#as a deliberate point of ''you crossed a line and this is what is going to happen to you if you dont make it up right now''

[elysiaheaven]

𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠- 𝐃𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 𝐱 𝐅.𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (Smut)

Words:6000

Genre: Smut

Summary: You decided to help him create a alabaster sculpture, after he broke it. He invites you to a bath, Only to fucking read a damned book

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Marking, Degradation, Overstimulation, Bondage kink, Dom Ratio, Bottom y/n, Dirty talks, Fingering, Rough sex,

You stand in Dr. Ratio’s dimly lit workplace, the faint scent of drying plaster and damp stone lingering in the air. Sunlight filters through tall windows, casting long shadows across the half-finished sculptures and scattered tools. A broken alabaster headpiece sits on a table nearby, the remnants of his last attempt—one that shattered due to his frustration.

He’s leaning over a block of clay now, his wavy violet hair obscuring the sharp focus in his eyes as he meticulously carves details into the surface. You try to suppress a smile, but you can’t help it. Despite his irritable and sarcastic nature, you adore him.

“Focus,” Ratio’s voice slices through your thoughts. He glances at your work with a smirk that borders on condescension. “If you’re going to waste my time, at least try to do it properly.”

You huff, rolling your eyes at his sharp tongue, though deep down, you find comfort in the familiar banter. After all, this wasn’t about proving yourself to him. It was about being close to him—no matter how cruel he sometimes tried to be. He enjoyed teasing you, and you let him because, well… you loved him.

Your hands move over the clay in front of you, smoothing out the rough edges as you try to mirror his techniques. Every movement is deliberate, as if he’s watching your every misstep.

It hadn’t always been this way.

There was a time you were with Aventurine, a bond you once thought would last. The two of you shared long nights under the stars, discussing investments and strategies in a way only the IPC’s brightest could. But things changed after a specific incident—a time where you felt doubt creep into your relationship, where you felt unsure of what you wanted. Topaz offered you a new position, a way out of the pressure you had put on yourself with Aventurine. And you took it.

He made you forget it

You and Ratio met not long after that. You worked together, your skills and ambitions clashing but complementing one another in unexpected ways. It wasn’t until one fateful night in Penacony, that he confessed.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Ratio had said, his usual confidence flickering for the briefest moment. “You and Aventurine… you were something. I don’t want to be the rebound—don't want to be the second choice. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. So, there. I’ve said it. Do with that what you will.”

Your heart had pounded in your chest, unsure of how to respond. You nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to find the words. That had been the turning point. Now, you stood by his side, his lover, his student, and more.

“You’re messing up the contours again,” he snaps, pulling you back to the present. “Are you even paying attention?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so mean about it, I’d do better,” you mutter under your breath, not entirely joking. His eyes narrow slightly, but the corner of his lips twitch upward, betraying a smirk.

"Maybe," he replies, setting his tools down and crossing his arms. "But then where’s the fun in that?"

You give him a playful glare and return to your work, but his presence beside you is comforting. He walks over, looming behind you. His muscular build casts a shadow over your small sculpture, and without warning, his hands cover yours. He guides you in carving smoother lines, his touch both firm and surprisingly gentle.

“You’re making it too complicated,” he murmurs in your ear, his voice low but full of that familiar arrogance. “Simplicity is key. Don’t overthink it.”

The sensation of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. He’s close, too close for you to focus on the task. But you pretend, anyway.

“Is this better?” you ask, turning your head slightly to meet his reddish-pink eyes. They flicker with something unspoken, but he nods after a moment, letting go of your hands.

“Passable,” he says, moving away, but you catch the faintest trace of a smile.

The hours pass in a comfortable silence, the two of you working on the new alabaster headpiece for him. His sharp criticisms gradually soften into suggestions, and eventually, you create something he approves of—a new sculpture, perfect for him to wear.

You take a step back, admiring the finished product with pride.

He picks it up, turning it over in his hands before placing it on his head, the alabaster gleaming in the light. He looks at you, his usual smugness replaced with a rare moment of sincerity. “Not bad,” he says.

It’s as close to a compliment as you’re going to get, but it’s enough.

Ratio steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’ve done well,” he murmurs, voice lowering as he reaches out to gently tilt your chin up. “And… I’m glad you stayed, despite everything.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels still, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. He leans in slowly, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s brief, but the warmth lingers as he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“And don’t think for a second that means I’ll be easier on you,”

You roll your eyes..

You stand back to admire your work, you don’t realize your hands are still caked in clay until you try to brush a stray hair out of your face. The smudge leaves a streak across your cheek, and when you look down, your clothes are covered in it too. You groan softly, trying to wipe it off, but it only smears further.

“You’re a mess,” Dr. Ratio’s voice comes from behind you, rich with amusement.

Before you can respond, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. His muscular frame is warm against your back, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he holds you close. He leans his chin lightly on your shoulder, his violet hair brushing your skin as his reddish-pink eyes lock onto yours in the reflection of a nearby glass pane. There’s a playfulness in his gaze, but also something deeper, something that makes your heart race.

"You’re dirty right now,” he murmurs, his voice carrying that usual commanding tone, though softer than usual.

You twist in his arms, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “Or maybe you’re just too clean,” you whisper before leaning up to kiss him lightly, just brushing the surface of his lips.

Ratio’s eyes darken as he narrows his gaze at you. The air between you crackles with tension, and for a moment, he just stares at you, unblinking. “I’m the one who kissed you, right?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

You barely have time to react before he cups the back of your neck and crashes his lips onto yours, kissing you with a fierce intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through your body. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you even closer, and you melt into him, losing yourself in the moment.

His lips move against yours with practiced precision, but there’s an underlying hunger, a need that he’s finally letting surface. He tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you can feel him smile against your lips when you gasp softly. There’s something both possessive and tender in the way he holds you—like he’s teaching you how to give in completely.

After a moment, Ratio pulls back just enough to speak, his voice huskier than before. “You need to stop teasing if you want to learn,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You feel his lips brush yours again, slower this time, more deliberate. His hands guide your face as he kisses you deeper, teaching you the rhythm he wants. His tongue traces your lower lip, coaxing a response from you as his kiss grows more insistent, almost like he’s showing you every secret behind his confident, often cold demeanor.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean into him, completely lost in his touch. The clay on your hands leaves marks on his skin and clothes, but neither of you care. The world fades around you as Ratio pours all his frustration, passion, and unspoken feelings into the kiss, guiding you with every motion, every shift of his lips against yours.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing heavily, the air between you charged. His eyes search yours, and the usual smugness in his expression is softened by something more vulnerable, more real.

“I hope you’re paying attention,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your cheek lightly. “Because I’m not going to repeat that lesson.”

You cross your arms and give Ratio a teasing grin, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. "I didn’t get it," you say, feigning innocence, "Maybe I need a few more lessons." You bat your eyes playfully, knowing full well what you’re doing.

Ratio sighs, his lips twitching in that familiar mix of amusement and frustration. "You’re impossible, you know that?" His eyes narrow, though there’s a glint in them that says he’s not entirely annoyed. He looks down at both of you, noticing the clay smeared across your clothes, his shirt, and even your hair. "Look at us, we’re both a mess." He runs a hand through his wavy violet hair, now streaked with bits of clay. "I’m going to take a bath."

He turns to walk away, his tone casual as if what he’s about to say next is no big deal. "You should join me."

You hesitate, unsure if he’s serious. "It’s okay, I’ll—"

Ratio turns his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as if challenging you. "I don’t believe you," he says, his voice low and smooth, leaving no room for argument. His eyes flicker with something unreadable. "You’ll join me."

You swallow, your heart racing as you nod, not entirely sure what’s pulling you into this but unable to say no.

You don’t know how it happened, but here you are—submerged in fragrant, warm water, the scent of rose petals filling the air as they float lazily on the surface. The steam curls up around the edges of the large marble tub, wrapping around you like a blanket. You’re sitting across from Ratio, both of you completely naked, the water lapping softly against your skin.

Ratio, in typical fashion, looks completely unbothered. He’s reclining back, his eyes skimming over the pages of a book he must’ve grabbed on the way in. His muscles are relaxed, his toned form half-submerged in the water, and yet there’s something almost regal about the way he sits—completely in control, even in this intimate setting.

Meanwhile, you’re blushing furiously, trying to keep your eyes from wandering. The bubbles and rose petals do a decent job of covering the most vulnerable parts of your body, but it doesn’t stop the heat rising in your cheeks. You bite your lip, the silence between you heavy, but neither of you speaks. The only sound is the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional soft rustle as Ratio turns the page of his book.

A small yellow rubber duck bobs between you two, bumping against your knee. You can’t help but huff in annoyance. Here you are, completely flustered, and Ratio is sitting there, reading—acting as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

"Seriously?" you mutter under your breath, half-joking but half-frustrated. "You’re just going to ignore me and read your book? Insensitive much?"

Ratio doesn’t even look up from his book, though you can see the slight curve of a smirk on his lips. "You’re the one who said you didn’t get it," he says, his tone maddeningly calm. "Maybe if you paid more attention, I wouldn’t have to keep teaching you."

Your eyes narrow, but before you can retort, his gaze finally flicks up to meet yours. His reddish-pink eyes, framed by the soft curls of violet hair, pierce through you, making your breath catch. There’s something dark and amused in his expression, as if he’s enjoying every bit of your frustration.

"Do you want my attention, or are you just trying to be difficult?" His voice is smooth, but there’s a challenge hidden underneath it, one that makes your heart pound even faster.

You huff, crossing your arms as you stare at him, the frustration building. “You’re so unromantic,” you complain, your voice edging into a whine. “We’re in a bath together, surrounded by rose petals, and you’re just… reading?”

Ratio doesn’t even flinch, casually turning another page in his book. “The rose petals,” he says, his tone as indifferent as ever, “are for the scent. Nothing more.”

You blink at him, completely thrown off. “For the scent? You’re kidding, right?” Your eyes narrow, and you give him a look that clearly says you’re unimpressed. “Who puts rose petals in a bath just for the scent? That’s such a ridiculous excuse.”

Finally, he lowers his book slightly, glancing at you with a cold, unreadable expression. “It’s not an excuse. It’s practical.” His voice carries that usual sharpness, cutting through the thick steam around you. “Do you want the truth, or do you prefer fantasies?”

Your frustration boils over, and you push yourself up from the bath, the water cascading down your skin as you start to stand. “Unbelievable!” you mutter under your breath. “I don’t need lessons on scents from someone who doesn’t understand basic romance.”

But before you can fully rise, Ratio’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising speed. In one swift motion, he pulls you back down into the water, his strength undeniable as you fall against his chest. The splash sends water spilling over the sides of the tub, and the air between you crackles with tension.

“Sit,” he commands, his voice low and firm, not giving you a chance to argue.

You glare at him, but your body goes still as you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. His skin is warm against yours, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine, despite your irritation. He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks, his tone slower now, more deliberate.

“You want romance?” His voice is barely a whisper, yet it sends a jolt through you. “Let me teach you something about scent.”

His hand trails up your arm, pausing to brush away a strand of wet hair from your face. “Scent is powerful,” he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “It’s not just for decoration, it’s a signal. A memory. The roses… you’re not paying attention to what they’re really doing.”

You shiver, his words sinking in as he continues. “Roses have always been a symbol of passion, of longing. Their scent is designed to linger, to invade your senses.” His hands move up to cup your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “When you think of this moment, the scent of these petals will remind you of it—whether you like it or not.”

Your heart races, your breath coming in shallow as Ratio’s eyes hold yours, his intensity making it impossible to look away. His voice drops even lower, a subtle challenge laced within. “So, tell me again, is this unromantic? Or are you simply unaware of what’s really happening around you?”

You’re speechless, caught between the frustration you felt moments ago and the way his words now swirl in your mind. Before you can gather a response, Ratio smirks faintly, brushing his thumb against your lips.

“Next time, think before you act. You’ll find there’s more to everything than what you see on the surface.” He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours but not quite touching. “Now… do you still need another lesson, or have you learned enough?”

His words hang in the air, and you realize you’re clinging to him, your frustration long forgotten. The rose petals drift around you, their scent now intoxicating as you sit there, your body pressed against his. You bite your lip, but the heat in your cheeks is impossible to hide.

“Maybe…” you whisper, eyes half-lidded as you lean into him, “I need just one more lesson.”

As the kiss deepens, Ratio’s hands move with deliberate precision, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. He releases you from his embrace, his fingers trailing lightly down your arms, leaving a trail of tingling warmth.

“Let’s add a little more… complexity to your lesson,” Ratio murmurs, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. He reaches over to a nearby cabinet and retrieves a soft, silk blindfold. The fabric glides between his fingers as he holds it up, inspecting it with a contemplative look.

You blink, your heart pounding as he brings the blindfold closer. “What are you—”

Before you can finish, Ratio gently but firmly places the blindfold over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. The darkness is immediate and complete, enveloping you in a world of black.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to adjust to the sudden loss of sight. The warmth of the bath and Ratio’s presence are the only things grounding you now. “Ratio… what’s this about?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, you hear him move around, the soft rustle of his clothing and the gentle splash of water filling your senses. “Studies show that when you can’t see what’s happening,” he starts, his voice a smooth, calming presence in the darkness, “your brain becomes more attuned to other senses. Touch, sound, scent—they all become heightened. It’s a fascinating phenomenon.”

You shiver, your skin tingling with anticipation and curiosity. “And what does that mean for me?”

“It means,” he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “that you’re going to experience everything in a new way.” His fingers brush lightly against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “You’ll have to rely on your other senses to understand what’s happening.”

His touch is feather-light, making you shiver as he explores your skin with a practiced, teasing touch. His fingertips graze your shoulders, your neck, and the small of your back, each touch sending waves of sensation through you. The silk blindfold leaves you feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated, heightening every whisper of his touch, every movement.

Ratio’s voice becomes a soft murmur, though it’s clear he’s enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “When the brain can’t see, it often fills in gaps with what it already knows or anticipates,” he explains. “It’s a way of adapting, of creating a picture from incomplete information. Right now, you’re creating an experience based on the limited input you’re receiving.”

You feel his breath against your ear, and his voice lowers even more, almost a purr. “The question is, how much of this can you interpret? How much will you understand without seeing it?”

His hands move to your waist, guiding you gently but firmly. His touch is both confident and tender, each caress and stroke meticulously designed to draw out your reactions. You can’t help but respond, your body leaning into his touch, the warmth and closeness of him filling your senses.

A soft, playful chuckle escapes him. “You’re reacting quite beautifully. It’s interesting how the brain can be so focused on sensation when it’s deprived of sight.” He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he continues, his voice a low, intimate whisper. “Every touch, every sound, every breath I take is magnified for you. Your mind is building an image of me, of what I’m doing, based on what you feel.”

His hands wander gently over your body, teasingly exploring every inch of your skin, making you squirm and gasp with each new sensation. The anticipation and the unknown heighten every touch, every whisper, making your pulse race.

Ratio’s fingers trail up to your neck, his touch light yet purposeful. “Tell me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “what do you think I’m doing now? Can you imagine it? Can you sense the intention behind each touch?”

You breathe heavily, trying to focus on the sensations he’s providing, each one building a complex picture in your mind. “I… I think you’re—”

He cuts you off with another teasing touch, his fingertips tracing slow, deliberate patterns on your skin. “Think harder,” he encourages, his voice laced with amusement. “The more you pay attention, the clearer the picture becomes.”

Ratio’s lips brush lightly against your ear, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. His kisses are soft, teasing, a gentle press of warmth that contrasts with the cool air around you. The blindfold makes everything feel more intense, each touch and kiss magnified in the darkness.

You gasp softly as his lips move along the sensitive skin of your ear, trailing slow, deliberate kisses. His breath is warm and teasing against your skin, and each soft touch makes you more aware of how sensitive you are to his every move.

His hands, still resting on your waist, move upward with a tender, almost reverent touch. He explores the contours of your shoulders and neck, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive skin there. Each touch feels like it’s designed to provoke a response, making you squirm and lean into him more.

Ratio’s lips continue their path along your ear, his kisses growing more insistent, more lingering. He traces the outer edge of your ear with his lips, planting soft kisses along the delicate folds. The contrast between the soft, teasing kisses and the firm grip of his hands makes every sensation feel more intense, more immediate.

“You’re very responsive,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “It’s fascinating how much the brain can focus on when it’s deprived of sight. You’re feeling everything more acutely.”

His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your neck, drawing patterns that make you shiver with anticipation. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cool air around you, creating a heightened sense of awareness. Each kiss, each caress, seems to build a growing tension, an almost unbearable anticipation of what’s coming next.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to whisper in your ear, his voice soft and intimate. “Do you feel how much more vivid everything is? How each touch is amplified because you can’t see it?”

Before you can answer, Ratio’s lips find their way back to your ear, his kisses becoming more fervent. His tongue occasionally flicks out to trace the delicate skin, each movement precise and deliberate. You feel his hands gently slide from your neck to the sides of your torso, his touch both gentle and commanding.

His kisses become more exploratory, his lips moving to the sensitive spots just behind your ear. The sensation is almost overwhelming, making your breathing come in short, erratic bursts. He continues to tease you with soft, lingering kisses, his touch expertly calibrated to make you shiver and gasp.

“I want you to understand,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper, “how every sensation is magnified when you can’t see. It’s a lesson in perception and anticipation.” He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “Each touch, each kiss, is meant to make you feel more intensely. I want you to remember this feeling.”

Then! Life was tooo good! He told you a business and you were ready to suck it off!

You immediately got down to business.

You did everything as carefully as possible and delayed the process in order to tease Veritas and see how he would react. He was reacting, even if he barely showed it. His breathing was labored, but he was still looking at you with the same arrogance.

You continue your meticulous work, you're keenly aware of every reaction from Ratio. His breaths grow heavier, his arrogant gaze softening just a fraction. But still, he maintains that cool demeanor, watching you intently as you go about your task.

With each teasing delay, each flick of your tongue, you sense his control slipping. Yet, he holds onto his composure, refusing to show you any satisfaction until you've earned it.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of torturous pleasure, you taste the first signs of his release. His cock twitches in your hand, pulsing as thick spurts of cum coat your tongue. You try to pull away, wanting to avoid the mess, but his grip tightens in your hair, yanking you back down.

"No, keep going," he commands, his voice strained but still commanding. "Take it all."

His command sends another wave of arousal through your body, and despite yourself, you comply. You continue to suck and lick, taking in every last drop of his cum while he watches, his eyes burning with a mix of satisfaction and possession.

When he finally pulls free, you gasp for air, your mouth slick with his seed. But before you can wipe your lips clean, he binds your wrists behind your back, then grabs a length of rope and begins tying a blindfold around your eyes.

"Let's see how well you do without being able to watch me," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "And remember, every point you earn gets you closer to freedom."

Without warning, he plunges a digit inside you, feeling your walls clench around him instinctively. Hmm, looks like you're already quite ready for my cock, he muses, adding another finger to stretch you wider.

Ratio continues to explore your depths with his fingers, his movements deliberate and calculated. "As you can feel, your inner muscles are already contracting around me," he explains, his voice a low purr against your ear. "This is a natural response to stimulation, a sign of your body's readiness for penetration."

His fingers curl inward, rubbing against that sensitive spot deep within you. "The G-spot, as it's commonly known, is actually an area of concentrated nerve endings," he continues, his words a sensual counterpoint to the sensations he's evoking. "Stimulation here can lead to intense pleasure and even orgasm."

He adds a third finger, stretching you further as he applies gentle pressure to your clit. "Your body's reactions are telling me that you're highly responsive to these types of touches," he notes, his tone clinical yet infused with dark desire.

Ratio's fingers delve deeper, you can't help but cry out, your moans echoing in the room. "It's too much," you whimper, but the truth is far different. Your body craves more, hungers for the fullness only his cock can provide.

"You study so much," you breathe out between gasps, "but don't forget to enjoy the results." Even as you speak, your hips buck against his hand, seeking friction where you need it most.

His kiss is a claiming, his tongue dominating yours in a dance as old as time. It's a stark contrast to the scientific observations he's been making moments ago, but it fits perfectly with the primal urge coursing through your veins.

He breaks the kiss, his fingers stop their relentless assault, leaving you hanging on the edge of bliss. "Remember, this is just the warm-up,"

Ratio pauses his ministrations, letting you bask in the waves of pleasure that ripple through your body. He gives you a moment to catch your breath, his fingers trailing tantalizing patterns across your heated flesh.

"How do you feel?" he queries, his voice laced with a hint of concern. "Are you enjoying this? Or do you wish I'd hurry things along?" Despite his seemingly detached inquiry, his touch betrays his own growing excitement.

Before you can answer, he abruptly withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and craving. "No," he says firmly, catching your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "I want to see how you handle the absence of sensation. How does that make you feel?"

Your mind reels from the sudden loss of stimulation, your body screaming for more even as you struggle to form coherent thoughts. "N-nothing," you stammer, your voice shaking. "It feels like nothing at all."

Ratio hums thoughtfully, his fingers trailing down your side to rest on your hip. "Interesting," he muses. "Your brain is processing the lack of sensation, interpreting it as a void rather than actual pain or discomfort. This suggests a high level of sexual tolerance and adaptability."

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "I think we can push you even further. Let's see how you react when I deny you both touch and sight." With that, he reaches for the blindfold, preparing to cover your eyes once more.

...................!!!!!!!! "It's..time to go on."

With a swift movement, Ratio removes the blindfold, revealing the world once more to your desperate eyes. But instead of touching you himself, he simply places his hand near your throbbing center, his fingers hovering just above your most sensitive spot.

"Cum for me," he commands, his voice firm and commanding. "Show me what I've done to you." His hand remains still, not providing the direct stimulation you crave, forcing you to rely on your own efforts to achieve release.

The tension coils tighter within you, your body begging for relief. But without his guidance, you're left to navigate the storm of emotions and sensations on your own.

With a sharp cry, you finally surrender to the mounting pleasure, your body convulsing as waves of climax crash over you. Your juices gush forth, soaking Ratio's hand and dripping onto the bed beneath you.

But the reprieve is fleeting. Before you can even catch your breath, he pushes you back onto the mattress, holding you down firmly. "That was just a preview," he declares, his voice a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. "Now, let's continue our little experiment."

He leans over you, his gaze locked onto yours as he teases open your folds with his fingers. Each slow, deliberate thrust sends another shockwave of pleasure through your system, reigniting the flames of desire that had barely begun to cool.

"Study and lesson," he reminds you, his tone dripping with carnal intent. "And remember, I'm in control."

Ratio's fingers continue their torturous dance, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure from your quivering body. But then, without warning, he replaces his fingers with the thick, rigid length of his cock. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, your body stretching to accommodate his size.

He takes his time, savoring each inch as he slides deeper inside you. The stretch and burn are exquisite, pushing you to new heights of arousal. "Feel that?" he growls, pausing to give you a moment to adjust. "That's power. That's control."

With a steady pace, he begins to move, setting a rhythm designed to drive you mad with lust

Moans spill from your lips, raw and primal, as Ratio drives into you relentlessly. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing through your body, threatening to sweep you away in its intensity.

"Louder," he demands, his voice strained with effort. "Let me hear how much you love this." He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

Your cries echo off the walls, mingling with the obscene sounds of flesh meeting flesh. The pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tighter within you until you feel ready to burst.

The rubber duck he always keeps innocently floats past, and you had half a mind to reach out and turn its gaze away from the 'scene'.

"Focus on the sensation," Ratio instructs, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. "Notice every detail - the heat, the friction, the way my cock stretches you open."

As he speaks, he adjusts his angle, hitting a sweet spot deep within you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. "This is crucial data," he continues, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his own pleasure mounts. "Understanding the nuances of pleasure will help me craft the perfect experience for you."

His words are a distant hum, lost in the sea of sensation that engulfs you. All you can do is cling to him, arching your back to meet his increasingly brutal thrusts.

Cries of pleasure and frustration tear from your throat as Ratio's relentless pounding drives you closer and closer to the edge. Each word he utters only serves to fan the flames of your desire.

"That's it," he praises, his grip on your hips tightening. "Endure it like a good little bitch you are." His words are a crude insult, but they only add to the eroticism of the situation.

The coil inside you snaps, releasing a torrent of orgasmic bliss that washes over you in powerful waves. Your inner walls clench around Ratio's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

The final tremors of your shared climax fade away, Ratio collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the tub. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly.

"I want to feel you come undone one more time," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with satisfaction. Slowly, almost gently, he begins to move inside you once more, coaxing your oversensitive body towards yet another peak.

With a final, powerful surge, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsating as he spills his hot seed into your waiting womb. The sensation triggers another orgasm, your body trembling and convulsing around him as you milk him dry.

Your moans mingle with his grunts of exertion, creating a symphony of passion that fills the room. Together, you climb the slopes of ecstasy, racing towards the pinnacle of pleasure. And as you crest the final hill, tumbling into oblivion together, you know that this is only the beginning of your journey into the depths of depravity.

The aftermath of your intense and passionate encounter leaves you feeling both exhilarated and drained. You’re trying to shake off the lingering sensations and focus on the task at hand: cooking. Your legs still tremble slightly as you attempt to prepare a meal, the aftermath of Ratio’s teasing and touch making it difficult to concentrate.

Ratio stays close by, his presence a constant reminder of the events that just unfolded. He watches you with an amused smirk, his gaze flickering between you and the cooking. “You’re not doing it quite right,” he says, his voice carrying that familiar mix of criticism and amusement. “The way you’re handling the ingredients is all wrong.”

You huff, your frustration bubbling up. “Oh, really? Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time teasing me, I wouldn’t be such a mess right now.”

Ratio raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a more intense expression of amusement. “Is that so? It’s not my fault if you’re unable to focus. Perhaps you need more practice.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can say anything else, Ratio steps closer. His movements are quick and decisive, and before you fully realize what’s happening, he gently but firmly pushes you onto the table. The action catches you off guard, and you find yourself splayed out on the surface, the cool touch of the table against your skin contrasting with the warmth of the kitchen.

Ratio stands over you, his eyes glinting with a mix of dominance and satisfaction. “I think you need a different kind of lesson,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “One that doesn’t involve cooking.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you struggle to regain your composure. “Ratio, what are you—”

He silences you with a finger on your lips, his touch light but authoritative. “Shh. Cooking can wait. Right now, you’re going to learn something more practical.”

His hands move with a deliberate calmness, as though he’s in complete control of the situation. He leans over you, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. His gaze is intense, his presence overwhelming.

“You were so eager to challenge me earlier,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, seductive whisper. “Now, let’s see if you can handle a different kind of lesson.”

His hands roam lightly over your body, his touch both firm and gentle. The contrast between the cool surface of the table and his warm, teasing touch creates a heightened sense of awareness, making every movement more intense.

“Tell me,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear, “how do you feel now? Do you understand the difference between the lessons I’ve given you and the ones you’re trying to master?”

You try to respond, but your voice comes out as a shaky whisper. “I… I get it. I’m sorry for complaining. I just—”

Ratio interrupts you with a soft, teasing kiss along your neck, his touch sending shivers through you. “You’re not just apologizing for the cooking, are you?” he asks, his tone playful yet commanding. “You’re acknowledging that there’s more to learn, more to experience.”

His hands continue their exploration, his touch both tender and possessive. You find yourself unable to resist the sensations he’s creating, the way his presence and touch make everything else fade into the background.

“Cooking will come later,” Ratio says, his voice a seductive whisper as he leans in even closer. “Right now, focus on what’s happening here, on what you’re feeling.”

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Roll a Die, Roll a Poison - A Game

>Yan! Aventurine x Fem! Reader

>Word count: 1.7k

>a/n: very subtle yan themes in this one. might expand on this soon. i love a man going through trust issues and self depreciation. plus points if he's pretty

Part 2

To say you found the sound of a die rolling to be annoying would be an understatement. No, it scratches your auditory canal as it works its way through to your eardrums, wreaking havoc on your hearing before you even register the sound. What’s worse is the voice that follows after it and the insufferable smile accompanying it.

“Care for a game?”

Asking for your participation is a charade. In the occurrence that you do decline, you are simply pestered to the point that you give in like how an older sibling acquiesces to the younger’s demands. Except you two aren’t family, not yet at least, and he is nowhere near a cute younger brother or a cute younger anything.

The fur lined coat is shrugged off, and Aventurine plops down on the other end of the sofa. You have half a mind to get up and relocate, but considering his pettiness and the very high possibility that he would simply follow you, you decide to let things be. A single die is placed onto the dark oak centre table in front of you both, and when you look at him questioningly, he simply rests his back against the sofa with a smile. The dark teal green velvet of the sofa sometimes seems like a deliberate choice to you.

He is wearing a similar colour after all. Like he almost always is.

“No bets,” Aventurine clarifies. “Just a game.”

You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to accept so readily. “What kind of game?”

When he speaks, his voice slightly reverberates through the empty apartment. It reminds you of how empty it is and how he is the only other here. “Oh, it’s just a simple game, to get to know each other better. Each of us will take turns rolling the die. If the number is 1 to 3, you have to answer a question I ask. If the number is 4 to 6, I have to answer a question you ask.”

“No constraints on the questions? I have an idea of what might be brewing in your mind, and I frankly do not like it.”

He laughs, eyes closing as he recomposes himself. “Ah, as much as I would love to enact upon that, I’m afraid I won’t. It’s just a simple game, dear. Won’t you humour me?”

You glance between him and the die innocently lying on the table, the number 2 staring back at you. His coat is hanging over the backrest and he’s wearing his usual work clothes. Something must have happened at work. Something that ticked him off, and now he’s looking for an excuse to bask in your company because he’s aware you won’t humour him without something like this.

Fine then. You’ll accept on your own accord. Maybe you might end up with an answer or two.

“Alright,” you answer. “Any other thing I should know?”

He blinks, those devastatingly beautiful yet incriminating eyes blink at you. “Alright~ The first person to score a total point of 30 wins. Their prize? The other person has to do whatever they want.”

“I thought you said there’s no bet.”

“This isn’t a bet, sweetheart. It’s a game. There are winners and losers in games.”

Something’s up. 30 isn’t a high number. The game will be over not too long after it starts and the winner gets a prize that’s too good to be true. “Are you sure?” You eye him wearily as you speak, the smile never leaving his face. “What if I win and ask for you to never see me again? Isn’t that too big of a price to pay over a silly game?”

Aventurine hums. There is either something cooking in his head or he’s overly confident that he would win. The latter you would not put against him. He has insane luck. So much so that you worry over him someday shooting himself while playing roulette with a revolver, but it hasn’t happened yet.

“Well,” he drawls, “you can ask for anything you want if you win. However, it’s imperative for you to remember that there is a way to work around everything. So then, let’s begin, shall we?”

He reaches for the die, and asks for your hand. When you extend your palm to him, he grabs it gently with one hand, the leather rubbing against your skin as his thumb rubs your wrist, and the other places the die on your hand. “Ladies first,” he chuckles. You waste no time in rolling, the sound of the die falling onto the empty table making you cringe.

When it stops, the number 3 stares back at you. What a great start.

“Oh! It’s my turn to ask. How lovely.” When you give him a sad look, he’s quick to conceal the excitement he just displayed. “Ah, I’m not sure what I should ask. Give me a second.”

You know he must have prepared at least 10 questions beforehand, so purposely dragging it out is just rude.

“I know,” Aventurine exclaims, “Tell me one thing you like about me.”

You deadpan. “That isn’t a question.”

“What’s one thing you like about me?”

Okay now this is tricky. The temptation to reply ‘your money’ is strong, but you both know it’s not true. You could care less about his riches simply because you do not let him win you over with them. There are another few answers that you could use to your advantage to potentially playfully dodge the question, but you suppose that wouldn’t be a very noble thing to do.

Thus, you break eye contact and direct your attention to the die on the table. “Your attention to detail,” you mumble out. “It’s… interesting.”

Aventurine makes a satisfied hum, and you can almost hear the upward curls of his lips in his voice. “I’ll take it. Now then…”

A gloved hand grabs the die and rolls. The number he rolls is 5, and you mentally cuss him out. “My turn again!” He asks you to face him, that sweet, buttery voice of his leaving those perfectly moisturised lips and-

“My question is… what would be the perfect date you ever went on?”

This time, you blink at him. Interacting with Aventurine is usually like a game of chess. Both of you move your pieces in your respective turns, and every sentence that leaves either of your mouths counts as a move. The pieces represent the strength of either party. However, it is imperative to reiterate that you aren’t good at chess and you’re pretty sure he’s either eating or hiding your pieces when you’re not looking.

“Nothing,” you reply. “I would rather not be on a date. Ever.”

He tuts. “You were the one who asked me out the first time. Or are you forgetting?”

“I was not.”

“You asked me out for coffee, remember?”

You choke on your words for a moment. The audacity of this man! “Asking to have coffee together is not a date!”

“Is it,” he chuckles. “We were alone together, and we talked for way more than an hour. I specifically cancelled any appointments I had that day, and I even paid the bill. That’s a date. Not a simple outing.” You part your lips to speak but are cut off. “So, what’s the ideal date for you?”

“I frankly have no clue.” He raises a brow at your admittal, but makes no move to question it. “My romantic experiences aren’t exactly plentiful, but I suppose anything would do as long as it isn’t in a casino or the like.”

“Hm. Noted. Your turn.”

The accursed die is taken into your hands, yet you do not roll it immediately. It is given a harsh glare and a mental warning before flung to the table carelessly. Surprisingly, you score a 6.

Aventurine whistles at that appreciatively. “Hope you’re keeping count of your points.”

“I am. No need to worry your hat off.” A mischievous smile stretches on your lips. Retribution has come, although in a small dose, and you would be an utter fool to waste it. “Riddle me this, my personal annoying, chirping bird. Why do you torment me so?”

He feigns innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Do not play dull. Why do you remain adamant on making my life so difficult?”

“Difficult?” Aventurine acts offended, as though he’s been told he doesn’t love you. “Why, I cherish you, my dear. Regardless, I never caged you. You simply make things difficult for yourself.”

You click your tongue. What a roundabout way of saying he sabotages things deliberately for you. “I would beg to differ.”

“Nevertheless, I cherish you. We’re in love. And before you say something like not liking me back, I’d like to remind you of all the things we did before going into this ‘arrangement’.”

You bite back instantly. The mere mention reminds you of the evening you spent sobbing locked in the bedroom’s attached bathroom. “Do not downplay your actions. You know you hurt me. Playing innocent just makes you look worse.”

“I took a gamble with your emotions as the wager. Sure, I lost a few chips, but I did win. And viola. Here you are.”

A glare full of bittersweet betrayal is directed his way, yet he simply looks tired. “Don’t look at me like that…”

You avert your gaze at that. Life has turned into a series of sought out opportunities to gain the upper hand, something he is unwilling to relinquish. It’s maddening at times, but it is your reality. Even if you wish it weren’t, you don’t hold the power to change it.

“To answer your question,” he says, voice low, “I don’t want to, but I currently don’t have any other choice.” And just like that, in the blink of an eye, he’s grinning again.

“My turn!” Aventurine grabs the die, eyeing it as it sits in his leather palm. “Your 9 points versus my 5 points. Let’s see who wins in the end.”

The sentence makes a chill run down your spine. He’s insanely good at games like this. Just what would he ask of you?

As you watch him roll a 6, you only continue to lose hope for a win. Just like the countless times before.

a/n: he asked you for a kiss on the cheek everyday for a week straight that's it

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: your family wants to protect you but its impossible with the life you all lead

⊱✿⊰ warnings: kidnapping, minor torture, it will be angsty, almost dying, spitting on your face, the joker deserves his own warning tbh

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is for skye because she wanted some angsty batfam stuff and here we are. I am just shitting on the page and hoping words form at this point. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send me requests. Also this is a platonic fic sorry if you were hoping for romance action

⊱✿⊰ tags: @kozumesphone @fizzywashere87 @fashionablysouly @witherwallflower @goldierey

@finleyforevermore @baecakie @gergthecat @mqstermindswift @anyas-shitposting69 (comment on this or send me an ask if you want to be added to my DC taglist)

"Well, well, well. Looks like baby bird got caged." The clown sneered, leaning close to your face. You scrunched your nose and tried to scoot away despite the ropes scratching your wrists raw.

The Joker's finger runs along your cheek, a horrific grin on his face as he stared at you. You tried to keep a brave face, you tried to act like the domino mask over your eyes was really a shield. You tried to act like your dad, Batman.

Maybe it was your fault you got kidnapped. He said you weren't ready to go out and patrol with your family, but you went away. You stole one of Damian's mask and put on the most costume adjacent clothes you owned.

"Where should I start, little one?" Joker asked, breaking your train of thoughts. Placing blame would be set for another time. Not now, its not time yet. "Should I give you a smile that matches mine? Should I turn you into a firey decoration before dear ol' daddy bat gets here?"

You winced, trying to prevent the ice filling your veins and the fear weighing your stomach down. The Joker grabbed a knife from his table that had numerous weapons littered on top. Carefully the cold metal of the blade brushed against your skin, not harsh enough to cut just yet. He wanted to scare you first.

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

"I am going to kill that son of a bitch." Jason growled as soon as he heard the news. Bruce gathered the family in the batcave, and explained the Joker had kidnapped the youngest of the family- you.

"Jason, I understand your frustration but we can't act with haste. I won't let her face the same fate you did. I won't make the same mistake twice." Bruce replied, already dressed as Batman. He was doing his best to stay professional despite his fear being ever present.

"I don't want to wait too long either." Dick added, crossing his arms over his chest. Everybody was tense, wanting their sister to be safe once again.

"I'll find where that stupid clown is keeping [Name]." Tim said, standing up and rushing towards the computer before anybody could even reply. Barbara silently followed, knowing she would be the most help to Tim.

Bruce looked at all of his family and nodded, "We'll find her and get her back."

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

Your throat was hoarse and tears had dried on your face. There was no point to fighting it anymore, you only hoped he would kill you soon.

"Aw but doesn't the bird look good with her wings marked?" The Joker chuckled, slicing yet another line into your arm. The cuts were deep, sure to scar, and they were deliberate. You could only guess what he was spelling on your arms.

With the amount of blood flowing down your arms like a red river, it was to no surprise you were fading in and out of consciousness. That would be nice, at least you wouldn't be awake while he tortured you.

You almost settled into the pain, eyes fluttering close to let yourself rest, when you heard a crash. Glass was broken and there was yelling everywhere.

The Joker grabbed your face with his hand and forced you to look forward, where you saw your family (the only thing disguising their horrified looks were their masks)

"Looks like they showed up in time for you, baby bird." He grinned, spitting on your cheek. You were too tired, too fragile to even bother being disgusted. It was better than the cutting.

"Let her go and I'll think about not crushing your head into the wall." Red Hood barked out, already aiming his gun at The Joker. You tried to pay more attention but you were fading slowly,, ready to force your body to rest.

The Joker dropped your body like it was nothing, your face smashing into the concrete. It hurt, pain forming in your forehead but it was a distraction from the blood oozing out of you.

Despite your best efforts, you finally blacked out. The last thing you saw was your family lunging at the Joker, rage thick in the air.

Light flooded your eyes, fresh air blasting your lungs. You were laying down on something soft and warm, contrasting against the mildly scratchy fabric on your skin. You blinked your eyes a few times, forcing them to focus despite the dull ache pounding in your head.

"You're awake." Damian said, apparently sitting beside you. It took a little while but you realized you were in the personal hospital at the manor. He had a few scratches and bruises but nothing as horrific as the scars on your skin (and in your brain.)

"Wha-what..happened?" You croaked, throat feeling like sandpaper. Like magic, Dick appeared with a glass of water you gratefully took. The liquid in your throat was almost heavenly in the way it made you feel infinitely better.

"The Joker kidnapped you and we rescued you." Your father explained calmly, not bothering to add details. Which was probably good for you, the devil's in details.

"I'm glad your back, sis." Jason said, making you suddenly aware of his presence in the back of the room. Your entire family seemed to be in here, ready to see your betterment. Despite he general aversion to touch, Jason wrapped you into a hug.

Of course, everybody else joined in (forcefully or not) for a big group hug. You laughed, despite the hollow of your heart, watching as Tim was pushed into the hug by Dick.. It was ridiculous having a group hug after a traumatic event...how family sitcom could you get?

But somehow, it felt good to be in the arm's of your family. It felt like home.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[jflemings]

— line drawn

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: your teenage daughter is in love for the first time but her boyfriend is a bad influence on her. when the two of you get into an argument and she says something especially hurtful, jessie snaps

warnings: a lil angst, arguing, past toxic relationship, past abusive relationship, language, talks of past and present drug use

a/n: pls pay attention to the warnings, this was heavier than i originally planned

୧ ‧₊˚ 🪻 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“he’s a good guy!” your seventeen year old daughter madison shouts at you “you haven’t even tried to get to know him!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes “maybe we’d want to if he didn’t sneak in through your window and and decide that our house was a perfect place to smoke weed. you know the rules”

madison rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, her face settling into a scowl that reminds you all too well of your wife “that was one time”

“the weed or sneaking through the window?” you ask sarcastically, your voice now raising to match hers.

“the weed!”

“and getting high at school, was that one time too?”

a few weeks ago you and jessie had gone up to the school after madison was caught smoking a joint on the grounds. the two of you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing when her principal told you what had happened.

as far as you knew madison had never deliberately done anything that would get her in trouble. all through her life her teachers had sung praises about how easy of a kid she was to teach, how well-behaved and respectful she was to everybody around her. that had been the truth until she started seeing her boyfriend nick.

nick had been expelled from his previous school and had even had a bit of trouble with the law, minor offences at best, but it was something that you and jessie had kept in the back of your minds when you heard through the grape vine that him and madison had begun seeing eachother.

“mum get over it, it’s not like you didn’t do it when you were my age” your daughter shoots back as she plants her hands on the kitchen table in front of her “if anything you were worse! i can’t believe you’re acting all high and mighty after the shit you and your highschool boyfriend got up to”

your eyes go wide and your grip on the top of the wooden dining chair you’re holding tightens “yeah, and you know where that got me”

“nick loves me” she tells you sternly “he wouldn’t treat me like that, and i wouldn’t let him push me around the way you did”

“excuse me?” you seethe “you have no idea what you’re talking about madison”

“you let him hit you! what more is there to kno—”

“your room. now” jessie raises her voice from where she stands at the sink behind you.

madison’s words die in her throat at the sound of jessie’s voice, the colour draining from her face as your wife turns around. “madison” she seethes, her eyes ice cold “i don’t want to see you. get out of my sight”

jessie’s calm but furious words send a chill through your daughter “mum—”

“don’t make me ask you again”

the two of them stare at eachother, jessie’s stern expression never faltering as her eyes bore into your seventeen year old. the tension in the kitchen is so thick that you feel like your throat is closing up and suffocating you. you rub a hand over the base of your neck and collarbones before madison turns and stomps up the stairs to her room, slamming the door to try to make a point.

you don’t dare look at your wife as you sit at the kitchen table, your head falling into your hands as your shoulders slump. jessie sits down in the chair next to you, abandoning the few dishes she was washing when the fight started, and lightly grips your forearm.

she gently pries your hands away from your face and holds them in her own. she runs her thumbs over your knuckles like she would when the two of you were much younger, her back and forth movement soothing your aching heart.

“i didn’t let him hit me” you say quietly “i didn’t lie down and take it”

“i know” jessie assures you, bringing your hands to her mouth and kissing your knuckles “but even if you did, it doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t your fault”

you began dating luke in highschool and stayed with him through your first year and a half at college. the two of you were in the same english class during your junior year, and your teacher had assigned you as partners for a project. you had groaned and moaned about it to your friends at first, claiming that you wouldn’t be able to work with a guy who couldn’t even spell the word orange, but had quickly gotten over it when you saw how charming he was.

luke’s reputaion, much like nick’s, wasn’t the greatest. he had been dealing drugs and would occasionally sell to your friends whenever they wanted to get high, even on school grounds where he ended up getting caught more than once. he didn’t often go to school but if he did, he was always in trouble. starting fights, talking back, skipping class, whatever you could get in trouble for, he did.

over time that didn’t matter to you though. you got caught up in who luke could be, not who he was. you had gotten stern with him after he’d made you do all the work for your project, telling him that you were going to be informing your teacher that you had done the whole project whilst he refused to even turn up to do it. he had brushed you off and claimed that it wasn’t anything new and then spent weeks asking you to go out with him, claiming that although he had made a bad first impression he would be able to prove you wrong if you went out with him.

luke spent weeks asking you out and made promises about how he’ll take you on a real date and how he’ll get his act together if you gave him a real chance to prove himself.

you were young, naive and struggling with your sexuality and eventually, he had worn you down. you told him that if he was serious then he actually had to try and get his act together, not just make empty promises. luke had agreed and taken you out for pizza and a movie, paying for the date and doing all the cliche gentlemanly things.

he walked up to your door instead of just honking at you when he picked you up, introduced himself to your parents, opened your car door, complimented you and kept his hands to himself the whole night. he even settled for a kiss on the cheek when he dropped you off, wearing your lipgloss as a badge of honour as he bounded back to his car and pulled out of your driveway.

things were good for a while. he kept out of trouble and kept his promises to you, always showing you respect and allowing you to take the lead on many things. you lost your virginity to him two months in and he didn’t even boast about it to his friends, even after they called you a prude for not putting out right away.

the false sense of security changed you quickly after that. you got looser and started to smoke and drink with him even outside of parties your peers would throw. he’d sneak you out in the dead of night so the two of you could get high and have sex in the backseat of his beat up car, he would convince you to skip class. you had started dismissing your parents and ditching your friends for him after he got it in your head that the two of you only needed eachother.

luke also started getting more controlling. he wanted to know where you were, who you were with and what you were doing at all times. he’d start fights with boys he thought were hitting on you and then come crawling back when he realised he’s fucked up. he would apologise, promise that it wouldn’t happen again and then bring you small gifts to try to show you that he meant what he was saying.

during your senior year everything only amplified ten times more. you had lost all your friends, your grades were slipping and you and your parents were constantly fighting, it was a miracle you had even gotten into college the way you were behaving and your parents and teachers reminded you of such. it was a relief to you when you found out you got accepted and had quickly informed your boyfriend. he was happy for you at first, telling you that he’ll come visit when he can and that he’s facetime you every night.

the separation bliss only lasted for a little while before luke’s controlling nature came out again. he had the passwords to all your social media and had your location so he knew where you were. you weren’t allowed to follow any boys and he had to know all of your friends.

the first time he put his hands on you was after a party. he’d come to visit for a few days and you took him to some dirty frat that was notorious for having wild parties, you thought that maybe if you got him to loosen up a bit it would give him some peace of mind.

you were, unfortunately, very wrong.

a guy from your social studies class had made a move on you and even though you told him that you had a boyfriend, luke’s rage still overtook him. he drunkenly dragged you back to your dorm yelling and degrading you, calling you horrible names and saying how he knew he couldn’t trust you. when you actually got into your room you told him to shut up and he slapped you across the face, the stinging sensation lingered as the two of you stared at eachother before you silently got ready for bed.

he whispered apologies in your ear as you fell asleep, promising to never lay a hand on you again.

he continued to hit you when he was intoxicated and you learnt to hit him back. the first time you did it you broke his nose and he lied straight through his teeth when you took him to the hospital an hour later.

you lied for him too, even when the nurse pulled you aside and asked if you were safe.

it continued like that for months until your highschool best friend sent you a photo of luke and another girl naked in bed together. you broke up with him over the phone and told him to never contact you again. he cried and cried, pleading and begging you to stay with him until you hung up and blocked him on everything. he tried contacting you for weeks until finally giving up. only when you went back home for the summer did you find out that he had gotten the girl pregnant and that he actually ended up in jail. to this day you still think you’ve never breathed a deeper sigh of relief.

tears fall down your face as jessie takes the time to individually kiss each of your knuckles, the tender act of love fighting the violent memories that swirl in your head.

“you told her about him in confidence, as a way to warn her and keep her safe. she has no right to ever throw it back in your face” the canadian murmurs against your hand “what he did to you was not your fault”

“it was mutually abusive” you mumble as you shake your head “i was in the wrong too”

“he was high off his head most of the time. he could’ve killed you” jessie stresses as she looks into your eyes “you were protecting yourself”

you shut your eyes “jess”

“i know, sorry” she apologises quickly “do you want a cup of tea?”

you nod gratefully and jessie stands and kisses your forehead as you stare at the stairs. the part of you that was a mother longed to go up to your daughter’s room and just talk to her, but the other part of you, the part that kept you going in your hardest times, told you that you needed to stand your ground and not give in. that part was hurt. so, so hurt. you had never imagined that your own daughter could say that to you, angry or not. it was like she had taken the most vulnerable part of you and ripped it out, the feeling of betrayal stinging.

after your cup of tea, you and jessie begin to get ready for bed. she checks in on your younger daughter alex and bids her goodnight before coming back into your bedroom. she swaps out her sleep shirt for a jumper and slides under the covers next to you, pulling you into her and holding you tightly.

she kisses you shoulder lightly and tells you over and over how much she loves you, how much she absolutely adores you, lulling you to sleep with her gentle words and tight hold.

——

the next morning you and jessie rise with the sun. she goes for her morning run as you shower and get ready for work, packing lunches and making breakfast as alex bounds down the stairs. she talks your ear off about what she’s got planned for her day and what she’s planning to do this weekend with her friends. she eats happily and chooses to ignore the solum mood that’s rolling off her older sister as she walks into the kitchen.

madison is quiet as she makes her own coffee and makes herself a plate of bacon and fruit. the two of you share the same space without speaking, the tension from the night before has bled dry and been replaced with an awkward energy that hangs over your head heavily.

you can’t look at her. you can’t look at her because you know can’t tell if you’ll start crying or yelling. it pains you to feel like that towards your own daughter, your first born, the child who made you a mother.

it was even harder because the freckles that dusted her cheeks were all too similar to the ones you had traced a million times over. she was a spitting image of jessie, the two of them looking so similar that there had been times where people had asked you if she was actually yours. her expressions, her mannerisms, everything down the the way she walked was jessie and at times like this, it killed you.

“babe, did you see the morrisons are moving?” jessie asks loudly as she walks in the front door. you hear her take off her shoes and put them on the rack by the door “i wonder if it’s because he got that job in boston”

madison turns at the sound of her mother’s voice, almost expecting to be scolded. jessie merely spares her a glance before continuing “good for them, starting a family and all. hope it goes well”

“so concerned about another family when you’re ignoring your own” madison mumbles under her breath.

your wife pauses and you shut your eyes tightly “madison” you mumble tiredly. you had stupidly thought that maybe she’d sleep the argument off and wake up in a better mood, one that means the four of you start your days civilly.

“what? she didn’t even say hi to me as she walked in!”

alex rolls her eyes “stop being dramatic. she didn’t say hi to me either”

“shut up alex” your oldest hisses “this isn’t about you”

“no, you’re right. it’s about you and your dropkick boyfriend!” alex exclaims, standing and grabbing her plate before walking to the sink “maybe if you pulled your head out of his ass and realised you’re being a bitch to mum, you’d know that!”

you unintentionally slam your coffee cup down onto the counter “alexandra” you say calmly, shaking off the coffee that spilt onto your hand “enough, please. go get ready for school”

jessie, who has been surprisingly quiet, leans against the entry way to the kitchen and watches alex walk out and up to her room. she huffs “you gonna cut the attitude of what” she asks “because i’m sick of your shit. the disrespect isn’t gonna fly in this house and you know it”

madi leans against the counter and kicks her socked feet against the floor. she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at either of you, but she stays. jessie takes it as a sign to continue.

“you owe your mother an apology, a genuine apology. you don’t know the full story and you have no right throwing it back in her face the way you did last night” jessie continues, coming off the wall to lean over the kitchen table “maybe if you gave us a reason to like nick we would, but so far all you’ve done is break our rules and disrespect our house. the sneaking out, the drugs, getting into trouble at school — it stops now. all of it.”

your daughter stands there with her hands tucked in between her back and the counter just looking at jessie as she gets an earful, her expressionless face never once faltering under jessie’s hard gaze.

“you won’t know what to do in a situation like that unless you get yourself in that position, and for you to outright say that your mum let that happen to her is appalling, madison, truely” jessie shakes her head “you don’t have the right”

the silence sits heavily over the room, the suffocating feeling from last night once again returning. all you want to do is walk out of the room and go to work so you can distract yourself from the feeling of betrayal that has settled heavily on your heart.

your wife remains unmoving like stone. her face is neutral but her eyes betray her, her own hurt and anger swirling in her brown irises like whirlpools. the image reminds you of when she was still playing football, the determined look she’d get before an important game now moulding onto her face seventeen years later.

madi turns to you, tears welling in her eyes “i’m sorry mum, i’m so sorry” she apologises, still glued to her spot “i regretted it as soon as i thought about it. i should’ve never said it and me being angry isn’t an excuse for bringing it up”

all you can do is meekly nod as you allow her to get out her apology, knowing that if she doesn’t the feelings will sit with her for the rest of the day.

“i was angry, and i thought you guys weren’t hearing me out, and i snapped. i crossed a line that i shouldn’t have even gotten close too and all i did was hurt you” she says breathily as she plays with the hem of her sleep shirt “you didn’t deserve that. i’m sorry”

“i can’t tell you i forgive you right now because i don’t, but i hope you know that all we’re doing is trying to look out for you. we want you to be safe, and i want you to learn from my past mistakes” you explain gently, moving next to her to put a hand on her shoulder “you need to reign the attitude in though. no more of the bullshit. it stops now”

she nods quickly “it will, i swear”

“you can’t see nick for now” jessie pipes up again, quickly putting her hand up when madison goes to protest “no, i don’t want to hear it. you crossed a line and you’ll be punished for it”

madison refrains from huffing as her hands fall to her sides “okay” she says quietly

“the trust has to be earned back and when it is then we’ll discuss where we go from there” you reason in a softer tone “you need to pull yourself back into line”

“i will. i promise”

you and jessie share a long, wordless look before you wave madison off. she takes her plate and ducks her head as she passes jessie, going back up the stairs to her room.

jessie let’s a breath go before walking over to you. her arms loop around your waist and yours fall over her shoulders “that’s a step” she whispers into your temple “i still don’t like him”

“neither do i” you whisper “all we can do is hope that she feels safe enough to come to us if she needs to”

“she’s got a good head on her shoulders”

“my parents said the same thing about me” you whisper whilst pulling away “i just hope we’ve done enough”

jessie tilts her head before kissing you on the lips “i think you’re forgetting that we’re still learning how to be parents” she murmurs against you “you need to take a load off”

one of your hands comes up to hold her jaw delicately “we share the load”

she brushes hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear before holding the side of your head securely “i love you” she says “and i am so proud of you”

you kiss her again “i love you more”.

[bbydoll18xx]

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 2)

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Part 2 based on this request: 

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Word Count: 2.3k

You can read part 1 here

Thank you all so much for all the love on part 1! I was actually surprised how much everyone seemed to be enjoying this. That said, there will be another part (and maybe more) to this!

----------------------------------------------------------

You wake up the next morning to your phone blowing up. Yawning and squinting, you look over at the myriad of notifications. Confusion overtakes you, but you quickly deduce that your stunt with Paige had finally gotten some real attention. 

You spend the morning scrolling every app, trying to hide the worry bubbling up inside of you. Most people seemed to be satisfied with your performance; others were comparing you to Azzi in a cruel way. The general consensus was that you and Paige couldn’t possibly be dating; apparently it was because you hadn’t kissed.

You typically did not give a shit what people thought of you, but the idea of being compared to someone as effortlessly charismatic as Azzi made you want to crawl into a hole and hide forever. You could spend your entire life trying to emulate her success and beauty. 

Despite your self-esteem crumbling around you, you still wanted to finish what you started. People were counting on you, and your damn people-pleasing self needed to prove a point. You decide your moping would have to wait. Grabbing your camera and iPad, you head out to the arena where you knew the girls would be practicing. 

You feel shy walking in on the basketball team. Your hands are clammy, and you wipe them on your pants before giving a small wave to a hungover-looking Paige. Her eyes are tired and ringed with a bruise-colored tinge. Usually she glowed at practice, hogging your camera and deliberately showing off. Today, though, you can see the exhaustion rolling off of her. 

For a minuscule second, you allow yourself to wonder if maybe she was up all night thinking about you, just as you thought about her. You internally scold yourself. Getting your hopes up was the last thing you needed. 

For once, you are relieved to be focusing on some of the other basketball players, trying to avoid Paige until you get your emotions in order. Your mood shifted as you observed the girls’ antics. They took turns shooting difficult shots in your honor, pointing to you when a ball landed through the net with a satisfying swish. 

Once Geno concludes the practice, a handful of the girls run up to you, wanting to hear the details of your and Paige’s night. You shrug, trying to downplay what had happened, when you feel Paige’s presence behind you. Her hand slides down your back, resting on your waist with a weight that feels so damn good. 

A look of surprise graces your face, along with multiple of Paige’s teammates. 

“Uh, is this a real thing now, or what?” Nika questions. 

“Guess we’ll have to see,” Paige smirks in response, causing your mouth to drop open ineptly. 

Ignoring the blonde’s shocking retort, Azzi clears her throat and explains that the girls were going out drinking tonight. “Please join us! It’ll be so fun, all you gotta do is kiss Paige. That’ll be enough proof for everyone, and then you can be done,” she follows quickly. The words spill out, and she rouses the rest of the team to convince you that it would be so, so fun.

You turn your head up towards Paige, searching her face for any clue that this was crossing a line. Her familiar smirk was still resting on her lips. It widens as she realizes you’re staring at them. 

Fuck. So much for attempting to be subtle.

Hiding your embarrassment, you acquiesce, swearing to yourself that you would keep your feelings under wraps.

It was decided that you and Paige would meet the rest of the team at the bar at 11:00. As Paige knocks on your dorm door, you want to do everything possible to get yourself out of this situation. The idea of kissing Paige made every nerve feel like it was on fire. You weren’t sure if you’d survive the build up of it. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” Paige says softly, looking you up and down once the door tentatively opens. 

“Hey, P,” you whisper, hoping she couldn’t hear the shakiness of your voice. Paige takes your hand, something that was beginning to feel so natural and so domestic; she leads you out the door and into her car. With one hand on the wheel and one delicately placed on your upper thigh, you chat about the roles you had to play one final time tonight. You sense a tone of hesitancy in her voice, but you ignore it in favor of attempting to suppress your own.

Paige’s car turns into the parking lot of the bar, and once it's parked, she turns to you, saying “Are you sure you’re okay with all this? Azzi can get over it if you’re not.”

“I'm sure, P. As long as you are comfortable, I am, too,” you respond sincerely. She nods, satisfied with your answer, and with deep breaths, you head inside. 

The bar was packed with throngs of drunk students enjoying the weekend. You wish you could enjoy yourself, but your anxiety was threatening to make you vomit. 

Your head is reeling with all the negative thoughts you could possibly conjure.

‘What if Paige thinks I’m a bad kisser?’

‘What if I accidentally bite her?’

‘What if Paige is dreading this?’

The hypothetical questions were going to be the actual death of you, and you attempt to quiet them with a drink.

Or five. 

The first couple of shots you take don’t hit you until 30 minutes later. The familiar feeling of intoxication is welcomed like an old friend. You really weren’t the type to go wild, but your desire to just forget took over. The third and fourth go down like water, sliding through your veins and into the heat of your core. 

You're swaying your hips sensually with the beat of the blaring music, arms loose at your sides, occasionally sloshing around the pink beverage in your cup. 

You don't even care how stupid you looked because you felt so damn free, finally unchained from the anxieties of the past few days. 

A touch on your waist breaks through your drunken haze, pulling you back to reality. 

Shit, your waist is getting a lot of attention these days. 

You turn around quickly, hair whipping theatrically, expecting to see Paige. Boy were you mistaken. 

Your glossy eyes are met with the brown eyes of a man you had never seen before. You don’t miss the pang of disappointment you feel once you realize it’s not the tall blonde you were hoping to see. 

Rolling your eyes and huffing, you turn back around, once more trying to figure out where Paige had ended up. Short, drunken boys were the least of your concerns right now. 

Seeing that Azzi was close by, you stumble towards her, slurring out “Where’d my Paigey go?” 

Her eyes light up at your use of the pet name, and she grins. “She just went to get you water, remember? You drank a shit ton.” 

Suddenly remembering the way she had whispered into your ear to stay close to the girls of the basketball team, you blush at your own forgetfulness. 

Maybe you really did need that water. 

Paige is back a minute later. Foregoing handing you the bottle, she is already unscrewing it and placing it against your lips. 

Fuck. It reminds you of the night before; the cup placed against your lips, and the way her wide, blue eyes had watched you protectively. 

You welcome the way the cool water slides down your throat, already sore from singing loudly and attempting to talk over the pumping of the music. 

You drank until Paige was satisfied, never breaking eye contact with her. She pulls the bottle away from you, wiping the excess water from your lips with her thumb and then bringing it to her own lips, sucking the liquid off. 

Your head spins at the contact. Maybe that was just the alcohol, but you doubted it. 

Tucking you into her side, Paige plays with a strand of your hair, swirling her fingers around it in a way that was almost sinful. She looks down at you as you make a guttural noise, attempting to play it off as a cough. Her long fingers continue their assault on your hair, before they dance along your shoulder to your collarbones. Goosebumps trail after her digits, eliciting a shiver to run down your spine and straight between your legs. 

She had you completely and irrevocably fucked. 

It was getting late, and you knew that with the time slipping away, your moment to kiss Paige was soon approaching. Your brain battled between wanting to get the deed over with and drawing everything out for as long as possible. You didn’t want this to end. 

You tug Paige over to sit in a tall bar stool, attempting to alleviate the pain in your feet. She helps you climb up, holding the chair steady as you perch, sighing in relief. 

Paige stands in between your spread legs, meeting your eyes with an inquisitive expression. She was feeling you out, trying to deduce your own thoughts. 

If only she knew what you were actually thinking. 

Before you can bow out under the heat of her intense stare, you lean in to her. The look she gives you, one of longing and desperation, is the only confirmation you need. 

And you kiss her as if she was air, and you had been drowning for a thousand years. 

Your lips meet in a passionate embrace. Paige’s lips were as soft as they looked; you would know. You had spent a considerable amount of time staring at them, wondering how they felt and how they tasted. 

As you find a rhythm, Paige’s tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, coaxing a lustful moan from your mouth. It goes straight to Paige’s core. You are lost in each other’s presence, the chaos around you slipping away until hoots of laughter and gasps of surprise slam you back into reality. 

You reluctantly pull away from the blonde, surveying the damage of the kiss. People had their phones out, directly pointed at the two of you.

Perfect. Azzi would be happy. 

Looking back to Paige, you see the impact of your affections; her lips swollen and cheeks flushed in a way that had you smirking proudly. 

“I think that’s our cue” Paige mumbles, her warm breath hitting the sensitive flesh of your earlobe once again. You nod quickly, trying to avoid looking over eager, but that was most likely null and void at this point. 

In a dramatic display, Paige picks you up off the tall chair and sets you back on to your feet, steadying you as you sway. You wave to the onlookers, a cheesy grin engulfing your face. Paige shakes her head fondly, winking to those still watching, and pulls you out of the bar and into the parking lot. 

She all but lifts you into the passenger seat of her car, handing you another bottle of water. She softly urges you to drink, which you do without fail. You want to cut through the remnants of your drunkenness, desperate to fixate on every part of Paige. 

You were terrified you’d forget what she tasted like and the way her lips slid against yours. 

You look over at the blonde, her face illuminated from the streetlights, and her hand once more splayed across your thigh. 

She was so beautiful. 

But was she yours? You had no fucking idea. 

Your thoughts send you reeling as you sip your water, but you take solace in the fact that your worrying meant you were sobering up. The car smoothly turns into the parking lot of Paige’s apartment, and once you are parked, she looks over at you expectantly. You meet Paige’s eyes with a confused look of your own.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” She asks with an air of shyness you weren’t used to. 

You bite your lip in response, pretending to ponder, before choking out a response in agreement. 

Of course, you wanted to stay over. 

You followed her up to her door, feeling more steady than you were at the bar and waited as she unlocked it. Your nerves were starting to rile you up again, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears, temporarily silencing the vexatious doubts your brain was throwing at you. 

Paige wastes no time throwing off her uncomfortable clothes, replacing them with her usual sweats. Somehow, she looked even better. 

Grabbing a pair for you, she ushers you to the bathroom, pointing out everything you needed to get ready for bed. Thanking her with a small smile, you close the door and prepare. 

‘It’s just another sleepover,’ you think. ‘You’ve done this dozens of times before. You can do it again.’ The self assurance calms you, giving you enough confidence to walk back into Paige’s room and lay down on her bed next to her. 

The room was dark already, but the glow of her computer cast a gleam over the two of you. There was no hiding from her. Not anymore. 

“Have you seen what people are saying?” You ask, in a not so subtle attempt to see where her head was at. 

“Yeah, I have,” Paige responds. “I think they believe it now. Don’t really blame them. That kiss was…” She trails off, unable to sum up the words of how that kiss made her feel. 

“Intense,” you finish, sleep starting to creep into your body. 

Paige hums in agreement, and wraps her arms around you, pulling her close to you. 

You shut your eyes, the blissful warmth radiating off of Paige pulling you into the oblivion of unconsciousness. 

And once more, your dreams are filled with images of Paige’s lips and the overwhelming need to be hers. 

*You can now read Part 3 here

Thanks for reading!

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Last House on the Right

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 1.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy related eating issues + vomiting, Reader's got some separation issues. Fair warning this is so half baked I haven't even decided what kind of apocalypse it is, but somehow Ive got a whole plotline regardless.Same pairing as my fic Blind Date

Next Chapter

You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was about this house in the dead of night that had you so transfixed, but your intuition has paid off in spades. 

The area’s been abandoned, to your knowledge leaving you the sole inhabitant meandering around. 

Or maybe waddling would be a more apt description.

Fear and uncertainty of the outside hurry you along into the house. Most everyone- the survivors- has splintered off into groups. There’s no evidence of anyone still living here (admittedly it’s not like you’ve taken the time to check every room, but there are signs when a house is inhabited), but you luck out that the cabinets haven’t been picked over. 

It’s been entirely too long since your last meal, and it takes a good amount of restraint to not devour the can of ravioli too quickly. 

As much as you’re tempted, you know there’s a fine line between what will and won’t have you immediately throwing up in the sink- grazing seems to keep the worst of the upset down.

There’s no hospitals to jaunt off to if you end up dehydrated. Excessive vomiting is not ideal post end of days.

If you were in your right mind- not frightened, isolated, starving, cold- and not focusing on how the unheated chef boyardee might as well be a five star michelin meal for all you can think right now, you might have been paying more attention.

The sound of a safety clicking off behind you freezes your blood far more than the cold. That sound is deliberate. Whoever’s behind you- gun pointed at you- wants you to know they got the jump on you.

“Hands where I can see them,” the order is gruffly barked at you.

You feel stupid. Of course all of this was too convenient for you to simply be catching a break. It wasn’t exactly well lit and designed to draw you in- but you’re an animal caught in a trap regardless.

The fork clatters against the counter next to the can as you go to comply.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You’re not much of a threat in your current condition. That much is obvious.

Time stopped having any sort of tangible meaning a while ago. You should know how many weeks you are, but the days run together fending for yourself and you just know that you’re close. There’s no hiding the swell of your belly.

The man at the doorway looks as gruff as he sounds. Your mind spins like a tire in mud to process everything in front of you in the poor moonlight. Military, that much is obvious. You’re not actually sure if that’s a good thing. Handsome from what you can see, though historically your type has been men who don’t have a weapon leveled at you.

The taciturn expression on his face falters when he spots your bump, but you’ve learned by now to not expect any sort of special treatment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I-I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll leave, I swear.” 

He looks at you another moment before a look of resignation washes over him.

“Turn back around. Keep your hands up.” Oh God. Your mind immediately goes to the worst- That this man, for whatever reason, has decided that your infraction has signed your death warrant. That he can’t quite bring himself to fire on a pregnant woman staring him in the eyes, so the last thing you’re ever going to see is some tacky wallpaper and ugly cabinets.

You yelp when one of his hands finds the pistol on your hip. Holy shit you didn’t even hear him cross the room.

“Easy, love,” he soothes as he starts to frisk you for more weapons. “Not gonna hurt you. You have anything else on you?”

“A knife in my back pocket.” It doesn’t even occur to you to lie; putting yourself in his good graces is your only option and you can’t do that by lying.

His hands slip under your jacket, the hem oversized and hanging even with your arms up, making a wrong guess at the first pocket he checks before grabbing the knife out of the second one.

“Anyone going to come sniffing around looking for you?” A fair question, but one that sticks like a knife between your ribs.

The “No,” that escapes you is softer than you meant it to be, voice warbling as you try not to cry.

Hormones would have had you on the verge of tears at any given point, and that would have been before the end of the world and before your group abandoned you. You’re well entitled to your tears, you think, but try to stuff them back down anyway.

“You’re out here alone,” he grouses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you. The like this? is implied.

Your arms are still up, and they’re getting tired. Everything tires you out these days.

Like he can read your mind, he releases you with a “you can set your arms down now, love.”

“Thank you,” you’re in full fawn mode, turning to face him. While he’s clearly decided against killing you, you’ve been scared and alone for the past few days and you really don’t want to be separated from the only person who will give you the time of day right now. 

“Is there anyone else here? Other soldiers?” Your fate is sealed and lies in the soldier’s hands regardless of his answer.

Nothing with change, no matter what he says, but you think you’re less intimidated if it’s just the two of you. 

The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and yet you’ll never forget watching 28 days later when the line I promised them women was dropped.

“Got separated from my team.”

He turns away from you, gesturing to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He’s limping.

You haven’t seen him move until now. You’re more an expert on busted hardware than busted body parts, you can’t tell if it’s a fresh injury that’s still healing, or an old one that’s set in place.

“They left you.” They left me, too.

“They didn’t leave me for dead, they think I am dead. Gonna take a bit more than that to get the job done, though.” 

You have no reason not to believe him. Despite having just met him, the man is like a living manifestation of everything masculinity is supposed to be- down to the surly attitude despite him herding you further into the house. It doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s tough as nails and sure why not flirt in death’s face that her last attempt wasn’t good enough?

You sit on the couch he points to, as he settles into the leather chair across from you.

“Christ what’d I’d do for a fucking smoke right now,” he mumbles, pawing at his chest absent mindedly on reflex.

You mean to sit stiff as a board, but your body is tired and the couch is surprisingly comfortable.

The soldier, however, sits like he owns the house. “And now for the question of what to do with you.”

[heesdreamer]

AS LONG AS YOU’LL LET ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ prone to a bad reputation and accepting your friends ridiculous bets and challenges, you’re hit with the task to take the virginity of your schools number 1 student

WC ➩ 15k

WARNINGS ➩ um sex

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ no part 2 to this reader sucks most the time sorry.. not proofread but when is my work ever and slightly repetitive if ur a fan of my other works but what can I say i like this trope! this took me forever and not even sure i like it but hope u do

There was something about a challenge that just drove you absolutely crazy. You never cared too deeply for most things, preferring to take a casual approach to whatever life had to offer.

Yet something would awaken in you when presented a challenge, whether as serious as an academic achievement or as stupid as chugging more weekend poison than the frat boy sat beside you. Your skin would light up and your eyes would go hazy and wild at the prospect of competition, of successfully doing something that people doubted you were capable of doing.

It wasn’t any surprise to you when your friends took advantage of this, using your little quirk for their own amusement whenever school days got too slow or weekends started to hit that point of boredom. All they had to do was lay a challenge in front of you and you’d put your all into completing it.

This ended you up in numerous stupid situations, breaking into the locked school during spring break and leaving your mark for your friends to confirm once the doors opened again, flirting with the older cashier at the local liquor store while they stuffed their shirts with cold bottles, even at one point being escorted out of a crowded movie theatre by security after you managed to disturb the peace more than usual.

There wasn’t a line they wouldn’t set and more importantly, there wasn’t one you wouldn’t cross.

You felt it coming most times now, being able to sense the shift in the night and their demeanors before it actually happened. You were sat at some random party they’d dragged you to, smoking on the couch of a dirty living room and paying no attention to the ever changing crowd or the loud bass that was sounding throughout the house.

You sighed softly when you felt one of your friends nudging your side, glancing over at him with low hazy eyes and a bored expression while you waited for him to set tonight’s standard.

Sometimes you wondered if they actually were your friends, if they liked you even a little bit for your personality or if you served more so as an entertainment monkey, a circus animal for when they needed some excitement in their life. You especially thought this now as you watched him turn back to look at the others who were giggling that mean laugh they do often did when they landed on a truly rotten idea.

“I bet… you can’t take that kid home.” He said the words deliberately slow like you were stupid and incapable of understanding a faster pace.

You watched him for a few more seconds, trying to explode his head with your mind before you were following the direction where his arm was raising to point at, a cigarette loosely hanging from his fingers as he shook with laughter.

The kid in question was definitely around your age, potentially even older judging by the few people he was stood around, boys you recognized as some of your seniors at school. You didn’t recognize him however, scanning him for a while to try and decide if he was from a different part of town or if you just didn’t pay enough attention to your surroundings.

It made sense to you immediately why they had pointed him out, why he would be considered a challenge to take home.

He was stood awkwardly against the wall despite his friends clearly trying to get him to have a good time, staying near him and whispering into his ear every few seconds like they were giving him a play by play on what you were supposed to be doing at a college party.

He was clearly attempting to feign casualness, holding a cup that you were pretty certain was completely empty, and taking mock sips out of it every few minutes like clockwork. Behind the facade of his eyes that were scanning the crowd anxiously, you could tell he was extremely nervous and not used to the scene he was sat in front of.

“Oh you’re crazy dude.” Another one of your friends was talking now but you didn’t even spare her a glance, knowing she was just trying to fuel your fire more like she always did. “Him of all people? It’s impossible.”

You wanted to laugh at how obvious she was being in her comments, purposefully throwing the information towards you like you were a starving dog with snapping jaws. You’d already started to feel the competitiveness spark low in your gut the second you looked at the boy despite how annoyed by and aware of their antics you were.

“Just take him home?” You were questioning in a low voice and you finally glanced back towards your friends who were eagerly watching you. “Isn’t that a little tame?”

You liked to up the stakes with them occasionally, making sure they never got bored of you or underestimated just how far you’d take it if given the opportunity and right motivation.

You knew right away you wanted to take this one on, liking the way the boy nervously glanced back and forth or looked down at his shoes every time somebody passed by him and got a few feet too close. His friends were still glued to his side but you could tell they were itching to enter the mass of sweaty bodies, you found it interesting they’d be willing to give up their own enjoyment for their buddy.

“Not challenging enough for you? Shit you’re crazy.” Another one of your friends was laughing and patting you on the shoulder, shoving it slightly so you moved forward a bit on the couch. You shot her a glare and she leaned back with an awkward chuckle.

“Fine then I bet you can’t..” The first boy, who had started this topic of conversation in the first place, was starting up again and you watched him with an uninterested stare. “I bet you can’t take his virginity.”

This caused you to falter for a split second before regaining you composure, cocking in an eyebrow at your expectant friends before looking back towards the boy who was still uncomfortably shifting against the wall. He definitely didn’t want to be here and his little round glasses didn’t do him any favors in the feigning cool department but you weren’t sure where exactly they’d found the evidence to determine he was a virgin.

While he was definitely nerdy and awkward, he was still tall and lean with a handsome face. Plus, judging by the company he was with that was continuing to speak to him in low encouraging whispers, he had a good social circle.

Park Sunghoon and Sim Jake were definitely not losers and absolutely not virgins. You’d heard plenty of rumors about the two boys and a few others that ran with their group, ranging from your schools most established jocks and going all the way up to your class president Yang Jungwon.

“Why do you think he’s a virgin?” You were mumbling as you watched him, regardless if your friends were right or not you had your target officially set.

“It’s pretty well known.” One of the girls was shrugging her shoulders and frowning slightly, leaning against the wall behind the couch. “He’s pretty much a genius and doesn’t have time for that stuff, he’s rejected anyone who’s even slightly tried.”

“You’d know.” She was sneering and shoving an elbow into the boy next to her who started to laugh at her comment and the saddened expression on her face. You glanced at her curiously, slightly surprised she had even attempted with him considering her usual type normally fit your own friendship circles look and attitude.

You looked back over towards the boy and his friend with a raised eyebrow, trying to figure out what exactly you were missing. Why hadn’t you’d seen him before this considering the fact all of your friends seemed to know him and various details about his life?

It didn’t shock you to find him already looking at you this time, you had been staring daggers into the side of his head for almost twenty minutes now and he was bound to feel your gaze on him eventually. He was tensed as he looked at you, more so than he was already and you cocked an eyebrow in his direction at the fearful look in his eyes.

His friends seemed to realize something had caught his attention and they were following his line of sight optimistically. Sunghoon tensed up too slightly when it lead him back to you, still lazily sat on the couch off in the distance surrounded by your friends that almost resembled a pack of hyenas. You knew your reputation probably proceeded you judging by the fact he was starting to shake his head and whisper something to the boy again.

Jake, however, ever the bouncy jock seemed ecstatic that you were watching his friend so intensely and he was carrying a big smile as he leaned in to say something to them, most likely countering Sunghoon’s warning.

You watched him wrap an arm around the boys thin shoulders, patting him encouragingly before dismounting and dragging Sunghoon away into the crowd. This left the boy alone and for a second he took a few steps forward in panic like he was going to follow them but he quickly stopped as they disappeared amongst the masses, looking ten times more awkward now that he didn’t have his bodyguards sat next to him.

He met your eye again for a second before he was flushing again and looking away quickly, eyes shooting to his shoes as he nervously shuffled in place a few times.

Your friends had been talking during this, possibly to you and maybe they were upping the stakes of the bet, but you’d stopped listening a few minutes ago and only noticed they were speaking as you stood up from the couch and left them mid sentence, heading over to where the boy was standing.

You imagined you looked like a wild snake stalking it’s prey, licking your fangs as you slowly slithered closer to it until you finally snapped your jaws around his neck. He seemed to be thinking a similar thing judging by the way his eyes widened with fear when he went to look at you again and realized you were approaching.

You didn’t immediately greet him, leaning against the wall he was on with your shoulder so you could face him. You watched his side profile and scanned down his chest as it lifted and fell with heavy breaths.

He eventually mustered up the courage to look at you and only then did you give him a smile, letting it slowly take over your face as you cocked your head slightly and studied the way his nervous eyes darted all around your features.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and sweet but he immediately furrowed his eyebrows and looked away at the sound of it, picking at the rim of his cup that you now could see was in fact empty. “What’s your name?”

He glanced at you again and you realized you’d probably said the wrong thing judging by the fact his anxious eyes suddenly hardened. You assumed that he knew of you enough that you should’ve known him or you’d possibly met before hence his extreme reaction to your question.

“My memories bad baby I’m sorry, just remind me.” You were pouting slightly and cooing at him, shifting closer on the wall so you could reach up and place a hand on his shoulder gently.

He was glancing at it with wide eyes, staring at the way your fingertips just barely pressed onto his shirts fabric, then he was back to looking at your face again but thankfully he had lost the offended look. You noted that you liked how big his eyes were as he peered down at you, still taking those deep and shuddering breaths to try and calm down his nerves at your sudden close proximity.

“Heeseung.” He was whispering out, almost afraid to speak any louder considering how close your faces were now that he had turned his head to face you more directly. You smiled at the sweet tone of his voice and nodded your head in recognition.

“Lee Heeseung.” You repeated back to him, adding on his last name to show him that you did in fact know who he was.

You weren’t lying either as you came to the realization, knowing now why he felt so familiar yet unrecognizable. Lee Heeseung was the top of, not only your class and year, but the entire school and it was no doubt that he’d graduate miles above everybody else. His friend group was full of overachievers in their respective fields and now you understood the presence of the two outstanding jocks from earlier.

He seemed slightly surprised that you knew who he was and he was still watching you with those large curious eyes, gulping a bit when you instinctively curled your fingers into his shoulder like a kneading cat.

You were half expecting him to push you off, to reject you and make some excuse that could allow him to leave, remembering what your friends had said about his habit of shutting girls down early in their advances. It surprised you a bit when he was turning slightly so he could face you more, almost like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it as he took in a deep breath.

Your smiled widened, knowing from experience that you occasionally had a certain addicting aura to you, something that made boys lean forward instinctively or follow you around like a lost puppy.

However your obvious expression seemed to wake him up to your attempts and his face dropped into a small frown, leaning back far enough that your hand was falling from his shoulder and you were losing your smile as you watched him visibly grow uncomfortable. He watched you with a weird expression before he was turning his body again and avoiding looking in your direction.

“Did you need something?” He mumbled out and you frowned at the change in his tone, not as smooth and sweet as it had been when he said his name.

You were shaking your head even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore and trying to think of another route to take since this clearly wouldn’t be as simply as you originally thought it would, eyes lighting up again when you got an idea.

“A tutor.” You rushed out, trying to keep your voice casual and not make it sound like you’d just thought of that on the spot. He gave you a disbelieving look and you nodded in earnest. “I’m serious. I’m flunking bad.”

“Last I checked you didn’t care about school.” He was mumbling and you furrowed your eyebrows at his statement, wondering just how much he apparently know about you.

“Only one more year.” You were shrugging at him and your eyes shot down to his lips and neck for a second before you were meeting his gaze again, trying to hold your laugh when his eyes widened a bit at your wandering gaze. “Time to get serious I guess.”

He didn’t say anything for a few beats and you resisted the urge to push his glasses up his nose as they slowly fell while you talked, watching him take a deep breath as he contemplated what you were saying. You’d never heard of him tutoring somebody before but you also weren’t sure if anybody had ever asked, not paying him much mind once they realized he wasn’t going to do their homework or let them cheat off his test.

He was finally looking at you again with hesitation in his eyes and you offered him another small smile, trying to look as least devious as you could possibly manage.

“If you’re serious we can meet in the library on Monday.” He was muttering and your face lit up which caused him to let out a small sigh.

“Not somewhere more private?” You couldn’t resist teasing him further considering how unnerved he already seemed, touching his arm softly as you purred the words again. He winced slightly at your sudden change of tone but didn’t take a step backwards like he had before.

“I said if you’re serious.” He warned in an awkward voice and you nodded your head in understanding, squeezing his arm quickly before retracting your hand.

“Trust me. I’m serious.”

——

You would’ve thought the world ended judging by the stares you were getting as you entered the library.

It had taken you longer than you originally planned to find it and then make your way to where Heeseung had told you he’d be if you wanted to show up, so now you were going to be a few minutes late. You hoped he would still be there and had planned for the fact you obviously didn’t frequent the building enough to get around swiftly.

Luckily, you caught sight of him the second you finished climbing the stairs to the third floor and your stomach turned in excitement.

It put a damper on your plans for your meeting to be so public but that didn’t deter you much, the familiar buzz of adrenaline running through you as you took in his appearance from a distance. He had clearly gotten there way before your meeting time and he seemed engrossed in whatever text book was laid in front of him, possibly not even realizing you were late.

You were approaching him slowly to see how long it would take him to notice you but he didn’t pick his head up from the book until you were standing in front of him and clearing your throat.

You smiled at him when he jumped in his seat, lifting his head so fast his glasses bounced on top of his nose. He immediately looked awkward and apologetic at the sight of you and you pulled out the seat next to him so you could sit down. He seemed surprised you weren’t taking the one across instead and stiffened up in his seat.

“Hope I’m not too late.” You greeted him casually and turned in the chair so your knees were pointing in his direction and you could fully face him.

“No you’re perfect.” He was shaking his head and peering at you intensely like he was in a daze and not thinking clearly. When you smirked and cocked your eyebrow at his wording he immediately flushed. “I-I mean like… t-the timing is perfect. You’re on time is all I meant.”

You laughed at him softly and he shook his head to himself, turning and sternly facing forward so he didn’t have to look at you as he closed the book he was focusing on and started to pull out the ones pertaining to what you had asked him to help you with. You didn’t pay any mind to which ones he was opening up, not having any plans to pay attention anyways.

He seemed to notice this after a few minutes and he slowly trailed off on his introduction statement when he realized you weren’t even glancing at the books, just watching the side of his face as he rambled on.

He was glancing at you from the side of his eye to really confirm what you were looking at before he sighed softly and turned his head so he was facing you more directly, shying away from your intense gaze slightly. “I thought you said you were serious.”

“I was serious about meeting you at the library.” You explained to him, shrugging softly when he furrowed his eyebrows and sighed again. You shifted your knee slightly so it was bumping into the side of his chair and he glanced down at it, snapping his head back up when he noticed the bare skin of your legs below your skirt. “It’s hard for me to focus.”

“How can I help?” He eventually asked after he took a deep calming breath and the question would’ve sounded sleazy from anybody else, like a sly pick up line. Paired with his gentle tone and earnest eyes though, you almost cooed at how eager he was to help you.

You hummed softly and pretended to think for a few seconds, liking the way he got more nervous and kept fidgeting in his chair with every passing second.

“How about we make it a game?” You were eventually stating, letting your voice come out excited and breathy like you’d just thought of the idea. “Every time I get something right, you have to answer one of my questions.”

He seemed hesitant at this and thrown off like he didn’t expect you to suggest something like that, a game that didn’t benefit you in any way and only served for you to get to know him better. He was eventually agreeing and you smiled softly as you watched him push his glasses back up his nose and try to think of something to ask you.

You liked the first few questions he asked because he was clearly taking it easy on you, stuttering out simple things that were basic knowledge and trying not to look at you when you intentionally got them wrong, wanting to drag out your game and get to listen to his smooth voice more.

When you got the first one right he was taking a second to take another breath before glancing at you curiously, slight fear in his eyes like he was worried you’d ask him something inappropriate or uncomfortable.

“When did you meet your friends?” You were eventually saying and he visibly relaxed although he had a suspicious look on his face like you’d thrown him off with the easygoing question.

“Middle school.” He mumbled out and you nodded softly, putting your elbow on the table and leaning forward onto your hand so you could be closer to him. He flushed bright red but continued with his answer. “We p-played basketball together sometimes.”

Your eyebrow quirked up in surprise at the new unlocked information and for a second you wanted to ask him if he still played but he was continuing on with the next subject question before you had the chance, shifting uncomfortably when you immediately answered it with ease and gained the opportunity for another inquiry about his life.

“Was that your first time at a party?” Your voice was lower now since you were closer and he was watching you intensely, stiffened by the way your eyes went from holding his gaze tightly in yours to watching his lips as he spoke.

“Yeah I guess so.” He shrugged softly but you could tell he was feeling anything but casual. He almost looked transfixed by how close you were getting to him the longer the two of you talked. “It wasn’t yours though.”

You smiled softly at his comment, knowing for sure now that he clearly knew of you and your reputation. You thought it was cute that he seemed unnerved by the mere mention of a party yet you found yourself in the same position as last weekend, just different couches, almost every single night you had available. You wondered if this made him less likely to answer your next question or more so.

He was asking it slowly like he had realized you knew more than you let on, giving you a rather hard one just to test his theory and sighing softly again when you answered it much quicker than it was delivered to you.

“Has anybody ever kissed you before?” You finally asked him something that slightly toed the line he originally expected you to cross.

You were leaning even closer as you said this, voice low and eyes hazy as you watched him. He wasn’t moving but he was watching you closely with that same hypnotized look in his eyes, shaking his head instinctively like he answered you without meaning to and then immediately flushing when he realized that he had.

You let your lip curl into a half smile as you looked at him and neither one of you made any move to continue on with the game, just watching each other in tensioned silence for a few beats before you were clearing your throat to try and catch his attention fully again. His eyes that had fallen down to the lower half of your face shot back up to your eyes and you cocked your head slightly.

Heeseung was trying not to shift away from you out of embarrassment but it got even more difficult when you were moving closer again, your free hand that wasn’t under your chin coming up to rest on his knee. He was suddenly glad he had worn jeans and not shorts despite how hot the weather had gotten in the past few weeks.

“Why not?” You were whispering to him and squeezing his knee softly, watching as it took a second for his dizzy mind to remember what you had even been talking about before to try and figure out what you were referring to. “Why hasn’t anybody ever kissed you?”

He just flushed more red as you assisted him in remembering, repeating the direct words as they fell casually off your lips while simultaneously causing his entire nervous system to light up.

“I’m not sure.” He whispered back, his voice wavering slightly with nerves as the conversation and tone changed quickly. “I-I don’t really know I guess.”

You hummed softly like you didn’t really believe him, thinking about the comments your friends had made about him turning down any advances. You had a feeling that was more about their own advances and judgements about him rather than him just simply being a prude. You felt like your theory was right the more he stared at the way your hand was squeezing around his knee.

“Do you want to come back to my dorm with me?” You were whispering to him suddenly and his eyes were back on yours, widening in shock for a moment before glancing around the empty library like he was worried somebody could somehow hear what you said.

This seemed to awaken him from his spell and he was leaning back a bit, aggressively popping the bubble you had fallen into with each other. You’d crossed the line enough that he was doubting your intentions again and he shifted his leg enough that your hand fell from his knee, landing lifeless on the side of his chair instead.

“For what?” He was asking with a frown and the fact that he was even slightly curious reassured you a bit that he wasn’t fully rejecting your advances, just being cautious.

“I can’t focus here.” You were explaining simply and he glanced around again like he was confused on what you meant, especially since it was pretty much completely silent and empty outside of your whispers to each other. “Too much on my mind.”

He didn’t verbally agree but he was closing the book in front of him and giving you a nervous look that made you smile, knowing he was accepting your offer to go somewhere more private. You tried not to be offended as you walked in silence, even more so because he kept looking over his shoulder like he was afraid to be seen leaving with you.

His anxiety didn’t cease as you crossed the courtyard over to your side of the dorms, if anything it just amplified the closer you got to your room and the more students you passed by.

You didn’t blame him considering you could only imagine the rumors that would blossom from him being seen with you, considering your reputation and overall look, especially since you were leading him back to your room in the middle of the day. It almost made you laugh to see how unnerved he was just to study in private with you.

When you finally got to your dorm, he still hadn’t calmed down and he awkwardly looked around the small room like he was in search of a place to sit. You’d forgone the usual desk and chair most dorms had and instead only had your bed as a resting place, raising your eyebrow at him when you walked past his stiff body to slowly lower yourself onto it, patting the spot next to you.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.” He was shaking his head suddenly and still standing in the middle of your room but you frowned softly at him.

“I don’t bite you know.” Your voice was soft and innocent, teasing him for his assumptions about your intentions and he gave you a disbelieving look before eventually taking a few hesitant steps and sitting as far away from you on the bed as he could possibly manage.

You watched him intensely as he took his backpack off and placed it on the floor, in between his feet. He was bending over to rummage through it and search for the subjects you were previously talking about and you scanned his frame and side profile as he did so, liking the way his turtleneck was stretched and pulled tightly against his back muscles because of his movements.

He was sitting back up and beginning to talk again but you were zoned out as you watched him, trailing down his neck to the way his hands tried to explain the subject to you.

When he eventually caught on to the fact you still weren’t paying any attention, judging by the way he asked you a question and got no response, he looked over towards you and let out a soft sigh when he realized you weren’t even pretending to be looking at the textbooks.

“You’re still not focusing.” He was mumbling to you and shaking his head, closing the book on his lap and picking at the cover with anxious fingers. “I thought you said you’d be less distracted in private.”

“Must be something else stealing my attention then.” You were shrugging and leaning back on your palm so your body was more angled towards him, smiling when his breath hitched slightly when your position made your skirt ride up your legs.

“What do you want from me?” He was eventually asking in a low, nervous voice and you cocked your head at him.

For a moment you contemplated playing the game a bit longer, telling him you didn’t want anything and this was just an innocent study date. You considered what your friends had said about him never paying any mind to any advances or attempts but then you thought again about the way he instinctively leaned closer to you and followed you back to your room despite knowing your reputation and bad habits.

“What do I want from you?” You repeated back to him and he nodded softly, eyes going to your mouth when you kissed your teeth. “Who said I want anything?”

He didn’t say anything for a few heavy seconds, tension in the air almost suffocating both of you as you waited for him to give you any signal that he had fully caught on to your intentions and didn’t mind them. His body language didn’t do much to help you, shifting uncomfortably but still watching you with an intense gaze that kept exploring around your face.

“Y-you.. I’ve heard some stuff about you, I guess.” He was eventually saying and you tilted your head as he played with his fingers anxiously, avoiding looking at you completely now as he brought up the subject.

“What have you heard exactly?” You shifted closer to him on the bed and it caught his attention again, stiffening although you still were a few feet away. “Good things… bad things?”

“I don’t know.” The way he paused, calculated and awkward, made you believe he definitely did know and just didn’t want to say. He seemed to notice you caught on to that and he sucked in a breath before pushing up his glasses. “Just the stuff you do with people.”

“I do lots of stuff with very little people. I’m picky.” You were scooting closer to him again as you said this, letting a purr seep back into your voice and he gave you a disbelieving look.

Heeseung was cute, that fact didn’t pass by you from the second you saw him, but you were a bit taken back by how handsome he looked the longer you spent with him. Despite being awkward and avoiding your eye contact like it was a devious act, his gaze was strong when you held it and he occasionally lifted an eyebrow almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

He had a sort of arrogance about him, something he possibly hadn’t noticed he carried. Maybe it stemmed from excelling academically or being desired for his skills, for his brains.

The other side of him, the part that was insecure and fidgeting, letting out small stutters and choked breaths was attractive to you too. You didn’t necessarily have a type, gender or appearance, but you were drawn to the fact he seemed almost drunk every time he looked at you for too long.

“You don’t believe me?” You questioned him when the look didn’t leave his face, doubting the fact that you were apparently picky yet still deciding to obviously flirt with him.

“Jake said you normally go for like.. I don’t know people like you.” He was mumbling out, his eyes still scanning your face mindlessly.

“You asked your friends about me?” You tried to keep the teasing tone out of your voice but he definitely caught on to it, flushing and stammering for a second like he hadn’t meant to give you that much information.

“J-just at the party.” He was quick to explain as he shook his head, glasses sliding down his nose bridge again. “You were l-looking I think and Sunghoon said something about it and I don’t know, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You ignored the fact he was rambling and attempting to backtrack on what he said, leaning forward off your palm so you were closer to him again. He froze up at the sudden proximity and watched you with widen eyes when you reached over to push his glasses back up on his face, tucking some of his hair behind his ear afterwards.

“I think maybe you’re picky too.” You told him slowly, watching the way his eyes trailed from your wrist that was practically touching his cheek now, all the way up your arm before it was landing back on your face.

“I’m not.” He was shaking his head earnestly like he was trying to convince you and when you raised an eyebrow, he realized he had misspoken in his desperation. “I m-mean.. I guess I am. I just don’t think girls really would get what they want from me.”

He was saying it slow and awkward but you could sense the fact he had been thinking about this a lot. Your mind flashed with how fast he was to answer your questions even when he was feeling awkward, the way he stared at your hand that squeezed his knee in the library.

“What do you think they want?” You were muttering and you could tell by the look he gave you, incredulous and knowing like he already realized you had noticed his behavior, that he wasn’t going to tell you so you finished your sentence for him. “You think they want you to be in charge? To lose your resolve and snap, bend them over.”

He was watching you intensely as you spoke and something flashed past his eyes, dark and heavy but ashamed at the same time. You kissed your teeth again and pet his cheek softly, almost forgetting your hand was resting there until he subtly nudged the side of his face against it.

His skin was hot to the touch and still red like it had been from the moment you’d brought him back to your room, fidgeting with his fingers and not breathing as you shifted closer again so the sides of your thighs were pushed tightly against each others. He only sucked in a fast and panicked breath when your hand traveled down his cheek and stopped at the base of his neck, turning your head at his reaction.

“Such a pretty boy.” You were whispering and your voice shocked the both of you, coming out just as breathy and transfixed as his was previously.

You couldn’t help it as you studied his expression, his big eyes peering at you with hesitance and curiosity behind the thin framed glasses. He was a lot bigger than you but he seemed small and fragile with the way he shrunk in on himself, shoulders pulled forward in an attempt to disappear.

His eyes were going down towards your lips again and when he saw the corner of them pull up into a smirk they immediately left, meeting your eyes in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” You were asking him in a low voice and your faces were so close all it would take is a slight rock forward from either of you.

“I d-don’t know.” He whispered back but his eyes went back down to your mouth as you smiled, telling you he definitely did know. “I’m not sure how.”

“I can teach you.” Your lips were grazing against his as you spoke and a shudder ran through him, his glasses sliding forward again and touching your forehead. “Let me teach you baby.”

He was hesitating for a second but his eyes widened a touch at the pet name and then he was nodding his head, his forehead touching yours because of the movement. You were pushing into him before he could change his mind and he stiffened at the feeling of your lips against his.

He wasn’t lying about not knowing how, completely frozen throughout the kiss until you were pulling back and laughing softly, his eyebrows furrowing in an upset expression at the sound. You kissed him again before he could think too deeply about your laugh and get insecure about you making fun of him, this time bringing your hand up to his face again to try and help him add some movement.

It took a few seconds but he slowly got the hang of it, pushing against your mouth desperately once he realized he could move with you.

You pulled back out of the kiss for a second to look at him, his eyes still shut tight and his cheeks almost as red as his swollen lips. He fluttered his eyelashes open once he realized you weren’t kissing him again and gave you a confused look.

You couldn’t help yourself from pushing your hand off his cheek and into his hair, brushing it back and admiring the way it immediately flopped back into place, soft and fluffy. You were turning your head to kiss him again, a small peck that pulled a little noise from him.

“What’s wrong baby.” You practically cooed at him, adjusting his glasses and watching the way he went slightly cross eyed as he followed your fingers movements.

“Please, again.” He breathed out and you felt a pull in your stomach at the whiny tone to his voice, leaning back into you desperately and seemingly forgetting the resolve he was showing earlier.

You didn’t bother teasing him further, pulling him in for another kiss and letting it deepen quickly this time. He made another noise into your mouth as you did this, half surprised and half grateful when you continued to move your lips together at a slow pace.

His hands were shaking in his lap and you reached down blindly to grab one, bumping against his stomach on accident and feeling it harden at the touch. You ignored it for now and took his hand in yours so you could place it around your body, letting it settle near your back.

You were slipping your tongue into his mouth softly and he froze again, eyes opening for a second but immediately shutting again when you closed your fist in his hair in warning.

He let you lick into his mouth a few times, getting used to the feeling and then he was pushing forward again so he could kiss you deeper. You almost laughed at his excitement but you were stopped by the feeling of his tongue brushing against yours, experimenting for himself what it felt like.

Heeseung let out a low groan that vibrated against you and your free hand slid forward to grab near his knee again, bunching up the fabric of his pants absentmindedly.

You sucked on his tongue for a few beats before you felt his spit dripping down his chin, pressed tightly against yours considering he wasn’t allowing either of you room to breathe. You pulled back just slightly and he opened his eyes to watch you, letting out a gasp when you were turning your head to lick the wetness off his chin, your tongue trailing up until it was back in his mouth again.

His gasp made you smile into the kiss and you could feel his large hands squeezing your side, shifting slightly at the feeling.

When you were finally pulling away to try and take a breath, he was giving you a panicked look and trying to lean in again. Your hand in his hair tightened to stop his advances and he frowned deeply.

“W-why?” He was whispering and his face fell into a pout, an expression far more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him carry.

“Don’t want you to get too excited.” Your tone was teasing and your eyes dropped down to his lap, an obvious tent in his pants although you had barely touched him and just kissed a little bit.

He was clearly mortified and leaning away from you a bit, eyes darting around awkwardly like he wanted to disappear into the mattress. You were petting his hair again to try and soothe his embarrassment.

“Just messing with you baby.” You were shaking your head and trying to reassure him, your hand kneading his knee for a second before sliding up and down his clothed thigh, caressing it gently.

“It’s not funny.” He mumbled back, watching you carefully like he was waiting for you to burst out laughing at him. You frowned again at his hurt tone, wondering what past experiences he had that would lead him to he so defensive.

You were scooting closer to him again and now your legs were hooked over him, thrown over his lap so you could hold the side of his face and turn his head so he was looking at you. He froze at the feeling of your thighs pressed ontop of him but didn’t make any move to scoot away this time, just watching you with a guarded expression.

“I like that you like kissing me that much.” You were whispering it to him and his eyes went to your mouth at the reminder you had kissed. “You make me feel good too.”

“I do?” He sounded breathless at that, eyes opening up a bit in shock as he waited for your confirmation.

“Yeah baby, you’re so pretty.” You kissed your teeth softly and pushed his hair back again, taking in his features and the way he instinctively pushed his head against your palm.

You were kissing him again before he could say anything else, cupping his face in your hands and parting your mouth in shock when he was squeezing your legs, seemingly forgetting they were still in his lap until his big hands made contact with your bare skin.

He was freezing up at the realization he was touching your thighs, your skirt rolling up more to an almost dangerous height and he pulled away from the kiss to stare at you, removing his hands so fast you barely registered that they were there.

“I-I have to go.” He was rushing out and you frowned softly at his nervous tone, not saying anything as he was suddenly scooting away from you and gently placing your legs back on the bed so he could stand off of it without jolting you around.

You wanted to ask him what had happened to scare him off, mouth parting in the beginning of a question but he was throwing his backpack over his shoulder before you could form a syllable, disappearing out the door with a slight stumble that almost sent him flying into your bedside table. You sighed softly at the fact he had completely ran away from you, realizing this would be a lot harder than you thought.

——

The next time you saw Heeseung was the following Thursday morning, despite wanting to immediately seek him out once you entered campus you thought it would be better if you have him a few days to calm himself down and lessen his nerves.

This plan didn’t seem to work considering he immediately stiffened up when he caught sight of you entering the classroom he was sat in, some lecture you didn’t bother checking the subject for, asking his friend Jake in passing where you could find him. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, the front row of course, and tried to avoid looking at you.

It didn’t work considering you stopped directly in front of him, eyeing the small girl who was sitting in the seat beside him until she was glancing up at the feeling of your stare and immediately faltering before getting up and going the row behind.

Heeseung sighed softly when you smiled at her and slid into the seat, scooting the chair slightly so you were closer to him.

“What are you doing here?” He sounded exhausted and completely thrown off, facing the front of the classroom and whispering out of the side of his mouth.

“Am I not allowed to attend a class?” You were whispering back to him, still holding your smile despite the fact he was refusing to look at you.

“So you’re interested in physical anthropology now?” His tone was sarcastic and he finally spared you a quick glance, faltering when he saw your smile and the way you leaned forward with your chin on your palm so you could be closer to him.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” You were shrugging softly and tapping your foot against his, staring at his clean tennis shoes for a second before looking back at him to see him holding his gaze on yours now.

He watched you for a few beats, you could tell he was holding his breath by the way his shoulders were tensed and then finally releasing in a small shuddered exhale. You raised an eyebrow at him and went to speak, stopping when his eyes dropped to your mouth for a second before he was flushing and going back to staring at the empty chalkboard.

You smiled softly at the realization he was clearly replaying the other day in his mind, more awkward than normal now that you’d caught him zoning out staring at your mouth.

The professor was coming in now and you stiffened slightly, Heeseung’s foot trapped under yours. For a second you considered staying and teasing him a bit further but considering you definitely weren’t supposed to be here and you were directly in the front row, you imagined it would be easier to just leave before you were removed.

You were gathering your bag, slipping the strap back over your shoulder as Heeseung watched you from the corner of his eye.

You leaned down towards him, letting your lips graze against his ear and trying not to laugh at the way a shiver wracked through his body as he clenched his pencil tighter.

“There’s a party tomorrow at Beomgyu’s place. You and your friends should come.” You didn’t give him the chance to say anything about your invitation, knowing he was most likely to decline while in your presence.

You could feel him watching you still as you turned to leave the classroom, waving slightly at the professor who was giving you a confused look.

——

“Wait, you’re actually thinking about going?” Sunghoon was raising a dark eyebrow as he sat up to look at his friend, not paying attention before but now on high alert as he tuned into the conversation. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Dude when has Heeseung ever been invited to a party by a girl.” Jake was rebutting and wrapping an arm around the mentions boys shoulders, shaking him slightly with an excited grin. “And she’s hot.”

Heeseung groaned softly and pushed his friends arm off of him, flopping on the couch and trying not to think too deeply about the reason his jaw clenched at Jake’s wording. He had decided to confide in them after your interaction in the classroom, leaving out the details of what happened in your dorm.

He could hear Jake’s mocking tone now, scolding him for running away from you the way he did.

“Yeah exactly. I mean no offense but do you not find it slightly suspicious that Y/N is suddenly interested in Heeseung?” Sunghoon was speaking slowly like he was worried about hurting his friends feelings, eyeing him carefully.

Heeseung didn’t say anything still, regretting bringing it up at all. He had blurted it out awkwardly after they’d questioned his red blushing face, still replaying the feeling of you whispering in his ear in a classroom full of gossiping peers.

“Hee is a smoke show dude, it’s about time ladies started to notice it.” Jake was shaking his head and pointing a stern finger towards the other two boys who were watching him from the couch.

Heeseung sighed again when his friend turned on his feet and disappeared into his closest, muttering something about making him look as sexy as possible for when he saw you. Sunghoon glanced over at him when he heard the small noise and raised an eyebrow.

“I can tell him to chill out if you want.” He was offering, noticing how tense the oldest boy looked.

“Do you really think she couldn’t like me?” It was slipping out before he even decided if he wanted to say it or not, wincing at how insecure and nervous his voice sounded and hoping Sunghoon didn’t pick up on how totally distraught over this he was.

He knew Sunghoon wouldn’t make fun of him like Jake but he felt embarrassed over being so inexperienced and awkward around girls still. He’d had bad experiences that only his friends really knew about and hadn’t really planned to ever make another attempt until you’d approached him, charming and devilish while smelling sweeter than any person he’d ever encountered.

Sunghoon seemed to finally notice that his protective behavior was furthering his friends insecurity and he sighed softly once more before patting him affectionately on the knee.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

——

Despite only coming to the party to see if Heeseung would come, you weren’t expecting much. You highly doubted he would actually attend or if he did he’d most likely not be okay being seen with you after the stunt you had pulled in the classroom.

So you were you completely, and uncharacteristically, frozen in the middle of the room when the crowd had slightly parted and you caught sight of him leaning against the wall. He was with his two friends again and you could still see the nervous twitch in his hands but his visual had taken a complete 180, almost not recognizing him for a split second.

You were making your way over there before he even realized you were approaching, eyes widening slightly when Sim Jake was nudging him in the ribs to get his attention and nodding his head towards you.

“Your glasses.” You breathed out once you were in speaking distance, almost toe to toe with him and staring at him with slightly amazed eyes. He awkwardly looked to his sides at his friends and Sunghoon cleared his throat before pushing off the wall and waiting for the other boy to join him.

“Hey.” Heeseung was greeting now that they were gone, trying to carry a casual tone despite the fact he was picking at the skin around his thumb.

You scanned down his outfit, tight ripped jeans with a simple black shirt tucked into the belt but he looked nothing like himself, missing his usual sweaters and loose fitted pants. Not to mention the most jarring part, his lack of glasses sat against his high nose.

“Are you… wearing eyeliner?” You were instinctively leaning forward to get a closer look, too invested and intrigued in his new look to realize how little space you were leaving between the two of you.

He stiffened at the fact you were swaying closer to him, your nose brushing against his for a second and your mouth twitched downwards at the fact his glasses weren’t hitting against your forehead anymore. He must’ve misread your reaction between he winced slightly and looked down towards his feet.

“You look sexy.” You blurted out when you realized his insecure expression, your hand coming to grip his arm and trying not to look down at the feeling of his bare skin under your palm, forgetting about his top of choice.

“D-do I?” He was muttering out and then quickly clearing his throat and attempting to steady his expression. “Do I?”

“Can you see?” You ignored his ask for reassurance and smiled a little bit, sliding over so your back was against the wall too and your shoulders were pressed together.

He tensed again at the way you moved away which causes you to furrow your brows, assuming he would have rather you not be all over him in case anybody was starting to pay attention to the two of you. You nudged him softly with your hand to try and bring his attention back to what you were asking him.

“No, not really.” He flushed as he said it, embarrassed to be admitting that he had forgone one of his senses just to look nice.

“You’re not missing much.” You mumbled back to him, looking out into the surging crowd and scanning the faces, some familiar and some empty and blending together the longer you watched. “Other than a few girls eyeing you.”

“Seriously?” He was glancing over at you with an interested expression and you scoffed while turning your head to face him better, eyes dipping down to his mouth for a second before meeting his gaze again. He seemed more relaxed now and he was smirking slightly while looking at you.

“Oh so you’re interested?” You teased him back, liking the fact he wasn’t immediately looking away from you at the soft purr seeping into your voice.

“Not necessarily.” He was answering swiftly and your stomach swooped at the familiar breathiness in his tone.

You were turning towards him more and he was looking at you with low eyes, stiffening slightly when your hand was coming back up to rest against his arm. You were softly touching his skin before dragging your hand down towards his wrist, squeezing it tightly and pressing against the bone there. He squirmed against the wall but didn’t say anything, looking at you with a curious expression that was slowly merging into the one he had after you kissed him.

You could tell he was thinking about it judging by the way his eyes kept darting around your face, seemingly not even realizing the way he was instinctively leaning towards you.

“Who did your makeup?” You were asking him in a quiet tone and it took a second for him to respond, not registering your voice at first considering how transfixed he was by your presence. “Was it Jake?”

He was nodding softly at your suggested answer, looking sheepish again at the reminder of his changed appearance. You were humming under your breath before letting go of his wrist, bringing your thumb up to your mouth and wetting it slightly with a flick of your tongue. He watched you in amazement as you brought your wet digit to his face, carefully cleaning up the messy lines.

Your other hand was also coming up to his face to cup his jaw in an attempt to keep him still so you could avoid poking him. He held his breath the entire time you were touching him, gently wiping your wet thumb along his waterline and giving him a more smudged and smokey look rather than the amateurish lines his friend had attempted.

When you pulled back from his face, he remained still as he watched you with an almost drunk gaze, completely floored by your actions.

“Would you let me kiss you?” You were whispering to him, just barely reaching his ears over the loud music and the crowd talking and laughing but he managed to catch it and he glanced behind your shoulder awkwardly like he was afraid somebody was watching.

“Not here.” He whispered back nervously like he thought you’d get upset. A small pang of hurt hit your chest but you tried to ignore it, knowing your reputation was your own doing and nobody else’s fault.

He hadn’t declined your proposition however and that fact didn’t miss you, grabbing his wrist again and tugging him gently off the wall so he could be dragged behind you as you made your way out of the main section of the house and towards one of the halls. You passed by his friends on the way out and you ignored the glare Park Sunghoon sent in your direction.

You entered a dark room in silence and he was flustered for a moment when you immediately pushed him against the nearest hard surface and kissed him, not giving him any time to panic or hesitate before he was attempting to unfreeze and kiss you back.

The kiss was deep and filthy and you felt a pull in your stomach at the way he dipped down slightly, knees going weak at the feeling of you pressed against him. You pulled back for a second to look at him, only slightly able to see his face in the dark and you almost frowned again at his lack of eyewear.

“Wear your glasses next time.” You instructed him in a breathy tone, stern in your words even as you leaned forward so your front was completely pressed against his.

“N-next time? Yeah.. yeah I will, I promise.” He was nodding earnestly and you smiled slightly at the giddiness in his voice at the prospect of you both continuing to meet like this.

You were kissing him again to try and distract yourself from how cute you found him, how much you liked the way he reacted to you and the charming carelessness he carried once he was comfortable. It’d been a long time since you were interested in somebody but you were going to steel up and remember that this was simply a challenge, nothing more.

He was doing his best to kiss you back and you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours, his hands resting against the wall to try and keep himself standing upright. Yours were traveling down his stomach until you could grab the belt loops of his pants and tug him off the wall slightly, turning your bodies in a circle so you were pressed against a solid surface instead.

He let out a small gasp and pulled back for a second to see where you had moved to, eyeing you curiously when you finally flicked on the lights and he realized you were inside a small bathroom.

You kissed him one more time briefly before raising yourself up onto the marble sink, pulling him forward again by his pants and laughing softly when you heard him shriek a little at the sudden movement. You trapped him between your legs and held his face softly, watching his big eyes for a second before kissing him deeply again.

“You can touch me.” You were whispering into his mouth when you realized his hands were nervously clutching onto the counter, warm mouth moving down to kiss against his jawline.

“R-right.” He was nodding but not making any move to do so, stiffening slightly when you started to suck on his neck softly, one of your hands tangled in the back of his previous styled hair.

When you bit down slightly on his tan skin, he was finally moving. He instinct lurched forward with a groan and gripped onto the closest thing, which happened to be just above your knee. He seemed like he wanted to flinch back once he felt your skin under his hold but he didn’t, taking a deep breath and keeping it there.

“Don’t be nervous.” You mumbled against his neck and you tightened your legs that were around his waist, pulling him closer so he was flushed against your lower half. “It’s just me.”

You were moving your mouth back up to kiss him again and he sighed into, leaning forward against you so you swayed backwards slightly and you felt your head pressing against the mirror placed behind you. He was pulling back to look down at you, staying pressed against you so the two of you were breathing into each others mouths.

“You have no idea how nervous that makes me.” He was speaking in a low breathy tone and your stomach dipped at how dark his eyes had gotten, still awkward but definitely feeling the effects of being around you now.

“I want you.” You tried your best to reassure him despite it not being something you usually ever did, curling your hand in his hair slightly just enough so he could feel the pull. His hand was sliding up from your knee slowly but he completely skipped your thigh, hesitantly placing it against your waist.

He was nodding slowly and surprising you by initiating another kiss, his big hand tightening around your hip bone like he didn’t even mean to do it. You hummed softly against him and spread your legs more so he could keep pressing against you.

You could feel him getting more desperate the longer you kissed, licking into your mouth and letting out small little needy whines while trying to remain quiet in case anybody passed by drunkenly looking for the restroom. When you first rolled your hips against him, he was completely faltering and he released a small shout into the kiss, freezing up at the overwhelming feeling.

You waited for a few seconds before doing it again, trying to encourage him to grind himself against you, clearly able to feel how hard he was just from kissing.

He took a while to follow your silent instructions but the pleasure overwhelmed his ability to think straight and he forgot about his insecurities for just a moment, his hips stuttering into yours as he groaned lowly at the feeling. You were moving your foot up on the counter so your legs were completely spread and tugging his hair again in an attempt to encourage his movement.

Heeseung was hesitantly fucking himself against you, losing focus and completely forgetting about the fact you were kissing, his hand kneading against your side almost painfully. He was pulling his head back away from your mouth and lowering his forehead onto your shoulder instead, more groans falling from his lips.

“That’s good baby.” Your voice was breathy and you were nodding even though he couldn’t see it, your hand holding his hair tightly from where he was resting in your neck. “Does it feel good?”

“F-feels.. fuck.” He trailed off after that and you almost laughed at how wrecked he sounded, hearing him swear for the first time from how overwhelmed he was getting.

You could imagine how he must be feeling, how addicting it would be to go from never being kissed to suddenly experiencing pleasure so intense for the first time. He would most likely do anything you wished here in this lowly lit bathroom, including helping you succeed in winning the challenge.

He was pulling his head up for a second to look at you, eyes watery and affectionate before he was surging forward for another amateurish kiss and you responded quickly, feeling guilty for your line of thinking and deciding that if you were going to win then it wasn’t going to be somewhere this desperate. Despite only being a pawn in your ego filled game, Heeseung was still a person and deserved better than a quick fuck on top of a bathroom sink.

“Let me help you cum and then let’s go back to your dorm.” You were whispering into his mouth, hands moving down out of his hair to fidget with the metal button of his jeans and he was stiffening up.

You looked at him in confusion when he was gripping your wrist tightly, stopping you from unbuttoning his pants and awkwardly avoiding looking at you. At first you assumed he was just uncomfortable with taking it further and you were fully prepared to back off until you noticed how red his neck and face were getting, embarrassment and shame rolling off him in waves.

“Oh.” You accidentally let the exclamation fall from your lips, mouth parting in shock at the realization he had came in his pants despite you not even touching him.

He was backing up from you quickly at the sound and clenching his fist together with anxiety, not looking at you and instinctively bringing a hand up to fidget with his glasses even though they weren’t there. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds out of shock, watching him panic.

“That’s okay.” You were attempting to reassure him but you could tell the damage was already done judging by the disbelieving glare he sent you, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying to stop himself from crying. “Heeseung, it’s fine seriously.”

He didn’t say anything else but he was giving you a heavy glance, eyes upset and frustrated at himself before he was taking a deep shuddering breath and turning to walk out the door, leaving you awkwardly sat on the counter top still trying to catch your breath.

You unfroze after a few seconds and went to go and follow after him, surprising yourself as you ignored people’s questioning stares at your worried expression as you stood on your tiptoes and tried to find him inside the crowd. You were having no luck and you figured he must’ve just left completely until you spotted one of his friends standing by himself in the kitchen, refilling his cup. You made your way over to him quickly.

“Park.” Your voice was raised so he could hear you over the music and he turned at the sound with a raised eyebrow, face hardening in worry when he realized who it was that said his name. “Did you see where Heeseung went?”

“What happened?” He was rushing out and his face softened in concern, reaching down into his pocket to grab his phone and you assumed he was texting or calling the boy. “What did you say?”

You were slightly offended that he assumed you had hurt his friends feelings before remembering the whole reason you were messing around with him in the first place, leaning over his shoulder to try and see the text message he was sending Heeseung. He glared and turned his phone screen away from your nosy eyes which made you sigh.

“I didn’t say anything.” You spat out at him, glaring back in his direction and crossing your arms. “It’s none of your business what happened but I really didn’t do anything.”

He was sighing and putting his phone back into his pocket. “He’s leaving with Jake.” You were nodding and turning to leave him alone but him clearing his throat stopped you and you glanced back at him in confusion. “Whatever you’re doing, I really hope you’re not messing with him. He’s been through a lot and I don’t know if he could handle it.”

You tried to keep your expression stony, knowing that he was particularly perceptive and he’d definitely catch the flash of guilt passing through you if you let it show even slightly. You didn’t say anything and his eyes grew more suspicious at your silence, shaking his head in disappointment and wandering off before you had the chance to.

——

You showed up to classes early the next Monday, standing in front of Heeseung’s first one of the morning and waiting patiently for him to arrive so you could talk to him.

You caught sight of him not too long after you got there, walking in with Jake and Yang Jungwon. He immediately froze when he saw you and his eyes widened, turning around swiftly to try and go back down the hallway but he was stopped by his friends holding his arms tightly and walking him towards you.

“Delivery for Y/N.” Jake was smiling at you when they approached with him captured and you gave him a sheepish one in return, feeling slightly awkward with the way the other two boys were eyeing you with excitement. It wasn’t like you to get easily embarrassed but you weren’t sure how much they knew about you.

They were ditching him with a pat on the back and a knowing look, disappearing into the classroom and leaving you stood in the hallway with a frozen Heeseung.

“Hey.” You were mumbling to him and he glanced up at you, cheeks already reddening despite the fact you didn’t say anything of substance yet. You were tucking your hair behind your ear uncomfortably and he stiffened up at the realization you were also feeling embarrassed for once.

“I’m sorry.” He was rushing out and shaking his head, looking around the hallway like he was worried somebody was going to overhear him. “I made a total fool out of myself and I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Heeseung.” You cut off his rambling abruptly and gestured around yourself with a raised eyebrow. “I’m awake way too early and stood outside a class I don’t take… I think it’s pretty clear I don’t mind seeing you.”

He reddened more at that but for different reasons now, complete struck and confused by the fact that somebody as charming and experienced as you would want to spend time with him even after he’d came in his pants like a 14 year old boy. He itched the back of his neck nervously and you watched his glasses slide down his nose, smiling softly without realizing you were.

“Not too happy about being left in the bathroom of a shitty frat party.” You made sure you kept your voice light and teasing despite the actual hurt you’d felt that night, tugging down your skirt and awkwardly pushing past drunk college students to call a cab home.

“I’m sorry.” He was mumbling but he sounded honest, taking a step closer to you at the look on your face and you gave him another smile, reaching forward to grip onto his sweater sleeve before glancing around the way he always did when you interacted.

However this time was different apparently considering he was keeping his eyes down at you, not caring who saw the two of you talking at such a close distance. He felt stupid for last night and being so wary about being around you in public, for doubting your intentions just because you had a poor reputation. You were smiling at him and holding his wrist gently in your hands, forgetting your reasoning for coming here for a moment.

Movement behind him was catching your attention and you moved your gaze around his tall shoulder, freezing completely when you caught sight of a few of your “friends” laughing and snickering meanly as they watched the two of you interact. You were dropping his hand and his eyebrows furrowed, following your line of sight and awkwardly shifting when he saw the people watching you.

“Are they your friends?” He was whispering to you, sensing how uncomfortable you were and also remembering how little he actually knew about you. He was slightly intimidated by your friends and their habits but he’d felt the same about you before he got to know you more, almost waving at them until you were grabbing his arm again to stop him.

“No, they’re not.” You were sternly shaking your head when he looked back at you with a confused glance, remembering them sitting beside you at the party where you’d first talked.

You felt sickness in your stomach when one of the girls nudged the others with her sharp elbow and gave you a knowing look, starting to approach the two of you. You recalled her being the one at the party who said she’d attempted to get with Heeseung before and he rejected her, fearing what her ego and pride would cause her to say to him now.

“Hey Y/N.” She was smiling when she got closer, the others trailing behind, but her grin was mean and telling. She had trouble growing in her eyes and you didn’t like the way she started at the tall boy who was getting more uncomfortable by the second, sending you panicked gazes as he realized her tone wasn’t friendly. “Is it going well then? Did you do it?”

“Wonyoung.” You were warning her with a shake of your head, squeezing Heeseung’s wrist without meaning to. Normally she listened to you well, whether it was because respect or fear, but you could tell she was picking up on the emotion in your eyes and using your rare show of vulnerability to her advantage.

“Do what?” Heeseung was whispering from beside you and you could feel his gaze on you, only asking you and not paying the other girl any attention.

You didn’t respond to him but you sighed softly and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, stomach turning painfully as you tried to think of a way out of this situation. Sunghoon’s words from the other night were ringing in your head and it was coupled with the soft look Heeseung had given you before kissing you again.

“So no then?” She was pouting and kissing her teeth softly like she was disappointed, a low hiss dragging out and filling the heavy silence that was taking over everytime somebody stopped speaking. “You could always give up you know, if he’s playing hard to get.”

It was clear what she was talking about now and you felt Heeseung stiffen in your hold, you wanted to drop his hand but you couldn’t move your body in fear of giving anything away or seeing his reaction. You could hear his breath catching in his throat in realization and you started to shake your head but he was tugging his arm away from you and taking a few steps backwards.

You finally looked at him and your expression crumbled at the look on his face, partially hurt and disgusted but you could tell he mainly felt embarrassed and humiliated for thinking you actually had liked him, his eyes darting all around and cowering away from the amused looks of the people gathered around Wonyoung like he was afraid of them.

“Hee.” You were breathing out, surprising yourself at how quiet and weak your voice was coming out.

The sound of you talking seemed to snap him out of his panic and he gave you one more heavy look, eyes watery and clenching his jaw before he was turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.

“He’s missing a class? I guess he’s experiencing at least one of his first times.” She was chiming out and the group behind her let out approving laughs, sounding ridiculous and practiced in a way that made your lip snarl up in disgust.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You were spitting out at her and shoving her shoulder slightly, fear flashing through her face for just a second before it was hardening back into a mean glare as she sneered down at you.

“Did you forget what you are to us? What you were doing with him in the first place?” Her words were direct and harsh, confirming your initial worries that they hadn’t actual ever cared about you outside of needing some entertainment. “Don’t tell me you actually managed to like him?”

She said it like it was something ridiculous, like he was impossible to have feelings for or rather you were incapable of feeling things towards anybody and you felt sick again at the realization she was right.

You had started to like Heeseung, way more than you had even realized until he was walking away from you and giving you such a broken look. You’d never felt this terrible about hurting somebody before and you would’ve immediately chased after him if it wasn’t for the anger coursing through you keeping you rooted to your spot.

“Don’t talk about him again.” You were spitting at her, taking a step closer and her eyes looked hesitant for a second like she had just realized how serious you were about this. “Don’t even look at him I mean it, all of you. Leave the both of us alone.”

You expected her to say something else, to not let you go that easy but she seemed surprised by how genuinely upset you were, not used to you actually caring about the people or situations they challenged you to put yourself in messy environments with.

You were turning and following down the hallway before you could think about it more, picking up speed until you were almost in a jog although you were pretty positive he was long gone by now. When you pushed outside a cold chill ran through you and you sighed softly at the barren campus, his long legs and habit of running away giving him the advantage.

It was embarrassing how upset you were getting, your eyes watering now as you decided to just head back to your dorm, wiping your teary eyes with your sleeves and keeping your head down incase anybody walked past.

——

A few hours of wallowing in your own self pity and you quickly realized how absolutely idiotic you were, not even capable of texting him and asking to talk considering you’d been so inconsiderate you’d never even asked him for his number. He had little social media which didn’t surprise you and you almost messaged one of his friends out of desperation but decided against it knowing they most likely were already wishing you the worst.

It was extremely rare Heeseung ever missed a class and you imagined they’d been weirded out enough to pry the truth out of him, hating you more than they already had.

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, tightly laid in your bed trying to pretend the day hadn’t happened and going over every possible way to get Heeseung’s trust back. You must’ve dozed off considering you were waking up in a jolt at the sound of rough knocks on your door.

You were frozen for a few seconds in tired confusion before you were rushing to get up and answer the door, briefly catching the clock on the wall alerting you to the fact it was the middle of the night. You felt anxious swinging the door open, knowing it must be important if they were here this late but you froze when you saw who it was standing at your door.

Or more accurately, crumpled in a messy ball on your door mat. Heeseung’s large frame was slumped down on the dirty cement and for a second you thought he might be unconscious until he was picking his head up, eyes hazy with big tears streaming down his red cheeks. He let out a small sob when he saw you looking down at him with worry and you crouched down quickly.

“Hee, what happened?” You were rushing out although you had a pretty good idea, your hands coming up to rub his back gently knowing there was no point in attempting to lift him off the ground. “Are you drunk?”

He was shaking his head to say no but you could smell the alcohol rolling off of him in waves, heavy and gross like he’d been drinking for quite some time before ending up at your door. Your heart ached again thinking about him uncharacteristically getting wasted because how badly you’d upset him. “Can you stand up?”

“Why don’t you l-like me?” He was hiccuping out and totally ignoring what you were requesting from him, gripping onto your arms that were still trying to gently rub his back and he was looking up at you with his big round eyes full of fat tears.

“Heeseung.” You were sighing softly and not answering him, patting him on the back slightly to try and keep his attention on what you were originally saying. “Come inside with me and then we can talk, we don’t want anybody to complain.”

He clearly wasn’t coherent enough to comprehend the second half of what you said but he perked up at the idea of being invited inside, using the support of your doorway and your body to stand to his fully height, wobbling slightly as you helped him inside and lowered him down onto your bed. You tried not to think about the last time he was in here, watching him with tired eyes and frowning.

You were reaching down into his pant pockets to try and find his cellphone, feeling slightly sick at the soft cries he was still letting out as he drunkenly lost control of his emotions. You finally found it and pulled it out, swiping up the screen and pleased to see he didn’t have a password set.

“W-what are you doing?” He was mumbling out as he tried to watched you, not able to keep his head still. You sat beside him so he could see what you were doing on his screen, not saying anything when he rested his head gently against your shoulder. “Jake?”

“Yeah baby, I’m calling Jake.” You sighed softly and rubbed his knee for a second, trying to calm down his sniffles before you called his friend and accidentally caused a panic at the sound of him blabbering in the background.

“Why can’t I stay with you?” He was asking and his voice cracked in pain, the smell of liquor on his breath making you wince. “You d-don’t like me.” He was repeating what he had asked you earlier and shaking his head against your shoulder.

“I do like you.” You eventually managed to say, knowing he most likely wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning anyways. He didn’t stop crying but he didn’t say anything else for a few moments, just leaning his weight against you as you held his phone and contemplated what to do. He watched as you pressed the call button and didn’t say anything else.

“Dude, where the fuck did you go?” Jake’s voice was slurring through the phone on the second ring, clearly worried and searching for the older boy. “Heeseung?”

“It’s Y/N.” You awkwardly interjected and the silence was heavy. You could vaguely hear him repeat your name to somebody and you assumed he was telling Sunghoon who it was on the other line. “He was outside my door, I don’t know how he got here.”

“We’re on our way.” Jake sighed back but he sounded more frustrated now, maybe at himself for letting his friend drunkenly crawl back to the person who had hurt him so bad. Heeseung cried harder again when he heard his friends comment from where he was laying against you and Jake didn’t say anything for a second at the sound.

“He doesn’t want to go.” You explained in an awkward whisper, not wanting to get in between whatever agreement they had come to about you.

You knew you deserved the harsh tone of his voice and the prolonged silence over the phone while he decided what to do, holding your breath and waiting despite not being too sure yourself what you wanted his answer to be. He was clearing his throat suddenly and Heeseung perked up at the sound.

“I can drop by in the morning and grab him.” He was letting out slowly and he sounded hesitant, Heeseung nuzzling against your neck contently at his friends words. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah.” You were rushing out before you even realized you were speaking, squeezing the boys knee again when he hugged your free arm that wasn’t holding up the phone. “That’s no problem. Thanks Jake.”

Your words had a double meaning and you had no doubt the other boy had picked up on the relief in your voice, humming softly before whispering a goodbye and hanging up the phone. You kept it against your ear for a few seconds longer before turning it off and placing it gently down on your bedside table, looking over at its owner.

He was watching you with a saddened expression and you gave him a smile that didn’t meet your eyes, eyeing his outfit and lack of glasses.

“I lost them.” He mumbled when he noticed you looking, able to hold contact with you better considering he was wasted and not able to see properly. You felt relieved he had somehow managed to safely get to your dorm in this state, thinking about asking him but realizing he probably didn’t even remember. “Sunghoon said I should try to have fun.”

“Did you?” Your voice cracked as you asked him although you already knew what his answer would be.

“Did you ever like me?” He was ignoring your question and spinning it back on you, his eyes sad again even though he had stopped sobbing after getting confirmation he was allowed to spend the night.

You considered not answering him, already having a difficult time admitting it to yourself let alone telling him so directly. Liking him meant explaining yourself, having to tell him why you had talked to him in the first place and just blindly hope he would trust you enough to believe it had become real for you along the way despite having no reason to think you were telling the truth.

“I do like you.” You told him sternly, ignoring how uncomfortable it felt to express your feelings so directly.

He deserved to know it was possible for somebody to like him, he deserved far better than you and the games you had played with him for the amusement of other people.

“I’m not that drunk.” He was shaking his head, potentially figuring out that you were being so honest under the guise he would forget it all in the morning. “We started drinking forever again, I’m just a lightweight I think. I was just upset.”

You could tell he was under exaggerating a little bit considering how he was still rocking back and forth slightly and his eyes were red and glossy but now that he had calmed down he was definitely more coherent, the alcohol just helping him speak more confidently rather than put him in a totally messy blacked out state.

“Ask me again tomorrow then.” You were telling him softly and turning to face him better, cupping his cheeks in your hands and giving him a sad smile.

He seemed to notice the slight tears in your eyes and the heavy guilt you were feeling for hurting him this bad and he stayed silent for a few beats, watching you like he was trying to decide what to say. His drunk mind had brought him back to you but you weren’t sure if he’d want to stay once he was thinking more clearly.

“And you’ll say it again then?” He was eventually asking you and the familiar hint of insecurity was seeping into his voice again.

You knew you’d made it worse, added onto whatever issues the situations he’d dealt with in the past had created but you felt deep in your heart that if he would give you another chance, if he decided tomorrow this was worth a shot, you’d spend as long as he’d allow you trying to fix the damage done.

“I’ll say it for as long as you let me.” You were whispering back to him and his face softened slightly, lips twitching up in a small grin as he nodded softly and let you wipe the remaining wetness from his eyes.

The two of you crawled into your small bed together, clumsily helping him out of his uncomfortable clothes and not feeling any sensual energy whilst carrying out the domestic act, just laughing together under your breaths as you tried your hardest to get him out of his tight jeans.

You were tucking in underneath your blanket, the unfamiliarity of having somebody in your bed with you being overwhelmed by the comfort his presence brought you, his hair messily sprawled against your favorite pillow and looking at you with low and tired eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d feel this content in the morning, if he only accepted your words because the high in his system or the longing he felt for you due to his own sadness.

But you were happy with your situation for now, knowing that if you needed to do it all again for him tomorrow you would. Continuing on for as long as he needed, for as long as he’d let you.

[diazsdimples]

Falling asleep on each other + Buddie

Hi and I'm so sorry this took many months to respond to I'm finally looking at these again sfkjhf

Inviting Eddie over for a movie night after one of the busiest shifts all year had been a bit of a mistake, in hindsight.

Buck had set out a vast array of snacks - from popcorn to some weird trail mix he'd never seen before - and had ordered takeout from Eddie's favourite Mexican joint up the road. He still had that inflatable mattress that Chimney had slept on during the lockdown, so he'd blown that up too and placed it at the foot of the couch, giving him and Eddie ample room to spread themselves out.

While he'd done this, Eddie had showered and changed into a pair of Buck's sweatpants and a hoodie. Something had clenched deep in Buck's chest at the sight of Eddie descending the stairs from the loft, hair damp and tousled, with Buck's favourite grey hoodie hanging loosely over his torso. He looked loose and relaxed, like the water had washed away all the tensions of the day, leaving behind nothing but warm, rosy skin and the smell of Buck's orange and vanilla body wash.

They'd only been dating a few weeks but it stoked a possessive fire deep in the pit of Buck's to see his boyfriend dressed in his clothing, smelling of his bodywash.

It was almost as if Eddie had been claimed as his.

Eddie crossed the kitchen and flopped himself onto the half-bed, half- couch (bouch?) and patted the empty space beside him.

"C'mere. I'm cold and I plan to use you as my own personal heater for the rest of the evening."

With a fond chuckle, Buck grabbed a bowl of popcorn and joined Eddie on the couch. He tucked a soft, minky blanket around Eddie, pulling it up over his chest and tucking it under his chin. He planted a kiss to Eddie's forehead and pulled back with a grin.

"Snug as a bug in a rug."

"That's such a weird saying," Eddie pointed out as he extracted his arms from beneath the blanket. He swiped a couple of pieces of popcorn and popped them in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "When are bugs ever in rugs?"

Buck shrugged. "When they're not vacuumed efficiently? It's just a saying."

"You're cute." Eddie tapped Buck's cheek. "What are we going to watch?"

After much deliberation, they settled on Deadpool. Christopher had mentioned wanting to see the newest film with some of his friends, and Eddie had agreed on the provision that he watched the film first and made sure it was appropriate.

"Holy shit, there is absolutely no way I'm letting Christopher watch that," Eddie said 2 hours later, completely gobsmacked.

Buck was beside himself with glee. "That was one of the best movies I've ever seen!" He grinned. "You're not gonna let Chris watch that?"

Somewhere along the lines, Eddie had listed over and was settled heavily against Buck's side. He shook his head in response, his nose brushing against the hollow of Buck's throat.

"Absolutely not. I've got half a mind to ask him why he thought he'd get away with it."

Buck pressed a kiss to Eddie's temple.

"He's a teenager, he's just testing the waters. We all did it."

They're silent for a moment. Buck's fingers carded gently through Eddie's hair, stroking soothingly.

"We could watch the sequel? I know it's on Disney+ somewhere"

Eddie hummed softly and shifted in Buck's arms, resting his head against Buck's chest. His eyes were drooping sleepily, his face slack with relaxation.

"Not sure I can keep my eyes open long enough," he admitted.

Buck smiled down at him fondly. He'd known from the moment Eddie had climbed down the stairs, freshly showered and dressed, that he wouldn't make it through the evening without falling asleep. Showers and fresh clothes were Eddie's kryptonite, much like a baby with their favourite blanket. Buck was honestly surprised he'd made it through the movie without falling asleep - though that would have been an impressive feat considering how action filled the film was. And Ryan Reynolds was too hot to miss a second of.

"That's okay, baby," he reassured, still stroking Eddie's hair. "We can just stay here and rest for a minute."

Eddie nuzzled further into Buck's chest and let out a small noise of contentment.

"Resting sounds good," he slurred sleepily, a gigantic yawn splitting his face in two. He smacked his lips and curled the blanket in his fist, both hands tucked under his chin now. Sleepy, squishy, snuggly Eddie was Buck's absolute favourite and he wanted nothing more than curl around him and snarl at anything that tried to touch him.

Buck gently shifted them down the couch so they were stretched out, half on the couch and half on the blowup mattress. He adjusted the blanket so it was laying over top of both of them and went back to his ministrations, stroking Eddie's hair with one hand and tracing feather-light touches over his back with the other.

Slowly but surely, Eddie's breathing began to deepen and even out. His jaw slackened and Buck slowly began to notice a warm, damp patch blooming across his shirt. Despite his vehement denial, Eddie was a drooler.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," Buck whispered into Eddie's hair. He wasn't sure if his boyfriend was awake enough to hear it, but he didn't mind.

Buck felt himself begin to sink further into the cushions as Eddie's breathing lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. He hadn't ever been able to fall asleep easily with other people but there was something about Eddie that made him feel instantly at peace.

Maybe it was the way they'd known each other for years, or the way Eddie's presence was like a balm over any of Buck's problems, making them melt into the background at the mere glimpse of his smile.

Eddie was safety, and Buck's body knew that as he slowly began to drift off himself, soothed by his boyfriend's soft breaths.

[gutsby]

Mr. Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

Warnings: NSFW. Dad's friend Daryl! Drastic age gap!! Daryl's a dirty old pervert in this one :-) Voyeurism. Masturbation. Descriptions of oral sex (m!receiving). Dirty talk. Degradation. Slight misogyny. Daryl may or may not masturbate out a window at some point.

You had an old pair of Daisy Dukes and a dream.

Faded, frayed, and two times too small for your frame, the shorts hiked an inch up your ass every step you took across the room. Made it damn near pointless bending over before the man in front of you—he could see every inch of your butt regardless—but you did it all the same.

This was Mr. Dixon, after all.

Cool blue orbs illumined by candlelight took the sight of you in and flitted away just as fast. His hands busied themselves with the gun he was taking apart, while you reached for the bullet that had just rolled onto the floor.

“Here you go, Mr. Dixon.”

Your voice had a charming lilt as you held the round out to him.

“Over there,” Daryl grumbled, jerking his head toward the end of the table, “An’ what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me tha’?”

“I feel weird calling daddy’s friends by their first names.”

You shrugged and chucked the tiny piece of lead into the pile of ammunition like Daryl had told you to. Then you sat down beside it, crossing your arms.

He could be so cruel sometimes. Just fooling with his pistol and barking orders like a drill sergeant. Never looking at you longer than a second, and if he did, just shooting you a glare or wounding you with a scowl.

He’d been the toughest nut to crack out of all your father’s friends. No matter how straight-laced and upstanding the men around Mr. Grimes had made themselves out to be, you’d always found the fault line—the weak spot that got you access to the filthiest parts of each one. You’d teased and you’d flirted, earned a couple groping touches and open-mouthed caresses from the likes of the late Mr. Walsh and many others. But never Mr. Dixon.

Even now, sitting across from him in your skimpy Wrangler cut offs, wedges, and a skintight, starch white tank top stretched so tight over your tits the fabric was practically see-through, it was like you were invisible to him. You kicked your feet out in front of you as they dangled from the table and actually felt yourself pout at the feeling of frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I wanna help.” Sounding pitiful.

“No use,” Daryl said as he studied the barrel of the gun with an inscrutable expression, “Already told yer dad, ain’ no use for little girls on the range.”

Your nostrils flared as you started back on your feet.

“I am plenty useful, Mr. Dixon. And I— I’m not the little girl you think I am,” you fired back, sounding more miserable and juvenile with every word you spoke.

At the last, Daryl looked you up and down. It was hardly more than a passing glance, but deliberate enough to be expressive. Emotive.

He looked repulsed by you.

And, rather than dignify you with a response, he simply discarded his firearm on the table and left the room. You trailed behind him into the kitchen and watched him swing the refrigerator door wide on its hinges. Blue eyes surveying the shelves for a can of PBR, most likely.

“I can do anything you need me to,” you rejoined in a huff, desperate to be heard, “I’m twice the shot my old man ever was at my age, I can track if I need to— hell, I’m always doin’ stuff, Mr. Dixon. Things.”

You weren’t sure what rattling off your talents to a man who clearly had no interest in hearing them would accomplish, but you tried it anyway. You sounded like your father. When both of Mr. Dixon’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise and he plopped down on a bar stool opposite you, you wanted to melt right into the floor.

“Doin’ stuff, huh? Thangs?” he mocked your twang.

You gripped the door frame so tight your knuckles turned white. Daryl took a couple swigs of beer and stared you down through every swallow. He brought the can back to the counter, near-empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I got a couple thangs for ya ta do,” he started, grinning, “Why don’t ya put those pretty hands ta work, throw a little apron on, and just...bake me a fuckin’ cake?”

“Funny,” you spat. You felt a surge of bile rise in your throat at the sight of his smug expression.

“Wash my car?”

“Fuck you.”

Daryl’s amusement only grew as the forbidden F-bomb flew from your lips—a word he knew Rick would never tolerate if you’d been in his presence. Presently, his eyes raked over your slight, shaking form at the threshold of the room and figured himself pretty lucky to have provoked such a strong reaction from you. He polished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

“No need ta get all foul-mouthed, Ms. Grimes, I only—”

“Fuck. You.” Your reply came slower and a touch more measured than he’d expected. Even punctuated with a hint of a smile, making sure to stretch that Southern drawl when you added, “Dar-yl.”

It was the first time you’d ever used his first name.

You weren’t sure you liked it.

Daryl, on the other hand, felt quite certain the sound of his name suited your mouth just fine. A subsequent stir in his jeans wiped the smirk clean off his face, and he began to shift in his seat.

Before he could speak, you were already turning on your heels to leave. Formalities escaped quicker than your anger, and your fingers seemed to move of their own accord to flip Daryl off over your shoulder as you strode out the door, far out of his sight.

Meanwhile, and much to his chagrin, Mr. Dixon was already growing ill with the sounds of your parting wishes bouncing loud off the walls of his skull. Before the front door had even closed, his fingers, too, seemed to move involuntarily and do a thing they probably shouldn’t have done: touch the mound in his jeans.

He rubbed his clothed erection and groaned.

You were such a fucking brat.

Daryl had always thought with a father as eagle-eyed and attentive as Rick, you’d never reach this level of naughty, haughty, and straight up cunt-like, but here you were. Doing Lori proud the way you’d gotten another one of Rick’s best friends wrapped around your little finger.

You were good like that, and still too dense to understand a fraction of the effect you had on him while you did it. The way you’d been looking at him earlier, Daryl was sure you’d convinced yourself he hated you.

If you could only see him now, spitting in one hand and unzipping his fly with the other, freeing his cock, and finally, finally getting his fingers wrapped fast around his shaft with the sole thought of you on his mind as he did. If you could watch him shudder, close his eyes, draw a deep, jagged breath through his nose to scour the air for the faintest trace of your scent lingering there—maybe you’d get it.

Daryl slid his hand down his cock and exhaled a shaky breath. You would simply never “get it,” because he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen.

As his thumb grazed the head of his red-hot, leaking cock and imagined it was your tongue doing all the work, he had to remind himself this was nothing but a fantasy for him. There was just no way in hell he’d sink to Shane’s level and actually lay his hands on you, no—he was better than that.

He was a man of principle, furiously jerking his cock in his kitchen with the thought of his best friend’s daughter on his mind. He just couldn’t touch you.

Damn if those tits didn’t sit nice under that top, no bra to hold ‘em in. And those shorts…

Daryl felt his head drop back as a wave of pleasure coursed up his spine. In his mind, you were sucking him now, hollowing those soft, sweet cheeks around his member and bobbing your head up and down, again and again, eyes never leaving his. Maybe you’d know to cup his balls, use your tongue to draw a couple lazy shapes down his cock. Any way you wanted it done was exactly how Mr. Dixon needed it, he’d decided.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and fucked his hand like a man half his age.

Someone like you.

Scarcely nineteen and so oversexed they might burst.

The difference was Daryl would explode any second now; he had only to hunch over, pump himself a few more times, and finally shoot his load, pretending it was spraying your insides and not the floor of his kitchen.

He’d intended to do just that, clenching his jaw at the filthiest thoughts of you yet, when suddenly, a sound shook the house.

Daryl dropped his cock and looked right out the window.

Down below, outside, you’d laid heavy on your car horn. Let the noise blare a couple seconds before Daryl came bounding over to the window.

When he did, the man thought his legs might buckle.

You were standing beside his truck in the driveway, sponge in hand, soaked head-to-toe in water and soap and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you. The fabric above your tits was translucent now, clinging like a second skin and affording his lustful gaze every inch of your torso. Your free hand was waving up at him.

Daryl inched the window open with trembling hands.

“Mr. Dixon, this truck is filthy!” you shouted from down below.

Swallowing and blinking was all he knew how to do, it seemed. Finally, Daryl managed, deadpan:

“I know.”

You placed your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes up at him.

“Have you always been such a dirty old man?”

Fuck. It was like you knew what he’d been doing, crouched over in the privacy of his home while he drooled and dreamed of fucking you stupid. He watched you cross the front of the car.

And lean down to start rubbing your sponge across the hood.

Daryl sincerely feared you might hear his loud groan the second it rose to his throat. He gritted his teeth, tried to fight the sound, but came up short with nothing to show for his efforts but a whimper slipping past his lips.

You started swirling your sponge in circles, tits shaking with every movement you made.

“Too bad little girls ain’t good for nothin’,” you sighed.

When you leaned flat across the metal surface below you, Daryl pictured himself standing behind you, taking his dick and shoving it deep between your folds. Stretching you out and making you scream into the space in front of you.

Slowly, discreetly, Daryl’s hand drifted back to his cock.

“Yeah. Too bad,” he mumbled as you bent over to soak your sponge once more. When you straightened up, you made sure to squeeze the thing over your chest so the water would douse your front. Daryl took the window frame in one hand and his cock in the other, leaning out just slightly to ask, “This the ‘stuff’ ye’s talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Thangs, really,” you answered dryly.

The two of you exchanged a brief smile, and Daryl’s hand started stroking his length.

Lucky for him, and unlucky for you, the size of the window wasn’t primed to make you privy to the sight of him pleasuring himself. At most, you saw a forearm moving gently back and forth. You bit your lower lip and kept your sponge moving in loops.

“Well these ‘thangs’ are gonna get ya in a whole heap of trouble with yer daddy if ya keep this up, girl,” Daryl warned, nodding toward your house with a wary look.

“It’s empty, Mr. Dixon. Whole place is mine for the weekend,” you replied with a sly intonation.

Finally, you stopped long enough to get a hand back down to your shorts. Facing Daryl still, you popped a button on your denim cut-offs and looked up at him with a glossy, innocent stare. You pretended to feel for something that wasn’t there, snagged the band of your light pink thong, and lifted it up to Daryl’s hungry gaze. You saw his bicep visibly strain as he jerked his cock even faster.

Back inside, Daryl was panting, groaning, reeling at the thought of you all alone in your house next door, splayed out across your bed in a baby pink panty set. He soaked in the sight of you and curled his toes into the floor as a new jolt of pleasure broke out through his body.

He was closer than he’d ever been. He rested his head against the window and watched you run your hands over your body, down your front, in your shorts. He imagined your fingers grazing your cunt and how wet you must’ve been then, imagining him right back and fucking him steady with your eyes.

For a moment, your eyelids fluttered, and a blissful look crossed your features. Daryl rutted his hips at the thought of you finding your clit in front of him—desperately wanting to be the source of that pleasure himself—and pumped himself even faster.

“Darlin’, I…I need ya. In such a bad fuckin’ way.” He couldn’t keep the tender term of endearment from dancing on his tongue. The sight of you alone had his brain on the fritz.

You slipped your hand out of your shorts and brought a couple honeyed fingertips to the edge of your lips.

“How bad, Mr. Dixon?” you asked, eyeing him intently.

Daryl whined and felt his insides churn with the threat of release. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.

“So— so bad. Need to fuck ya so bad.”

That satisfied your affirmation-hungry itch well enough. You pushed two digits between your lips and started to suck.

From that point on, you didn’t need to see him or hear him or be there waiting patiently on your knees to get a mouthful of his cum—you knew it was coming. Daryl’s face contorted with a blissful, fucked-out expression, and suddenly he was pumping that space below the window full of his load, likely spraying the whole damn thing on the wall.

You stood back and admired your work. Daryl had all but collapsed with both hands planted on the windowsill, wet, brown locks hanging low in his face as the aftershocks of his arousal washed over him.

He was panting and barely able to meet your gaze. You couldn’t quite read the expression.

At any rate, you knew your job here was done.

With a hand waving sweetly back up at him once more, you eyed the mess of a man—your father’s best friend—and started to reach for your bucket and sponge. You buttoned your shorts back up and took a step from his truck. When it seemed Daryl was just then starting to open his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and called out, cheerfully,

“See ya around, Mr. Dixon!”

[etherealily]

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader

Warnings : Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'

Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.

The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.

The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.

You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.

In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.

In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.

The key word : theory.

Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.

Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.

And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.

"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"

Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.

Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.

No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.

"Oi!"

Don't respond, don't respond.

"You! Pretty girl!"

Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?

"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."

"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"

And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.

You turned. "Uh, hello."

"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.

"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"

Drunk men are also idiotic.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"

Bellowing laughter followed.

For fuck's sake.

"I'm alright, THANKS!"

"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"

From what you'd heard, he does.

"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"

"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.

"HOLD ON! WAIT!"

"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."

"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"

FUCKING HELL.

"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.

"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."

Ugh. "Whatever."

"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.

Buggering Christ.

"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."

"I'm Alexei Vronsky."

What was that supposed to mean?

"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."

"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"

"You're a creep. And you're drunk."

"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."

"HOW am I-"

"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?

"It blew in the wind."

"Yes. To my estate."

"You can keep it."

"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"

"No." Yes.

"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."

"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"

He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."

"So you're sober?"

Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.

"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.

"You should be in theatre, then."

"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

Ugh.

"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."

"What? No, I know how much this means to you."

Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.

"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."

See? Trap.

"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."

Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?

"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.

"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.

"And I'll get my pencil back."

"Yes."

"That can't be it. There's a catch."

"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."

Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.

"In denial?"

"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."

"I do not drink."

"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."

"I can always purchase another."

"You do not have sentimentality, then?"

"No." Yes.

"I see. Then you may be on your way."

"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."

"Suit yourself, darling."

The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."

"Then you shall have no steak."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.

"Enjoying your not-steak?"

You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.

"You've left your friends out there?"

"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."

"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"

"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.

"And I you." Lie.

"What was it you wished to say?"

"Simply a greeting. You?"

"The same."

He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."

"I did?"

"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"

You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."

Good answer.

"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."

"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."

Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.

He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."

"I am not done with my food."

He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."

"I still have dessert."

"No, you don't. Drink."

"This is not champagne. You said champagne."

"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."

"I fear you may be trying to-"

"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."

Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.

"Drink, lovely."

It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.

You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"

"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."

"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."

"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"

"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"

"You think your begging has any effect on me?"

"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"

"And where did you hear that?"

"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'Y/N is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"

"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."

"I am quite literally on my knees, Y/N, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."

You frowned at him.

"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."

"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.

He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.

"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.

"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.

"Then they have met a different person."

"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"

"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."

A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"

"Himself."

He concealed a grin.

"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."

"So he is deceitful."

"I'd say careful."

"Would you, now?"

"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."

"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"

He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."

"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.

"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."

If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.

"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"

You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.

"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"

"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."

"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.

"A memory."

"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"

"Vronsky-"

"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"

If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.

"The rumours aren't true, you know?"

"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.

He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.

"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."

"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.

A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.

"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.

It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.

His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."

"What? Of course I do."

He had you. He was onto you.

"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."

"Sentimentality. Of course I do."

"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"

"No."

"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"

"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."

"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.

"You cannot, can you?"

There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.

Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.

He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."

No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.

"Thank you."

"It is disgusting, though."

"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"

He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."

Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.

It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.

"It is how I live."

If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...

"It shouldn't be."

There.

"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"

"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."

Games get boring when they are predictable.

"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."

He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"

"A cad."

"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."

That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, Y/N, say no. If you dare.', his look said.

"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."

"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.

"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."

He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.

"I think... do you want to know what I think?"

"I might."

"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."

"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.

"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.

"Do they, now?"

"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."

Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.

"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."

"Yet you are not denying it."

"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."

"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."

"A delusional cad."

"Precisely."

You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.

"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."

He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.

"Turn me down?"

"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."

Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?

"I will be right here. On this side."

"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"

"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."

"How does that make you the one I-"

"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"

So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.

"Have I mentioned that you're-"

"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."

Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?

His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.

Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.

"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."

"Was that the point of tonight?"

"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."

That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.

"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"

"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."

The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."

He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.

"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."

"I'm not sure what you want me to-"

His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.

"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."

You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.

Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.

[faenix-fire]

I've seen way too many people in a tag I was scrolling in the last hour use this term wrong.

You can be pissed off with Tumblr and Netflix, by all means they deserve it. What needs to be said is that Tumblr isn't crossing the picket line. That term is for individuals willingly crossing the line and taking up jobs. If companies work with struck companies your free to be pissed off, but use the right words. Saying Tumblr crossed the picket line suggests either that Tumblr itself is now barred from joining th unions as though it's a person, or the workers at Tumblr are now unable to work with unions because they are scabbing.

That's not how this works. Get pissed off but do it right. Use the right words. Crossing the picket line is a choice, one a company can't make for you and is deliberate. I know using it makes it sound like Tumblr is now the worst, or morally untouchable, but, that's up for you to decide, not to impress on others by using weighted words wrong. Trying to use a word that's about breaking a strikes contract and conditions and using it against a company you're mad at is not the way to go. It makes it look like you don't understand its meaning and fully intend to ruin its weight and point rendering its meaning useless.

[moonstruckme]

Hi I love your poly marauders fics so much!! Is it possible for you to write one where the reader has to go to the doctors but she absolutely hates the doctor and needles. Totally fine if not 💗

Thanks lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus has strong-armed you into looking at your ankle again. Almost literally strong-armed you, with James as his lackey, your curly headed boyfriend keeping an arm wrapped around your shoulders that’s as affectionate as it is binding. Remus gnaws on his lip as he prods at your swollen leg, making quiet sounds of discontent at whatever he feels. 

He looks up at you, brows knit together. “The swelling hasn’t gone down at all, dove.” 

“It will soon,” you say faithfully. “It’s only been a couple of days.” 

“You should at least be able to walk on it by now.”

“I can,” you reply. “It doesn’t feel great, but I can walk on it.” 

He gives you a deadpan look, and you can feel James’ silent chuckling against your side. “That’s not what I mean,” Remus says. “I’m sorry love, but you need to get this checked out.” 

You open your mouth, but Remus reads the argument in your face before it passes your lips. 

“By a professional,” he clarifies. 

You huff, crossing your arms in front of you. “What’re they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Rest, elevate, etcetera, etcetera.” You roll your eyes. James begins to sweep his thumb back and forth on your shoulder, trying to pacify you. “There’s no point in going into some cold office for that.” 

“Unless it’s more serious than we think,” Remus counters. His eyes are worried, but his mouth is set in a firm line. “If you’d only twisted it, it wouldn't have swelled up this badly. And even if it isn’t that bad,” he goes on, bulldozing over the protest that comes to your tongue, “at least they’ll be able to give you a real compress. These bandages get too loose, which probably isn’t helping with the healing.” 

“It’ll heal if I give it time,” you say stubbornly, pulling your leg from his grip and starting to rewrap it yourself. “Stop worrying so much.” 

“Dove.” It’s his no-nonsense voice. “Our deal was that if it wasn’t getting better after three days, you’d go get it looked at.” He ducks to make you meet his eyes, softening when he finds them. “It’s time, sweetheart.” 

You’ve just finished rebandaging your ankle and are deliberating between arguing more or just sitting in silent opposition when you hear the rattle of Sirius’ keys. Remus rolls his eyes (out of habit at this point, you think) when he kicks in the door. 

“You’d think I was eighty, hungry at five thirty in the after…whoa.” Sirius trails off as he senses the sober mood in your home, and his eyebrows pinch when his gaze lands on you. “What’s got you so riled up, lovebug?” 

James hugs you tighter to his side, impervious to your sulking as he rubs your upper arm roughly. “She’s gotta go to the doctor,” he says. 

“Aw.” Sirius pouts, coming the rest of the way towards you to drop a kiss on your head. “Ankle’s not doing so well?” 

“If anything, it’s getting worse,” Remus sighs. 

“Is not,” you snipe back. 

“It’s not going to be as bad as you think, baby.” Sirius squats in front of you, taking your hand in his. “Let’s just go now, yeah? Get it over with.” 

Even Remus looks surprised at that. “Alright,” he says after a second, “yeah, that’s a good idea.” He stands, and so does Sirius, pulling your hand upwards with him like you’ve any likelihood of following it. 

You look at James for help. Even he seems resolved, but his eyes reveal more sympathy for your plight than the others’. “I know you’re nervous,” he says softly, hand brushing your cheek to slot a strand of hair behind your ear, “but do you really think we’re gonna let anything bad happen to you?” 

You sigh, and when James stands you let him take you with him, his arm around your waist to support some of your weight as you limp out to the car. Sirius forgoes his usual place in the passenger seat to sit with you and James in the back, the both of them providing silent support by way of half-hugs (James) and a steadying hand on your leg (Sirius). It’s very difficult to be cross with people who are showering you in affection, but you manage. You sit sandwiched between them with an immovable frown on your face, spiraling deeper and deeper into your thoughts until suddenly you look up and the car has stopped. 

Remus has turned around to face you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon, dove,” he says, and you notice that you’re the only one with your seatbelt still on. You take a breath, finding that your throat has become clogged with tears you didn’t feel coming on. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. 

“Angel,” James sighs, and your guilt for putting them through this almost rivals your anger at them for putting you through this. He unbuckles your seatbelt himself, hauling you up against his side. Your face is hot with shame and unshed tears. “It’s a thousand times worse in your head than it’s actually gonna be, my love.” 

Remus looks genuinely apologetic as he reaches over from the front seat, rubbing your knee. “I hate that you’re having to do something that makes you so anxious, sweetheart, but you’re in pain. We can’t make it better all by ourselves.” You meet his eyes, and he pushes his advantage, giving your knee a little squeeze. “Let’s just go inside, I’m sure it won’t take long. Okay, darling?” 

“Okay,” you assent, following Sirius out of the car and allowing him to tug your arm over his shoulders, helping you hop towards the door. “Sorry I’m making this so difficult.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Sirius insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. James and Remus are both quick to agree. They’re laying on the affection rather thick, and any other time you’d be irritated by the delicate flower treatment, but right now you appreciate it. “We all have things that freak us out a bit,” Sirius goes on. “Remember when James saw that baby snake behind our place?”

“Ugh.” James shudders. “We agreed not to talk about that. I still think we should move.” 

Sirius grins at his boyfriend’s misery, lightly bumping your hip with his. “There you have it, lovely. We’ve all got our things. So don’t worry about this, yeah? We’ll stay with you, and afterward we can hunt down Remus’ comfort chocolate.” 

Remus huffs but doesn’t protest. Later, he’ll bring the chocolate out of hiding to give it to you himself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her. 

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile. 

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.  

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops. 

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

[writers-potion]

when writing enemies to lovers, how to I avoid the trope of “hes mean to me but it’s okay because he likes me” and make the mmc redeemable after being mean, because so far all I have is have her be just as bad 😭 (I don’t know if I worded that right)

Redeeming The Bad Boy Character

Drop Subtle Hints of Redeemability

Okay. Rule Number 1 for romance heroes: They need to be LOVABLE. Full stop. 

Before you start coming up with possible justifications, place the actions of your bad boy on the emotional balancing scale of your girl. Do his real feelings shine through the meanness on the surface?

What readers usually DON’T want to see redeemed is:

Outright lying/manipulating the girl 

Being obsessive and controlling 

Physical/emotional bullying (i.e. stuff that real bullies would do)

“Crossing the line”: This will depend on character - like insulting a disabled sister the girl character feels super protective towards (like NO PLEASE NO)

Even if the “enemy” phase of your romance is meant to be intense, your bad boy needs to display “goodness of heart”. This is easy if you’re switching POVs or 3rd person omniscient where you can show him secretly beating himself in regret, trying to make up with her behind her back although she doesn’t know, etc. 

Even if you’re doing the girl’s 1st person POV, drop subtle hints that the guy character isn’t as mean as the girl is made to believe:

Him having the reputation with friends/teachers/neighbors for being kind 

Him being awarded in school for good deeds

The girl’s friend telling her stories about how the guy actually seems nice. If this is a YA setting, you can even get away with explicit comments like, “maybe you’re judging him too hard”, etc. 

A good example is Bryce  in <Flipped>:

Bryce is an innately shy middle schooler who finds himself inadvertently influenced by his toxic dad, who looks down on the girl (Juli) and her family. 

By flipping over to Bryce’s POV, his reluctance for the “mean” things he’s done is revealed (he’s kinda scared of his dad + he’s never been taught better)

Eventually, Bryce grows up and learns to treat Juli better. 

If you’re going to use family history/backstory as justification, remember:

The backstory doesn’t justify anything by just existing. That’s called an excuse. 

The bad boy needs to have a point of realization and grow up, moving away from his dark past into the light, towards the love interest. 

Misunderstanding

Another way to redeem a bad boy character is to shift some blame on the female character too. In fact, every story has two sides - the girl has her own goals and biases. 

For example:

Academic or workplace rivals: since the girl has to compete with him, she will tend to take offhand comments offensively, etc. 

A third person badmouthing the buy deliberately to the girl

The girl overhearing the guy saying something bad about her (which wasn’t in fact the case) and being determined to not like anything he does after

Make Him Suffer 

If you want to give your girl some backbone, just make her fight back! “Fighting back” can be in different forms:

Ignoring the guy outright

Just giving her another potential love interest who treats her better 

She literally correcting him with awesome logic and maturity that make him shut up

She crying (either out of madness or sadness), then proceeding to avoid him actively

Write about how your bad boy will eventually realize his mistakes and come around after he takes a real blow. Think about why your bad boy is being mean in the first place: it’s to get her attention. Tit-for-tat can work for female characters who have some teeth, but doing the same things he does would mean that she IS giving him attention, which ironically fulfills his initial motives. 

Personally, I think the best way to “fight back” is to no longer give him the attention, hinting that the girl wishes to move on from this unhelpful relationship status. This will set off warning signs in the MMC’s head that if he doesn’t change his ways, she would be gone for good. 

The point is, if your girl cannot tolerate something, you can’t make her sit around. If your boy is mean and immature, she needs to be the one to take the mature step - and walk away.

Apologizing in the Other Character’s Style

What the MMC will need to do to gain the girl’s attention back will depend on what she thinks, but this will often involve:

Explaining his true motivations/resolving the misunderstanding

A genuine apology 

Spending some time apart during which he can reflect and make up to her 

Undoing the damage, if this is possible

If she’s been just as bad as him on occasions, make her reciprocate the apology! Re-establish healthy boundaries that didn’t exist before, and show how they stick to it.