. “nothing in there looks pretty,” you continued your rant, your words falling deaf to rafe’s ears as he sifted through the drawer, licking over his dry lips as the varying underwear, his mind focused on how he’d push the expensive panties to the side as he fucked you.

rafe’s bright blues widened as his finger hooked into the baby pink a white thong that was adorned with an embroidered pink ‘R’. completely dismissive of your whiny rant, rafe dropped the dainty material atop of your vanity, “put that on, then show me how it looks — m’gonna be doing some work in the office,” he spoke sternly, lightly nudging your chin with his finger, silencing you as you parted your swollen lips to speak. truthfully, rafe didn’t have any important duties to tend to, he simply needed to get away from you before you could see his already tenting hard-on.

you were quick to comply, allowing your robe to carelessly pool on the polished hardwood floor as you stepped into the thin material, gently sliding the thin waistband to sit comfortably on your hips as you your plump lips expanded into a knowing smile at the sight of the baby pink ‘R’ that was sewn into the thong, covering your pussy. your stomach turned with a blushing embarrassment at how giddy the panty made you. crossing your arms over you fully exposed breasts, you scurried out of your bedroom. rafe’s harsh typing pattern can be heard throughout the hallway as your pranced into his office.

rafe raised his head from his laptop with a stoic expression written on his handsome face as he watched you stand awkwardly on your tippy toes, your arms concealing your supple breasts, “don’t do that shy shit, mama — i’ve seen it before,” he sighed — running hand over his shaven face as he laid back in his leather chair, spreading his legs as he shifted his hips. catching just how shy and coy you were being, rafe shut his laptop, pushing it to the far side of his desk.

he’d be damned if you felt anything less than his pretty girl.

“c’mere,” he huffed, his eyebrows furrowed as you walked towards him, your arms remained crossed over the swells of your chest, a slight smile prodding at your swollen lips as rafe gently grabs ahold of your arms, pulling them away from your chest, “there y’go — y’so fuckin’ pretty,” rafe ogles shamelessly, earning a ticklish laugh from you as he pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your tummy, causing your hands to softly cradle his head. rafe continued kissing your abdomen, his lips stretching into a knowing smirk as you threw your head back, sighing as rafe brought his lips to the thin strap of your waistband, tugging on it with his sharp teeth.

allowing the strap to snap back against the skin of your hip, a shocked squeak left your swollen lips as rafe’s eyes became hooded, his pupils dilating as he pulled away from you, “get on the desk, keep your legs open,” your doe eyes flickered with confusion as you quickly complied, keeping your shy gaze on rafe as you walked towards the desk, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the feeling of the cold and sturdy wood biting at your plush skin of your ass. with a shaky breath, you leaned back on your forearms, keeping your legs spread as your feet dangled off of the edge of the desk.

“those pretty fuckin’ panties — gonna keep ‘em on while i fuck you, mama,” rafe sighed, his eyes handing now as you lick over your swollen lips, humming sweetly as rafe unbuttons his slacks, pulling his briefs down just enough to free his hard cock, “y’already fucking ruined ‘em, so fuckin’ wet already,” he adds, rubbing his swollen tip up and down against the dampened spot of your panty, pressing his tip against your clothed hole, eliciting a desperate moan from you.

“papi, please fu—” you whined, biting down into your bottom lip as rafe waved a silencing hand, before pulling your panty to the side, his eyes greedily drinking in the slick glisten of your wet folds and puffy clit.

sliding his thick cock into you, with ease, rafe leaned down, one of his arms flexed as he held himself up on the desk, while his free-hand cradled your head, pushing your forehead flush against his. rafe couldn’t help but smile at the way your doe eyes stared dreamily at the way his hips rolled against yours, your lips parted as you struggled to get any words out, aside from a few gritted moans.

parting his lips as means to mock you, rafe’s eyes gazed into yours as he watched you fail to say anything coherent, the sound of your soppy pussy squelching pathetically with each lewd thrust, leaving you a cock-drunk mess, “c’mon, mama — spit it out,” rafe teased, nodding as you simply blinked at him.

swallowing thickly, you let out a shaky breath, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you wrapped your arms around rafe’s warm neck, whimpering into his collarbone.

“can’t even fuckin’ talk, huh?” rafe chuckled, a low groan leaving his pink lips as he brings his arm around your back, relishing in your sweet moans and whines as he fucked his hips into you, “i know, mama, let it out,” he cooed, his thrusts remaining quick and firm as you cried into his chest, your wet pussy squishing and squelching as you sucked in a sharp breath.

“hmph! s’too sensitive, papi,” you shuddered, pulling your head away from rafe’s neck, your jaw slack open as you stared down at your conjoined hips, your wet eyelashes batting as your watched rafe’s pelvis grow sticky and shiny from your creamy wetness.

pushing your head to lean back against his chest, rafe’s thrusts became hard and deep, earning a high-pitched yelp from you as his hips harshly slapped into yours, “y’can fuckin’ take it, baby — fuck, be a good girl and take it.”

[ravcnism]

STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him. 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue. 

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.” 

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know. 

It’s why you can’t answer him. 

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine. 

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment. 

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him. 

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all. 

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you. 

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“ 

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?” 

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said. 

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back. 

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.” 

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?” 

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.” 

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?” 

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!” 

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.” 

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it. 

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time. 

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out. 

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.  

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.” 

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy. 

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“ 

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with? 

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound? 

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?” 

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.” 

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.” 

Everything has only changed for you. 

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?” 

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it. 

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.” 

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should. 

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy. 

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?” 

There it is again — his silence, your anger. 

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?” 

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return. 

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.” 

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.” 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing. 

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.” 

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.” 

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder. 

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party. 

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered. 

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable. 

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty. 

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.” 

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage. 

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.” 

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“ 

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.” 

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does. 

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.” 

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.” 

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though. 

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic. 

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care. 

He deserved your spite. 

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look. 

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.” 

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.” 

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency. 

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.” 

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.” 

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.” 

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out. 

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill. 

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?” 

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have. 

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to. 

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.” 

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still. 

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear. 

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.” 

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless. 

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled. 

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn. 

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble. 

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap. 

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way. 

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release. 

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be. 

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend. 

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.” 

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way. 

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended. 

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night. 

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.” 

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter. 

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind. 

It’s for the better. 

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

 “I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco. 

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you. 

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy? 

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it. 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option. 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions. 

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it. 

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie. 

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.” 

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

We aren’t exactly friends. 

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur. 

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart. 

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least. 

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.” 

“Are you?” 

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two. 

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender. 

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face. 

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you. 

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same. 

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come. 

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-” 

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head. 

Eddie learns two things that night. 

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it. 

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed. 

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him. 

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that. 

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender. 

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy. 

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.” 

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter. 

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare. 

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops. 

“Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?” 

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest. 

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.” 

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl. 

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment. 

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face. 

“Oh… her.” 

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.” 

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him. 

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t. 

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.” 

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended. 

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar. 

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same. 

He fucked up. 

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands. 

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better. 

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night. 

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended. 

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe. 

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s. 

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now. 

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time. 

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place. 

“Eddie, I-” 

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.” 

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible. 

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late. 

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?” 

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches. 

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them. 

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.” 

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.” 

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.” 

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this. 

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.” 

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly. 

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.” 

Especially now. 

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding. 

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more. 

“I know it is.” 

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian angel pt.2? I'm already addicted to and love your stuff. Thx! :3

Guardian Angel

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: Can anyone guess how I’m gonna end it?

Even if Adam wanted to bring (Name) to the light, which he didn’t, the task would prove nearly impossible anyway. Because Adam was coming to learn that (Name) was quite the little sinner. In only one week, she exhibited each of the 7 Sins.

She got in a fight with her best friend and refused to apologize, even though it meant sacrificing their relationship. Pride.

She spent over a hundred dollars in one sitting online shopping for shit she didn’t need. Greed.

She spent ten minutes going through another girl’s social media page, making snide comments about her as she went. Envy.

She broke a lamp in a fit of rage over, well, Adam didn’t even know what her temper tantrum was about. Wrath.

She kicked Adam out so she could have some “Self Love Time” as she called it. Lust.

She was a glutton not of food, but of weed and alcohol, never satisifed unless she was not sober at least once during her day. Gluttony.

She would spend entire days rotting in her bed, neglecting all responsibilities. Sloth.

Long story short, Adam was pretty certain that were (Name) to die, she had herself a one way ticket down to Hell. The thought bothered Adam, and he realized that it really was up to him to make sure she got into Heaven.

“You’re sinful,” Adam blurted out one day while (Name) was listening to CPR by cupcakKe. (Name) paused the music. “It’s the song, isn’t it.”

“No… well, yes, but not just the song. I’ve seen you commit every single fucking one of the 7 Sins just this week. How do you expect to get into Heaven like that?”

“I don’t,” (Name) shrugged, going to unpause her music.

“You don’t care about going to Hell?” Adam was flabbergasted.

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’m your guardian angel, sweetie, so it’s my job to help you get into Heaven.”

“Really? Cause I don’t even know how you made it into Heaven. Their standards must be pretty low, I have a chance.”

“Oh eat shit,” Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes.

(Name) smirked.

“Have you heard of the Seven Heavenly Virtues?” Adam asked. (Name) looked bored. “I’ve heard of them… don’t know what they are.” “Well you’re going to do something that encompasses each one this week.”

And Lucifer be damned, Adam managed to get her to do something for every virtue.

She apologized to her best friend and they began to repair their relationship. Humility.

She gave a bunch of clothes she didn’t need to her younger cousin. Charity.

She left positive comments on that girl’s social media page. Kindness.

She did breathing exercises the next time she got angry instead of destroying her surroundings. Patience.

She stopped her copious amount of weed and alcohol consumption. Temperance.

She stayed on top of her responsibilities and began taking her job more seriously. Diligence.

Adam was proud of both her, and himself for getting her to do these things. Maybe she had a chance to get into Heaven yet.

“Why is it so important to you that I get into Heaven?” (Name) asked one night at dinner. Adam paused eating. “Uh, cause it’s my job, bitch.” (Name) rolled her eyes. “Yeah but you didn’t start doing your job until recently. What changed?”

“Maybe I never want to have to say goodbye.”

(Name) hadn’t been expecting such a confession. “You want me to go to Heaven… to be with you?”

Adam scowled, embarrassed. “No.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“For what it’s worth,” (Name) said. “I wouldn’t mind spending eternity with you.”

[nathaslosthershit]

Baby Fever and Annoying Brothers||Quinn Hughes x Reader

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader

Request: Could I get Quinn Hughes with baby fever and his brothers there to make fun of it?

Summary: Quinn gets baby fever real bad and his brothers bug him to propose

A/n: Listen I wasn’t a Quinn girly before but that has recently changed so thank you for these requests

Word Count: 700+

“Quinn, dude, come on let's go.” Luke complained. The brothers had been trying to start a basketball game for the past 45 minutes. Jack and Luke were ready, but Quinn kept pushing it off with a simple ‘5 more minutes then i'll be ready’.

What, you may ask, was keeping Quinn from playing a game with his family? The sight of his girlfriend interacting with the baby of a family friend of theirs. It was quite possibly the most addicting and adorable sight he has ever seen. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, no matter how hard he tried. The whole scene was beautiful. Outside, on the lawn chairs in the backyard, laid his girlfriend of 4 years gently swaying a now sleeping infant in her arms as she quietly spoke to the baby’s mother as well as his own mom. 

“Quinn this is getting-” Jack was cut off when he saw it. His older brother sitting there, oblivious to the heart eyes he was making. It was hilarious to him. His big brother practically brought to his knees at the sight of his longtime girlfriend holding a baby. 

As he stood next to Luke, Quinn finally was pulled out of his trance. Embarrassed at his brother's gawking, he finally went to play basketball. 

But of course the two youngest Hughes couldn’t just not bring it up. It was their brotherly duty to chirp Quinn into his place.

“So when are you gonna actually purpose?” Jack asked. At this, Luke elbowed him in the side, hard. 

“Come on dude let him live” Luke reprimanded.

“Thank you, Luke.” Quinn responded.

“No but seriously, he is right. You spend almost an hour staring at your girlfriend for holding a fucking baby. I know you’ve got a bad case of baby fever after that. When are you gonna actually get started on that shit? Unless you don’t plan on going the whole marital route before kids. I don't’ really know how some people would thi-”

“Can you both please just shut the fuck up about it.”

“Come on, Quinn, we are just chirping you. Although we saw the way you were looking at her. You sure that hasn’t changed anything…” Jack teased. 

He was right of course. While he was staring, he was also envisioning a life with her. A life with his beautiful wife, in a beautiful home, with kids to fill it. Maybe they’d have one, or maybe a whole hockey team. Who’s to say? The last thing he wanted though, was to be discussing it with his brothers when they would just tease him.

“No, nothing has changed. Although things may happen sooner-” “What the fuck does that mean?” Luke asked.

“I just- I don’t need kids right this second.” Quinn stated.

“But?”

“But I do have a ring. I’ve kept it in my hockey bag for the last few months. I just- I just don’t know when I’m gonna propose.”

“Quinn why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jack practically yelled.

“Does mom know? She will flip the fuck out if you got it and didn’t tell her?” Luke asked.

“Yes, she knows. She has been bugging me about it every single day. Trying to give me ideas and such but I just need to find the right time and place.”

“Isn’t now the right time and place though? You are with family, in a pretty fucking beautiful place. I mean what's stopping you from taking her on the boat tomorrow and doing it.” Jack joked. But he was right. You had once stated, while intoxicated, that you would have killed Quinn if he proposed in public, as if that was something he would ever do. The secluded boat would be the perfect place.

Quinn smiled to himself as he came to this revelation. He would propose, soon, and get started on the life he had envisioned. He didn’t answer either of them or tell them about his plans, but one look at his face and his brothers knew. They both shared a look as their absolutely smitten older brother went to grab the ball.

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[svnoohe4rts]

MY DEAR ANNOYING SEATMATE ― lee heeseung

↳ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fembodied!reader

↳ SYNOPSIS: there was only a few things you hated in life, but your dear seatmate lee heeseung was most definitely one of the few things you absolutely despised. with the two of you being paired up for an upcoming project, it seemed like life possibly couldn’t get any worse; so why did he suddenly almost look cute?

↳ GENRE: enemies to lovers (kind of but not really, reader hates heeseung for no valid reason while heeseung is just clueless)

↳ WORD COUNT: 17.1k

↳ WARNINGS: slight angst, SMUT ! MDNI . | oral (m recieving), cum eating, heeseung is extremely inexperienced while reader is experienced (let me know if there’s anything i should add !)

↳ A/N: i got too carried away writing this, making this my longest fic ever ... i blame it on nerd!hee :’) proof read but there’s probably a few mistakes i’ve missed, don’t be afraid to point them out !!! all feedback is appreciated ! <3 

YOU HATED LEE HEESEUNG.

The boy assigned to the seat next to you had never necessarily done anything for you to hate him. Thinking about it, there was nothing he possibly could’ve done, considering that he usually kept to himself most of the time and had probably only uttered about two or three words to you during your time as seatmates.

But one thing was for sure, you absolutely despised him.

You hated the way he’d slide his hideous glasses up the bridge of his nose, you hated the way he’d repeatedly tap the end of his pencil against his desk, especially during math, when he’d concentrate a little too hard, but most of all, you hated how he’d interrupt the teacher whenever he felt the need to add something to whatever the teacher was talking about; usually something completely irrelevant.

If there was one thing you wished for, it was for Lee Heeseung to keep to himself during class the same way he kept to himself outside of class.

But your wishes were never fulfilled, and they most likely would never be; Heeseung being the prime example of why the fairy godmother from Cinderella didn’t actually exist like you thought when you were younger, otherwise Heeseung probably would’ve lost his ability to speak by now. What Heeseung also failed to comprehend was that whenever he embarrassed himself by raising in hand in the middle of class just to boast about his knowledge, he also embarrassed you.

When all eyes landed on him, they also landed on you. So whenever the entire class would roll their eyes at Heeseung when he once again went completely going off topic, they were technically rolling their eyes at you, too. 

Like a pending doom, you wanted to sink through the ground every time he opened his mouth. You knew the second he cleared his throat and his hand went up in the air that it was your cue to press your forehead against the wooden desk, a desperate attempt to avoid the stares and sigh’s coming from your fellow classmates as Heeseung’s aggravating voice echoed through your ears.

For that very reason, you grew to hate Lee Heeseung more and more with each day that passed.

Over time, the annoyance of him always having something to say grew into you finding everything he did annoying. What started off as you two being innocently placed as seatmates, developed into you dreading going to class because of him.

Today, however, you swore you hated Heeseung more than ever.

If the universe had been on your side, Heeseung never would’ve ended up in the seat next to you for an entire year. You wouldn’t have to listen to his pencil hitting the table over and over again every single day, you wouldn’t have to listen to his annoying voice, no, this wasn’t the life you were supposed to live. You weren’t supposed to be seated next to the most annoying human being the world had ever seen, life had so much to offer you, you had so many things left to do before your life came to an end; yet the universe seemed to want you dead sooner than you had expected by making Lee Heeseung your assigned seatmate.

Your cause of death wouldn’t be of old age like you had hoped, nor would some cold-hearted illness take your life away, no, Lee Heeseung would be your cause of death; you were sure of it.

And just when you thought the universe might’ve toyed enough with you, the words trailing off your teacher's lips proved you wrong. ‘’Y/N, I think you and Heeseung would make a great pair for this project,’’

You had stopped listening to what the older woman was telling you the second your name accompanied by your dear seatmates name trailed off her lips. Almost like your whole world came crumbling down around you, you shut your eyes; nibbling on your bottom lip as you looked back on your entire life - trying to figure out what you possibly had done to deserve this type of punishment. 

Maybe this was the universe’s way of getting back at you for forgetting to hand in that one group project on time, causing the whole group to get in trouble; or maybe it was the universe getting back at you for not helping that one crying kid that one time while running to the bus after school, but what were you supposed to do? Stay with the clearly upset kid and miss your only bus? 

No, you obviously did what anyone else would’ve done in that situation and got on the bus.

Well, maybe it wasn’t the only bus and you probably would’ve made it on that bus even if you checked on the crying kid; but was this type of punishment really necessary? Wasn’t placing Lee Heeseung in the seat next to you enough? You already suffered thanks to the boy seated next to you every day, you had already begged the universe for forgiveness for that one time - so why were you being paired up with Heeseung for one of the most important projects of the year?

‘’Heeseung clearly shows great knowledge surrounding this subject, and your essay about it last year was astonishing Y/N,’’ The older woman's voice brought you out of your daze, hoping that the universe would’ve heard the prayers that ran through your mind by the time you opened your eyes; but with Heeseung still sitting across from you, his big eyes piercing into your soul, you realized that the universe wasn’t going to forgive you anytime soon.

You should’ve known what was about to come when your teacher told both you and Heeseung to stay behind after class, asking both of you to sit down in front of her desk. At first, you thought she was going to scold you for sending death glares Heeseung’s way every time he opened his mouth, or even better - maybe she was going to scold Heeseung, you never would’ve sent him death glares if he never opened his mouth in the first place after all.

You were mentally preparing yourself to blame everything on Heeseung the second your teacher sat down in her chair, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag as your teacher cleared her throat. I’m sorry for my behavior, teacher, but he’s making it hard for me to focus when he’s constantly talking and I’m sure everyone else feels the same way hence why I feel like it’s my responsibility as his seatmate to make sure he’s not disturbing any-

‘’I’m sure you’re both aware of the upcoming project.’’

Oh. 

She wasn’t going to scold you, no, this was about something completely different. Something so much more terrifying.

With your teacher still explaining to you why you and Heeseung would make such an incredible pair for this particular project, you inhaled through your nose before clearing your throat, your gaze shifting over to the older woman sitting in front of you; flashing her a forced smile. 

‘’I’m sorry, miss, but is working in pairs really necessary? I mean, just like you said, Heeseung clearly shows great knowledge about this particular subject,’’ You began speaking, almost gagging as you unwillingly complimented Heeseung. ‘’And I don’t mean to flatter myself, but I have some decent knowledge about it as well, so I don’t really see why it would be necessary for us to work together.’’

You stared at your teacher in anticipation as you finished speaking, holding your breath as you waited for her to speak. 

It was true, you truly didn’t understand why you would have to work with him. You knew you’d be able to do this project on your own and you knew Heeseung was perfectly capable of doing it on his own as well, so you two working together just didn’t make any sense to you.

‘’I understand where you’re coming from and I’m not doubting your knowledge, Y/N,’’ Your teacher let out, offering you a small smile in return. ‘’But I truly believe both of you could benefit from working together.’’

It felt like someone had punched you in the stomach as soon as the words left her lips. You, benifiting from working with Heeseung? No, there was no such thing. Your forced smile slowly faded away, leaning back in your chair as a frown replaced the smile that had previously sat on your lips.

‘’It sounds like a great idea to me.’’ 

Heeseung's irksome voice caused you to look over at him once again, having to hold back a curse from leaving your throat in annoyance as your eyes landed on the lanky boy. With his eyes glued to the teacher sitting next to him, a big smile formed on his lips; like he found the situation delightful - when in reality, there was nothing delightful about the situation, not even a little bit. 

Your teacher offered Heeseung a warm smile, nodding her head. ‘’Then it’s decided, you’ll do it together.’’

You just hoped that the unpleasant expression plastered on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung.

”I’ll do the whole project.”

You had followed Heeseung out of the classroom after saying bye to your teacher, the smile you had worn in an attempt to conceal how unsatisfied you were with her decision fading away as soon as you turned around to walk after the lanky boy; a sigh of annoyance leaving your lips as you sped up to catch up with your seatmate.

Your words clearly took Heeseung by surprise, his eyes wide and his eyebrows slightly furrowed together as he turned around to look at you. You just stared at him, leaning your upper body against the lockers beside you; the shocked expression on his face remaining.

“What?” His words came out shaky, not expecting you to follow him and he did most definitely not expect you to place your body against his locker, preventing him from accessing his own locker. You sighed, “Are you deaf? I said I’ll do the project, don’t worry, I’ll hand it in on time.”

Heeseung just continued to stare at you, his lips now slightly parted. “On your own? No, absolutely not! Did you not listen to a single word that the teacher told us? It’s a group project,” He let out, shaking his head as he spoke. Yet another sigh left your lips, this one much more dramatic, followed by you rolling your eyes.

Not even two minutes into your first ever official conversation with the boy and he was already annoying you.

“I’m not stupid, okay? I can handle it, just leave it to me.” You defended yourself, emphasizing the ‘stupid’. 

“I never said you were,” He looked down at the books you were holding in your hands, “But judging by the way you brought your biology book to history class, I think you might need some he-“ 

Heeseung stopped himself from speaking as his eyes landed on your stern, clearly unamused face. 

Maybe he said a little too much.

You just stared at him as he pressed his lips into a thin line, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted away from your figure in an attempt to ease the sudden tense atmosphere. “If you’re done being an asshole, I need to go get started on this project since I’m so stupid.”  You had already turned around, already a few feet away from the boy when you heard him sigh from behind you.

“No, Y/N, wait!” Your eyes went wide for a second when you felt his cold hand come into contact with your wrist, your steps coming to a halt as his firm grip prevented you from taking another step. You quickly turned around, coming face to face with Heeseung, who was still holding onto your wrist, once again. 

If looks could kill, Heeseung was sure he’d be dead by now. 

With your eyes narrowed as you stared at him, a sigh left his lips as he ran his hand through his hair; the grip he had on your wrist slowly loosening before ultimately letting your wrist go completely - your arm falling down your side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, it’s a group project,” He let out, his hand resting at the nape of his neck. You just stared at him for a moment, not believing the audacity of the boy standing before you. 

”Well, I don’t think we can work together. Go ask the teacher to assign you a new partner or something.” You let out after a moment of silence, a moment of Heeseung staring at you in anticipation; nervously waiting for you to respond. You were about to turn around once more, feeling done with the conversation; hoping that he’d actually listen to you and talk to the teacher about switching partners when a groan suddenly emerged from the taller boy's throat.

”No,” He shook his head, “I want to work with you Y/N.”

A dry chuckle trailed off your lips as you shook your head in response. “It didn’t sound like it a minute ago when you called me stupid.”

Another groan left Heeseung’s throat, the sarcastic tone lingering behind your words almost causing him to roll his eyes. Judging by the way you were already clearly annoyed with him, he decided it would be for the best if he didn’t; if he wanted to live another day, that being said.

“I said I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in defense, throwing his hands up in the air. You almost scrunched your nose in disgust at the scene in front of you, only finding him more and more annoying the more he spoke. “Whatever, are we done here or is there another insult you’ve been wanting to tell me?” You muttered, your eyes still narrowed as you stared at the dark-haired boy.

Heeseung just stared back at you for a moment. He wondered if you had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or if his words actually pissed you off that much, fighting the urge to ask you which of the two options had you in such a foul mood.

‘’Look Y/N,’’ He began speaking, pushing his glasses further up his nose using his pointer finger, “I insist. I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, but I can’t let you do this whole project on your own.”

Got off to a bad start? You almost let out a chuckle as the words left his lips, was he really that oblivious? ‘’Plus, think about it, I think we both could benefit from working together, no?’’

You pressed your lips into a thin line, your gaze darting over to look at something other than him while thinking about what he had just said. 

There was absolutely nothing in it for you, besides possibly growing to hate Lee Heeseung even more than you already did. There was nothing Heeseung could possibly help you with, you knew you would be able to do the project, if not even better, on your own; history was one of the few subjects you were really good in, after all.

‘’How?’’ You asked after a while, your eyes darting back to the boy standing in front of you once again. He raised one of his eyebrows, tilting his head as he gave you a questioning look. ‘’How what, exactly?’’ He questioned, repeating your words. You let out a sigh, inhaling air through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. ‘’Yeah, like how would we possibly benefit anything from working together?’’

His lips formed into an ‘o’ shape as he realized what you meant, causing you to frown as you watched his facial expression go from a puzzled to an understanding one. 

He might’ve looked smart and his grades definitely proved that he was, but when it came to interacting with another human being; God, was he awful. 

A hum left Heeseungs lips as he thought about your question - now that he understood what you meant by your simple ‘how’. 

‘’It’s the most important project of the year, almost our whole grade literally depends on this project,’’ He began speaking, almost like he was educating you; earning yet another stare from you, patiently waiting for him to continue his sentence.

Heeseung just stared back at you for a moment, wondering if you understood the importance of this project. Your blank stare made it hard for him to tell if you understood or not, but considering how your teacher had brought up the importance of this project multiple times during the year he just assumed you knew; clearing his throat before you could accuse him of calling you stupid, again. 

‘’So I just think that if we put both our knowledge together, we’d do a better job compared to how we’d do if we did it separately,’’ He continued, ‘’She wouldn’t put us in the same group if she didn’t think it was for the best, right?’’

You kept your eyes on him as the last words trailed off his lips, a low chuckle escaping your lips as you scanned his facial expression; his bottom lip placed in between his teeth by the time he finished speaking.

Still believing this was the universe’s way of punishing you for all your sins, you refused to believe that your teacher paired you and Heeseung up for the sake of your grade. If anything, your seatmate was going to be the downfall of your grades; considering how you wouldn’t last a minute working with him. ‘’If you needed my help that bad you should’ve just said so.’’

Your words almost caused Heeseung’s jaw to hit the floor, his eyes widening in disbelief. Did you just disrespect his knowledge, the knowledge he so proudly bragged about every time he received yet another perfect grade? 

‘’What? I don’t need your help!’’ He let out, stumbling over his own words as he tried to defend himself and most importantly - his pride.

A small smile formed on your lips as you watched the flustered boy in front of you. Of course Heeseung, the top student, didn’t need your help to get this project done; you knew that. But you couldn’t help but let the words leave your lips as you watched how nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he was getting ready to start begging you to work with him.

You also eventually figured out the reason behind his stubbornness. He didn’t necessarily want to work with you, but he wanted the grade that would come with him working with you. He knew that by working with you and doing the project together, you’d put the things he already knew into a new perspective and it would definitely get him a higher grade; especially since your teacher was the one who wanted you two to work together in the first place.

‘’I could totally do this whole project on my own! But it’s a group project and it’s not fair if only one of us does the whole project, not that I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own, but I just t-’’

‘’What’s in it for me?’’ His lips remained parted for a second, not a single word leaving his lips as you abruptly interrupted his rambling. He then pressed his lips back into a thin line, confusion once again taking over the flustered expression he had just worn on his face. You just stared at him, shaking your head as he remained quiet. ‘’You clearly want me to work with you so you can get a better grade,’’ You continued.

Heeseung’s lip once again parted, bringing both his hands up in the air; about to defend himself - about to deny the obvious. He, however, never got the chance to utter as much as a single noise as your voice once again filled his ears. ‘’But what’s in it for me?’’

He just started at you, making you wonder if that’s what he always did whenever he spoke to someone considering he had only taken his eyes off you for a split second during your conversation; his doe eyes staring right at you starting to make you feel slightly uncomfortable. ‘’Well,’’ He hummed, realizing there was no point in denying the truth, ‘’A better grade, I suppose?’’

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head. ‘’That won’t do.’’ You replied, causing Heeseung to frown. ‘’What do you mean?’’ He asked, his head now slightly tilted. ‘’I know that I could achieve the very same grade, if not better, by working on my own. So working with you is technically only a hassle for me,’’ Your words caused Heeseung to mutter out a low ‘ouch’ under his breath as you continued speaking.

‘’So, what’s in it for me if we do work together?’’ The frown remained plastered on Heeseung’s face as you finished speaking, now slightly tilting your head as you waited for him to speak.

Heeseung, however, remained silent. He kept his eyes on you as he tried to think of something, anything, that you could get out of working with him; besides a better grade, that being said. With his bottom lip once again placed in between his teeth, a low groan escaped his throat as he realized there was absolutely nothing in it for you besides a better grade. Tearing his eyes off of you, a sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eyes.

He couldn’t believe he had to bargain with you in order for you to do the project with him.

‘’I’ll do anything you want.’’ Your lips parted in surprise, your eyes slightly widening as the sudden words left his mouth. 

Any normal person would just simply ask their teacher to switch partners if the other person showed clear dissatisfaction with the thought of being paired up together. Heeseung, however? No, not when his whole grade was on the line.

You knew Heeseung would do anything for a good grade, even though he didn’t even have to try most of the time. But considering the fact that this project was important and as he had previously told you, your whole grade depended on this project; you knew the opportunity of you two working together was his best bet on getting the highest grade possible. Even though you were aware of how important he found his grades, you couldn’t help but wonder - was he really that desperate?

‘’Anything?’’

‘’Absolutely anything.’’

Heeseung regretted his decision the second the words left his lips and his eyes fluttered open, once again landing on your face. The smug grin you wore on your lips made him want to sink through the ground; realizing what he had just agreed to. ‘’Like, absolutely anything?’’ You repeated, your smile only growing bigger as you realized you could practically make the poor boy do anything judging by how desperate he looked with his big doe eyes staring into your own.

‘’Yes! Like, absolutely anything!’’ He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he placed the other hand on his hip; something that almost made you cringe, and it probably would’ve - if you weren’t too caught up in the fact that your annoying seatmate, Lee Heeseung, just told you he’d do anything in order for you to work on the group project with him.

‘’Deal.’’ You let out, extending your right hand for him to shake. Heeseung just stared at your hand for a moment, the hand that had been pinching the bridge of his nose falling down his side as his gaze met yours once again. ‘’What? You haven’t even told me what I’m supposed to do yet, how can we make a deal if I don’t even k-’’

Heeseung fell silent the second he felt you grab his hand, rolling your eyes as you shook his hand; his lips parting in utter surprise at your unexpected action, the feeling of your smaller hand wrapping around his own causing his heart to skip a beat - from the shock of you so carelessly grabbing his hand, of course, nothing else. 

‘’Let’s get this over with as soon as possible, yeah? Let’s meet up tomorrow and figure out what we should write about,’’ You spoke, interrupting the now clearly appalled boy standing in front of you as you continued shaking his hand. ‘’But,’’ Heeseung managed to stutter out, eyes wide as he watched you shake his hand. ‘’Great! I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow after class,’’ 

By the time Heeseung had managed to tear his gaze off your hands, you had already let his hand go and were now making your way down the hallway with your back turned towards him. Heeseung, however, kept his hand extended as his lips parted; watching you make your way down the hallway, feeling dumbfounded by what had just happened. 

What did he just agree to?

The clock that decorated Heeseungs wrist hit 2:30 PM, and you were still nowhere to be seen.

Your class ended at 2 PM sharp the following day, and by 2:03 PM Heeseung found himself sitting in the library; his eyes scanning the room from the table he was sitting at as he waited for you to arrive.

Heeseung was an understanding man. He considered himself to be a very compassionate and generous person, which is why he understood why you weren’t in the library by the time he arrived. He had seen you talking to your friends right before class ended after all, or maybe the hallways were packed and stopped you from getting to the library as soon as possible, or maybe the teacher wanted to share a word with you. Whatever it was that was making you late, Heeseung understood and it wasn’t like he actually expected you to be there the second you got out of class; unlike himself.

Well, maybe a part of him did expect you to be there when he walked in. Another thing you had yet to find out about Heeseung was that while he was definitely an understanding person, he was also a time pessimist. 

And with you now being almost thirty minutes late to your scheduled meeting, the meeting that you had scheduled, Heeseung began to grow anxious as his eyes landed on the watch he wore around his wrist for the nth time that day. Heeseung valued his time, especially his study time, and you being this late caused the boy to almost grow aggravated as his foot repeatedly tapped against the floor; his eyes now glued to the clock as he counted each second that passed.

Heeseung tried being an understanding person, and he was willing to wait until the clock hit the thirty-minute mark for you to show up. But with the clock now being exactly 5 seconds away from hitting 2:31 PM, he could no longer force himself to be the bigger person; a low sigh escaping his lips as he watched the clock tick. You had wasted his precious time, and he was not willing to waste any more of it by waiting for you to show up.

‘’Why did you have to pick this table? I had to walk around the entire library looking for you,’’

Your sudden voice followed by your bag landing on top of the table in front of him almost caused Heeseung to jump out of his seat, missing as his watch hit 2:31 PM when his eyes landed on you instead. Heeseung kept his eyes glued on you, his lips parting in surprise as a sigh left your lips, watching you sit down in the chair in front of him.

The boy, however, never replied to your question. Raising one of your brows, your gaze landed on the lanky boy; immediately spotting the sour look on his face. You didn’t know whether or not to laugh at the displeased look plastered on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line as stared right back at you; or if you should be concerned, considering that you had never seen him look so disappointed before.

‘’What’s with the long face? Have you suddenly gone mute or why aren’t you saying anything?’’

Maybe your wishes of Heeseung losing his ability to speak somehow finally got fulfilled.

‘’You’re late.’’

Or maybe not. A groan left your lips before you ran your hand through your hair, rolling your eyes at the boy sitting with his arms crossed in front of you before leaning back in your chair; mimicking his actions by crossing your own arms over your chest.

‘’By like, 30 minutes,’’

‘’Exactly! 30 whole minutes, that’s a lot of time! I could’ve finished my biology homework by now if you showed up on time!’’ With his arms now waving in the air as he tried explaining to you why thirty minutes was a lot of time, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the boy once again. ‘’I just had to stop by the cafeteria to buy myself something to drink, I’m sorry! It’s not my fault that the line was so long!’’

Now it was Heeseungs turn to roll his eyes, ‘’Why didn’t you just skip getting a drink when seeing that the line would take a while? You knew you’d be late!’’

His argument earned him yet another eye roll from you, ‘’Would you rather me be 30 minutes late to our study date or die of dehydration?’’

‘’You wouldn’t even die of dehydration, unless you haven’t had a drink in about a week which I strongly doubt you haven’t because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t even be functioning right n-’’

A loud groan coming from you interrupted Heeseung’s lecture, his lips still parted with his hands still in the air as he stared at you. ‘’God, Heeseung! You’re so annoying, you know that, right?’’ You spat at him, shaking your head as you spoke. Heeseung just stared at you, letting out a huff before leaning back in his chair; crossing his arms over his chest once again before looking over at the bookshelf placed behind you. ‘’Says the girl who wasted 30 minutes of my precious time.’’

You stared at the boy seated in front of you in disbelief. Just when you didn’t think your dear seatmate could get any more annoying, he proved you wrong by showing you the most disturbing sulking face you had ever seen, his stern face accompanied by a small pout on his plump lips almost making you shudder in repulsion; like your whole body was rejecting just the sight of Lee Heeseung sulking.

‘’You’re only wasting more of your so-called precious time by sulking.’’ You muttered after taking in the sight in front of you, the shock of seeing Heeseung sulking leaving you dumbfounded for a moment; tearing your eyes off the boy in front of you to open up your backpack to retrieve your laptop.

Heeseung’s gaze landed on you, watching as you opened up your laptop; not a single word leaving his lips, a frown taking over his face as he realized he had actually been sulking. Oh god, he had actually sulked in front of you.

The two of you remained quiet after Heeseung cleared his throat in an attempt to somewhat ease the atmosphere, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, hiding his face by fiddling with the backpack he had placed next to his chair; praying that his hair actually covered the crimson color that had begun to spread across his cheeks.

‘’So,’’ You were the first one to speak, tearing your eyes away from your laptop; your eyes landing on the boy in front of you once more. As your eyes met his, Heeseung just hoped that his flushed cheeks had gone back to normal, not wanting to embarrass himself even further by letting you see him flustered. ‘’Any ideas of what we could write about?’’

Heeseung parted his lips, a feeling of relief washing over him as you just stared at him; not saying anything about his flushed cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t as noticeable as he thought. ‘’Oh,’’ He let out after a few seconds of just blankly staring at you, only speaking when you raised one of your eyebrows as you waited for him to respond. ‘’I was thinking we could write about the economic impact of the Titanic sinking?’’

Oh my god.

Was he actually serious right now?

You just stared at him, scanning his face as you tried to figure out if he was actually serious or not. But by the way his big, deer-like eyes were only staring innocently right back at you, you realized he was in fact serious. Oh god, he was actually serious. ‘’Don’t tell me you’re being serious?’’

Heeseung raised both his eyebrows at your question, his big eyes glistering under the extremely bad lighting of the library. ‘’What? Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a very interesting topic! You know, it impacted the economy pretty badly,’’ He began explaining, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as the words left his mouth; pressing your lips into a thin line before taking a deep breath through your nose. If you didn’t stop him right there and then, he would probably go on an hour-long rant about why and how the Titanic sinking impacted the economy.

‘’Heeseung.’’ 

‘’Almost all of the survivors and the families of the people who lost their lives sued the company, I can’t remember the exact number but we’re talking about millions and millions of dollars,’’

‘’Heeseung,’’

‘’I should know the exact amount of money though, what was it? Wait, let me look it up,’’

‘’Heeseung, I swear to God, if you say as much as another word about the Titanic I will personally sue you for emotional damage.’’ Heeseung had already begun typing on the keyboard of his laptop as the words left your mouth, his fingers stopped typing as he looked away from the screen of his laptop and up at you; his eyes widening.

This was the second time Heeseung felt like if looks could kill, he’d be buried 6 feet under the ground right now. It had only been approximately 24 hours since the two of you shared your first proper conversation despite being seatmates for months, yet he felt like you had wanted to kill him twice during those 24 hours. 

Heeseung just gulped in response, his eyes darting back to the screen of his computer; anything to avoid the death glare you were sending him, moving the cursor to close the google tab he had opened up. He’d have to google that when he got home.

‘’How about something simple instead? Like the great depression or something?’’

‘’Isn’t that too easy?’’

You just stared at the boy in front of you, causing him to throw both hands up into the air. ‘’Alright, the great depression it is!’’ He let out, keeping his hands in the air; scared that if he complained one more time you’d actually kill him. ‘’Thank you for finally cooperating, I almost thought you weren't capable of cooperating for a while.’’ You muttered, your eyes landing on the screen of your laptop once more as your fingers ghosted over the keyboard, creating a new document for you and your annoying seatmate.

Heeseung was about to say something in protest, something about how you were the one who had arrived late and picking the most basic topics, when he realized it was probably for the best for him to keep quiet; unless he wanted you to lash out on him again.

What had he possibly done for you to be so annoyed with him?

‘’Great, now we have a topic,’’ You mumbled under your breath, Heeseung watching as your brows slightly furrowed together as you focused on something on your laptop. ‘’And for time and place?’’ Your eyes met his once again, his head slightly tilted to the side; something you had noticed he did quite a lot whenever he got confused.

He remained silent, causing you to hold back a sigh. ‘’So we can work on the project, what time and what days should we meet up?’’ You clarified, not that your original question needed clarifying; but considering how the boy seated in front of you had no idea how to have a basic conversation, you realized you would have to clarify a lot of things the next couple of weeks. 

‘’Right,’’ Heeseung let out as he realized what you meant, ‘’I’m free after school on Mondays and Thursdays, if that works for you?’’

Free from doing what exactly? Researching the economic impact the Titanic had from sinking?

‘’That works for me,’’ You nodded, ‘’Let’s meet by your locker, and then head to the library to study, yeah? That way you don’t have to look like an idiot while waiting for me if I end up running late again.’’

Heeseung almost let out a whine at the mention of you running late again. He had hoped that you had learned your lesson by making him sulk in front of you, but your words proved him wrong; the thought of you making him waste another thirty minutes of his life waiting for you almost caused a groan to leave his throat in frustration. But he didn’t, only muttering out a low ‘right’, not wanting to annoy you even further.

You nodded your head, before shutting your computer; the sound of your laptop shutting close causing Heeseungs gaze to land on you again, confusion washing over him as he watched you out your laptop back into your backpack. ‘’Wait,’’ He let out, ‘’What are you doing? Aren’t we going to study?’’

You let out a chuckle as you closed your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder before standing up. ‘’It’s almost 3 o’clock, I have to get home,’’ You responded, putting the chair you had just been sitting in closer to the table. Heeseung watched your every movement, his lips parted as he watched you get ready to leave. ‘’But we haven’t even gotten anything done!’’

You just shrugged, ‘’I’m sorry, but I only had an hour to spare.’’

Heeseung just stared at you in disbelief. ‘’But you’ve only been here for, what, fifteen minutes?’’ He stuttered, the chuckle emerging from your throat taking him by surprise. ‘’Sorry, the amount of time it took for me to get a drink is also calculated into that time,’’

Frowning, Heeseung wanted to press his forehead against the table in front of him. It wasn’t his fault that you ended up being late, so why were you punishing him for it by not even studying like you had originally planned to do? The least you could do was at least stay for a while longer, just to make sure you got at least something done, not just deciding the topic. But it seemed like you weren’t going to do that, leaving Heeseung in despair.

‘’But I promise I’ll be on time next time! I’ll see you Thursday!’’

And just like that, you left Heeseung sitting in the same chair he had been sitting in for almost an hour now; waving as you walked further away. Heeseung just stared at you, watching as you spun around; a frown still plastered on his face. His forehead hit the table the second you walked out of the library, his eyes tightly shut as he let out a low groan, hoping that the rest of the people in the library didn’t hear him groaning in annoyance. 

Not only had you wasted his valued time, but he also never got the chance to ask you about what you wanted him to do for you to work with him.

To Heeseung’s surprise, you actually kept your promise.

When Thursday rolled around and your last class of the day was coming to its end, Heeseung was fully prepared for you to just leave him hanging again. This time, however, he had promised himself that he’d only wait for you for a maximum of fifteen minutes, no more; especially not thirty minutes like last time. He wasn’t going to let you waste his time like that again, not when he had more important things to do rather than standing around, waiting for his seatmate.

So when you actually showed up at his locker only two minutes after he got there, he was taken aback. He had prepared himself for you being late, he even come up with the bright idea of cleaning his locker while waiting for you, which was much needed considering the amount of paper taking up all the space in his already small locker; making it hard for him to fit his books in there the more papers he gathered, only to dump them in his locker.

But it seemed like cleaning his locker would have to wait as you actually showed up on time, holding your laptop in one of your hands and a history book in the other; ready to start working.

Not only had you surprised Heeseung, but Heeseung had surprised you as well. You had mentally prepared yourself for an hour consisting of listening to Heeseung ramble about things that were completely irrelevant, things that would make you want to rip your hair out in annoyance; things that would make it incredibly hard for you to get anything done.

But you didn’t even have to set any rules, you didn’t tell him to be quiet and only talk to you if he had something to ask or say about the project, that him talking would only prevent you from getting any work done which you knew would annoy him as well; because twenty minutes into your study session, he had yet to utter a single word.

No, he kept his eyes glued to the screen the second he opened his laptop; his brows slightly furrowed together as the screen of his laptop reflected in his glasses. Like the computer had sucked him into a completely different world, his lips remained sealed as you discreetly watched him read something in the reflection of his glasses. Not that he would have noticed that you were staring at him, whatever he was reading had clearly captivated him.

No rambling, no unnecessary remarks, no nothing; he was just simply quiet. Almost too quiet.

And you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, the universe had finally heard your prayers and decided to forgive you for your sins; showing you its gratitude by letting you have one day where you wouldn’t have to lose your mind over Lee Heeseung talking.

He wasn’t so bad when he kept his mouth shut.

You would think that the quietness would make it easier for you to focus on the project, but twenty minutes in and the document still remained blank; besides a few names and random dates that Heeseung had written down at the bottom of the page for him to remember for later, watching as he switched in between tabs, the sound of him typing on his keyboard filling the room before he went back to reading once again.

There was something else clouding your mind, making it hard for you to focus on the project as the only thing you could seem to think about was what you were supposed to tell Heeseung to do for you working with him.

You found yourself lost in your own thoughts as you thought about it. You had been delighted when Heeseung first proposed the idea of him doing anything you want in order for you to work with him, ideas running through your mind; maybe this was your chance to get him to stop both embarrassing you and getting on your nerves during class. Maybe this was your chance of turning Lee Heeseung into an actual endurable seatmate.

You could forbid him from talking in class ever again, you thought, or maybe you could force him to do something so bizarre the teacher would have to change the seats around. Or maybe he didn’t have to do anything bizarre, maybe he could just ask the teacher to change the seats around; but what would be the fun in that, especially after the hell he’s unknowingly put you through day in and day out?

But the more you thought about it, the more idiotic did your options seem. You knew you couldn’t forbid him from talking in class, you knew he had to speak in class; you might be praying for Lee Heeseungs downfall, but you knew better than to play with his grades like that. The teacher had also made it very clear that she wouldn’t be changing the seats anytime soon and that we would just have to live with it after multiple groans and complaints had left the student's lips after her decision was announced.

So with your options being ripped apart one by one, you were left with nothing. Which meant you had no idea what to tell Heeseung.

You weren’t sure for how long you had been in your thoughts, but the sound of Heeseung suddenly humming snapped you out of your daze; blinking as you realized you had been zoning out for a little too long.

At first, you thought he was humming to get your attention; maybe he noticed that you still hadn’t written anything as the page was still blank and was going to ask you about it, or possibly make some smart remark about how he already knew everything the page he was on was telling him - something typical coming from Heeseung. 

But he wasn’t trying to get your attention, no, he was humming a song.

You slightly furrowed your brows as you realized he was in fact humming the tune of a song, your eyes now fully fixed on him. His eyes remained glued to the screen of his laptop, the reflection in his glasses letting you know that he was still reading. You parted your lips like you were getting ready to say something, but remained silent as you continued to listen to him quietly humming.

‘’What song are you humming?’’ You spoke, the first time you spoke since you first sat down; the first time any of you spoke, as a matter of fact. Heeseung quickly looked up at you, his eyes big as his lips parted; his humming coming to an abrupt end. ‘’What?’’ He let out, causing a small chuckle to trail off your lips. ‘’The song you were humming just now, what song was it?’’

Heeseung just stared at you, his lips still parted. ‘’Oh,’’ He mumbled, a small smile spreading across his lips and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever actually seen him smile. You couldn’t help but let your eyes dart down to his pink lips, his teeth slightly showing as the corner of his lips curled into a small smile; one of his hands awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck.

His smile almost caused you to frown, because why was his smile so pretty? 

You never thought that Lee Heeseung would have a pretty smile, but with his pearly white teeth showing you couldn’t help but think just that - that Lee Heeseung did in fact have a pretty smile. ‘’I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry if I disturbed you,’’ He stuttered, looking down at his lap in another attempt to hide the crimson color spreading across his cheeks. This time, however, you noticed his flushed cheeks. 

‘’No,’’ You let out, almost too quickly, ‘’You didn’t. It sounded like a good song, I mean, you sounded good.’’

Oh, God. 

There was no way you actually just complimented him.

Your sudden compliment caused Heeseung to look back up at you, the shy smile he had flashed you slowly fading away and you suddenly felt like hiding your face in the palms of your hands. You weren’t sure if you somehow offended him, judging by the way his smile had now faded away completely; not that a compliment like that usually offended anyone, but you had established the fact that Heeseung didn’t work like other people a long time ago.

‘’Thank you,’’ He managed to get out after a moment of suspenseful silence, his cheeks now feeling hotter than ever as he tried biting back another smile from spreading across his lips. ‘’I can show you the song later, if you want me to of course!’’ He stammered.

You nodded in response, flashing him a small smile before returning your gaze to the screen of your computer in an attempt to ease the now stiff atmosphere; feeling awkward from the situation that had just played out. No, awkward wasn’t even the right word to describe how you felt, you felt like you wanted to sink through the ground.

Why would you ever compliment him like that?

Heeseung, however, kept his eyes on you; biting down on his bottom lip as he watched you uncomfortably shifting around in your seat while clearing your throat. Had he made you feel awkward? Was he not supposed to tell you the song? Should he just go back to reading the article he was reading? Questions flooded his mind as he desperately tried figuring out a way to ease the awkwardness that had suddenly arisen, almost slightly panicking as the thought of him making you uncomfortable crossed his mind.

‘’Oh, wait,’’ 

Against your own will, your eyes darted back to the boy sitting in front of you, raising one of your eyebrows as you watched him bend over; the sound of him unzipping his bag causing you to feel slightly puzzled. ‘’I forgot,’’ He mumbled as he sat back upright, your eyes darting down to his hands; watching as he placed a drink on top of the table. ‘’I brought this for you this morning, so you wouldn’t have to die out of dehydration this time.’’

Your gaze softened as he mumbled out his words, almost making it impossible for you to hear what he was saying; but you did, and a part of you wished you hadn’t - because now it was your cheeks burning. 

You kept your eyes on the drink placed in front of the boy, his hand still loosely wrapped around the can; his eyes now focused on you, his bottom lip placed in between his teeth once more as he waited for you to respond. But your response never came, and Heeseung couldn’t tell if you were staring at the drink because you didn’t like it or because you found his gesture weird. 

‘’I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I wasn’t sure which one to get,’’ He stuttered, letting go of the drink as he spoke, ‘’I-if you don’t want it that’s completely fine, I can just drink, I’m sorry if it was weird of me t-’’

‘’Thank you, Heeseung.’’

Your soft words caused Heeseungs body to freeze in place. He was expecting you to snap at him, or groan, or maybe even roll your eyes, his already big eyes slightly widening in shock as your eyes met his. He stared into your eyes for a moment, searching for any type of sarcasm or maybe even annoyance; but he couldn’t find any, no, the soft look in your eyes telling him that you were actually being genuine. ‘’I really like that drink.’’

Heeseung felt his cheeks heat up once again, a small smile forming on his plump lips as his fingers wrapped around the drink again; sliding the drink over the wooden table. ‘’Good.’’ He managed to get out, speaking so quietly that he was sure you hadn’t even heard him. He watched as you wrapped your own fingers around the drink, a small smile forming on your own lips.

He had made you smile.

He was quick to return his gaze to the screen of his computer, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest if he looked at you for as much as another second.

With your fingers ghosting over the keyboard of your laptop, you realized that you most definitely weren’t going to get anything done today; not while Heeseung was sitting across the table.

Heeseung made sure to buy one can of that drink every time the two of you were supposed to meet up by his locker after that. 

The first couple of times he had pulled the canned drink out of his bag, you had insisted that he shouldn’t, that he didn’t have to buy you a can every Monday and Thursday, and that you could just buy one yourself; but Heeseung refused.

He wanted to, because then he got to see your smile.

You had also became less hostile towards him. You hadn’t calling him annoying or rolled your eyes at him for almost two weeks now, a new record according to Heeseung, considering how often you did those two things the first couple of times you met with him. He had also made you laugh at one point, and Heeseung swore he had never blushed so hard in his entire life.

So he was going to keep on buying you that one canned drink, because you were friends now, and that’s what friends do for each other; right?

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the lockers next to you, letting your upper body rest against the hard metal as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. Heeseung had never in his entire life been late for anything, not even once; especially not your study sessions. He was always the first one to be there, you would always spot his tall, lanky figure standing by his locker whenever you turned the corner to go met him. 

This time, however, Heeseung hadn’t been standing there as you turned the corner.

You just assumed he was using the restrooms when you first arrived, knowing that he would never be late; looking back to the first time you went to meet him in the library, remembering his sulking face after he told you you had wasted his precious time - a chuckle threatening to leave your lips at the memory. You were running a few minutes late to your now weekly meet-up anyways, so you just figured that he went to do something else while he waited for you, like using the restroom for example.

But when you had been standing there for ten minutes and Heeseung was still nowhere to be seen, you realized that wasn’t the case.

You had looked around, wondering if maybe he was just lurking somewhere nearby. You checked the end of the hallway, the empty classrooms thinking maybe he got held up after class, peaking into the boy's restroom - only to find it empty. With Heeseung still nowhere to be seen, you returned to his locker with a frown plastered on your face; deciding that you’d just stay by the lockers to see if he showed up.

Now, thirty minutes later, Heeseung was still nowhere to be seen. You had already scrolled through your entire Instagram feed, checked all your friend's stories and Heeseung still hadn’t shown up. A part of you began to grow worried, because since when was Heeseung ever late? He was never late, and the thought of something happening to him caused a weird feeling to spread across your chest.

The weird feeling caused you to stop scrolling on your phone, your thumb now lingering above the screen of your phone as you frowned. 

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment you began tolerating, not to mention caring about the boy you swore you hated so much. Maybe it was that one day in the library when you had heard him humming, his warm voice almost causing goosebumps to form on the skin of your arms - or maybe it was when he had bought you a drink, you weren’t sure.

But you did know for a fact that you weren’t particularly fond of the sudden, new feelings you felt towards the boy. 

It confused you, how fast everything had changed. Just four weeks ago, you had felt like your whole world came crashing down around you when your teacher had asked you to work with Heeseung. Now, four weeks later, you found yourself laughing at something he said; something you four weeks ago could never see yourself doing. But most importantly, you found yourself enjoying his company.

Something that you thought wasn’t humanly possible.

‘’I am so, so sorry,’’

Heeseungs now familiar voice brought you out of your thoughts, the feeling that had spread across your chest slowly fading away as his voice echoed behind you; feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. A small sigh of relief left your lips as you heard him walking towards you, your eyes still fixated on the screen of your phone as you turned around. 

‘’Is this your payback for that one time I made you wait for me?’’ You chuckled, feeling both relieved and slightly annoyed at him for making you wait for so long without giving you a heads up; you had given him your phone number after all so he could text you if anything came up, to avoid the library incident happening again. Your eyes left the screen of your phone, darting towards the figure walking towards you in the corner of your eye.

Nothing, however, could’ve prepared you for the sight you were about to see.

The smile that had formed on your lips when you first heard his voice slowly turned into your lips slightly parting, the grip you were holding on your phone tightening in an attempt for you not to drop it onto the floor; scared that you’d potentially crack the screen. If it wasn’t because you were leaning against the locker, you probably would’ve lost your balance.

With his dark hair dripping wet from just showering, covering his forehead and half of his eyes; he placed his hands on top of his thighs as soon as he reached you, desperately panting as he tried to catch his breath. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ He panted once again, his eyes meeting the floor. ‘’My gym teacher wanted to talk to me about my grades so I had to stay behind,’’

You, however, couldn’t make out a single word that was leaving his lips. With your lips still parted your now wide eyes scanned the boy standing in front of you, still trying his best to catch his breath; your eyes landing on his very, very veiny hands - a result of him sprinting through the school just to get to you.

With your heart now racing, your eyes landed on his face again.

What the fuck?

Without his glasses, he looked like a completely different person. The person standing in front of you didn’t resemble the annoying boy you had been sitting next to every day for months now one bit, no, he didn’t look like him at all. The boy standing in front of you now looked completely different, with the glasses you had once called hideous nowhere to be seen and his biceps exposed thanks to the t-shirt he was wearing, he looked so fucking attractive.

Heeseung must’ve noticed the way you stayed silent, looking up at you through his eyelashes; his eyebrows slightly furrowing together as he noticed the pale look on your face. ‘’Are you okay?’’ He asked, concern lingering in his voice.

No, fuck, you were the furthest thing away from being okay right now.

Standing up straight, he tilted his head, slightly narrowing his eyes so he could see you better. He wasn’t wearing his glasses after all. ‘’Are you upset with me? I’m sorry I’m so late, I promise I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long, do you still have time to study? It’s completely okay if you don’t, we can just reschedule it or just meet up on Monday instead,’’

He was rambling, and you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to him. Not right now, not when he was looking like this. ‘’No!’’ You managed to get out, almost stuttering as you spoke. Heeseung looked at you, his eyes slightly widening at your sudden exclaim; now scared that he had really upset you. You tore your eyes off of him, sucking air through your teeth, trying to calm your racing heart down.

Why were you suddenly feeling like this? Why was your heart racing?

‘’I can’t study today, at all,’’ You stuttered, your eyes still not meeting his as you cringed at yourself for sounding so pathetic by stumbling over your own words. ‘’I just came here to tell you that, I’m busy today, so I won’t be able to make it today,’’

Heeseung remained quiet, his eyes darting down to your now clenched fists, nervousness and confusion washing over him. You had lashed out at him before, sure, but never like this; making the boy feel slightly anxious. The last thing he wanted was to upset you. 

He bit down on his lower lip as you continued to avoid his gaze by staring at the lockers on the other side of the hallway, Heeseung fighting the urge to take your hands in his to check if maybe you had hurt yourself and that’s why you were clenching your fists so hard. ‘’But, you could’ve just texted me, you didn’t have to wait for me, wasn’t standing here waiting for me only taking up more of your time?’’ He let out, confusion and slight hurt lingering behind hs words.

You had always hated how smart Heeseung was, but right now, you swore you hated it more than you had ever done before.

‘’It slipped my mind,’’ You mumbled, still refusing to look back at him; scared that your heart would burst if you looked at him one more time. Heeseung just nodded in response, his eyes darting around the empty hallway as he thought of what to say. ‘’Well, are you going anywhere? Let me give you a ride, it’s the least I can do since I kept you waiting for so lo-’’

‘’It’s fine, Heeseung, I’ll take the bus, I’ll see you on Monday, okay?’’

Before Heeseung could even reply, you had already stormed past him without even looking at him. Turning around, his lips parted as he thought of calling out to you; hesitating to do so as he watched you walk further down the hallway. His lips closed once again as he watched you turn the corner, disappearing out of his sight. 

With a heavy feeling in his chest and droplets of water dropping onto his shirt from not drying his hair properly, he wondered if he had hurt you by being late.

Mondays had always been your favorite day, at least since Heeseung became your seatmate; purely because the two of you didn’t share any of the same classes on that particular day. It was no different today, you were beyond happy that you wouldn’t have to face Heeseung during any of your classes - but not for the reason you usually had.

No, this time it wasn’t because you wouldn’t have to listen to his pen hitting his desk over and over again, nor was it because you wouldn’t have to endure him embarrassing you by talking over the teacher like he always did.

You were scared, and you were scared shitless to face him.

You had rushed home after you had lashed out at him in the hallway, your heart still pounding when you laid down in the comfort of your own bed. You had refused to go to school the following day, making up some lie about not feeling too well - which in reality, wasn’t a lie. You didn’t feel too well, you didn’t feel well at all, truth to be told.

The thought of you and Heeseung actually getting along had already scared you, and the fact that your heart skipped a beat when you saw him only made things worse. You had never even considered Lee Heeseung remotely attractive before, you had always hated the way he styled his hair, the way it’d neatly cover his forehead; and most of all, you had always hated the horrid, round glasses he wore every day.

But seeing him like that, with his hair messily covering his forehead and without his glasses, and not to mention his smile, oh God, his smile; you realized that he was in fact attractive. No, he was more than just that - he was breathtaking.

Something you never thought you’d admit, nor was it something you ever wanted to admit. But whether you liked it or not, it was something you could no longer deny, even though you had spent the entire weekend trying to prove yourself wrong, to no avail: Lee Heeseung had made your heart skip a beat.

With your last class of the day coming to an end, you found yourself anxiously tapping your pencil against the wooden desk in front of you, a habit you swore you hated and most definitely picked up from Heeseung. The only difference was that Heeseung had told you that he always tapped to the beat of whatever song was stuck in his head when you had asked him about his annoying habit, while you very much just repeatedly tapped it against the table with no beat whatsoever.

You had considered texting him, letting him know that you wouldn’t be able to make it to today's study session either. But with the deadline coming up, you knew you couldn’t be that selfish; you had to get the project done sooner or later. And the faster the better, you thought, so you could go back to hating Lee Heeseung and never think about what the confusing feelings you currently felt towards the boy meant ever again.

Even though you had accepted your faith by the time your last class came to an end, it didn’t make it any easier for you to make your way down the hallway leading to Heeseungs locker. The anxiety you had felt the entire weekend only doubled when you were about to turn the corner, knowing that the second you turned that very corner, you’d be able to see the lanky boy standing further down the hallway.

You weren’t sure what to expect. You prayed that he was back to wearing his hair neatly and that he was wearing his glasses this time, that he’d look like he normally did; so you could be reminded of why you hated Lee Heeseung in the first place. Maybe you just needed a reminder for your confusing feelings to go away, maybe you were just confused because he had looked so different; you didn’t actually find him that attractive, right?

Wrong.

You were wrong.

With one step, you turned the corner you were so afraid of turning, and you swore your heart stopped beating the second your eyes landed on the spot where he usually stood when he waited for you.

His hair was indeed back to being neatly styled and his round glasses were perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose again just like you had hoped, so why the fuck did he still look so breathtaking?

This was the moment you were supposed to feel the heavy weight you had felt the entire weekend being lifted off your shoulders as you realized that you didn’t actually find Heeseung as attractive as you thought you did, you were supposed to feel all the anxiety slip away; so why did it feel like someone only added more weight onto your shoulders the second your eyes landed on him? 

Maybe you just needed to take a closer look.

Yeah, you definitely just needed to take a closer look.

‘’Hi,’’

Your voice definitely took Heeseung by surprise, his whole body slightly flinching as your voice came from beside him. Turning his whole body around, he looked at you; his eyes wide. ‘’Y/N? I didn’t think you’d show up today,’’ He managed to get out, his eyes still glued to you. You awkwardly smiled, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes in an attempt to hide your now flushed face.

No, you definitely found him just as attractive, if not even more, up close.

‘’Yeah, me neither,’’ You chuckled, hoping that Heeseung would chuckle too. Only he didn’t. Instead, he remained quiet; only staring at you, not knowing what to say. 

Heeseung had spent the entire weekend thinking, just like you had done. He had left school shortly after you stormed off, his mind clouded as he drove home; wondering why you were so upset when you left. He couldn’t help but curse himself out, telling himself that if he only had texted you that he’d be late you wouldn’t have been so upset with him; or if he just would’ve told his teacher that he simply didn’t have the time to discuss his grade because he had other plans - he did find meeting you more important, after all.

There were many ways Heeseung could’ve avoided you being upset with him, and he hated himself for not thinking about all those things before actually upsetting you. But Heeseung knew there was no way he’d be able to change what had already happened, so he spent the weekend trying to figure out how to apologize to you instead of sulking about you potentially being disappointed in him.

But now that you were actually standing in front of him, it seemed like all of the ways he had thought of how to apologize suddenly never existed in the first place; his mind going completely blank.

‘’Do you still want to study today?’’ Your voice snapped Heeseung out of his thoughts, blinking as he realized he had been staring at you. Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes off of you; rubbing the nape of his neck as he tried his best not to become flustered by your eyes being on him. ‘’Y-yeah, but,’’ He stammered out, something he hadn’t done in a long time; he almost never stuttered around you anymore, he had become so comfortable around you to the point where he felt comfortable talking to you without having to think about what he said - something he never felt with anyone else.

‘’I was thinking, maybe we could go to my house instead of the library?’’

Heeseung regretted saying it the second the words trailed off his lips and his eyes landed on your face, the shocked expression on your face making him regret every life choice that led him to this very moment. ‘’To your house?’’

‘’Yeah, I just, have this thing coming up later tonight a-and it’d be a lot easier for me if I was already at my house when we’re done studying,’’ He let out, the unsure look on your face making him want to sink through the ground.

He was supposed to apologize to you for letting you down before inviting you to his house, not the opposite - his plan already failing miserably.

You just stared at him for a minute, causing Heeseung to grow even more anxious. He had gotten used to the look on your face whenever you were annoyed with him, but this one didn’t look anything like that look; no, it looked like something completely different and Heeseung couldn’t tell what you were feeling, making him even more nervous.

He was just about to tell you to just forget about it and that he could probably find a way to work around it, that you could just work on your project in the library like you always did; when your voice interrupted him.

‘’Sure,’’ You softly let out, so softly that Heeseung almost didn’t catch it. ‘’Sure?’’ He repeated, making sure that he heard you correctly. You nodded in response, a small smile spreading on your lips. ‘’We can do that.’’

The car ride to his house was quiet, too quiet for your liking. But with Heeseung being focused on the road and with you staring at the window, you just couldn’t force yourself to say anything.

And neither could Heeseung. He thought that maybe this was his chance to apologize to you, maybe he wouldn’t get another opportunity today; considering how he knew you liked for him to be quiet whenever you were working. But with his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, the atmosphere felt far too awkward for him to utter a ‘sorry’. 

So he just decided he’d do it as soon as you reached his house, before the two of you started working on the project; letting you continue to observe the nature outside through the window, looking at you through the corner of his eye every now and then - a small smile forming on his lips each time.

Well, you had also planned on apologizing to him for storming off like that the previous week when you reached his house. But the atmosphere was just as tense when you placed yourself on top of his bed, your eyes scanning his room; taking in the space your dear seatmate lived in.

Just like you had expected, his room was neat. A little too neat. But then again, it looked just like you had pictured it; neat, just like Heeseung himself.

‘’I hope you’re okay with working on my bed, I don't have another chair,’’ He mumbled as he used his thumb to point to the desk placed in the corner of the room, your eyes landing on the one chair before nodding. ‘’Are you not working on the bed?’’ You asked, your eyes landing on the tall boy standing a few feet away. 

Heeseung looked over at you, gulping before opening his mouth to speak, ‘’I was planning on sitting by the desk, if that’s okay with you?’’ He asked, his eyes still glued to you. You bit down on your lower lip before nodding once more, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. ‘’I mean, yeah, I just thought it'd be easier if we sat next to each other, if I need to get your opinion on something or anything,’’ You mumbled in response.

That was a lie. You could easily just send him whatever you needed to get his opinion on, but how were you supposed to comfortably apologize if he was sitting from across the room?

Luckily for you, Heeseung seemed to agree with your idea. ‘’No, yeah, you’re right, I’ll just sit on the bed with you.’’ He mumbled back, his eyes darting away from you as he used one of his hands to rub the back of his neck.

So he did, placed with his back resting against the headboard of his bed and with his laptop placed on top of his thighs, he began working on the project; just like the two of you had planned.

You, on the other hand, just couldn’t focus; just like all the other times you had worked with Heeseung.

You had been too preoccupied stealing glances at him from above the screen of your laptop from the second he sat down in front of you to even open the shared document, the sight of him being too intriguing to even consider looking away.

While not so discreetly staring at the boy sitting in front of you, you realized two things. 

The first one being that you had no idea how to even bring up the subject, not knowing how to just suddenly apologize for something you didn’t even know if he cared about. 

The second thing being that you accepted the fact that you indeed found Lee Heeseung attractive. Too attractive for your own good - especially when he focused on something.

With his lip nudged in between his teeth and his brows furrowed together as he focused on whatever stood written on the screen of his laptop, you couldn’t help but scan his features. You wondered for a split second how you had never noticed how sharp his jawline was before, maybe because you never really looked his way as the mere sight of him used to be more than enough to make your blood boil; you weren’t sure. 

You also wondered why you had never paid more attention to his big, doe eyes before. His eyes were more than enough to make your heart skip a beat, not to mention whenever his pink lips would curl into a smile and the laugh you had learned to love would emerge from his throat.

No, you couldn’t do this anymore.

‘’Heeseung?’’

His name trailing fo your lips caused him to look up from his laptop, surprised to see your eyes already staring at him. He hummed in response, slightly tilting his head. You had to bite down on your bottom lip in order to control your breathing as his eyes met yours, inhaling through your nose before speaking, ‘’Can you take a look at this for me?’’

Heeseung offered you a soft smile, nodding his head as he sat up straight; getting ready for you to pass him your laptop so he could look at whatever you were referring to. But you had other plans it seemed, Heeseungs body freezing as he watched you crawl towards him - just to place your body in the tight space between his body and the wall.

His eyes widened as he felt your body press up against the side of his own, his breath hitching in his throat as he suddenly became aware of just how close you were to him. You had never been this close before, the closest you had ever been to him was the one time his hand accidentally brushed against yours while handing you a drink; that alone was enough to turn him into a stuttering mess.

But this? This was enough for him to lose his ability to speak for all eternity.

You, however, seemed completely unphased to Heeseung by the sudden closeness as you placed your laptop in your lap. Heeseung had to clear his throat as his eyes darted toward the screen of your computer, deciding not to say anything about how close you were to him. It made more sense for you to show him yourself, he thought, you probably didn’t mean anything by getting this close to him, right?

He watched as you moved the cursor across the screen, clicking on one of the tabs; an article now taking up the whole screen. Heeseung glanced over at you, sucking air through his teeth as he realized he would have to lean over you in order to actually make out what the text said. So he did, slowly leaning closer to the screen as he held his breath, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible; before you had the chance to hear how his heart was racing.

‘’Oh, and Heeseung?’’ You let out after a moment, Heeseung only humming in response as he tried his best to focus on the text that stood written on the screen of your laptop, his eyes skimming through the text he couldn’t seem to make any sense of - maybe because he wasn’t actually concentrating. ‘’You remember how you told me you’d do anything for me to work with you on this project?’’

Heeseung gulped as he felt your breath fan across his neck as you spoke, ‘’Yeah?’’ 

‘’I want you to kiss me.’’

Almost choking on his own saliva, your words causing him to freeze; his eyes no longer skimming through the text.

He stayed still, feeling your eyes burning into his side profile as he remained in the same position, trying his best to comprehend the words that had just left your lips. You wanted him to kiss you?

Your warm hand coming into contact with the skin covering his cheek almost caused him to flinch, your hand gently cupping his cheek as you forced him to look at you. You swore that your heart almost stopped beating as soon as his big eyes met your own, his eyes wide and staring at you in pure shock. 

Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips, your own bottom lip placed in between your teeth as your eyes landed on his plump, pink lips. The lips you had caught yourself staring at one too many times during these past few weeks.

Heeseung didn’t even get to fully comprehend the position he currently found himself in before he suddenly felt your soft lips press against his own.

The kiss was soft, Heeseung staring at you with wide eyes as he watched your eyes fluttering shut, your hand still placed on the side of his cheek as you gently pulled yourself towards him. Heeseung wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to kiss you back; but he just couldn’t. Instead, the shock of feeling your lips press against his own took over all his senses as he felt your thumb gently stroke his cheek, your lips still pressed against his own.

You quickly sensed that Heeseung wasn’t kissing you back, causing you to pull away; guilt overtaking you, had he not wanted you to kiss him?

Heeseung, however, almost let out a whine at the loss of contact. So he did what he deemed appropriate, bringing his own shaky hand towards your face; cupping your cheek before pulling you in for another kiss.

This time, his eyes fluttered shut as soon as he felt your lips press against his own again. He could tell that you wanted to kiss him just as bad by the way your other hand suddenly found its way to his other cheek, pulling him even closer to you; letting your lips mesh together.

Heeseung had never kissed anyone in his entire life. He had no idea how to kiss, he had no idea what to do with his hands nor did he know what to do with his mouth. So he let you press yourself against him, almost letting out a whine when your front teeth collided with your own, feeling embarrassed. The embarrassment, however, left the second he heard a giggle trail fo your lips before once again placing your lips on top of his.

He wanted to touch you, he wanted to bring you even closer to him, he wanted to feel more of you; his hand gripping onto the hair behind your ear as he forced you closer to him, your lips still leaving small pecks on top of his own. The whimper that left your lips when his fingers brushed through your hair, however, wasn’t something he had anticipated - causing the hair on his arms to stand upright.

Not once had he thought a whimper would make his heart melt, yet it did.

It also seemed like his fingers brushing through your hair caused you to want more as he suddenly felt you swiping your tongue across the bottom of his lip. Uncertain of what to do and slightly panicking, he pulled away; staring at you with wide eyes. You seemed to pick up on his uncertainty almost immediately, brushing your own fingers through his hair in an attempt to ease his nerves before pulling him back into a kiss.

Your attempt at easing his nerves definitely worked as he let your tongue enter his mouth, your wet muscle coming into contact with his own. Heeseung swore he could’ve let out a whine at the feeling of your tongue nudging his own while your lips moving in sync, gripping onto your hair even harder in an attempt to somewhat ground himself.

Him gripping onto your hair only seemed to fuel you on even further as he suddenly felt you move the laptop that he had placed in his lap before quickly moving his own as well, placing it in front of him before climbing onto his lap. You kept your lips attached to his own, both your hands now finding their way to his hair as you further deepened the kiss.

Heeseung still had no idea what to do, especially now that you were sitting on top of him, his heart only beating faster as he felt your hands leave his hair - only to grab onto his own. ‘’It’s okay, you can touch me,’’ You mumbled, guiding his hands towards your waist before placing them there, causing Heeseung to gulp as he grabbed onto the fabric of your shirt covering your waist.

You pressed your forehead against his own, his lips more plump than usual and his breathing heavier than usual from your shared kiss, his eyes meeting yours. ‘’Do you want me to take off my glasses?’’ He stuttered, scared that they were in the way of you kissing him.

You quickly shook your head as your hands found their way up the sides of his neck, cupping both his cheeks again. ‘’No, I want you to keep them on.’’

Heeseung was about to protest, but had no time to do so as you stole his next breath away by pressing your lips against his own once more. Not that he complained, the only thing he wanted right now was to kiss you, with glasses on or not - it didn’t matter to him as long as he got to feel your lips.

The kiss was quick to turn rough, Heeseung trying his best to copy what you were doing, moving his lips the same way you were moving yours. Heeseung couldn’t help but feel blood rush to the apples of his cheeks as he felt your breasts press against his chest, scrunching up even more fabric in his fists as he pulled you even closer.

It almost felt euphoric to him, having your tongue slip into his mouth and your lips meshing together. It felt unreal, almost like he was dreaming; until you grinding yourself against his crotch brought him back to reality.

Almost like a thunderbolt hit him, his whole body tensed up as his fingers let go if the fabric of your shirt - quickly placing his hands on top of your thighs. His hand landing on your thighs caused your slow movements to come to an abrupt end, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. 

With his big, doe eyes staring right back at you, the fingertips of his hands pressing into your clothed thighs, he shook his head.

Not because he didn’t want to feel your clothed core grinding on his own clothed crotch, God, no, there was nothing he’d rather feel right now. But he also knew that his euphoria would be short-lived if he let this go on any further, knowing that he most definitely wouldn’t be able to please you if it did end up going that far.

‘’I’m so sorry, I got carried away,’’ You mumbled, your hands slowly slipping away from his face and slightly using your knees to hover just above his crotch; Heeseungs eyes widening as the words left your lips. Why were you apologizing?

‘’No,’’ He let out as he grabbed onto your wrist before they left his face completely, ‘’I want to, Y/N,’’ His breathing was still uneven and he almost stumbled over his own words as he spoke, his eyes still staring into yours to show you that he was being genuine, wanting you to know that you hadn’t done anything wrong. Guiding your hands back onto his cheeks, he frowned.

You just stared at him, puzzled. ‘’So why are you saying no?’’ You whimpered, pressing your forehead against his. With a frown still plastered on his face, he felt his cheeks heat up once more as he realized how stupid he was about to sound.

‘’Because, I haven’t done this before, and I just, I want to be able to please you? I’m not saying that we’ll have sex, oh god, I mean, unless you want us to? I just want you to feel good too a-and I don’t think I’d be able to do th-’’

Heeseung didn’t even get the chance to continue his rambling before a small whine emerged from the back of his throat, suddenly feeling you press your lips right below his ear. 

The feeling of your wet lips pressing a soft kiss against his sensitive skin caused his eyes to flutter shut, the new sensation taking over his body.

‘’You’re thinking too much, Heeseung,’’ You whispered against this skin, leaving yet another wet kiss right below his jawline, ‘’Just let me make you feel good, okay?’’

Thinking was what Heeseung did best, especially in moments where he felt stressed out - like right now, for example. But with your lips pressing soft, wet kisses against his neck he suddenly felt like he couldn’t think straight for the first time in his entire life; especially when he felt you press your lower body against his own once more.

Through gritted teeth, a small hiss left Heeseung’s lips, his hands now placed on top your thighs again; his eyes fluttered shut as he let you slowly grind yourself against him, only nodding in encouragement when Heeseung slightly tilted his head to the side - making it hard for the boy not to dig his nails into your clothed thighs in an attempt to tell you he was enjoying it.

Was it too early for him to get hard?

He couldn’t help but gulp as he felt his cock beginning to grow in his pants, how could it not, when he had you grinding yourself against him so carelessly? Scared that you’d feel the tent beginning to form in the crotch of his pants, he uncomfortably shifted around; which caused you to shake your head. ‘’It’s okay Heeseung.’’ Your soft voice echoed right beside his ear, his heart beginning to race as he felt you push yourself down even more, and if you hadn’t felt his now semi hard cock before - you most definitely did now.

Your hands trailed down his stomach, Heeseung’s breath hitching in his throat as he felt your hands playing with the waistband of his pants; your lips still pressing innocent kisses against his throat by the time your fingers began playing with the zipper of his jeans. His eyes fluttered open, he wanted to see what you were doing, he wanted to see what you were doing to him; see what you were doing that could possibly have this effect on him.

Maybe he should’ve kept his eyes shut, because the sight in front of him was definitely too much to take in all at once. With your head still dipped in between the crook of his neck and one of your hands resting on his chest as the other one continued playing with the zipper of his jeans, he couldn’t help but let the whimper that had been threatening to leave his throat escape.

His whimper, however, was quickly replaced by a low groan as he felt your palm press against his now almost fully hard cock. A small hum of satisfaction left your lips, the vibrations of you humming against his skin sending shivers through his body. With you now slowly palming him on top of his pants, he couldn’t help the whimpers now continuously trailing off his lips, slightly buckling his hips so he could feel more of you.

He had been too lost in the bliss of your hand slowly stroking his clothed hard-on to notice the way you had separated your lips from the skin of his neck. It wasn’t until he felt your hand leave his crotch that he realized you had stopped kissing his neck and were now looking right at him, his eyes meeting yours.

You had to hold back a whine yourself as your eye met his, his big doe eyes bigger than usual as he questionably looked at you, almost like he was begging for you to continue. ‘’Do you trust me?’’ Heeseung nodded a little too eagerly to your question, causing you to press a soft kiss against his lips. ‘’Then let me make you feel good.’’

Heeseung swore that his whole body went into shock when you separated his thighs, placing yourself in between them before moving further down the bed; his eyes widening as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face now on the same level as his crotch.

This was a sight Heeseung never thought he’d see in his entire life, not with anyone and especially not with you.

‘’Is this okay?’’ Your voice brought him out of his daze, his lips still parted as he realized he had only been staring at you. Gulping, he slowly nodded.

Heeseung had already felt his cheeks heat up the second you got in between his thighs, but now that you were unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before sliding them down his legs; he had never felt more embarrassed and vulnerable in his entire life.

And the fact that you were now staring right at the outline of his hard-on, his underwear being the only thing separating you from actually seeing his cock, made him feel even more embarrassed. He placed his hands over his face as he felt his face heat up even more. Maybe this was a bad idea, a terrible idea even, forcing his eyes shut; not wanting to see the disappointment lingering in your gaze.

You, however, were anything but disappointed. You couldn’t help your jaw going slack the second your eyes landed on his very prominent outline, a small gasp almost leaving your lips as your fingertips slowly grabbed onto his still clothed cock; giving it a gentle squeeze, earning a low groan from Heeseung. 

You must’ve noticed the way he was still hiding behind his hands, causing you to lightly tap his now exposed thighs. He slowly opened his eyes, separating his fingers so he could look at you, his eyes immediately meeting yours. ‘’Is it okay if I take them off?’’ Not finding the strength to speak, he only nodded in response. He took a deep breath as he felt you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs.

As he felt his hard cock spring up, hitting his lower stomach; another hiss of both embarrassment and desperation trailed off his lips, followed by him covering his eyes using his hands once again. He simply just could not look at you, scared that he’d faint from the amount of awkwardness he felt by you staring at his now fully exposed cock.

‘’Heeseung, baby,’’ The nickname leaving your lips accompanied by a chuckle caused the now red boy to look at you from behind his hands once more, ‘’Don’t hide, there’s nothing to feel embarrassed about, okay?’’

Another groan emerged from the back of his throat as he slowly let his hand slip away from his face, hesitant to look at you; scared that you’d laugh at him or make fun of him for blushing so hard. But you never did, no, instead he suddenly felt you grab onto his girth, causing his eyes to immediately land on you.

Using one of your hands to experimentally stroke his cock, your lips parted in awe. You never would’ve thought that Lee Heeseung, the boy you once swore you hated, would have such a nice cock; his tip red for the lack of attention and throbbing in your hand. You leaned forwards, looking back up at him through your lashes before pressing a soft kiss against the tip.

The new feeling was almost enough for Heeseung to cum right there and then. His lips parted as he tried holding back a groan, failing miserably to do so as he watched you kiss yet another kiss to the tip of his cock; a small smile forming on your lips as you watch the boy laying in front of you melt into your touch.

Still slowly stroking it using one of your hands, you continued peppering kisses all over his tip, enjoying the way he squirmed around at the sensation. You then stuck your tongue out, leaving a wet trail from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, pushing Heeseung over the edge. He was about to tell you to please make him feel good and stop teasing him, you, however; seemed to already be on it as you wrapped your lips around his cock.

A loud groan left his lips in surprise as he felt your wet mouth wrap around his tip, followed by a hiss; his hands gripping onto the sheets as he tried his best not to buckle his hips forwards, wanting to feel your mouth on his entire cock. You pulled your lips off his cock with a pop, causing Heeseung to almost whine as he grew even more desperate.

But with you being quick to take his cock into your mouth once again, this time more of his cock filling your mouth; he never got the chance to even whine, not before you started slowly bobbing your head up and down.

With your lips now fully wrapped around his cock, all the nights he had spent in the darkness of his room tugging at his own cock, whimpering out your name as his own cum coated his stomach didn’t feel as perverted anymore.

Not that your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock felt anything like his right hand tugging at his own cock, no, his right hand couldn’t even remotely compare to your mouth now that he had experienced the bliss of your plump lips almost touching the base of his cock.

Heeseung felt like he was dreaming. Even though he had thought about your lips one too many times in the darkness of his room during the past few weeks, something he felt ashamed of admitting, he never thought he would actually get to experience it. In a way, it almost felt unreal - but the moan you let out around his cock, the vibrations causing a grunt to leave his lips reminding him that it was, in fact, real.

He wasn’t sure of just how loud he was being, not being able to stop the small whimpers and groans spilling past his lips; but one of his hands had somehow shakily made its way into your hair, pulling your head down in an attempt to relieve the throbbing of his cock. Every time your tongue swirled around his tip, he tensed up, the knot forming in his stomach telling him that he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

He hoped that you understood that this was his first time and that the new feeling overwhelmed him, hence why he was gripping onto your hair and slightly lifting his hips off the mattress underneath him - desperately trying to mutter something about being close.

With him stuttering something under his breath, your eyes darted up to look at him. The sight in front of you almost caused you to let out a moan, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pressed his head into the pillow placed underneath his head; giving you a clear sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as a result of him gulping, his lips slightly parted as another whimper left his lips.

He looked even prettier like that.

‘’Y/N,’’ He managed to stutter out, gathering even more hair in his fist as you hummed against the tip of his cock, your eyes still glued to him. ‘’I think I’m going to cum,’’

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the knot in his stomach snapped, a loud groan leaving his lips as he thrusted his hip forwards, not being able to control his own body as his orgasm washed over him. He was too busy trying to stay conscious as his overwhelming orgasm caused his whole body to tense up to even realize that he had unknowingly pushed your head down, your throat closing around his cock as his white seed shot down your throat only heightening his high.

With small whimpers trialing of his lips and his eyes tightly shut, he felt you pull your mouth away from his now twitching cock, droplets of his own release dropping onto his abdomen as his hand slowly let go of your hair he had bunched up in his fists.

It took a while for the boy to catch his breath, seeing stars as his eyes finally fluttered open, seeing the outline of you through his blurry vision.

Wait, did he just cum in your mouth? Without your permission?

Embarrassment shot through the boy's body, his eyes widening as he blinked; his eyes meeting yours, panic now slightly starting to set in as watched you stared at him with your lips slightly parted. ‘’I-I’m so sorry,’’ He managed to stutter out, placing his hands on both sides of his body before propping himself up so he was sitting upright.

You, on the other hand, just stared at the boy - appalled.

He had indeed just spilled his own release down your throat without any warning, and maybe you should’ve been angry with him; but how could you, when you could feel your own wetness seeping out of your hole? 

‘’I couldn’t stop myself, I promise I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry,’’ He continued rambling, the panic now being clear as day as he spoke, ‘’I’ve just never, felt so g-good before and it happened before I could sto-’’

Feeling you place yourself on top of his lap once more and smashing your lips against his own, he stopped speaking. The kiss was messy, your lips harshly moving against his own as his spit mixed with yours, combined with the taste of his own cum. The sudden kiss took him by surprise, your clothed core coming into contact with his already sensitive cock causing him to hiss against your lips. You, however, didn’t stop; a low whine leaving his throat as he felt you bite down on his lip.

‘’What are you doing?’’ He managed to whimper out as you pulled away for a second, taking in the sight in front of you. His lips were now slightly bruised, a result of your lips meshing together with his and you nibbling on his bottom lip; his doe eyes were big as he stared right back at you. Fuck, why did he have to look so pretty?

‘’You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?’’

Heeseung gulped, ‘’Y-you’re not mad at me?’’

A small chuckle left your throat, using your thumb to stroke his cheek. ‘’You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that right?’’

Heeseung knew he wasn’t stupid. Heeseung was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of those things; well, at least for now - knowing he’d probably be beyond dumb by the time you were done with him.

[mitsuyeaah]

hey, i was wondering how bonten (or ran, rindo, and sanzu) would act if they misunderstood a situation between you and your older brother and they got all jealous. (no inc*st or step-cest or anything like that). it’s a funny trope so i thought i’d ask lol

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

syn: bonten trio accidentally misunderstanding a situation between you and your older brother.

TR ft. RAN, RINDOU, SANZU

cw: swearing, jealous!bonten trio but other than that, just pure fluff, pet names (baby, babe, princess, darling)

a/n: sorry this took quite a while, anon! wrote this while i was at the gym hehe

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RAN HAITANI

— tries to understand the situation. ran tries to keep a cool front, keyword: tries. he knows he’s mature enough to not jump to conclusions but it’s driving him absolutely crazy so he resorts to confrontation.

“oh, hey babe! just getting this sorted out.” ran stared at the scene in front of him, he could feel his limbs tingling from he didn’t know what exactly—jealousy? anger? confusion? you sat on the living room floor, assembling the new coffee table you and ran had bought; it was all fine until his eyes landed on a man sitting across you, helping with the furniture. what the fuck? you had come up to him so casually with another man in his presence, kissing his cheek as you greeted him. were you not ashamed one bit? guilty? that another man was under the roof the two of you shared? stepped foot in a home designed for you and him only? ran stood there, pools of lilac boring holes onto the unknown man’s head.

you turned to ran, noticing the shift in his aura but his eyes were locked onto the man next to you. before you could call out his name, he opened his mouth, “and who might you be? didn’t know we had a.. guest, if i may.” his tone was flat and cold but a saccharine smile made its way to his lips as if to taunt the man. you furrowed your brows, “ran—” “no, princess. i want to hear from him. he’s got his own voice, yeah?” you blinked up at ran as he cut you off. was he being for real right now? why was he being rude?

your older brother let out an awkward chuckle and scratched at his nape, “i’m- i’m their older brother.. uh, nice to meet you, ran haitani, right?” your sibling hastily stood up, jutting out an arm at ran who looked like he had seen a ghost. every single feeling was drained from his body at the man’s introduction. well shit. “darling.. i’ve told you about my older brother so many times.. do you not remember?” ran wracked around his brain. shit. shit. you had told him but he somewhat forgot about it.

he stood there for a few seconds before quickly shaking your brother’s hand, “oh fuck, i’m so sorry! shit shit— i didn’t mean to be rude at all!” ran’s eyes widened before profusely bowing in front of your older brother. you bit back a smile, ran has never acted like this before—it was such a sight to see him all flustered and embarrassed. a man who’s nothing but self assured turned into a flustered mess in front of your brother. “you treat all strangers like this..?” your brother mused, clearly joking. ran’s mouth opened and closed as he turned crimson red. both you and your sibling laughed out loud at his awkward state.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RINDOU HAITANI

— waits for you to admit it. rindou is not a man of many words, he doesn’t really like confrontations and would rather hear it from you without him having to ask you—even if it swarms his thoughts day and night.

“you know.. you can tell me anything..” rindou’s deep voice sliced through the peaceful silence of the night, the vibrations from his chest going straight to your ear as you lie your head atop it. there was this slight hesitancy in his tone that made you furrow your brows, “hm? what do you mean?” you angled your head to look up at his face—his amethyst eyes were cast with the warm glow of the bedside lamp but you could see the swirling storm behind it. rindou stared straight ahead, his hand had stopped rubbing your back. he bit his lip, feeling a lump in his throat as he mustered the courage to say something. to address the elephant in the room.

“i.. i know you’re seeing someone else.. i saw another man’s shoes at the doorstep when i came home.” upon seeing it earlier, rindou turned and left to clear his thoughts. he closed his eyes, his hand that hovered over your back balled into a fist. furrowing your brows, you put the pieces together in your head and before you knew it, a wide grin was plastered on your face. rindou’s eyes shot open as you burst out laughing, no sign of guilt on your face. he was confused. “wha—” “baby.. those shoes you saw earlier? they were my brother’s! he came by to meet you but you came home later than usual.” you buried your face in his chest, shaking with laughter.

rindou’s brows shot up, “but— how— you didn’t tell me..?” “i texted you, remember? though i don’t think you replied at all.” realisation sank in and rindou wanted the bed to swallow him whole. his phone had died and had no way of charging it, hence why he didn’t see your text earlier. he buried his face in his palms as he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. how could he be so silly? “fuck, how embarrassing.. i’m so sorry for assuming, baby. i—” “baby, it’s okay.” you tried to console him but ended up bursting with laughter at the situation, earning a deep sigh from rindou and his face shielded with his hands.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ HARUCHIYO SANZU

— immediately jumps to a conclusion. sanzu is a very clingy partner, he sees another man next to you? he sees red. doesn’t beat around the bush, and he gets straight to the point—this behaviour of his, he’s picked up from doing his job in bonten.

“who the hell is this?! are you cheating on me?” you almost dropped the plate you were holding at sanzu’s loud voice. there he stood at the entrance of the kitchen, sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up, hair tousled—a clear sign of a rough day from work. a vein was prominent at the side of his neck as he questioned you. sanzu narrowed his eyes at the man who stood next to you, not only was he in his kitchen, he also wore his apron. “sanzu! that-that’s not the way to greet my brother!” you took a few steps to stand in front of him as you saw rage brewing behind his azure eyes; it all quickly dissipated as his eyes darted between the two of you. oh. you two did have the same eyes.

sanzu bit his bottom lip, embarrassment quickly swallowing him. he remembered his outburst a few seconds ago and he wanted nothing but to crawl into a hole. “ah.. um.. my apologies. didn’t know you had an older brother.” he sheepishly smiled at you, scratching at his nape. “well now you do. he was so eager to meet you, you know.” you raised a brow at him before proceeding to set up for dinner—with the help of your older brother. sanzu awkwardly stood there, feeling out of place. he locked gazes with your brother before shuffling to his feet and warmly greeting the man; you playfully shook your head at sanzu as you heard him profusely apologising, his tone much calmer and quieter now.

throughout the night, sanzu kept close. he fully knew you were still a bit upset at how he acted towards your brother. he didn’t blame you, it was entirely his fault. he was clingy—a hand on your thigh, an arm slung around your waist, his shoulder touching yours. you’ve already forgiven him earlier but you wanted to see how far he’d keep up with this; it was cute to say the least. how he followed you like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs, clearly guilty of his actions.

© mitsuyeaah

[dyeher]

WHAT DADDY DESERVES| NSFW

Includes: toji fushiguor x fem! reader

Warnings: age gap, shibari, smut, knife play, fear play, light humiliation, degradation, female identifying reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, impact play [pussy and ass spanking], choking, face fucking, cum eating, edging, dacryphilia, cucking [sort of], creampie, overstimulation.

Summary: toji’s never been given a gift like this before. bless megumi’s little heart for knowing his daddy so well.

“What the hell is this?”

Truthfully, Toji couldn't say for certain what he expected when Megumi had announced after dinner that there was a surprise waiting for him in his home office. Maybe an expensive bottle of liquor, a new handgun, a cologne, a card, or nothing at all. Though the latter was more a self-deprecating expectation than anything else. Further, he didn’t think his son was capable of surprising him. Toji, up until this exact moment, had convinced himself that he had seen enough in his lifetime to ensure nothing would ever truly surprise him.

And yet, the sight of you- gagged and artfully tied in golden ribbons- kneeling next to his desk has left him stupefied.

“Megumi- What the fuck?” he gestures to your trembling body. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I see the way you look at her old man,” he can feel Megumi’s eyes on his back. “You can take what I’ve so graciously offered or you can look a gift horse in the mouth. Either way, she’s yours for the rest of the night.”

If Toji’s cock wasn’t one wrong move away from bursting the seams of his slacks he might have denied Megumi’s observation until he was blue in the goddamn face. You were too young, too beautiful, too innocent, too much of his son’s fucking girlfirend to be sitting next to his desk with nothing but literal scraps of fabric covering your...important parts. As it stood his cock was embarrassing him, and it wasn’t helping that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at you since he spotted you.

God but you were beautiful. Admittedly whether you were wrapped up like a christmas present or fully clothed Toji knows he’d still be staring at you, granted in the latter instances it would be easier to tear his gaze away from the wealth of exposed flesh, because there would be no exposed flesh.

“Be gentle with her, don’t get her pregnant, no anal,” Megumi says, and maybe Toji makes a sound of agreement because his son leaves after that, a mumbled ‘Happy Father’s day’ his parting words.

The slamming of his office door makes you jump, and the delicious jiggling of your breasts as a result leaves Toji reeling. You’re staring up at him with such open abandon that Toji slumps into the closest chair. Evidently, Megumi hadn’t forced you into these shibari knots, you’d gone willingly. Toji supposes there’s something to be said about the fact that his son knows his tastes well. From where Toji sits on the single arm chair in the room, he can spot one particularly aggravating knot that he loves. Nestled next to your clit, he imagines the knot is likely soaked from your constant shifting.

There’s something morally wrong with wanting to stuff your son’s girlfriend full of cock. Unless, your son gives you the green light and said girlfriend is looking at you like you’re her salvation. Then it’s a matter of self defense, because obviously the two have conspired to ruin his already crumbling mental factions and thus, as he stands and approaches you he convinces himself that he’s fucking you for the sake of defending those mental factions.

The gag is drenched and Toji doesn’t care that they’ll get saliva on the paperwork laid out on his desk, he has half a mind to rub the sopping material along the length of his cock before your mouth opens on an adorable ‘ah’ that makes his cock twitch in anticipation. First, he needs to get you out of these ties because he needs to feel all of you. He needs to feel every inch of glorious skin and he needs it like he needs his next fucking breath.

So he cuts you free of the looping material, doesn’t even bother to listen to your little huffs of protests as your hands spring free and then your legs, and then your breasts relax when the ribbon at the bottom and the top come undone. He pulls you to your feet and drags you to the chair he’d previously occupied. You follow after him, standing between his thighs as he cuts you the rest of the way free.

The knife grazes the inside of your thigh teasingly, Toji doesn’t need to cut that part- the part pressed achingly close to your clit- free he only needs to tug on the knot, but when your hands fly to his shoulders coupled with an adorable whimper and he looks up to find your lips parted, eyes glazed over he brings the knife higher.

Your breath hitches and Toji can’t swallow his surprised chuckle fast enough.

“You like playing with knives, angel face?”

Your response is a jerky nod that Toji’s sure you had no conscious control of. He flips the knife so the dull back of it drags along the inside of your thigh, when it reaches the soft, puffy lip of your pussy he has to wrap an arm around your waist to stop you from collapsing. He pulls it away and helps you onto his lap, pressing your back against the chair’s arm and draping your legs across his thighs and over the other arm.

“Tell me something,” he urges, the knife in one hand held away from your body and the other gripping the back of your neck to keep your face angled to his. “Do you want this?”

“Yes- yes sir,” you lick your lips nervously and Toji nods.

“And did Megumi force you to do this?”

You glance away. Toji’s entire body goes taught. If Megumi forced you to have sex with him, if he’s blackmailing yo-

“It was my idea,” you admit.

Toji blinks, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Say that again?”

“It was- it was my idea, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji takes a long look at the way you’re spread out for him, your skin dented where the knots were pressed against your flesh, covered in a thin layer of sweat that leaves you glowing under the harsh lights of his office. Your breaths come in quick harsh pants, your legs twitch with each breath and Toji’s certain the dampness of his slacks has nothing to do with the fact that his cock is leaking into his boxers.

Toji wonders for one insane second what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of gift. As far as he was concerned he was a mediocre parent at best. Love could really only provide so much emotional cushioning before it wasn’t enough. Not to mention his constant absence from his kid’s life because of work. It didn’t make sense that Megumi would give him something as precious as you. If he were a better man he would turn you down nicely, reassure you that it wasn’t that he didn't want you but it was just messed up. Thank the stars in the sky that he wasn’t a better man.

He glances down at you squirming in his lap and shuts off the part of his brain screaming at him to stop. He grasps a handful of your tits and squeezes gently, rolling the puckered nipple in between his fingers until your back arches off the chair arm. He drops the knife onto the end table next to him and uses that hand to drag down the center of your body as he sucks the nipple into his mouth.

“Oh,” you gasp.

His hand settles at the top of your pussy and he chuckles at your desperate whimper. He keeps it there as he switches to your other nipple. Toji takes his time, he operates on the belief that this is the only chance he’ll ever get to explore your body, to touch you however he likes without worrying about repercussions. So, as he sucks languidly at your nipples he rubs slow circles at the top of your pussy, right above your clit. A taste of what he could do. When you’re squirming so bad he’s forced to tighten his grip on you he finally pulls away from your chest he peppers kisses up your sternum, and along your throat until he reaches your lips.

“Are you sure you want this, angel face?” he asks.

“Yes- yes please,” you answer shakily.

“Good, you know what the stoplight system is?” Toji hides his excitement at your nod. “We’re gonna use that system, angel face. Remind me what it is?”

“Red means I want you to stop whatever you’re doing, yellow means slow down because what we’re doing is making me feel a little uncomfortable, green means I’m okay with whatever you’re doing and I think you should continue.”

Toji smiles, “Just about. What’s your colour right now?”

“Green,” you pant, wiggling so your ass settles between his legs on the chair. Toji is momentarily distracted when you brace the soles of your feet on the chair arm and your legs butterfly open. He catches a glimpse of slicked pussy lips as they part, strings of your arousal connecting them to each other.

“Good,” he answers absently and then he’s dipping his fingers into your messy little cunt. “So fucking wet,” he glances up to find your eyes glued to where his fingers have disappeared between the lips of your pussy.

He drags two fingers along your slit, collecting and spreading your cum up to your clit where he rubs light circles around it. Your responding whimper goes straight to his cock. He pulls his fingers away and with his eyes trained on yours he sucks your cum off his fingers. Your eyes widen adorably and Toji ducks to kiss you.

It dawns on him, when your lips part immediately under his, warm and soft and compliant that his son has probably fucked you under this roof. He uses the kiss as a distraction as he reaches for his knife. He flips it so the blade is facing him and gingerly runs the handle along the inside of your thigh.

Your body jerks.

“Easy,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”

Toji watches you struggle to regulate your breathing, but you’re shaking so bad it’s a little concerning. When you manage to squeak out your affirmative he leaves a chaste kiss to your mouth and turns his attention to his knife and your pretty pussy.

“I have to ask,” he starts conversationally, as the handle continues to climb the sensitive skin. “Why this and not something uh...normal?”

“What?” you ask dumbly.

He chuckles. “Well, Megumi could’ve gotten me a blank card and I’d have been grateful-” he stops just before he reaches your pussy lips again and flips the knife around so the blade is pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, “-but you suggested this-” he drags his eyes along your exposed body, “-so I’m asking you why this?”

You gulp when the blade bumps into your labia. “I- I don’t-”

Toji presses the blade flat against your cunt, covering one labia entirely.You inhale sharply, your limbs locking as you struggle not to close your legs around the knife. The cool press of the blade against the heated flesh causes goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He waits as you exhale slowly. He doesn’t move, just stares at you expectantly.

“Well? You still haven’t answered, angel face.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stutter, your body trembles with the effort it takes not to move less the knife cuts you.

“I think you do,” Toji tuts. “You must, because I’m sure you’d have to convince Megumi somehow and you couldn’t have convinced him if you didn’t know.” He pulls the knife away and slaps at your cunt with it before pressing it back to your labia. “Try again. Why this?”

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and Toji can just make out the way your pulse is pounding at the base of your throat. “I- I wanted to- I wanted to fuck you,” you answer. “Meg- Megumi- Megumi can’t say no to me.”

Toji freezes. “Who else?”

“Mr. Fushi-”

“Call me Toji. Now answer the question.”

The knife presses harder against you and your body twitches, the tears spill over and a half sob breaks free as you scramble to grab onto his arm.

“Who else has my son let you fuck, angel face?”

“Satoru-”

Toji pulls the knife away from your pussy and presses it to your throat. “You’re a little whore aren’t you?”

--

You gulp, your breaths stuttering out of you. You can only stare wide eyed up at Toji, the reality of your situation sinks into your gut like lead. This man kills people for a living and now you’re naked and spread eagle on his lap with a knife pressed to your throat all because you’re a horny little shit. You should’ve listened to Megumi. This was a bad idea. And yet, even as the knife presses deeper against your throat, your legs trembling and your heart racing, you don’t know where the arousal ends and the fear begins. Your body, that traitorous bitch has your nipples pebbling and your pussy leaking.

“You think I’d fuck your little pussy now? Knowing you’ve been giving it to anyone who makes your panties damp?”

You find yourself frowning deeply, your bottom lip wobbling at his words. “I- I’m not-”

The knife vanishes and fingers appear at your cunt, dragging through the mess you’ve made. Toji grins wolfishly. “Your cunt says otherwise, angel face. You’re wet and messy. Your pussy is sloppy and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Please- I’m sor-”

Toji laughs. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Can’t believe my son’s dating a little slut like you. Can’t believe he’s letting you take advantage of him.”

You hiccup, your eyes blurring with tears as he sinks two fingers into you abruptly, his pace is harsh and unrelenting and when you try to grab onto his wrist he pins your arms to your stomach with his free hand. The lewd sucking sound your pussy makes as he moves his fingers in and out coupled with the way his fingers twist inside you, searching for something are enough to have your eyes rolling into your head. You’re almost to the edge when he pulls away.

“No!” you cry out, hips jerking up in search of his fingers. “To- toji please.”

“What’s your colour, angel face?”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s asking. “Green, so green, please- please touch me-”

The knife returns and you’re so stunned you don’t react as he uses the dull back of the blade to drag along your cunt, you watch liquid pool on the blade before Toji brings it up to your lips.

“Taste yourself, but be careful, wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty mouth before I use it.”

You latch onto his wrist, holding him steady as you run your tongue along the blade, licking up your cum.

“Fuck,” Toji grunts. “Such a good little slut.”

You keen and he drags the tip of the knife from the space between your breasts to your clit. Goosebumps follow the cool metal until the hairs on your body are standing on end. You tense when the tip brushes against your clit.

“Toji?” you lick your lips when he circles the sensitive nub. “What- what are-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos. “I’m not gonna hurt you, remember?”

You nod dazedly, “Okay.”

“I’m a little upset though,” Toji sighs. “And disappointed. Here I was thinking you were a good girl. You really had me fooled.” The knife makes another circle around your clit and you whine. “Megumi’s too blind to see what you really need,” the knife disappears again, “a little punishment.”

You’re not prepared for the harsh slap that lands on your cunt. Toji’s hand is heavy and the stinging spreads from your clit all the way up your torso, your body bows. Another two echo in the room coupled with your helpless cries, you have no doubt Megumi can hear them.

“What do you think, angel face? Ten on your slutty cunt? And then another ten on your ass?”

You can barely form a coherent sentence as you attempt to disagree, but Toji ignores you, and another harsh smack has you breaking out in a full body shudder.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry,” you slur. By the seventh slap you’re sobbing outright, but your cunt is soaked, the final three slaps are lewd and the tacky sound of Toji’s palm against the wet lips of your pussy would have been embarrassing if you had the presence of mind to feel embarrassed.

“Good little slut,” he chuckles, releasing you to flip you onto your stomach across his thighs. “Colour, angel face?”

“Green, ‘m green,” you hiccup. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be go-”

You’re babbling as Toji caresses your ass. He massages into the flesh gently, until your babbling dies to a low whimper, and then the first slap makes you jump. Toji groans, “If you take your punishment like a good girl, maybe I’ll make you cum.”

You shut up instantly, muffling your cries by chewing on your lips. Each slap seems to get harsher, harder. He’s on the fifth slap when the babbling starts anew, Toji ignores you as he continues his spanking. You lose count at some point and only realize he’s stopped when he dips two fingers into your pussy from behind. You inhale sharply, a sob of relief bubbling out of you as he curls his fingers into your walls, he adds a third finger and your body hums happily. You’re so close you’re drooling, your lips parted as you pant out thank yous. Just as you’re about to cum he stops and you scream in frustration.

“Oh, angel face,” Toji mocks. “Did you really think your punishment was over?” He maneuvers you onto your knees in front of him. “You haven’t even sucked my dick yet.” He frees his cock from his slacks and your body lurches forward as soon as it bobs free. Thick and long, and wet with precum, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Briefly, you note that Megumi’s cock is eerily familiar. “Open up,” he instructs, slapping the thick length of it along your cheeks, and smearing his precum along your lips.

The weight of him as he slides onto your tongue and bumps into the back of your throat is so satisfying that your eyes roll. He’s nothing like Megumi. Where your boyfriend would give you a moment to adjust, to take the reins and suck him off however you like his father is not so patient. He cups your face with one big hand, his fingers splayed out on your neck and his thumb pressing your lips open and fucks your throat harshly. Spit layers on his cock from each thrust into your throat, it fills your mouth until there’s nowhere to go but out and onto your chin and chest. Strands of saliva decorate your lips and his cock each time he pulls out far enough for you to breathe.

“God, yes, just like that,” he grunts, as though you’re doing anything other than struggling to keep your throat relaxed and oxygen in your lungs. “Open your eyes.” You do, though you can’t say when exactly they slipped shut. Watching Toji as he grappled to keep his self-control was one thing but watching as that self-control snapped was awe inspiring.

He yanks you off his cock and pulls you to his desk, “Colour?”

“Green,” you croak, throat raw and pulsing from its use.

“Thank fuck,” Toji mand handles you onto his desk easily, he pushes you down and spreads your thighs wide enough for him to fit his wide shoulders. He pauses to take you in, sprawled on his desk, bare as the day you were born. His grip on the back of your knees tightens as he pushes them open and back. “Here’s how the rest of this is gonna go, angel face,” he licks his lips, eyes trained on your cunt. The attention makes you squirm, your hole clenching around nothing as he continues. “I’m gonna shove my face in this pretty pussy and eat until you’re begging and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. How do you feel about that?”

You gulp, “I think- I think that sounds good.”

He glances up the length of your body as he lowers his mouth to your pussy. You watch, transfixed as he flattens his tongue to your slit and drags it from your hole all the way up to your clit where he leaves a soft kiss. His eyes close as though he’s savoring the taste and then he ducks to your pussy and spreads your thighs wider.

Toji eats you out ravenously, like he’s never had anything more exquisite in his life and he doesn’t know if he ever will so he’s eating his fill now. He eats you like a man starved, like a man who was fasting for a long, long time who has finally been given reprieve. He sucks each labia tenderly, laps at each puffy lip with his tongue, kisses and caresses each one. Drags his tongue along your slit teasingly at first and then hurriedly when your moans grow louder. He brushes soft kisses onto your clit and then licks teasing circles around the sensitive nub before suckling on it until you’re twitching in his hold.

When your body begins to tremble violently he pulls back to bury his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. And then he starts the process all over again, helping you up the slope of your orgasm and just when you’re about to crest he pulls back, leaving you to stumble back down. He doesn’t use his fingers and by the time he’s satisfied with how drenched you are, half of his face is damp and sticky with your cum.

When he presses a kiss to your ankle you feel the stickiness of your arousal and when he leans forward to kiss at your knee and then your stomach and sternum and suck each nipple into his mouth you feel the residual dampness of it on your body. When he kisses your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own, licking and biting at your lips you taste yourself on him and it heats your blood, has you reaching up to slide your fingers into his hair and hold him steady as you lick the remnants of your pussy from his face until your mouth latches onto his once more and he releases your knees to wrap your thighs around his waist.

He kisses you as he sinks the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Shoves his tongue into the back of your throat to drown out your surprised cry as he bottoms out in one rough thrust. He pulls you to the edge of the desk and cups your ass with one hand as he spreads his thighs and begins to fuck you. Short, quick thrusts that stir his cock along the softest part of your walls. You think for a brief moment as he’s fucking you with his tongue and his cock you hear the voice of some divinity telling you this is what heaven may feel like if you’re good throughout your life. But then he’s rearranging you to prop your legs on his shoulders and bracing himself against the desk to fuck you in slow deep thrusts and then you’re not sure of anything. Not if you’re breathing, or if he’s kissing you, or if you can feel your legs, because his cock is dragging along parts of you, you didn’t even know existed. Parts of you that have you drooling pathetically, the muscles in your body going soft and pliant under him.

He switches positions again, you think, because your orgasm slams into you with the force of a tsunami, and by the time you recover from screaming Toji’s name your back is pressed to his bare chest and a hand is wrapped around your throat while the other rubs at your clit. You barely recover from the first orgasm before Toji is demanding more from your body. His grip on your throat holds you steady and his other hand moves to squeeze roughly at your breasts and run up the length of your body. He tugs on your throat and your back bows until your head is tilted back and you can see that sweat has matted his hair to his forehead, his eyes are closed in concentration but you’re sure he can your harsh breathing and the loud slapping of damp skin on skin as his thighs smack against yours, his hips cradling your ass with each thrust.

You may have been about to say something about how good he looks like this. Head bent forward, expression fierce as he focuses on pummeling your insides but Toji reaches for something on the desk and suddenly his hand is replaced by the cool metal of the blade of his knife.

“Fucking cum,” he growls in warning. “Cum right now.”

You cum so hard your knees give out, and with a delirious sound like a garbled mix between a laugh and a scream. You forget our name. You forget where you are, how you got here, whose cock is inside you, as the orgasm washes through you, the pleasure drowning your senses and reducing you to a mass of nothing but sensation. Your eyes roll so far back you feel a moment of pain as the organs are stopped by the muscles. Your mouth parts on a silent scream, all the oxygen leaving your body in a single exhale.

“Fuck,” Toji groans. “Oh fuck, yes, good girl, oh- fuck-” Your insides flood with warmth and somehow Toji filling you with his cum sets of another orgasm in the middle of your orgasm. Your mind shuts down entirely.

--

Toji stares at Megumi, standing on the other side of his bedroom door, a scowl on his face as he tries to peep over his father’s shoulder. Sometimes it unnerves him how much of himself he sees in his son.

“You looking for someone?” Toji asks, propping himself against the door frame and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Where is she?” Megumi asks.

“She’s asleep,” Toji shrugs. “And she’ll stay asleep until I think she’s rested.”

Megumi finally looks at Toji, his scowl melting into a frown. “Why can’t she sleep in my room?”

“Did you fuck her to sleep Megumi?” Toji squints mockingly.

Megumi purses his lips, eyes narrowing on his father. He steps back and Toji straightens away from the door frame.

“I feel you should know that...the next time you let her fuck someone that isn’t you-” he points at Megumi’s chest, “-or me, I’ll be forced to do something reckless,” Toji says.

Megumi looks stricken for a moment. “I don’t let her do anythin-”

“Do you want to walk around with the weight of a man’s life on your conscience Megumi?”

Megumi gulps.

“Exactly, keep her away from other men or them away from her, I don’t care. Do what needs to be done to keep them alive and me happy kid, and if she ever gives you any trouble you know where to find me.”

The door slams in Megumi’s face and not for the first time that day does he stop and ask himself, “Did he really deserve it?”

@s4no @kenuis @audrinui

[turcott3]

https://www.tumblr.com/turcott3/752590033230413824/listen-here-my-concept-on-matt-was-being-a-good

This was so so sooo good I’m already anxious for another part

second, first

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, kissing, smut, oral sex female receiving, unprotected sex, and copious amounts of fluff!!!!!

part 1 and masterlist

matt was coming over tonight, just like he did on the same day every week. this was gonna be the first time you’d seen him since he’d taught you how to, to be frank, suck dick. you were nervous because you knew what today was. you promised him last time that the next time you saw him would be the time you went all the way, because that’s what you said you wanted.

that scared you.

not because you didn’t trust him, you trusted him more than anything in the world, or that you didn’t want to, of course you wanted to, you were just scared that maybe he’d changed his mind. maybe he didn’t wanna have sex with you anymore.

oh my god, what if he didn’t?

what if he comes and tells you he doesn’t want to move forward? or what if he forgot, what if he’s talking to someone else? what if he doesn’t even show u-

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud taps on your front door, shoving you back into reality.

“hi.” you smile lightly, one of his hands behind his back.

“hi y/n, i got this for you while i was on my way here. picked the best one” he says, presenting a single rose and handing it to you, showing you to the part of the stem that had no thorns. as cliché as it is, your heart melted at the thought.

“awe matt this beautiful, thank you so much.” you reply.

“of course,” he smiles stepping into your apartment, pulling you to his chest.

“i’m making dinner.” you smile as he follows you into the kitchen.

“i love me a women that cooks.” he smirks, a blush spreading across your face. he finds one of the vases from your cabinets and puts the rose in a fair amount of water, placing it on your counter.

“and don’t worry, there’s plenty for both of us,” you say, finishing up your cooking. you were sure to start early so that it’d be ready when he arrived, but also to help soothe your nerves.

you sat together on the couch watching a movie after you’d both finished your meal. you found yourself comfortably under his arm, your head leaned on his shoulder. two weeks ago, you’d never imagine being in this position. you couldn’t tell if it was awkward or if there was any sort of negative tension. you sat there, toying with the hem of his shorts as a way to calm your nerves. you were sat cuddled up with your childhood best friend who you were now certain that you wanted more from.

you wanted him and no one else.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, leaning his head down closer to your ear.

“oh uh, yeah i’m okay.” you reply with a week smile. quickly, he picks up the remote and pauses the movie, removing his arm from you. suddenly, you were picked up and moved, straight onto his lap. he gave you a moment to adjust, straddling his hips innocently.

fuck.

“what up with you? you’re acting so shy and quiet.” he asks again, hands placed lightly on your thighs.

“nothing matt, i swear.” you reply, making spotty eye contact with the boy.

“y/n, look at me. if you’re nervous, just tell me okay? i’m not here to embarrass you or anything like that. you know that.” he continues, thumbs rubbing lightly across the skin of your legs.

“i am nervous. i’ve been anxious since i woke up this morning.” you admit tearfully.

“come here.” he coos, pulling you to his chest, nuzzling your head under his chin.

“we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready sweet girl.” he says, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down your back as you collected yourself for a few minutes.

“no no i do want to matt, i just-“ you paused briefly.

“tell me.” he pushes gently.

“my first time was so long ago that i feel like it’s just fizzled away, i don’t remember what it felt like. it feels like it’s my first time all over again. i’m nervous i won’t do it right.” you say sitting up.

“it’s your second, first.” he smiles, trying to crack you, which of course ended up working.

“which is why i’m so scared.” you sigh.

“don’t be scared y/n, i got you.” he replies with a sweet smile, wiping the short tears that ended up falling.

“i know.” you smile as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“do you wanna go to your bed?” he asks softly and you nod as he picks you up, carrying you back to your room, just like he’d done before. you laid your head on his shoulder as you watched the living room disappear behind your doorway. he pushes the door shut quietly, laying you down on your bed gently, connecting your lips for the first time tonight. that same feeling from last time kicked in in an instant. you wrapped your arms around, behind his neck holding him close to you. he pulls away only a few inches.

“are you ready for me?” he asks and you nod.

“i didn’t forget what you wanted by the way.” he giggles, remembering that you’d said you wanted him to perform the same actions on you, that you did on him.

“you didn’t?”

“of course not, how could i?” he laughs standing up removing his shirt as you pulled your sweats off. you stripped evenly, just as you had before, once again down to just your underwear. he reconnected your lips, his hands wandering down your torso and around your back, goosebumps trailing his rough hands. his fingers find their way under the band of your underwear, not budging yet.

“is this okay?” he asks, lightly tugging down on your panties.

“yes.” you replied nervously as he carefully pulled them down, tossing them to the side. he pulls you by your ankles closer to the end of your bed.

“tell me if you want to stop.” he says before kissing up your inner thigh, his hands gripped on the outside of them. you grew wet as the heat of his breath grew closer to your pussy and gasped as his tongue made careful contact. your hands balled up the sheets in your fists.

“oh fuck.” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. you couldn’t believe how he was making you feel. his tongue swirling and sucking on your clit, pushing you further along than you ever thought you could. you grew impossibly hornier as you looked down and locked eyes with the brunette who was tongue deep in your wetness. this moment of eye contact didn’t last long as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your orgasm coming incredibly close.

“matt.” you moaned, tugging on the boys hair as he continued, his lips sucking one last time before pulling away, your wetness soaking his face. you yanked him by his wrists back to you, anxiously attaching your lips, not carrying that his face was buried between your legs just seconds ago.

“fuck that was hot.” he giggles pulling away.

“you’re hot.” you reply shoving him away giggling.

“are you sure you want to keep going?” he asks.

“yes, i’m sure.”

“okay baby, all you need to do is just relax. lay there looking fucking beautiful and i’ll guide you through everything, just like he should’ve done the last time. that okay?” he asks, unclasping your bra with ease, helping you tug it off your arms. you nod your head vigorously in response.

“no, use your words y/n. i need to hear you say that it’s okay.” he says tossing the bra onto the floor.

“yes matt, that’s okay.” you respond loving his pushy thoughtfulness. you truly felt protected and cared for by him, in every possible scenario. you’d never felt more comfortable. he made sure you were safe and went out of his way to make the night about you, just like last time.

“okay.” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you once again before removing his boxers, revealing his already hard cock. you’d almost forgotten how big he actually was. you went wide eyed as he jerked himself off a few times, growing impossibly harder.

“baby, eyes up here. just look at me okay. i don’t want you to be nervous.” he says lowly, your eyes diverting to his brown ones.

“i’m scared that it’s gonna hurt matt, you’re so big.”

“i won’t hurt you angel, i wouldn’t dream of it. i’ll go slow. remember, this is about you and your body, not mine.” he says positioning himself above you, running his thick cock through your soaking folds.

“tell me when you need a second.” he says.

“okay.” you reply as you gripped onto his biceps. slowly, he pushed his tip into you, earning an audible hiss from you. he stops abruptly and pulls away for a moment.

“relax. just breathe okay, it’s gonna be fine.” he giggles, knowing that he couldn’t push further until you fully relaxed your body.

“sorry.”

“don’t apologize. you can trust me baby, i promise.” he repeats, reaffirming why you’d chosen him to share this intimate moment with. he repeats his action, pushing his head in a little bit further, your grip on his biceps growing stronger. he pushes a little bit further, a bit of his shaft entering as well.

“stop.” you say gritting your teeth.

“take your time y/n. no rush.” he says as you nod for him to push further. you still felt sharp pain but chose to power through, allowing him to finally bottom out, not yet moving further. you felt full, no more room for a single other inch.

“okay you can move, just go slow.” you say and he nods, beginning to retract his hips, that feeling of fullness disappearing as his cock slid out of you. it hurt almost as badly as he thrusted back into you slowly, your hands moving to his cheeks, pulling him to your lips, distracting yourself from the subsiding pain. his thrusts became slightly quicker, just as deep and thorough as before. you only broke apart the kiss when a moan was ripped from your throat, euphoria washing over your body.

“that’s my girl.” he giggles above you before tucking his head into your neck, sucking and upping on the skin of your neck as his hips snapped into you smoothly. the sound of skin slapping started to catch up to the volume of your moans.

“god matt, you feel so fucking good.” you whine as you tug on his hair, his head still nuzzled under your chin, his hands now placed underneath your back, holding you flush against his chest. you tugged him away from your neck locking eyes with him as his thrusts somehow became deeper and harder.

“fit so perfect around me.” he grunts out, reattaching your lips. his kisses started to feel like oxygen to you. like you couldn’t function unless your lips were on his. you couldn’t believe the feelings he gave you. they were so complex, yet you knew exactly what you were feeling toward him. you felt so taken care of by him, even in this moment. he paid attention to detail putting your pleasure first.

“i think im gonna cum.” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“come on baby, let go for me. cum on my cock.” he says, his hips snapping sharply into you, your moans moving up an octave. instantly, you felt your whole body relax. shockwaves of pleasure shuttering through your body as you shook vigorously through your orgasm.

“such a good girl.” he says lowly, fucking you all the way through your high.

“i’m getting close.” he grunts as you smile, enjoying the feeling of your orgasm fizzling away as you were fucked right through it, sad once the feeling of his cock disappeared from inside you.

“oh fuck.” he moans, spurting his climax onto your stomach, jerking himself dry. he stays over you for a moment catching his breath.

“stay right here, okay? i’m gonna clean you up.” he says and you nod as he walked to the bathroom, returning with a damp rag, carefully wiping away the cum from your lower abdomen. the two of you climbed under the covers facing each other.

“i give you an A+ on the munch.” you joke and he laughs.

“i’m glad it was good.” he giggles.

“matt it was more than good. everything was fucking incredible. god it felt so fucking good.”

“that’s exactly what you deserve y/n.” he replies with a light giggle, moving your hair off of your face.

“like you don’t understand, i’ve never felt that, fuck i don’t even know how to say it. i’ve never felt that cared for in my life.” you giggle, interlocking your fingers with his.

“i love you y/n,” he starts, startling himself, “oh shit did i just say that out loud?” he giggles, covering his mouth quickly, the two of you laughing together.

“i love you too matt.” you reply.

“for real?” he responds, eyes wide.

“yes matt, i fucking love you.” you say, placing your hands on his cheeks before turning him over and climbing onto his lap.

“oh my gosh, i don’t even know what to say.” he says, blushing nervously.

“don’t get all nervous on me now.” you giggle as he pulls you to his chest.

“and you’re never gonna have to go without me ever again.” he says into your hair, kissing you on the head.

your heart melted at the sound of his voice reassuring you that you’d never have to go another day without his love for you. you’d never felt more content in your life and you couldn’t believe you’d finally found a love that you’d always dreamed of, with someone you’d known your entire life.

it was right in front of you all along.

had you been ignoring your feelings all this time? or was this new?

you didn’t know, nor did you care at this point because you knew you’d found the love of your life. the search was finally over.

-

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 25: Body Worship

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to prove to you how beautiful you are on the anniversary of the first time you met.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sensual and romantic, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, hints at reader being insecure about her body, mentions a pocket of fat on her inside thigh

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: a special fic on a special day for me ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Your hand grasps Bucky’s bulging bicep as he leads you back into your hotel room after having kept you occupied sightseeing throughout the day.

You thought it was suspicious how interested he had been exploring the old city, when you could instead be exploring each other as he usually prefers, but when you see the scene in front of you as you return to your presidential suite, it all suddenly makes sense.

Candles flicker in the middle of a formally set table, luscious red rose petals scatter the white tablecloth and floor, and where the extravagant leather couch had been this morning, now an elaborate blanket fort has been constructed. Soft violin music plays in the background as Bucky leads you around the room, allowing you time to take in everything which has been set up specially for you.

“Do you remember what today is?” He asks in what you assume is in response to a dumbfounded expression on your face.

You wrack your brain for what on earth you’ve forgotten - a birthday, anniversary, special occasion? But you come up completely blank. Slowly shaking your head, the tips of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that Bucky has organised such a romantic night for something you’ve completely forgotten.

“Three years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you, the first time we met.” He informs without an ounce of judgement to be perceived in his tone.

It’s hard to believe it was only three years ago you met the man you now refer to as your soulmate, it feels like you’ve known this generous and passionate person an entire lifetime.

Bucky holds out his hand, which you take without question, and pulls you into his broad chest, swaying in time to the orchestral music. You rest your head on his strong pec, feeling his heart beating just for you as his soft lips kiss your hairline.

“Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you.” His voice sounds shaky, almost as if he’s choked up and trying to get the words out without sounding affected.

You look up at him through your lashes to find your devoted husband with tears in his eyes, gazing at you like his entire world is resting in the palm of his hand.

“My life has not been the same since I met you. I can’t fathom an existence without you; everything is brighter, bolder, more colourful when you're next to me. This night three years ago, I remember going home to an empty bed and thought it was strange how much my mouth was hurting. It was such a weird sensation. Then I realised, it only hurt because I’d been smiling from ear to ear the whole time I was with you.”

“You never told me that.” Tears are now welling in your own eyes, but you fight them back so that you can memorise the smile curving on Bucky’s features and the twinkle in his eye that you’ve only ever noticed when he’s looking at you.

“I knew that night you were someone I wanted in my life, in whatever way you would have me. It was like I could see my entire future laid out in front of me, all encompassed in one strong, stunning woman, with the most gorgeous, sparkling eyes I’ve ever seen and a brilliant smile that makes my heart leap out of my chest every single damn time. And here I am the luckiest man in the entire world that you chose me to be the one you trusted with your heart.”

He takes your hand while still swaying to the inflections of the string instrument, and presses the palm of your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is quicker than the pace you’re used to feeling while he’s resting, but the notion that his thoughts of you are the reason his body is reacting in such a way makes your own heart leap out of your chest.

“I would never give it to anyone else, my love.”

“Te iubesc pentru totdeauna [I love you forever]. I still can’t believe you’re all mine.” His smile is as bright and warm as the setting sun, and right now you’re Icarus flying fatally close.

But James Barnes is worth falling out of the sky for.

The words tasting sweet and sincere on his pillow soft lips when you kiss him. His mouth moves slowly, yet purposefully against yours, trying to convey his love for you in action, rather than just words. His hands cup your jaw, coaxing you to open up to him, his tongue dancing with yours in a display of his yearning need.

“I wanna give you the whole world.”

“You already have. You are my whole world.” This time it’s him who kisses you, with much more ardour and intensity, sweeping his tongue in your mouth. His hands slide down the length of your back and pull you flush with him, a moan escaping his lips as your hands tangle in his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since before the wedding, and the additional length allows you to tug on the ends nicely. “Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert, shall we?”

“You’re the only thing I’m craving tonight.” The hunger in his eyes certainly indicates he could devour you like a five course meal if he were so inclined, so who are you to stop him?

His large hands on your hips slowly turn you around so your ass is pressed against his front. They trace the curves of your figure gradually, taking his time, paying attention to every swell and dip of your shape which he has helped you learn to love.

Bucky zips down your dress, the material coming loose over your shoulders, and with a little shimmy, you’re almost naked before him.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

Boys you dated in the past were only interested in one thing: seeing you naked. Though Bucky loves you bare and writhing for him, he first and foremost loves who you are; loves your soul. Being able to strip you off your clothes has always been a privilege to him, not a right.

His lips press gentle, feather light kisses along your shoulder as he rids you of your underwear, and all of a sudden you feel very exposed standing in the middle of the room, even though Bucky’s seen you naked a thousand times.

As soon as he turns you around again to face him, eyes brimming with nothing other than pure adoration and devotion, that nagging feeling of being on display evaporates. He loves you, has vowed to spend the rest of his life worshipping you, there is not a single inch of your body that Bucky Barnes does not love.

“Lay back for me baby.” Bucky requests, his powerful hands assisting you as you fall back into the blanket fort. “I got you.” He promises, ensuring you don’t collapse in a way that will result in you being hurt. The care in his touch, how gentle this burly, tattooed man is, as if he is handling a precious artefact he cannot afford to damage.

Though Bucky looks ready to take you right then and there, he starts out slowly, trailing kisses down your neck, covering your chest and breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking on both of them until they form stiff peaks, all the while whispering sweet praises against your hot skin.

“My beautiful wife. So fucking gorgeous. My Queen. These perfect tits. God, these hips, these fucking hips. And your thighs, they drive me insane. Just wanna be buried between them. Wanna give you everything, all of me. Gonna make love to you, darling. Make you feel so good.” His breath is hot against your skin, words of devotion whispered just for your ears as he places sweet kisses on the inside of your thighs, staring at your knee, and making his was towards your core, paying particular attention to the pocket of fat you’d forever disliked about your legs, but Bucky has always adored.

A moan escapes your mouth and your eyes roll back as Bucky’s strong arms hold your thighs apart and his lips close around your clit. It’s almost unexpected, with how he had been taking his time treasuring all other parts of you, but you feel a flood of wetness gush out of you at the intimate contact.

There’s a sense of power having a man as important as James Barnes lying between your legs, treating you like a queen, obsessed with bringing you to orgasm. But when Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he suckles on your clit, you feel nothing but a rush of palpable love.

His tongue is experienced in those little lapping movements that have you throwing your head back, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you completely open for him. Bucky’s hips rut into the pillows and blankets below him as you grind your hips on his face.

You can’t even control the obscene sounds falling from your lips as Bucky continues to abuse your pussy, your hands flying to his hair as he leads you closer and closer to the edge of the ultimate high.

“You look so beautiful when you cum - show me.” The lower half of Bucky’s face glistens with your juices before he dives back into your folds, as hungry as ever.

You oblige, as you do every time your dangerously gorgeous husband requests this from you, it’s like his words themselves compel you to satisfy his order. Your back arches off the pillows, your whole body trembling as a devastating pleasure rips through you, it feels like burning sunshine radiates in your veins, surging with every pulse.

Bucky’s lips don’t let up their suction until your thighs stop shaking, only to switch his attention to your stomach, showering every inch of your soft skin with kisses as his hands knead your breasts.

You feel cold and empty for a moment as Bucky focuses on stripping off his clothes, but as soon as he looks back at you, completely bare and ready to finish what he started, warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, darling.” Bucky sits on his heels, thick cock in hand as he rubs his leaking tip through your soaking folds, humming at the sensation. A whine falls from your lips, desperate for him to fill you up, for you to feel so utterly full and satiated by him that you’re almost on the brink of insanity.

“Need to feel you Buck, please, I need you so fucking bad.”

He mumbles something in Romanian you don’t understand in response as he pushes his swollen tip inside you. You let out simultaneous groans as he slowly fills you up. As he bottoms out, he rests his forehead against yours. You finally feel complete with him buried to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk… a lifetime of that feeling will never be enough.”

You moan against his mouth as his hands intertwine with yours, pinning them above your head as his eyes brim with pure love. He starts off slowly, almost agonisingly so, pulling all the way out of you before thrusting himself inside to where it feels like he’s in your stomach, watching your face intently to your reactions as his cock kisses your cervix.

His bare chest presses to yours, caging you in, hearts thundering against each other as you move together to a relentless rhythm, an intoxicating tide of intimacy and pleasure. His gaze and touch are full of love, a contrast to the harshness of the underworld he was carved out of, but you know it’s you who makes him tender.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well aren’t you?” Your nails rake down his back as you feel your walls clench down on his member. The rhythm of his cock stroking your velvety walls doesn't let up as his lips attach to your neck, sucking your skin in a way that makes you see stars.

He understands your wants and needs better than anyone else, learning the formula for your gratification in a way that none of your previous partners ever tried to.

“Oh God, you’re so deep, Buck. Feels so good.” His hips roll into yours fluidly, hips circling and rubbing against your g-spot so effortlessly with every thrust. The pressure in your lower belly threatens to engulf you, drown you in a sea of pleasure, but it’s a demise you’ll embrace when Bucky’s making you feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Your orgasm approaches fast, the look of complete desperation in Bucky’s eyes only bringing you closer to the edge. All it takes is Bucky whispering a phrase in his native language and another deep thrust for you to come apart on his cock.

You can barely breathe with the ferocity of your high, it feels like an entire waterfall of pleasure washing over you at once, overwhelming, brutal, but oh so good.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you baby.” Bucky moans as your walls flutter around him. He looks the picture of utter sexiness, jaw hanging open, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and that contrasting warm fondness in his blown out pupils.

Your chest squeezes when it’s your name that his lips enunciate as he spills his large load inside you.

You’re the one making him feel this good. You’re the only person who he will ever share this intimate side of himself with again. The only one who gets to see his face as he comes undone, steel blue eyes boring into yours as if he wants to remember each and every detail of your face as you cum together.

Bucky collapses next to you, arm slung around your waist as you both catch your breath. You smile at him and he beams right back as you sweep a strand of hair from his eyes.

“God, I’m so in love with you. Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” There’s a moment where he simply looks at you, as if trying to convince himself you laid beside him is in fact his reality, before he kisses the tip of your nose.

“You don’t have to imagine, Buck, I’m all yours, for the rest of forever.” You snake your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his broad chest, feeling him place a kiss to your hairline. “I love you.”

Bucky pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies as you close your eyes, feeling completely content falling asleep beside the love of your life in a blanket fort.

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Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan