#will he ever sit with himself for ten minutes straight

[winepresswrath]

bold of them to write like three separate episodes in which Louis and Lestat either don't fuck for decades or face serious obstacles to fucking. and then specify that Armand and Louis will fuck less. girl.

[i2sunric]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 (l.hs)

pairing: gamer!heeseung x reader (f)

summary: heeseung neglects you just to play his stupid game, so you try to relieve your frustration by humping his pillow— how you ended up riding his dick, you’re not sure.

warnings: smut. masturbating, pillow humping, riding, dirty talking, pet names (baby, slut, whore), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap up your willy!), creampie, breeding kink, kinda cnc at the ending, if more Imk. NOT PROOFREAD

published: 25th April 2024

wc: 1.9k

tag list: @jaeyunsbimbo @yorukoshii @omgbrohellnahmanwtf

a/n: guess who should be writing for the project but hasn’t even finished writing one scene? me! anyways, hope you’ll enjoy this gamer heeseung drabble and let me know your thoughts! REBLOG & LIKE PLS! maybe part 2?

When Heeseung and you first started hanging out, everyone started mistaking your friendship for dating. Or maybe, that was exactly what Heeseung wanted.

He was so possessive of you, always giving death stares to anyone who dared to land their eyes on your bare legs or exposed chest from your skirts and tops; spoiling you rotten, literally buying you anything you wanted without even having to ask.

But you were not less, getting jealous of anyone who approached him, even scaring girls away. You were as crazy as him.

It wasn’t something you two addressed verbally, just a mutual feeling. Perhaps it was attraction or something more, neither of you wanted to label it.

Something you would really love to verbalise, though, was the way Heeseung had been playing his stupid game for two straight hours without even glancing back at you from his chair.

You were sitting on his bed, legs crossed together as you absentmindedly scrolled through your socials— but even that had become boring. You sighed heavily and dropped your phone on the mattress, stretching your sore limbs.

“Hee?” You asked but was only met back with the sound of keyboard taps and a few shouts so loud you could hear them from the earphones your best friend was wearing.

“Heeseung.” You said again, this time a little louder, “Mh?” He asked, still not turning around to even glance at your face.

“Stop playing and spend some time with me.” You nagged, brows knitting in an annoyed frown “Just ten more minutes.” He murmured back.

“Now.” You crossed your arms at your chest “Come on Y/N, I’m almost done, damn.”

You waited for him to say something more, however he just resumed the battle, occasionally hissing but never shouting at the screen, knowing how much it bothered you.

Your eyes landed on his arms, bare from the sleeveless shirt he was wearing, the veins showing every time he taped a new button, hands so perfect as if they were shaped from a goddess.

You gulped, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. It wasn’t the first time you had such weird fantasies about Heeseung, it was no lie he was drop dead gorgeous, though sometimes you wished he’d see you as more.

The way he treated you, the way he scared anyone who ever dared to breathe your same air— it just fuelled your filthy and contorted desires. However, when he played his games he always seemed to forget about you— which frustrated you a lot.

You palmed your breasts through the fabric of the loose shirt, your nipples hardening and poking, their outline showing. Your gaze fell on his clenched jaw, wondering if he’d have the same face while fucking you, filling you up with his load.

Impatient, you reached for his pillow, the one he usually put his head to sleep on, the thought turning you on even more and sat down on it, your clothed core stroking against it. You moved your hips back and forth at a sweet rhythm, letting out soft hums when your clit rubbing made you feel a warm feeling in your stomach.

You closed your eyes, imagined you were riding Heeseung’s face, his pointed nose poking your clit while his warm tongue fucked your cunt, burying himself deeper in between your thighs.

“Seriously?” Your actions were abruptly stopped by a deep groan, your eyes shot open and there Heeseung was, manspreading on the chair now turned around to face you, his gaze so dark and piercing.

“Acting like a fucking needy slut?” He chuckled bitterly, “You know my mic was on, right? Everyone heard you moaning.” He tsked mockingly.

Your hips kept moving, your head threw back “Just wanted your attention.” Your hoarse voice went straight to his cock, hardening against his grey sweats.

He glanced at you, his stare piercing. You looked straight out of his night fantasies, the way you were grinding on his pillow, your sweet scent intoxicating it. He removed his earphones and palmed his clothed hard on.

“Keep going.” He ordered and you complied, your mind too cloudy to leave space for shake. After all, that was what you both wanted the most “Show me how you’d ride my cock, baby.”

The pet name made your stomach fill with butterflies, you gripped the pillow and moved almost manically on it, the sound of the bed squeaking filling the room.

“Did you want everyone to hear you?” He asked, still palming his cock “Mh? Did you want all my friends to hear your moans?”

You shook your head “No,” You breathed out, slowing your movements “Only you.”

“Fuck,” He cursed, his cock twitching in his boxers “Raise your shirt, let me see your tits.”

You let out a soft hum and did as he asked, raising your shirt, hooking it under your chin to squeeze your breasts and show it to him “So perfect,” He almost dropped at the sight, “And so mine.” He growled.

“Heeseung—“ You panted, your eyes half lidded “Hee… m’so close.” Your movements were sloppy, signalling that your orgasm was about to hit you.

“Don’t cum,” He ordered, “Don’t fucking cum, stop.” and you stopped, your eyes red from your denied orgasm.

His eyes softened, your fucked up state was too much for him, your sweaty forhead and panting breath— Hell, he was going to ruin you.

“Come here.” He patted his laps and you nodded, getting up from the bed, stumbling a little as you reached him. You sat down on his laps, his big hands securing your waist.

“Isn’t this better?” He asked, making your body grind on his clothed bulge, your wetness seeping through the fabric “Fuck baby— you’re so wet.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes closing when his lips connected to your neck, leaving wet kisses “Do you want me to fuck you?” He whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed out “Yes Hee, please.” He smirked at your pleads and raised you up, just enough to pull down his sweats and boxers. His cock sprung free, red and so hard.

You widened your eyes, you had always known he’d be thick since the shadow of his bulge always appeared when he worked out or went to swim, but you had never imagined it’d be that huge.

“Like what you see, mh?” Heeseung smirked, his hand sneaking on the back of your head to fist your hair, making you look up at him “Answer me.”

Wetness pooled on your panties at his rough and dominant voice, you nodded “Yes.”

“Good girl,” He let go of your hair and helped you out of your own pants, leaving you only in your loose shirt and underwear.

His breath hitched, biting his bottom lip “You’re so perfect,” He raised your shirt, hooking it on itself so you wouldn’t have to keep it in your hand.

Heeseung inched closer and took your tit in his mouth, sucking and biting on your nipple. You breathed heavily, one hand caressing the little hair he had on the back of his neck, nails almost digging in it.

He detached from your breast and kissed his way up to your neck, licking and nibbling. He reached your lips and took them into a hungry kiss, so passionate. You moaned when you felt his fingers hook your panties to the side, the cold air of the room hitting your core, making it clench around nothing.

“So eager to be fucked dumb.” Heeseung growled, guiding you on his cock. You put your hands on his broad shoulders as you slowly went down, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds.

You hissed when the tip entered your pussy, stretching you so good. You were no virgin, but no guy you ever had sex with was as big as Heeseung,

He held your waist tightly, helping you until you were all down, bottoming out. He cursed under his breath, your warm cunt hugging his shaft so perfectly he could almost cum right there “Shit baby- you feel so good.”

He started guiding you up and down on his cock, not really leaving you any place to do what you wanted, using you as if you were a sex doll. And you honestly lived for it “H-Hee… S’good.”

His big hands wrapped around your waist and you hid your face on the crook of his neck, moaning out his name. You could smell the scent of his cologne, clouding any thought in your mind along with the pleasure he was giving you.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to fuck you.” He groaned, lifting your ass cheeks, gripping them so he’d leave his marks on you “To just claim you, fill you up with my cum, breed you.” Heeseung rumbled absentmindedly “You’d look so good with my cum dripping out of you.”

His dirty talking only made you clench around him more, the stretch almost painful but too good you begged him to go faster. And how could he say no to you? He grabbed your ass cheeks and held you in place while his hips jerked up, thrusting inside of you.

Soft hums and moans filled the room, you grasped his shoulders and dug your nails in his flesh, trying to steady yourself.

“Pussy made for me.” He rumbled, rutting inside of you at a fast pace “You’re so mine, right?— Fuck— You’ll let someone else fuck you like I do?”

In your blissful state you managed to shake your head “Only you Hee,” You moaned out “I want only you.”

Heeseung rewarded you with a spank on your ass, the mark of his fingertips red on the cheek “Say it again.”

You cried out in pleasure, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten “Mph— Just want you to fuck me.”

“Good fucking girl,” He groaned, rutting into you, hitting your cervix with every thrust “Heeseung.” You gasped, your nails leaving painful marks on his skin but he did not mind at all. In fact, he hoped you’d leave marks on all his back. “I know,” Heeseung said “Let’s cum together, just a little more.”

You let out a small sob, your eyes watery from the amount of pleasure you felt all at once, his cock made to thrust inside your pussy. His arms hugged you tightly against his chest, one hand squeezing your ass cheek “Fuck, Fuck,” He pated, his eyes squeezing.

“Gonna cum too baby- Gonna fill you up so good.” He let out a husky groan as his load shot inside of you, coating your walls as you came around his cock. It twitched inside of you, so much cum filling you up until you felt so full.

Heeseung loosened his grip a little, enough to let you move freely as you laid back a little, you both panting heavily, sticky with sweat.

Heeseung looked down at where your bodies connected, some cum dripping down from your pussy to his laps. You could feel him harden again inside of you which made your eyes widen. Was it even possible to get hard that quickly? Heeseung let out a deep chuckle.

He got up from the chair with you still in his arms and laid you down on your back on his bed. You watched him through confused eyes-

Heeseung dried the wetness under your eyes and whispered in your ear “Let me have you once more..”

“But—“ You shook your head, your body was tired and still shaken from the orgasm “I’ll be quick.” He rubbed his nose on your cheek, his figure hovering on yours.

“M’tired..” You murmured, your eyes closing. But Heeseung only let out another dark chuckle “You’ll take it, yeah?” He started pounding inside you, slow but deep

“You’ll take it like the good girl you are.” It wasn’t a question, but an order.

And you were too down for him to neglect him.

[amoreva]

KISS THE GIRL

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: two times luke knows he’s in love with you + one time he can’t hold it in anymore

warnings: pre tlt luke, ooc luke

a/n: percy jackson 🔛🔝 (request some fics for the characters), i think i ended this terribly, but i’ll fix it later at some point!

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

I. SCAR

“You are an idiot.”

That’s the first thing Luke hears when he wakes up in the Camp’s infirmary. He feels groggy, sluggish and slow and barely registered that you were in the room.

He faintly tasted his mother’s cooking. A small comfort for the consequences of failing his quest. His heart is filled with embarrassment and pity and dejection.

You snapped your fingers by his ears. “I know you’re awake. You hear me? You are an idiot!”

“If you’re here to make fun of me failing my quest, go away.” Luke groaned and turned on his side, despite the pain flaring in his abdomen.

"Luke." You said in a much softer tone. You were concerned about his injuries since he returned from the quest. "You know I wouldn't do that, not with something this serious.”

You helped him sit up in the infirmary bed and cup his cheek. He felt a gauze patch rather then your warm palm on his right cheek. “I’m saying you’re an idiot for not letting me come with you!”

“You can’t do everything by yourself.”

Love is fickle and strange thing. Luke and you promised that if either of you went on a quest, you’d bring each other. Yet, Luke couldn’t keep his promise.

He couldn’t see his girl—best friend, his best friend get hurt because of a stupid promise. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you went out he quest and got injured in some way, shape or form.

Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, he might’ve— he would’ve gotten worse injuries from being distracted by your beauty. He could never tear his eyes from you whenever you entered the room.

In hindsight, it was a really bad way to go about things.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” Luke responded and couldn’t hold himself back. He interlaced his fingers with yours, knowing you were still pissed when he didn’t choose you or anyone, for that matter, to join him on his quest to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides.

He resented his father and the gods for not caring for his wellbeing during the quest.

“Yes, but—” You protested.

At least you cared for his wellbeing. You caring about him was better than any god or goddess on Olympus.

His eyes softened. His mind screaming the words he was too scared to say to you out loud. “I love you.” He loved you for caring about his wellbeing. His safety.

“Yes, but nothing.” Luke retaliated and squeezed your hand to assure you. “I’m okay, I’m alive and have some cool ass scars now.”

Luke grinned as he was able to produce a laugh from you. Your laugh was like music to his ears. His own ambrosia in human form.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Never.”

II. SPARRING

“Again.” Luke demanded as he pointed the celestial bronze sword at your throat. The sun beating down on the two of you as you trained. A past time as the days got boring.

“Fuck off.” You scoffed and laid back in the grass that laid beneath the pair’s feet. The grass tickling your arms and legs.

“C’mon! Up and at it. The momentum will wear off.” Luke helplessly convinced you to try and spar him again.

“Oh no, what ever will we do?” Sarcasm bled through your tone. You pushed yourself to sit up and leaned against the rack contained to celestial bronze swords.

Luke shook his head and grinned. He pushed back his chocolate curls to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He joined you on the grassy floor.

“Five minute break then.” Luke nodded.

“Ten minutes.” You negotiated and looked over at Luke. His scar was healing nicely, no infections—just a clean cut from his eye to his jaw. “You can’t expect to be up and at it after training with the greatest swordsman for an hour straight.”

Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was from the training. Luke’s cheeks became pink. He knew his siblings and other demigods talked about him being the “greatest swordsman”, but hearing it from you was different.

“You think I’m the greatest swordsman?” Luke said with a teasing grin.

“Not after I’m done with you.”

“Say that to the many times you hit the floor.”

“I was going easy on you!”

Luke and you burst out in laughter at your banter, unable to keep a serious conversation. He thought your laughter could brighten up the Underworld. Hades would even agree.

Again, those three words would cross his mind. “I love you.” He loved bantering with you back and forth. How dare he try to ruin the moment with his romantic phrases.

“C’mon!” You huffed and pushed yourself to stand up. You were obliviously to the admiration in his eyes. The celestial bronze sword gripped loosely in your hand.

“What happened to the ten minutes?” Luke titled his head up only slightly to look at you. A stupid grin on his face. He stood up to get in position

“I can train when I damn want too.”

“Don’t start complaining about being tired then.”

He never tore his eyes away from yours as you thrusted the blade at his torso.

III. STARS

Luke had no idea where the line between lover and friendship was crossed. He had absolutely no idea when he started to see you more as a crush rather than his best friend.

Though he did notice his stomach started to twist and turn every time he saw you. He noticed his heart raced a little faster every time he heard your laugh.

Luke found himself gravitating towards you during dinner, training, capture the flag—like a moth to burning flame. Would he find himself getting burned for pursuing you?

“Hey.”

Luke spoke as the wooden dock creaked beneath his feet. You were sitting on the edge of the dock. The night sky lit up with tiny bright lights. You gave him a smile (one that could melt his heart) and patted the space next to you.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked and sat next to you. His leg touching yours. The lake rippled. The moonlight shining down on it.

“I just—needed a break.” You reassure Luke. “From gods, goddesses, prophecies, quests…all of it.”

The chirps and cheeps of the birds and animals filled the silence. A background noise. Luke felt your head lean against his shoulder. His heart beat quicker. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Comfort, he convinced himself.

“You can’t really escape being a half-blood.” Luke consulted and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You hummed in agreement.

You were quite glad Luke joined you. These nights on the dock, after dinner, were getting lonely. The silence is comfortable save for the wildlife in the forest.

Faintly, ever so faintly, you heard Luke speak three words. Three words you would never hear from him.

“I love you…”

Gods.

He didn’t even realize it. His lips were making the consonants and vowel sounds. Luke didn’t know until you picked up your head from his shoulder. Your eyes wide with shock and what he had hoped was…relief.

“What…?” You mumbled.

Did he just ruin his friendship with you? Did he just lose his best friend because he said his thoughts out loud? Luke thought he had better control over that.

“What?” He responded and let his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Luke.”

His breath hitched. He felt lovesick. Like Aphrodite personally made his body malfunction during this moment. “I…”

“I love you…” Luke avoided your gaze like he was ashamed to have a crush on you.

How did you feel? Would you reject him in a heart beat? Would you ridicule him? Thoughts swam his mind.

Before he could get too into his head, he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. Your eyes closed and he willed himself to close his eyes as well. Melting, melting into your touch, your lips.

When you pulled away, his eyes opened. He was graced with the sight of you in the moonlight. “What?” He spoke breathlessly.

“What?” You responded slightly confused and scared you made the moment uncomfortable.

“You…” Luke paused and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the words. To form a coherent thought. He just…he wanted that to never end. He finally got what he yearned for (and he wasn’t rejected?). He got you.

“Is this real?” Luke asked and you laughed. His stomach churned with butterflies.

“Yes!” You answered and interlaced your fingers with his.

“May I?”

“You’d be a pretty bad demigod if you didn’t.”

And once again, Luke got the kiss the girl. He got the kiss the girl he been pining over for gods know how long.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[strawberrysturniolo]

just tonight pt 2

summary: you and chris are forced to discuss moments of your past when the night before changes everything part 1

I woke up with the sun shining far too brightly through the partly closed curtains. The hotel room air conditioner hummed as a chill overtook the room. I tried to pull the covers over me, but I struggled, dead weight on top of them.

I turned over my shoulder, finding Chris, knocked out. His lips were parted slightly, the slightest snore leaving his mouth. I would normally find this annoying, but he looks so peaceful. His curls are messy, flopping across his forehead, some strands holding a tighter curl than others. I want to play with them while he sleeps like this. 

His body rises a little bit through every breath. I’m in a trance, watching his movements. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring, but it’s long enough for him to feel my stare burning into him.

His eyes open slowly, barely, before he shuts them again, closing his mouth and humming. “Good morning.”

His low morning voice sends chills down my spine in the best way. I mumble, “Morning,” in response, the events of last night playing on repeat in my head. 

He gives me a soft smile before lifting his head weakly, making his fatigue known. He places it carefully in my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw before I feel his eyes shut, his lashes fluttering against my cheek. 

I can’t stop myself from wondering if we made a mistake. It was just a kiss, and it doesn’t have to happen again. We don’t have to take it further. 

But right now I feel our hearts beating against each other and all I’m thinking about is how great it would be to wake up like this every day. 

We lay alone with our thoughts until Chris’ phone rings, a call from Nick. He sits up straight, his back on display as the duvet cover lays across his lap. 

“How fast can you get dressed?” Chris asks me, stepping out of the bed.

I do the same, assuming we’re in a rush. “I won’t take long, why?”

He digs around in his suitcase, pulling a graphic tee out and pulling it over himself. “Breakfast closes soon downstairs, and you’re in all my stuff. The boxers only make this look worse.”

I lower my gaze to my bottoms - a pair of his underwear. They hang lower on my hips due to my sleep, and Chris’ eyes can’t move them away. 

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’re right.”

The morning goes on with me and Chris back with Nick and Matt. Things have unfortunately gone back to exactly how they were before this trip. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I don’t know why I thought things would be different, but I would be a complete idiot to think that Chris would ever not treat me like shit. 

“I was looking around at places we could take pictures later today if you guys are down,” I suggest.

As Nick peeks over at my phone, a groan leaves Chris’ mouth. One full of disgust. Nick gives him a look and asks, “What’s your problem?”

“The less time I have to spend with her, the better,” he comments. “I’m miserable enough having to watch her while I eat, not to mention having to sleep in the same room.”

“Well, at least this way you can prove to Santa that you’re not a naughty guy after all and you can be moved to the nice list,” Matt teases, trying to break the tension at the table. 

I’m embarrassed at how my mood has been ruined because of Chris. Ten minutes ago he was curled in my arms, kissing my jaw softly, and now he won’t look at me. 

The worst part is, even when we’re alone in the car, or alone in public, he still won’t look at me. 

I can understand him trying to keep things ‘normal,’ whatever that means for us, in front of his brothers. But for him to completely ignore me and blow me off when we’re alone is uncalled for. We still have yet to talk about what happened last night, no matter how many times I have wanted to bring it up. The first step is getting his attention, but he has no intention of letting that happen. 

When the day ends and we all head to our rooms, I silently get myself ready for bed, ignoring him, just as he did to me. 

As I’m standing in the mirror removing my makeup, Chris comes up behind me, leaning against the wall as he watches me. 

“Can I help you?” I ask with a snappy tone, trying to set him off just as he was doing to me for hours today. 

He sinches his eyebrows together, like he can’t believe I would ask that. “Something wrong?”

I scoff. “You tell me.”

I finish up in the bathroom and walk back out to the bedroom. Without realizing what I’m doing, I scoop up my belongings, stuffing them into bags and hooking the straps on my arms. 

His eyes go wide as he races over to me. “What are you doing?”

“Getting another room.”

“No,” he stops me, or tries to at least. He makes an attempt to pull the bag off my arms, but I yank it back.

“Get off of me.”

“What are you doing?” he asks again. 

“I’m not staying in here with you,” I say simply. 

“Why not?”

“You know why!” I shout. I have this feeling in my throat like I’m going to crumble any second. I feel betrayed, taken advantage of, used. I feel awful. Why is he doing this to me? 

“I’m sorry,” he says, doe eyed. “Please, stay here with me. We can talk, we can kiss again or–”

“No, Chris!”

He takes a step back, defeat lingering around him. “I don’t know what I did,” he says softly. 

I head towards the door. “Then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Do you think I want to act that way in front of everyone?” he fights back. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted things to be different? I’ve thought every day about how we could change things. I would change things if you’d let me, but I was never what you wanted. You pushed me away time and time again, and the only way for me to get over you was maintaining what we did have. We had a light hearted, teasing relationship, and whenever I threw something back at you, you threw it back with ten times more baggage.”

“So this is my fault?” I challenge his claims. “You’re using that excuse to let yourself believe that ignoring me all day as if you weren’t in my arms this morning was justified?”

“Please,” he mumbles. “Put your bags down.”

He looks at me like he’s on the verge of exploding. Like the dam is seconds from breaking. Like he needs me.

I toss my shit on the floor and stand in front of him, waiting. 

“None of this is your fault,” he promises. “None of it. I shouldn’t have treated you like this today, but after last night, I didn’t know how to be around you and them and act like I wasn’t daydreaming about you laying with me all night. I kept picturing you in my lap, kissing me. I wanted it all day. I wanted you. Every time I think I have you, you’re gone.”

I’ve never left him. His brothers are my best friends. Even when Chris is a dickhead, I still love him. I would never want anything but good things for him. 

“I would never leave you guys, Chris.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Chris, we used to be closer than anyone,” I remind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to be your friend anymore in the way we were. You won’t let me be that for you anymore.”

“I do,” he insists. “Please, just hear me out. Don’t go anywhere.”

I let out a sigh at his desperation. Before I know it, he’s leading me to the bed.

“Prom senior year,” he starts. “Your date didn’t show up.”

He promised he wouldn’t mention that again.

“Chris–”

“It was Nate’s idea,” he interrupts me. “He told me to step in, and I finally had the balls to. I was running down the street to the store in a fucking tux. I ran in and got you flowers, and when I came back you were gone. Everyone was gone.”

My heart drops. No one ever told me why he was late to prom that day. No one told me he was making an effort for me. Everything would have been different. 

“You were gonna take me to prom?”

He swallows harshly as he nods, like he’s partly embarrassed for letting me know he failed, but that he’s proud of himself for trying.

“A few weeks later you came running into my room with the biggest smile on your face. You pulled my headset off while I was playing a game and made me guess why you were so giddy. I couldn’t guess, and you told me he asked you to be his girlfriend. The same guy that made you cry because he stood you up at prom, you were now his girlfriend. I felt like fucking shit. I tried to clean up the mess he made that night, and when I failed, he still won you? How was that fair?” he asks me. 

I don’t have any answers for him. 

“Then you spent the whole relationship telling me how awful he was,” he reminds me. “I was obviously going to be there for you if you needed me, but any time we were together, I had to pretend like I wasn’t interested. I had to try to respect your relationship with him, even though I hated him for making you miserable. I hated watching your smile fade and I hated that it was because of him. I did everything I could to cheer you up, and it worked, you know it did, but when you guys broke up, I thought it was my chance. You had no interest in me. It was so obvious. I just lost any hope of there being a chance with us, and the only way for me to get over that was to push you away.”

His words pour out of his mouth in a deep confession. Memories of us come flooding back into me like it was yesterday. Every look he gave me, every touch, every word shared.It’s all there. 

I can’t help but hate my ex even more for keeping Chris from me. 

I’m not mad at Chris anymore, but the frustration coursing through my veins masks my confusion for anger. And I aim it at the wrong person.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I thought you knew!” he shouts. 

We both stand in silence, staring at each other as our chests heave, trying to regain our composure. 

I shake my head, completely in shock at his confession. I used to cry to Nick, wondering why his brother was so mean to me after everything we shared together. He went from being the most important person to me to someone I barely knew. 

I feel like an idiot for wasting so much time trying to hate him when in reality he was trying to protect me from anything bad in the world. 

He couldn’t help it that he couldn’t catch up.

My face presses to Chris’ chest. I don’t know the moment I flung my arms around him and refused to let go, but the feeling of his heart beating against me brings me peace again, just like it did this morning in bed. 

“I called the hotel,” he says. “I changed the reservation.”

I pull back from his chest, staring up at him.

“If that makes you uncomfortable, and you want to go stay with Nick, I completely understand,” he says. “I didn’t think we were going to kiss. I wasn’t planning on making any moves. I just wanted us to be friends again. I wanted you back in my life in the right way.”

My hands hold his cheeks as my lips desperately search for his. His arms wrap around my back, holding me as close as possible. The kiss is rough, both of us trying to gain dominance. I pull back from him to catch my breath, staring at his glossy eyes. The guilt is written on his face. The secrets he held from me for years. 

“You could never lose me, Chris,” I assure him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth before licking his lips, basking in the taste of us. He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. Fear takes over him before any sense of hope can. 

“We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

It was his idea to sit in bed and watch cartoons, and we did just that for the rest of the night. It was my idea to order room service. We laughed in that bed, sharing innocent kisses that were stolen from us over the years. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take that from us again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response, his fingers tracing over my back where it had snaked up his shirt that was hugging my skin, just as it was the night before. 

“We won’t ever be just friends.”

He pauses for a moment before he responds.

“Good.” 

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilo @draculaura123 @jellybeanbby @bridgetteauria @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @zoieisabella @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @1201pm @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @ratatioulle @kiibichio @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld

[webslingingslasher]

You mentioned once or twice that frat!peter isnt as affectionate when his brothers are around so I was wonder if we could get a little something something about reader just stop being affectionate towards him in general because she didn’t mind initially since some people are just like that when it comes to pda but it’s just starting to feel to make her feel like he’s just repulsed by her ☹️

i imagine this is when they first start entering the situationship era. cause i think they were hooking up for a minute and then the lines started to blur and thats when this starts happening.

so let's say,

one night you're sitting next to him on the couch and peter's got his hand rubbing from your knee to inner thigh and back down while he's talking to you.

and when two of his frat brothers come around from the back of the couch, and one chooses to sit on the arm rest, the other on the coffee table across from him. peter's hand stops and he drops it back on his own leg. so, you try to reach out your hand to hold his but he brings his up to move his hat, obviously dodging your hold, so you got up for a drink and stayed away.

----------

the next time this happens was a morning after you spent the night, the house had gone out for breakfast and peter had made you and him breakfast, which was the first time he's ever done something like that.

you're on counter and he's got his waist slotted between your thighs with his hands up his your shirt while making out. peter pulls at the back of your knees and pulls you flush to him, subtly pulling your underwear down when the front door opens and you hear loud chatter and laughs.

peter flies backwards and turns his back completely, grabbing cups from the cabinet and pulling orange and apple juice from the fridge. he nods his head in a greeting when ethan walks in, "look who stayed the night," he gave you a fist bump.

peter holds up the juices and you point for the one in his left hand, "yup, couldn't get her to leave if i tried."

that makes you feel shitty, "no, you absolutely could. you could've said 'hey, you should go,' instead of 'let me make you breakfast and fuck you on the kitchen island.'"

tarrent's next in the kitchen, "bro, your chicks got buttcheeks on the counter."

peter places a hand on your lower back, "let's stop looking at my girls ass and let her get upstairs." he holds your arm as you jump down, tugging his shirt down to cover your bottom completely.

you speed up the steps, then call out, "i like my toast dark!" before you could hit the landing you heard ethan, "you so like her."

"gross, shut up, keznek."

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

the final time you arrived to a party late and searched around until you found him talking in a small huddle of his friends so you walked up with a happy grin and pushed yourself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"hi, handsome." the most subtle shift away, "hey," you watched him look around the room, "got any friends here?" that must mean he doesn't see himself as one, how rude.

if he doesn't want you acting like you know him outside of fucking that's fine with you. but he doesn't get to act one way around you and another around his friends, it's confusing and unfair.

"you know what, peter? you suck."

you hear his friends scoff and softly 'oo' when you walk off, peter calls out behind you, "what does that mean?" you wanted to turn around and tell him off, but you think giving him a taste of his own medicine is better.

so, you go straight to the kitchen to down three shots and grab a cup of whatever so you could jumpstart the peter hate train. it took a while, but you finally made him break away from his friend group when you'd been in an unbroken conversation with a random guy for ten minutes.

"hey, where you been?" a territorial arm is thrown around your waist, you brush his hand off and step to the side. "hey, i'll catch up with you in a minute."

and that makes peter want to explode. you're blowing him off for some random guy? some guy that's mostly no threat?"

"well-"

you gesture to the side with your head, "see you later, parker." and to stab him a little harder when he turns his back you shake your head and beam a smile, "sorry, he's kinda weird. what were you saying?"

but when you don't even find him after and wonder into the kitchen he's almost seething. peter walks up behind you and tugs at your arm, "hey, what the fuck was that?"

innocently, "what are you talking about?"

"well, let's see, trouble." he starts counting with his fingers, "you threw my arm off you, you blew me off, you cut me off, um, parker? then you said i was weird and you apologized on my behalf when i all was trying to do was talk to you."

you pout sarcastically, "oh, did i? i'm sorry, i just know how you are with me hanging all over you around your friends." peter dares look confused, "what do you mean?"

"oh!" you blink fast, "you hate it! so, i refuse to do it. and going forward, we'll keep the same energy, so no more hanging around after sex."

"no, what? why do you think i hate it? i mean, where's this coming from?" is... peter panicking a little?

"peter, you pull away and act like you don't know me everytime your friends come around. you act one way when we're alone and another when someone from the house comes around, it's unfair."

"it's not personal, trouble! if they figure out how much i like you i'll never hear the end of it."

"so... you're emotionally manipulating me because you don't want to be teased?"

when you put it like that it makes him feel terrible.

"no! yes? but not purposely. and hey, from now on, no more pulling away. even if i get roasted by every one. you have my word."

"i don't believe you."

that means prove it.

peter grabs your hips and lifts you to plop you on the counter next to the sink, he moved with such accuracy you yelp and rest your hand over his. before you could say anything ethan glides into the kitchen, unfazed by the sight.

"yo, parker, will you grab... and nevermind," just to prove a point, he kissed you while his best friend was mid question and watching.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

TW Human trafficking discussions of injury

The front door is locked.

Eddie is almost winded, hobbling all this way on his sore feet. There’s a neat little screen on the wall that, briefly, woke up and flickered an angry red when Eddie had tried the door handle. Like that wasn’t hugely unsettling.

He found he just didn’t have it in him to try it again. Where would he go, anyway? Just getting to the gate would take him hours, and he doesn’t have any fucking shoes; he’s still wearing the white nightdress and nothing else.

Eddie eyes the curve of the sweeping staircase. No. No way. He’d have to go up it backward and on his butt to even make it, one slow step at a time. Steve said he’d got Eddie a room ready but...no.

No.

There’s probably fifty fucking rooms up there anyway, what with the size of the place; Eddie wouldn’t stand a chance, and he definitely doesn’t feel right snooping around like that. The back of his neck prickles at just the thought of doing something like that.

He needs the bathroom though. Too much bread, too much dairy. The milkshake, the creamy pasta. Eddie’s not one hundred percent sure if he’s going to vomit or just straight up shit himself, but there’s something uncomfortable happening. The stabbing, trapped wind type feelings occasionally taking Eddie’s breath away, they’re so sharp.

Okay. Logically this place is so fancy, there has to be a downstairs bathroom; which there is, Eddie finds it on the second try, after fully ten minutes of slow, painful shuffling.

It turns out to be a horrendously explosive shit, which Eddie is kind of glad about because being sick is the worst, and he feels much better after a traumatic twenty minutes in one of the fanciest bathrooms he’s ever seen.

Eddie tries his best to hunt around the lounge, but the TV and sound system are so sleek and stylish, Eddie can’t see an obvious way to control either. He’s frightened to touch the books in case they’re like, collectors items, or something. He sighs wistfully at them anyway; he hasn't been allowed to read a book in years. Well behaved Omega most certainly don't read. They might start...having aspirations and thinking for themselves and stuff like that, so it was absolutely not permitted at the ranch.

His feet are throbbing, but he didn’t think to ask for painkillers. There’s nothing for him to do but sit on the couch and feel sorry for himself.

He tells himself this is better than the ranch. It’s better. He’s safe here. He’s going to see Wayne again. Hagan’s probably been arrested already; everyone else has been rescued too. Well at least, Eddie hopes so. All of that being a lie at this point...why would Steve go to so much effort to fabricate a lie like that?

It’s a slippery slope, that thought, so Eddie tries not to entertain it. He’s spoken to Hopper himself; seen his FBI card. It has to be true, surely? Everyone is okay, Eddie tells himself on repeat.

Everyone has been rescued.

Eddie just has to...endure. He can do that.

He’s been doing it for years.

The couch is too soft to sleep on. The beds in the dorm had mattresses so thin they might as well have been a folded over blanket, so Eddie has gotten used to the creaky noises and sleeping on something almost completely solid, no give at all in the wooden slats of the bed frames.

It’s quiet here. No movement, no breathing, no whispered conversations between Omega or the footsteps of guards on patrol. Nothing.

It’s been dark for a while when Eddie realizes he’s getting cold; the thermostat, or however this place works, must have turned over to it’s night time setting.

Eddie finds blankets in the big fancy Ottoman. The room feels...too big. Too big and empty. All that fancy glass reflecting the room and making it look twice as big. He feels defenseless, open. It’s not a nice feeling.

The silence is oppressive.

Eddie shifts the Ottoman, it takes a huge effort to push, the thing is heavy, but he manages to butt it right up into the corner of the ‘L’ shaped couch. Eddie lays one blanket out on the rug, snugged right up in the small space he’s made for himself between the Ottoman and the couch, Eddie nests in the protected little triangle of space. One blanket to lie on, the warmer one pulled over top of him. He does take one cushion off the couch, for his head.

He’s warmer, and feels safer, here. It still takes him hours to fall into an unsettled and fitful sleep.

Eddie didn’t reach any kind of deep sleep; he knows he didn’t. He knows because he’s blinking, alert and awake from the noises he can hear. The front door, keys being put down, footsteps.

Foot steps on the stairs.

And Eddie didn’t experience any of the confusion that comes with being woken from decent sleep. No. He’s awake, fully alert, and he knows exactly where he is and what’s happening.

He hears those same footsteps come back down the stairs, “Eddie?”

“Here,” Eddie forces himself up, bracing his arms on the couch, knees both clicking after being curled up tight for so long.

Steve looks like shit. He definitely hasn’t slept. But then, neither has Eddie, not really, and considering Eddie’s now eaten two meals and slept a night wearing a practically see through white nightdress, there’s no way he looks any better himself; he’s got to be grubby.

Steve also looks aghast, “Eddie, I’m so sorry. I got...distracted. That’s not an excuse for just...leaving. Did you sleep there the whole night?”

Eddie nods, there doesn’t really need to be an explanation.

“Shit. Shit, okay. Okay, lets...you hungry? I’m starving. I know we ordered you clothes, but I should have given you something better than-” Steve sighs, a sharp sound, before rubbing at his forehead for a second. “Right, breakfast first? Anything you want? Pretty sure I have the stuff for cheese omelettes? And I know I’ve got sausage and bacon.”

Eddie can’t help but wince at the thought of yesterdays fecal catastrophe. It must show, Steve frowning at him from under his floppy preppy hair, “all the rich food it, uhm, gave me a tummy ache? So...just some scrambled eggs would be really, really great.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment, probably rethinking yesterday, “yeah, yeah okay, scrambled eggs,” and he heads off into the kitchen, Eddie forcing himself to limp weakly along behind.

Steve does make a mean plate of scrambled eggs, and it really does hit the spot. Eddie dodges the coffee, having a glass of OJ instead. “Okay, so lets...lets figure what to priorities here. Shower, you can borrow some of my clothes, and I’ll check your feet, does that sound okay?”

“Yeah...but you, you look real tired Steve, I mean it can wait-”

“No, no it’s fine. I won’t be able to rest if I don’t know you’re okay, plus...you look kind of tired there yourself...which isn’t surprising considering I abandoned you and forced you to spend the night on the floor-”

“Steve.”

“I...sorry. Again. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve ripped pretty much everything Hagan owned right out from under him. Or at least I will have, by lunch time today.”

And yeah...to be fair. Eddie does feel better. It’s cold comfort, but Eddie can be small and spiteful and bitter with the best of them so...yeah. Imagining Hagan sat in a cell somewhere, knowing his empire is being dismantled brick by brick. Yeah. Why not? Eddie can enjoy that for a minute. “Yeah, that’s...really good to hear.”

“Good.” They smile at each other for a long few seconds. And then Eddie yawns. And Steve yawns. And it sets off a horrible cycle of them yawning at each other across the table.

“Okay, lets get you sorted out.”

Eddie braces himself for the limp to the stairs, which he manages, shuffling gamely along with Steve hovering. For the split second Eddie allows himself to stop concentrating and actually look up at Steve...he sees Steve watching his move very intently, but also guilty as fuck.

The stairs are another matter. Having all of his weight on one foot while he lifts the other is...horrible. Stepping up is even worse, so much so that Eddie flinches from it the first time and nearly falls off the first step.

Steve steadies him.

On the second wobble, along with a pained hiss, Eddie finds himself just being...scooped up. Just straight up lifted, and he flails for a second before what’s just happened catches up to him, and his flailing ends with his arms locked around Steve’s neck.

Eddie will forever deny the panicked ‘yip’ noise that had come out of him.

Steve heard it though, and Steve’s grinning from inches away as he, very effortlessly, carries Eddie up the stairs.

Which, first of all, what a bastard, and second of all Eddie will not think about how fucking hot it is that Steve can throw him around if he wants to.

Steve has laid out a bunch of towels ready, and a change of clothes; just sleep pants and a tee shirt, a pair of boxers, but it looks like absolute heaven to Eddie. So does the whole of the bathroom, if he’s being honest. Even though this is a guest room and guest bath– which blows Eddie’s mind all on it’s own, he’s pretty sure that with a bit of inventive interior design, a family of four could live comfortably in this space.

So yeah, Eddie is able to sit safe and sound on a ledge in the bath and hose himself down. It’s not a proper shower, but Eddie doesn’t want to stand for that really, especially not with how it would soak his scabs, so this is perfect for now.

He finally feels clean after, which is a huge improvement.

Once he’s dressed, resting on a thick and fluffy towel Steve had considerately left on the toilet seat, he waits. Steve had been for his own shower real quick, once Eddie was settled safely, and he comes back toting a first aid kit in a green bag with a white cross on the side.

Steve takes a towel to cushion his knees, again not seeming worried about kneeling in front of an Omega, which is a nice change of pace.

“Oh,” Eddie says, at the same second Steve freezes in place, “the thing I could smell…” Steve has showered, and he couldn’t have reapplied blockers. Steve’s scent is only vague in the house downstairs, just a nice background scent; Alpha and comfort and home and safe...but now it’s hitting Eddie full in the face. Eddie sways forward mindlessly, trying to get closer to the source, Steve reaching out to steady him by the shoulder.

Eddie almost feels like he’s blinking awake, and Steve is right there. Like, two inches away, licking his lips and looking at Eddie with eyes so blown they’re almost back, “yeah,” Steve swallows thickly, and then visibly jumps when his phone rings. He looks startled by the noise, “sorry. Sorry I should- yeah, what is it, Henderson?”

And Steve leaves the room. Eddie feels kind of foggy, but also all kind of wonderful. Steve’s scent is...it’s good. It’s real nice. It’s...probably perfect. Smells like home and safe and mate and all that good shit Eddie had secretly dreamed about in the darkness of the dorm room at the ranch, trying to keep himself sane.

Eddie can hear Steve talking, “yeah, multiple accounts. Yeah, I know, but there wasn’t enough in there so I cleared out...no, no, you think Eddie only cost a quarter mil?” Steve laughs, “yeah, it was quite a bit more, yeah.” Steve sighs, “shut up, Henderson. Oh my god, no I did not get a receipt.”

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mx-jinxous @goodolefashionedloverboi @bogwitchlesbian @lunaraquaenby @steddieinthesun @pluto-pepsi @disrespectedgoatman @i-eat-spinal-cords @waelkyring @kal-ology @grtwdsmwhr @v3lv3tf0x @itsall-taken-blog @nrvscig @dragonmama76 @scarletyeager @slv-333 @abstractnaturaldisaster @tinyplanet95

[sillygayrants]

Imagine Eddie making steve play DnD with the gang because Eddie practically begged Steve to go with him.

They’re about ten minutes in, Eddie is trying to be the best DM he can, he’s really trying, honestly, but Steve is so focused on the game and trying to understand the mechanics of it that he’s got his hands playing with his hair and his tongue inadvertently sticking out between his lips sometimes.

And Eddie isn’t really bothered about the game anymore when Steve is man spreading and leaning backwards in his chair to sigh, exposing a little bit of his abs, his ABS for gods sake.

So of course, he wasn’t paying much attention to trying to trip up the gang or set traps anymore when Steve looked like THAT and the next thing he knows, they’ve defeated whatever creature Eddie set out for them, he really can’t remember at this point.

Now steve is suppressing the biggest smile he’s ever seen, but of course when Dustin asks him if he is happy about the win he goes “no biggie, don’t really care” but Eddie can see it in his face.

And because Eddie drove on the way there, Steve drives eddies van back, dropping off the kids and eventually stopping at Eddie’s trailer where he’d parked his own car.

But he walks right into the trailer, using the key Eddie gave him “in case of emergencies” but really he keeps it with him at all times, and settles into the kitchen, opening cupboards to find food for them.

Eddie follows like he would usually and sits up on the counter, watching Steve waddle around for a little bit. “So…”

“So what?” Steve says from behind the freezer door, looking for something resembling food for dinner.

“Did you like it?” Eddie responds.

Steve is quiet for a second before responding back “I was a kinda bored to be honest” and pulls a frozen pizza out of the freezer, shutting the freezer door.

“Steve when you defeated the dragon, you looked like you were about to orgasm” Eddie jokes, earning himself a smack upside the head from a certain frozen pizza.

Steve laughs sarcastically before saying “It was alright, I liked making you nervous.” and placing the pizza into the oven.

… “What?” Eddie wasn’t entirely sure he heard that right.

“You know, whenever I readjusted my seat or leaned back slightly, you hesitated speaking, or you would forget to set a trap, it was actually kind of funny.” Steve said, walking over to Eddie who was still on the countertop looking down at Steve, but somehow felt very small.

“Loads of girls have given me that look you know, If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to fuck me.”Steve laughs to himself and pulls something out from the cupboard behind eddies head.

Eddie doesn’t respond, he just sits there silently before sliding over and hopping off the counter. “I’m gonna go to my room, you can do whatever, okay? Yeah bye.” And made a beeline straight for his room before an hand was on his arm and spinning him back around to face Steve.

Said Steve has a look of smugness plastered all over his face “You wanna fuck me, Eds?”

The pizza burned.

(P.s. hi lovelies sorry I haven’t been active I have exams at the moment anyway love u )

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Three Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: being in an abusive relationship, domestic violence, covering up bruises (nothing is ever explicit, just talked about), minor fluff at the end

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been assigned to you as a way to overcome his feelings and separate himself from the Winter Solider. You're his saving grace and maybe, he can be yours.

Squares Filled: "need a medic?" (2021) @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The mirror above the steering wheel is so tiny but it’ll have to do since you don’t have your big mirror in your purse this time. You make sure your makeup is good enough to last the whole day, and more importantly, to keep what’s underneath hidden from everyone else. You don’t know what you’d do if people found out about your home life.

When you deem yourself okay, you grab your things and head straight to work. Your assistant, Carly, greets you with a friendly smile and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, boss!”

“Morning. Who do we have on the books today?”

“The only one is Bucky Barnes.”

“Great. Send him in as soon as he gets here.”

“Sure.”

You walk into your office and make sure everything you need for today’s session is in front of you. Bucky Barnes has only been seeing you for a couple of months so it’s still so new to either of you. You're a well-respected psychologist who had many clients, but you never thought you’d be seeing the former Winter Soldier.

You’ve heard the stories. You know what he’s done but he’s trying to atone for his mistakes. One of the important ways he’s going to do that is if you give him the chance to. He’s been respectful of you even though he’s closed off. Someone like him who experienced the torture he’s been through isn’t going to open up easily. It’s hard getting him to talk about himself but you’re hoping that if you start from before Hydra it will get him to open up to you a lot more.

His appointment is in a couple of minutes so you check yourself using your desk mirror to make sure everything still looks the same.

“Boss, Mr. Barnes is here,” Carly says through the phone intercom.

“Send him in.” The door opens and Bucky walks in with an uncertain look in his eyes. You give him a small yet friendly smile to ease his concerns. “Hello, Mr. Barnes. Please, have a seat.”

“Please, call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky.” He sits down on the couch across from your desk. “How was your week?” He shrugs in response. “Did you do anything special?”

“I spent time with Sam and his family.”

“How did that make you feel? Did you like it?”

“It was alright,” he sighs.

“Did you uphold your three rules?”

Rule #1: Don’t do anything illegal. Rule #2: Don’t hurt anyone. Rule #3: Introduce himself as James Barnes instead of Bucky, formerly the Winter Solider.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I’m proud of the progress you’ve made since seeing me. Is there anything you’d like to talk about specifically that happened this week?”

“No.”

He can’t seem to look at you. He’s talking to you, that’s a plus, even though he’s only giving you one-syllable words.

“Bucky, if this is going to work, I need you to try here. I’m not asking you to write me a novel about your life. I’m asking you to give a little. Can you do that for me?” you ask in a gentle tone.

“Okay,” he sighs and looks into your eyes. “I’ll try.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Bucky looks like he wants to cry. Anything about Steve makes him question everything about him. He left Bucky. He left everyone behind to start a life in another timeline. “This is a safe space. Everything you’re feeling is valid, Bucky. When you’re ready, I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

It takes him ten long minutes to find the courage to talk and when he does, he can’t look at you.

“What if Steve was wrong about me? I was under Hydra’s influence when we crossed paths again, and he did everything he could to save me. He even brought me to Wakanda to get that shit out of my head. What if it’s still there? What if they say those words again and I’m back to being the Winter Soldier? Sometimes I don’t think I’m worth saving.”

You want to cry for him. He is so badly damaged that it will take a long time if not the rest of his life to be okay again. He might have happy moments here and there, but those fears will always be there. You have to choose your words carefully.

“It’s hard to see the good in someone who has done bad, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Steve remembered his best friend and knew the kind of person he was. Steve remembered something in you that is still true to this day.”

“What?” he asks and looks up at you with hints of tears in his eyes.

“I see a man trying to do good, to atone for his mistakes, and I think that’s someone worth saving. Steve saw it, too.” A single tear escapes his eyes but he doesn’t wipe it away. “If you are who you think you are, you wouldn’t feel remorse for what they did to you. The fact that you do shows me that you’re more than what they put in your head. You’re trying to do good with the bad you’ve been given, and that’s not a bad person.”

You’ve made excellent progress with Bucky this session, and you think the next one is going to go by just as smoothly. He only gets an hour but you make the most of the rest of the hour.

“The same time next week?” you ask.

“I’ll see you then, Doc,” Bucky smiles and leaves your office.

With each passing session, you and Bucky form a stronger bond until he realizes he looks forward to being with you. You make his day a bit brighter but the last thing he is gonna do is tell you that. You’d never have romantic relations with a client but you can’t say the same once they no longer are your clients.

You show up to work one week dabbing makeup on your face while driving. You’re on the phone with your husband. He isn’t on speakerphone and your phone is resting in one of the cup holders, but you can still hear every word he is saying as clear as day. He is yelling that loudly at you. You forgot to do the dishes before you left for work and now he is telling you what a burden you are, how much he hates you, and that you’re useless…

…and those are the nice things.

“Baby, I was running late this morning. I’m sorry,” you sigh and pick up the phone.

“I will deal with you later,” he growls and hangs up the phone.

You’d cry but then you’d ruin your makeup, and you’re already at work. You push down your feelings about your abusive husband and walk into work. You gasp at how hot it is, and you look at your assistant who has her work jacket off.

“What is going on in here? Why is it so hot?”

“The air conditioning is broken but someone is coming to look at it later.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “How many today?”

“Three.”

“Send them through.”

You get through the first two clients with as few problems as possible but by the time Bucky comes in, you’re almost about to break. You're tired, your face is pulsing with pain, your makeup feels like cake at this point, and you don’t know how much longer you can stand sitting in the heat.

“Hi, Bucky. Please have a seat,” you greet. He sees the immediate shift in your behavior and you’ve only said six words to him. “I’d like to start this session by talking about last week. You said something about taking a trip with Sam, right? How did that go?”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Bucky, we’re here to talk about you, not me.”

Bucky has to let it go for right now but he can’t when you wipe your face to clear the sweat. You forget that you have makeup on otherwise you wouldn’t have wiped your face with your handkerchief. It’s not entirely present but Bucky knows a bruise when he sees one, and you have a dark one near your eye.

“Need a medic?”

“I’m fine. I fell.”

“I’ve fallen plenty of times. I’ve gotten hit enough times to know a bruise caused by a punch when I see one.”

“Bucky, please. Drop it. We’re not here to talk about me.”

Bucky notices you play with your wedding ring nervously whenever the spotlight is on you. He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what’s been happening here. For your sake, he lets it go. The session is cut short due to Bucky needing to be somewhere, and you made it clear he is still getting charged the full hour whether he uses it or not. He was fine with it so you moved on with three other clients after him.

The air conditioning was fixed after the first client, so you redid your makeup in the bathroom to be more presentable. It’s late when you finish with your last client, and you curse at the time. Your husband is going to kill you if you’re late again. You gather your things and rush out of your office, but Carly stops you before you can get far.

“Listen, I’m running late, so can you--”

“The police called earlier. I told them you were with a client and they asked if you could call them back. They said it was urgent.”

“Oh, okay,” you stutter. She hands you her phone after redialing the last number called. “Hi, my name is Y/N. My assistant got a call earlier?” You hear the words they’re saying but your brain isn’t processing them. “Wait, I’m sorry, he’s what?”

“Your husband is dead, ma’am. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“How? When? I just talked to him this morning.”

“My guess is that he’s been dead for maybe four hours. He died from a severe beating and blunt-force trauma to the head.”

All you hear them saying is that you’re free. You’re finally free. No more pain. You’re not sure who killed your husband because he didn’t have a lot of enemies. Despite how he treated you, he was very charming to everyone else. He put up this facade that made him look like a saint when really, he was the devil.

When you show up to work the next week, your hair is pinned up, you have light makeup on, a nice outfit, and your heart is light. You’ve never been happier now that your husband is out of the picture. He was a wealthy man, so you got all of his money to use how you see fit. He was so horrible to you so maybe his money will bring some happiness to people when you donate a chunk to different charities.

Bucky shows up right on time, and you give him a smile when he enters your room. You look down and notice some bruising and scabs on his knuckles, and if his metal hand could scar as easily as flesh, he’d have scars there, too.

“Have a seat, Bucky.”

“You look happier.”

You chuckle in amusement. You look Carly through the small glass window who is busy taking calls for you to listen to later. You look back at Bucky who raises his eyebrows in question.

“The following conversation didn’t happen.” He nods in understanding. “My husband is dead. Someone killed him.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long five minutes.

“Did he deserve it?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Did you break rule number two?”

“I might have,” he smiles, “but I had a really good reason.”

“What reason is that?” you ask and sit back.

“There’s this woman I know, and for the first time since I met her, she actually had a genuine smile on her face… and it is gorgeous. I guess her husband didn’t know what he had when he had her.”

You smile at Bucky.

“No, he didn’t.”

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not jonathan

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'no upside down au' rated t wc: 997 cw: recreational drug use, language tags: meet-ugly turned meet-cute, flirting, somewhat ambiguous ending but we all know what's gonna happen

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Steve was not supposed to be the one picking up the drugs for the party.

He wasn't even going to the party.

But Jonathan couldn't get it from his usual guy, said he was back home in California for the summer, and it wasn't like Robin had a hookup.

Eddie Munson didn't technically deal anymore, but he made exceptions for previous customers, and Jonathan had been a regular during high school.

It wasn't shocking news to Steve, but what was shocking was hearing all these stories about how Eddie didn't even usually meet someone during daylight hours. Except today, apparently.

Steve tripped over another branch, barely caught himself before falling on his face.

"I better get so high off this shit," he said to himself.

"I only sell the good shit."

Steve froze.

Somehow, he'd missed a person walking up to him, probably when he nearly ate dirt.

"Is there any reason a hike is required to get some weed?" Steve asked, brushing his hands on his pants to get the remnants of the tree trunk he saved himself on.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, raising an unimpressed brow.

"No. Jonathan suggested the place."

Hard to believe the guy who hated being outside for more than a few minutes would have suggested a half mile trek into the woods, but Steve didn't really care to argue.

"O...kay. Well, I've got the cash if you wanna get this over with," Steve said as he reached into his pockets that were..."Fuck."

He started patting his pockets, his shirt, looking around him at the ground to try to find his wallet.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asked, coming closer.

"I lost my wallet. Shit!"

"Alright, I can help you look, man. It's not a big deal. Gotta be somewhere, right?" Eddie started looking around him, though it was half-hearted at best. "What's it look like?"

"It's brown. Um, leather?" Steve suddenly forgot any other details about his wallet. How convenient.

"Okay, so the color of the ground. Should be easy."

Steve snorted.

Eddie was smirking as he walked the way Steve came, checking the ground around him as he did so.

Steve followed behind, but he was pretty certain they wouldn't find it.

After ten minutes of looking, Eddie sighed.

"We should just smoke a bit. Take the edge off. Ya know?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I can't pay you until I find my wallet," Steve said as he continued looking, bending down to get a closer look at a spot that seemed like the color of his wallet.

"On the house."

Steve stood straight up.

"Really?"

"Can't really kick ya when you're down, can I? Plus, I planned on smoking after you left anyway. We can share," Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Steve had never gotten high outside of house parties, the comfort of his own home or a friend's home soothing his anxieties about losing his inhibitions.

But out here? With Eddie? It didn't seem like a smart thing to do.

"Alright," Steve shrugged back.

Eddie must have sensed something about him, though, because he didn't let him take more than three puffs of the joint before he put it out and found a collection of boulders for them to sit on.

"You ever think about how trees are alive but they don't have ears?" Steve asked a minute later.

"Oh, you're that kind of high." Eddie poked his hand, making him look over at him. "You eat today?"

"Maybe. I've been busy. Do you think trees get hungry?" Steve replied.

Eddie searched his face before letting his pinky rest against Steve's hand on the rock.

It felt like fire.

"They do."

"But they don't have pancakes or cheeseburgers. Like, we can't grind it up and put it in the dirt for them, right?" Steve's jaw dropped. "Can we?"

Eddie watched as Steve looked over at some of the trees surrounding them.

"I don't think we can, no."

"A shame. They're missin' out. You know who else is missin' out? Jonathan! He made me come here and he didn't even tell me you had long hair or like the nicest eyelashes. Which is weird because he didn't shut up about anything else about you but he forgot about the eyelashes!" Steve's hand curled around Eddie's pinky. "And you look warm."

Eddie's brows raised.

He wasn't sure who Steve was. Jonathan had just insisted he was cool.

But Jonathan hadn't mentioned that his hair looked softer than silk, or that his eyes were wide and innocent despite his lip curling up in the corner in annoyance.

Jonathan seemed to have left a lot of things out.

"Well, it is summer. It's pretty warm," Eddie gulped. "But you do look a little cold."

"I get cold easy. Robin says it's because I don't eat enough red meat or something. Low irony or something."

Eddie was so endeared.

"I could help you stay warm? Walk you back to your car if you want?"

Eddie did not want that, but he knew Steve probably needed to walk off some of this high before his friends started to worry about him.

"Don't wanna walk," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "My head is walking."

"Should I try to head back and get one of your friends?"

Steve shook his head.

"Be fine in an hour."

"Okay," Eddie put his arm around Steve's shoulder, surprised to find that Steve was shivering. "Hey, you okay?"

"You do have good shit."

"That's not an answer," Eddie chuckled.

"I'm good. Best."

Eddie let him burrow further into his side and waited for his shivering to subside before he suggested heading back to his car again.

Steve still refused, and Eddie didn't have it in him to push.

Not when they were finding shapes in the clouds and he was holding Steve close.

He'd definitely owe Jonathan a lot of product if this went the way he wanted it to.

[manjjiros]

7:26PM | TAKASHI MITSUYA.

sitting with mitsuya in his studio, scrolling on your phone while he works. “just ten more minutes, ‘m sorry,” he’d mumbled against your forehead thirty minutes ago when you came in for date night. you didn’t mind the wait, not really. it was calm in the small studio, projects folded neatly, sewing machines idle. he’d gotten a new heavy-duty knitting machine recently and promised to make you a sweater.

now, though, he was finishing up making cuttings for something he wanted to work on tomorrow. you knew a bit about the terminology, but not enough for it to stick.

you listened to him milling out, fumbling in a box of spare tools, until finally finding the scissors that he had just put down. “almost done, just one more.” he mumbled more to himself than you, walking to the end of a long roll and snipping into it.

you figured he was just going to cut the whole piece. he had steady hands, he could probably cut a straight line into semi thick fabric.

instead, however, you heard the scissors be put down onto the work table. your eyes lifted from your phone to watch as mitsuya grabbed the somewhat loose fabric and started to rip it apart.

you jumped slightly from the sound, but your eyes locked on to his exposed forearms, the way his muscles rolled ever so slightly as he tore the fabric apart from itself, ripping it at the seams. his fingers bunched up the fabric as he tugged along, tearing it apart.

you swallowed. the action was mundane, professional even. and yet he had your full attention as he tugged the fabric free from its prior hold, looking over the lining and making sure no stray threads were sticking out.

he let out a breath as he finally looked up at you, brows twitching slightly at your face before cracking a smirk. “seriously? you’re hot and bothered over a little ripped fabric?”

you gawked at him briefly before turning your head away. “no, just surprised. thought we were people. we invented scissors so you don’t have to rip things like an animal.”

“you’re deflecting,” he grinned at you and folded the fabric up to set aside while you pouted and folded your arms.

“am not.”

“are too.”

“am not.”

“are too.” this time, you jumped slightly, because he had stalked across the room to stand over you in your chair. he put his hands on the armrests, a muscle in his forearm fluttering as he leaned in towards you.

you leaned back and away from him in your chair, sucking in a breath, and he just laughed at your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“later, baby. c’mon, we’re already late to dinner.”

“tease!”

“not my fault.”

over the loudspeaker: @sin-and-punishment , @audrinui

[fourmoony]

hi! i just thought of this and i think it's sooooo cute. so imagine james and reader get married, the ceremony ends, everyone goes home and reader and james go home as well and they just order take out and eat in their wedding clothes with bunch of fluffy dialogue!! thanks!!

this is such a cute idea! thanks for requesting <3

james x f!reader | 1k words | masterlist

James is pressing buttons on the television remote, mumbling angrily to himself when it won't switch to the channel he wants. You smile over at him, heaving a breath, collecting the white tulle beneath you so you don't step on it.

"Gimme," You make grabby hands, ring glinting against the lamp light in the corner of the room. "You're too heavy handed with it."

James rolls his eyes playfully, but hands the remote over with a look so lovey and dopey, so sticky sweet that it halts the breath in your lungs for a moment. Never in your life did you think you'd end up being the girl lucky enough to marry such a handsome man, with a heart so big it consumes his entire being, who is so passionate and caring and hysterically funny. But here you are, ten minutes home from your beautiful reception at Potter Manor, married to your amazing, lovely, handsome husband, and your heart feels so full it could burst.

James is still dressed in his suit, buttonhole flower bent at the head and his hair messier than usual. His shirt is rumpled and his tie is half loosened, his glasses askew, but he has never looked more handsome. He lifts his left hand, runs it through his hair and the gold of his wedding band catches your eye. You smile, a secret little smile just for yourself, and change the channel. James switches to rummaging through the paper bag on the coffee table, pulling out boxes and bags of food.

"Did you order chips and cheese?" James asks, frowning into the tub in his hands.

"No." You hum, sitting in your previous place on the floor.

Your dress puffs out around you, a sea of white and tulle and James smiles over at you. It's a knowing smile, a smile that you've shared multiple of all day. The 'I'm so happy, I love you so much, this is the best day ever' kind of smile. James slides down from the couch to sit beside you, setting the mystery container of chips and cheese onto the coffee table.

"Well, they sent us some." He shrugs.

"Nice."

It's domestic and it's nice. It's better than the 'thank you for coming' and the 'oh, I'm over the moon, it turned out beautiful' conversations you've been having all day. It's chill and comfortable and it's just you and James in your tiny little cottage after a busy day filled with love and laughter and energy.

"Here." James passes you your container, a donner kebab.

You smile, "Thanks. Don't get me wrong, I loved the menu we picked. Seriously, best Balmoral chicken I've ever had. But I have been craving this all bloody day."

James nods in agreement, mouth too full of chicken pakora to say anything. He's leaning over his container to avoid spilling on his suit, but you don't have the same thought, biting into your kebab and gasping when the sauce spills out and onto the white fabric of your dress.

There's a moment of stunned silence between you and James where the TV show you both love drones on in the background and you just stare at each other. You assume James is waiting for you to have some sort of meltdown. Instead, you purse your lips, eyes alight with amusement and James cracks first.

You're both laughing so loud it overshadows the sound of the television, collapsing in on each other until you can't breathe.

"Oh, baby," James sighs, "Your dress."

He has the decency to sound deflated for you but you shake your head, smiling like the cat who got the cream. "It's okay, handsome. I already had the perfect day in my perfect dress."

"It was a pretty good day, huh?" James asks, returning to eating straight after.

You follow suit, leant over your container this time, "Yeah, it was. You know what beats it, though?"

James hums in acknowledgement.

"This. Right here."

James looks at you like you've lost your mind and you laugh.

"Today was perfect. I love you so much, and I couldn't wait to be your wife. I love our friends and our families, I loved celebrating with them. But my favourite moments always end with us back here. Me and you, sharing a kebab, watching shitty TV, and laughing until we can't breathe. That's what I couldn't wait to spend the rest of our lives doing." You tell him, eyes shining with emotion.

James sets his box on the coffee table, reaches out for you and you go because there will never be a time when James Potter calls and you, his wife, don't go.

"You looked beautiful today, you know?"

"I did?" You muse, settling into his lap, his arms warm and strong around you.

James presses his lips to your shoulder when he nods, sure and firm, "Yeah. But you look etheral right now."

"Covered in kebab sauce?" You ask.

James laugh, low and sweet and your stomach flutters, "Oh yeah."

"Hm," You hum, "You look pretty handsome."

"That's 'cause you're on my lap."

His eyes are big and brown and full of love and all you can think to do is kiss him. It's sweet and soft and it's all of your love for each other wrapped into one. He squeezes your waist, pulls you further into him and it all just feels perfect. You're so full of love you could burst.

"I love you, Mrs. Potter." He tells you, eyes so open and honest and it brings tears to your eyes.

"I love you, too, Mr. Potter."

It's sickeningly sweet and cringey and you wouldn't have it any other way. The guests have all gone, the wedding is over, you're home, with James, your husband, and you're married and you're happy and content and in love.

"Eat up before it gets cold." You urge James, handing him his pakora before reaching for your kebab.

You stay there, in his lap, curled in on each other, for hours. You'd stay there forever. And now, you can.

[sweetsbfreex]

drunk and obsessed

Summary: a little something about a drunk steve. in the mafia steve universe

Pairing: drunk!mafia! steve rogers x reader

Warning: none rlly

-

“Baby, baby,” you giggle, a bit tipsy, as you try your hardest to fit the key into the door's lock. “I can’t open the door with you all over me.”

You laugh once more when Steve begins kissing your neck once again. His trimmed beard tickles your neck. 

On the other hand, Steve had a bit too much to drink. And that's all your doing. 

You know he feels he can never have too much to drink at these events, especially with you there. The events are filled with some of the most inimical people worldwide. So he always wants to be on his A-game for you. But that’s what body guards are for, you had argued. Pushing for him to have the time of his life with some of his friends.

Now here he was: drunk and his body cradling yours, as the two of you struggle to get in the house. 

“I just love you, baby,” his words slur as he kisses your cheek. 

“I love you too,” You tell him, so close to getting the fucking key to fit. 

“I can’t wait to get you inside,” his voice rich and husky as he seals his promise. 

“Baby, I don’t even think you could get it up right now.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve removes himself as your shell, both arms up in defense while he takes a few steps back.  

When your senses finally catch up that he’s no longer hovering over you. You quickly turn, just stopping him before he tumbles down the step. 

You hold both his hands, then let one go to grab the side of this face, “Honey, your drunk off your ass right now—“

“I am not! You just called my game weak,”

“That’s not what I said, but I need you to stand silently so I can open the door, okay?”

“Okay, pretty” he answers, landing a soft peck on your lips.

You smile as you finally open the door, reaching behind you to clasp Steve’s hand so you can pull him in. 

You close the door behind him, toeing your shoes off, giggling when he has trouble with his. But five ‘fucks’ later, he finally gets it done. 

“Woooo!!” Steve shoots his hand up in a v, as if his team just won the super bowl. 

You’re quick to drop his arms back down to his sides, “Shhh, baby. You’re screaming.”

“I am?! I’m sorry,” his hands cup your cheeks as he pulls you for yet another kiss. 

“Honey,” you laugh into his sloppy kiss. “Let’s go to bed, hm? And get some water into you.”

“I don’t wanna do bed,” he whines. “I wanna do you,” he smirks, moving one hand to grip your hip.

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m really tired.” You feign a dramatic yawn. 

“You are? Okay, that’s okay, okay?” he kisses your nose this time. 

Drunk sex isn’t something that hasn’t been checked off your and Steve’s list. But Steve is sloshed and can barely walk straight, so sex would not be on the menu for tonight. 

“Let’s head up.” You wrap his arm over your shoulder, walking up the steps carefully. 

-

He’s sitting at the end of the bed, his coat beside him, as you unbutton his dress shirt. You would’ve let him do it himself, but he was struggling with his lack of hand-eye coordination. Playfully slapping your hand every time your hands got close to his shirt. Giggling and joking that there would be no sexy times. That was until he had made you oath you’d keep your hands innocent. 

Ever your affectionate, drunk lover. 

“Are you sure you feel alright? Don't need to throw up or anything?” You ask Steve once again. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tells you then takes another swig of water.

It only takes ten minutes until he’s in his sweatpants, with no boxers (under his request). You’re changed and ready for bed, tired out from an eventful day. Steve’s favorite movie playing in the background. 

Steve cuddles up close, half his brawny body on yours, his leg splayed over yours, and his head nestled on your chest. 

Your fingers run through his hair soothingly. 

“Y/n?”

You hum a response.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I love you too,” 

“I love you too.” you laugh breathily at his mistake. 

A comfortable pause ensues. 

“Y/n?” His hand shimmies under your t-shirt, to caress your soft skin. 

“Yes, honey,” you can’t help but laugh at the way he calls for your attention. You don’t think you’ve heard your actual name from his mouth so consistently. 

“I think I wanna— I know I want to start trying soon. I wanna be a dad, a good dad.”

Your hand stills.

“What?” Your voice is quiet and relayed with shock. Your heart no longer in your chest. 

He wants to try. The two of you tied the knot two months ago. However, talk of whether you guys wanted to start a family or not was shut down by Steve every time. You never wanted to push, but you also wanted to know what to expect. 

Either way, He was adamant that he wasn’t ready. There was no way he could raise a baby to be half a decent human being with his trauma lingering in the shadows, among other things

He sits up abruptly, “I know, I know. I’m not sober, but I’m not lying either. I’m ready, honey… if you are.” He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“Okay,” you smile, “If you remember, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He kisses your cheek before cuddling into you once again. “I wanna be the perfect dad, y/n. The best.”

“You will be.” 

You tell him sweetly, your eyes stinging as you run your fingers through his hair once more. 

-

a/n: srry it's been so long, college keeps me busy 24/7! here's this as i try and finish binky fairy pt. 2

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part 3

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve wants to be self-sabotaging. He wants to give Eddie a reason to break up with him. To end this before Steve ends up hurting him. Yet he's also helplessly in love, so instead of being ten minutes late for their date, he's fifteen minutes early.

He forgot he was going to just honk the horn until Eddie appeared and only remembers he was going to do it after he's already knocked on the front door. Eddie answers, looking as beautiful as ever even though he wore that shirt yesterday, but the jeans are clean, and his hair is brushed. Steve does manage to hold himself back from opening the passenger door for Eddie like he usually does, instead sliding himself into the driver's seat.

Eddie does shoot him a curious glance but Steve's careful about not looking at him as he starts the car and heads towards the bowling alley.

Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin are also at the bowling alley. It's not exactly a coincidence they run into them because Steve knew they would be here. (Sabotage was the goal. Turning their three-month-aversary into a group hangout might do the trick.) But Eddie likes bowling, and their friends, and also seems to be using the group atmosphere to hang off of Steve more than he would if they were bowling just the two of them.

And if Steve's being honest with himself, part of him knew that would happen, too. That Eddie wouldn't mind the group because their friends cover for them wordlessly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and suddenly Jonathan is standing between them and anyone who could see. Eddie leans in to give him a quick cheek kiss and Robin is at Steve's other side doing the same thing. Argyle and Nancy spread out across the seating, leaving barely enough room for Eddie and Steve to sit, so their close proximity looks forced rather than wanted.

And Steve's bad at not wanting Eddie. He finds himself reaching out and having to snatch his hands back. He plays hot and cold all night and it does have the desired effect. He can see Eddie's patience waning, can feel a shift in their dynamic and his stomach twists with shame.

He keeps conversation with Robin, and Jonathan, and Nancy, and Argyle. But not Eddie. He doesn't outright ignore Eddie, though. When Eddie talks to him, he answers but he doesn't initiate conversation. Uses as few words as possible to answer before rushing to take his turn.

He should apologize.

He can't say anything.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie has to leave him.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie leaving will ruin him forever.

Eddie should hate him, so this would be easier.

Eddie should love him, so this would be easier.

Steve's a goddamn mess all night, and no one calls him on it.

Why would they? They think he's going to hurt Eddie anyway.

-

"Did I... do something?" Eddie asks. Steve feels a little sick to his stomach as he puts the car in park in front of Eddie's house but doesn't turn the key. After tonight it's not likely he'll get invited in anyway.

"What?"

"You've been distant all day, dude," Eddie says and Steve can hear the frustration in his voice. He also notices that Eddie called him dude, which he hasn't done since their first date. "Distant for a while now, actually."

"Sorry. I didn't realize," Steve lies, staring straight ahead. The voice in his head keeps chanting 'just break up with me already' because Steve knows it needs to happen, but he can't do it. But also he's thinking 'tell me you love me so I know we're in this together' and also 'I want to love you but I'm scared'. His whole mind is a contradiction right now.

Eddie looks at him, face carefully neutral, "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Steve is quick to say, because it is true and he doesn't want Eddie to think this is his fault somehow. "You didn't do anything."

"So, is it something I haven't done?" Eddie asks.

"No." Yes. But also no. Tell me you want this as much as I do. Tell me you hate me.

Eddie looks down to his hands, which are fiddling with his rings. They sit in silence because Steve doesn't know what to say. After what feels like an eternity, Eddie must decide something because he nods to himself and says, "right." before he climbs out of the passenger seat and slams the door shut.

The slam sounds so loud, so clear, so final, that Steve feels something inside him crack, echoing the slam. He rips off his own seatbelt and climbs from his car quickly, the need to reach Eddie before he closes himself behind his front door suddenly very important, suddenly overriding any other thought he's had. Steve just knows that if Eddie gets his door closed, then Steve really will have proven everyone right.

And he doesn't want to.

He feels it in his bones that if Eddie makes it into his house, and gets his front door closed before Steve says anything, that it will be with the thought that Eddie somehow fucked up their relationship and Steve will not be able to live with himself if Eddie believes that.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve shouts as he rounds the front of his car, beelining for the door.

His shout works, because Eddie, hand clasped on the doorknob, twists to look over his shoulder instead of opening the door. Eddie doesn't hide the hurt on his face, or the pain in his voice, "What, Harrington?"

Steve doesn't know what he's going to say, hasn't planned for this. He had never wanted either of them to hurt in this relationship, not in a way they couldn't fix (he'd promised Wayne three months ago-), yet he let his mind take him down the road of self-destruction. Self-sabotage. He'd fucking planned to ruin their date. Eddie should leave him.

And yet.

Steve might feel he's not good enough, or nice enough, or changed as a person enough to deserve Eddie, but in the end, Steve thinks, realizes, it's not his decision if Eddie finds him deserving or not. That's on Eddie.

And now, seeing Eddie, who always looks beautiful but now looks hurt, Steve doesn't want to just give up because everyone he cares about thinks he's not good enough. He doesn't want to have ruined this. If he can just be open, and honest, then Eddie will at least hear him out. He's just got to say something true. He opens his mouth and- "I love you."

Eddie's hand drops from the doorknob as his whole body turns to face Steve. His eyes are wild and wide as he asks, "What?"

That wasn't what Steve had thought he would say, but now that it's out he doesn't want to pretend he didn't say it. But he's possibly also having some sort of manic episode because he just starts talking and can't stop. "I'm in love with you, Eddie, and it fucking scares me to death, because no one seems to think that I can, or that I deserve to, but I do and I want to. I've just been spiraling thinking about it and about how everyone thinks I'm just going to hurt you, because that's the last thing I want to do, ever. But then I just spent this entire night trying to make you hate me which just means that I am hurting you. And, also, if more than one person makes a point to like, bring it up to my face, that I'm just going to hurt you, there's got to be some truth to what they say, right? Multiple people aren't usually wrong and now I've proven them right anyway because I've been an asshole to you this whole day, whole week if I'm really honest, and I hate myself for that beca-"

Eddie shuts Steve up by grasping both his shoulders and shaking him like a ragdoll. Steve didn't even register that he'd left the porch and had walked up to him. "Stevie, Steve, shh. You gotta slow down, sweetheart. That's a lot to take in."

"Right. Right, sorry," Steve's voice sounds watery to his own ears, and also Eddie looks a little watery, which is odd and- oh. He's crying, he realizes, when one of Eddie's hands moves to swipe a tear from his cheek.

"Go inside, sweetheart," Eddie nudges him towards the door, "I'm going to turn off your car and I'll be right in."

Steve obeys because he's pretty good at following instructions. Unfortunately, it does mean he just stands anxiously in the entrance hall waiting for Eddie to come in behind him because the only instruction was 'go inside'. Steve's not even aware that he's worried Eddie might not follow until he comes back into view and a wave of relief washes over Steve.

Eddie leads him down the hall to his bedroom before making Steve take off his shoes and clamber into the bed. Eddie fusses and arranged them so that Eddie is sat up against the headboard and Steve is cuddled up between his legs, head tucked under Eddie's chin. Steve worms his hands behind Eddie's back to hug him, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve to return the embrace.

"Stevie, I got to be honest, I thought you were wanting to break up with me today," Eddie says.

Steve tightens his hold just a bit, "No. And yes. But also never?"

"That makes no sense."

"The thought of breaking up... I'm not going to lie, Eddie, I have thought it. But not because it's what I want. It's because there were moments when I thought it was what would be best, for you."

"How the fuck do you reckon it would be 'best for me' to break up with me?" Eddie is rubbing soothing circles on Steve's back, so he doesn't think he's in too much trouble.

"I let... I just got into my head about things. Your uncle gave me the shovel talk, which yeah, okay, fair. He's basically your dad, he's supposed to be on the lookout for people who would hurt you. But then, he wasn't the only one. And no one straight up said I would, for sure, end up hurting you, but then I learned that no one had given you a shovel talk and I just- Fuck. This all sounds so stupid! I don't want someone to threaten you. That's not what this is about but it's just- it feels like- why doesn't anyone care that I might get hurt, too? And then everything spiraled."

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head. Steve doesn't deserve this comfort.

"I just- I found myself thinking that like, if I just broke my own heart first, by breaking up, then they wouldn't be right. But also like, they wouldn't be wrong, because breaking up would hurt you, too, and then they'd pick sides and they'd pick yours because they were right about me but also, they're wrong because you have the power to fuck me up, too. 'Cause I love you."

"That's the third time you've told me," Eddie says.

"You don't have to say it back," Steve is quick to say, "I just- Now that I've said it, I can't seem to stop but you don-"

"I'm in love with you, too, you know," Eddie whispers, cutting Steve off as one of Eddie's hands comes up to play with Steve's hair. That thing that cracked inside him early, the feeling that made Steve call out to Eddie, settles back together somewhere deep within him.

Eddie plays with his hair for a bit before he says, "It's super fucking shitty of our friends to put that on you. And I'm sorry for not noticing that you were hurting. If it helps, Robin has given me a shovel talk. Kinda. I think she also gave one to Nancy at the same time? But for like, past you." That gets a chuckle out of Steve. "And Erica threatened to slash my tires if I hurt you, not even a full two weeks ago. And I don't think she even means like a breakup hurt. I think if she learns about today, she'll slash my tires even though we talked it out. Or, will have talked it out, by the time she finds out. Which I hope she doesn't. Because she'll slash my tires."

Steve is a little amused at the end of Eddie's speech because Eddie does sound, just a little bit, afraid of Erica. He tilts his head up and presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie's jaw and then freezes, because he's not sure he should have. Not after how he's treated Eddie this past week, and today especially. But Eddie doesn't react like he's upset. His fingers still glide through Steve's hair and his other hand rests on Steve's back in a half embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Eds," Steve says, shoving his face into Eddie's neck. "About today, this whole week, for- for everything. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, sweetheart," Eddie whispers back, "I let myself think things of you, you know. Shit I know isn't true, and wouldn't be, because I was scared, too. That I'd fallen for you. I didn't let myself believe you'd love me back, so I thought some really awful things."

"Well, I acted on my thoughts, so you don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. And I accept your apology."

Steve huffs, breath warming his face along with Eddie's neck. "I don't think you did anything wrong, but I accept your apology, too."

They lay for a few moments more before Eddie's shoving softly at Steve, to get him to roll over, onto his side. He does, facing Eddie, and Eddie rolls onto his side to face him. Immediately Steve's hand seeks out Eddie's, he can't stand to not be touching him in some form right now. Steve slots their fingers together, and Eddie curls his fingers down to grip back. Steve brings their joined hands to his lips, placing a kiss on Eddie's knuckles before he says, "So, where do we do from here?"

"I don't know the where," Eddie gives him a soft smile, "but I do know that I want it to be together. So, I guess we just, go forward, together. With more talking. You have to let me know when you're hurting, babe. I can't help if I don't know."

"I know," Steve nods, "I know. And I'll try. I promise, I'll try my best but I don't- what if I can't?"

"I think you can," Eddie says. "You did, today, just now. And I guess, on nights we're really mad at each other, we go to bed mad but together. Same bed. Because I'll need the reassurance of you being here."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll do that," Steve says before pressing one more kiss to Eddie's knuckles, then letting their hands drop back to the bed. There's more talking to be done, Steve's sure. He wants to explain himself better, more thoroughly, but Eddie is content to let him lay here so Steve's going to take it for now. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie says, soft smile on his face. "You work tomorrow?"

"No," Steve says, "why?"

"Redo date. Make it a whole day thing. Just us," Eddie explains with a shrug, "Not that the bowling wasn't fun. Just-"

"Yeah," Steve is quick to agree, both because he wants a redo, too, and because he doesn't want to hear the rest of Eddie's sentence. "How about we go to Indy for the day?"

"Sounds great. Now, let's get some PJs on and channel surf until we find something tolerable," Eddie leans in, giving Steve a quick kiss before rolling himself off the bed and beginning the search for pajamas. Steve's happy to watch him bend over the various piles of clothes around his room.

[teasteeper]

ohh i like this…. i got carried away T_T (sorry anon, i had to delete the original ask bc tumblr deleted half of this when i first posted it. i hope u see this <3)

suggestive 18+ mdni

before you started working for them hendery couldn't care less about getting his makeup done, seeing it as a time to scroll through his phone, his eyes burning after waking up only thirty minutes prior. he's truly a man in that he doesn't get makeup, barely noticing a difference between his bare face and his face after sitting in the chair for an hour. he hates those tiny angled brushes near his eyes, the feeling of foundation suffocating. he honestly prefers the days when he's running late, getting pushed into the chair while all the makeup artists band together to make him look flawless in under ten minutes. the less time he has to spend getting his makeup done, the better.

that's until the day you started, brushing glitter onto yangyang's eyelids as hendery stumbled through the door forty five minutes late, a baggy hoodie draped over his shoulders and his hair sticking up in all directions. did he even wake up?, he thinks, frozen awkwardly in place as he deciphers whether his tired eyes were actually staring at the prettiest girl he's ever seen or if he was still dreaming.

the artist hunched over kun subtly rolls her eyes at the sight of hendery, tapping your shoulder and pointing to him with her foundation cushion, "i'll finish yangyang's makeup. you can start on him"

hendery sits in the makeup chair, heart racing as you pick up your bag of supplies and move towards him. it's too early for this, he thinks, the soft smile you give him and your sweet vanilla scent, your fingers gently clipping his hair away from his face. it all goes straight to his dick, his mind still half asleep and morning wood not yet fully soft. yeah, it's too early for this.

from then on he sets his alarms extra early, fixing his hair and putting on a decent outfit before getting to set on time, aiming to make getting his makeup done last as long as possible. the members couldn't care less, just happy that he hasn't been late for weeks. but you notice, looking forward to the early mornings you spend talking and laughing together. there's no use denying your big dumb crush on him, butterflies in your tummy when you tell him to look up at you, instantly following your command and showing you his big pretty eyes so you can do his eyeliner.

he actually starts to take an interest in makeup, purely because it's your job, and he swells with pride when you start to take an interest in wayv, listening to their music on the regular and getting fully invested in the team. to hendery it feels like you're his biggest fan, waiting off stage between performances so you can touch up his makeup and fix his hair.

this week finally comes around, and everyone's on edge, what with kcon and countless other performances wayv's scheduled to do. hendery's happy to see you loading your luggage into one of the black suvs parked outside the company building to take you all to the airport. you're there after every performance, his eyes scanning through the crowd of staff members for you. he gives you a tired lopsided smile as he steps forward, spreading his feet apart to make himself shorter. then you feel his hands on your hips, and you're left staring wide eyed at his closed eyes, waiting for you to powder his face. it feels like you're standing like that for hours, the soft weight of his hands on your hips, his abs tensing with his heavy breaths. who the fuck chose this outfit? his jacket mostly unzipped with no shirt underneath, the elastic of his briefs on full display. the worst part is he knows he looks good, flashing you his smile before running back to the stage for their next song.

you think this might be the best job ever as you pack up your makeup bag, watching the last song of their performance on the monitor backstage. hendery finds you again as soon as they're backstage, "follow me" he whispers, placing a hand on your lower back and looking over his shoulder as he ushers you toward the artists' entrance and through the door outside.

"hendery wh-" you're backed against one of the black suvs parked outside, hendery's hands on your hips like before. they tremble with adrenaline, sweat dripping down his temple with heavy breaths passing through his lips. "can i kiss you?"

you can barely finish your whimpered consent before he's dipping his head down, lips crashing to yours in a heated kiss. he's surprisingly gentle, grounding himself by pressing his fingers into your hips. muscles flex in his jaw and his cheeks hollow, swallowing your dreamy sighs. you're fully pinned to the car behind you, your tshirt riding up and his belt buckle cold as it presses against your tummy.

your hips are pressing up against his, whimpering into his mouth, and his restraint snaps. his arm circles your waist and pulls you into him so he can open the door to the backseat, "get in, baby" he's relieved it isn't locked, watching your shirt ride up your back as you crawl in.

he wastes no time pulling your leg over his hips so you're straddling him, tipping his head back to kiss you. he has to be back inside in a few minutes, hands roaming your body to feel as much of you as possible. his lips trail down your jaw, softly sucking marks onto your neck. he leans back every few seconds to check his work, addicted to the way your skin blotches and shines with his spit.

and you're even better than he dreamed you'd be, impatiently jerking your hips against his, your chest pressed to his and your arms clung around his neck. with the way you just melt in his hands, he figures you'd let him fuck you right here in the back of the luxury car. he nearly considers getting his cock out and making you sit on it, but the bubble around you two bursts, two loud knocks striking the car window. hendery's manager shuffles awkwardly outside, his back turned to you as if he hadn't just seen you two drooling into each others' mouths.

hendery turns back to you with an exasperated expression and feign panic in his voice, "does my makeup look okay?"

"i'll fix it" you smile, wiping your lip gloss from his mouth.

[playgrl0]

it's always been you / hanma

wc: 2,533

when hanma picks up his phone and hears your sniffles at the other end of the line, he knew right away what the reason for your tears were. he tells you to send him your location and stay where you are and that he's gonna pick you up. with a deep sigh he grabs his zip up hoodie and leaves to come and pick you up.

you went on a date with this ´funny looking´​ guy, as shuji would say. he has no idea what you see in him and he doesn't like that you hang out with him. at all.why? hanmathinks that he makes it pretty obvious that he likes you romantically. he doesn’t hide it at all, he constantly flirts with you and is extremely touchy, just like a boyfriend would be.

but hanma is your best friend, not your boyfriend. he never told you straight up that he's in love with you though. and you’re probably the most oblivious human on this planet, which is pretty amusing to him, so he wants you to figure it out yourself. when you first told him that you're talking to and hanging out with another guy that isn't him, he felt like committing arson. you told him that the reason you started talking to him was because you wanted to get over another guy that you were crushing on, and forget about him. so, you're using a guy to get over another one, and none of those boys are him? committing arson wouldn't be enough at this point.

about ten minutes after your call, hanma finally arrives at a bus station a few houses away from where that boy lives. you’re sitting on the bench, face finally dry from the few tears that were streaming down your face not too long ago. the sound of hanma’s bike catches your attention and you watch how he parks the bike, gets off, walks over to you and sits down next to you.

“d’ya want me to beat the fuck outta him?” he speaks up and takes off his zip up hoodie, “i think he’d look better with a few bruises and blood streaming down his face. that fucking asshole.” he mumbles as he puts the hoodie over your shoulders and then pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking. you only shake your head no as you put the hoodie on properly and keep staring straight ahead, which hanma finds weird. it's so unlike you to be quiet, even when you’re upset. that guy must've really hurt your feelings and hanma plans on hurting him way worse once he took care of you. “you wanna tell me what happened?” he asks and takes another drag from his cigarette. you sigh, “long story short, he said that i'm not good enough and he prefers a girl he's been talking to behind my back.” you quietly answer him. oh how hanma would love nothing more than to beat this guy unconscious. not good enough? you? the most amazing person he has ever met? and he knows, hanma knows that he should comfort you right now but since he's hanma, he cant help himself and let out a comment he's been waiting to say to you the second you called because he knew this would happen.

“i told you he's an asshole but you didn't listen.” he shrugs and earns a slap on the back of his shoulder. “thanks for nothing. drive me home.” you grumble and get up from the bench and walk over to his bike. he follows you with a smirk gracing his lips. “the fuck are you smirking at?” you ask pissed, arms crossed over your chest. he chuckles as he puts the helmet he specifically bought stole for you on your head. he makes sure it's secure and chuckles. “you’re not actually pissed at me and i'm not taking you home. you’re sleeping at my place tonight. hop on the bike.” he gets on and waits for you to get on as well. you sit on the bike behind hanma and wrap your arms around his middle. once he feels your arms holding tightly onto him, he starts driving you both to his place. you lean your head against his back, as good as the helmet allows it, close your eyes and think about everything that has happened. you knew from the beginning that dating this guy wouldn't end well. you knew that he was an asshole, shuji was right. fuck, you dont even have feelings for that guy, at all. you only wanted to distract yourself. at this point you’ll try everything to forget about him. to forget your feelings about shuji. right now it's hard to ignore those feelings. your stomach is filled with butterflies as you hold onto your best friend. you shouldn't feel like this about him. you shouldn't feel your knees weaken every time he smiles at you, your heart beating faster every time he touches you. it's so wrong. he's your best friend and that's all he’ll ever be.

“we’re here.” hanma's deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. he stops the bike in front of his apartment building and gets off. he turns to you and gently removes the helmet from your head, then holds your hand to help you off the bike. and once again, your heart beats faster at his touch. you finally make your way into his apartment where you remove your shoes first and then walk into his bedroom where you flop face down onto his bed. you hear him chuckle behind you and he lets himself fall beside you. he's laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling while you're still on your stomach, face buried in his pillows. “how’re you feeling? wanna talk about it?” he breaks the short silence. you turn your head to look at him, his beautiful side profile makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself starting to grow frustrated once again. why is he so handsome? you turn away again, “i'm pissed but i'm okay. i'll just find another guy. no problem.” you mutter into his pillows. hanma turns to look at you and is met with the back of your head. without realizing it his hand travels to your head where he starts to comfortingly scratch your scalp. it's something he’s always done to you, ever since you two were little. he does it when he knows you’re not feeling well, it helps you calm down and feel better. you turn your head back to him with a smile. “if you keep doing this i'll fall asleep.” he removes the hand and grins back at you. “you’re not going to sleep until you tell me what's going on with you.” “what do you mean?” you frown. a sigh leaves hanma's lips, “i mean, what's up with with you and wanting to desperately date someone? you never cared about relationships like that and it's so unlike you to just go out and date random idiots.” you turn to lay on your back as well and stare at the ceiling. fuck, what now? do you tell him the truth or should you lie? lying to him wouldn't even work anyway. he knows you too well and he knows when you’re lying. you suck at it. “earth to y/n?!” hanma pulls you out of your thoughts once again and pushes your shoulder with his. “c’mon, talk to me.”

you sigh deeply and sit up, leaning against the headboard of his bed, he follows your moves and looks at you, waiting for you to finally speak. "okay,” you sigh again. “i've been dating all these boys because i thought i could find the right one and that he would help me forget about my feelings that i have for someone else.” hanma hides his disappointment really well. it’s been hard for him to see you dating one guy after another and then telling him right into his face that you have real feelings for someone else. someone that isn’t him. fuck. but this isnt about him right now, its about you and he needs to make you feel better. if there’s one thing in this world that shuji hanma hates, it's seeing you upset. “oh. well, why do you want to forget about that other person so badly? why not just confess to them?” he casually speaks up. “yeah, no! i’m going to stop you right there. i definitely won't do that. it’ll ruin everything.” you mumble the last part quietly but he still hears it. “ruin what?” he frowns. “ugh, our friendship! it’ll ruin our fucking friendship!” you burst out, feeling super frustrated at this point. and what does hanma do?

he fucking laughs.

you look at him with the hardest death stare. “what’s so fucking funny?” you huff. hanma finally calms down and wipes an imaginary tear from under his eye. “a friendship? i’m literally the only friend you have. you have no friends other than me, idiot.” he finishes his sentence with a small chuckle and lays back down, both arms resting behind his head. your face heats up at his words. no, its fucking burning. you feel like your skin is about to burn off your bones. did you say too much? does he know now?

“i do have other friends, bastard!” you stutter over your words. “the sweet old lady that lives across from you and the little boy from the playground dont count. i’m your one and only.” he has the most proudest and widest shit eating grin on his face. “fuck you!” you throw one of his pillows at him and press another one on his face, trying to not actually suffocate him. he easily snatches the pillow from you and throws it right back at you. you catch it and bury your face in it. when you don't remove your face from the pillow again and don't say a word for a while, hanma grows nervous. did he say something wrong? he softly pinches your leg, “what’s wrong?” you finally remove the pillow and lay down next to him with a deep sigh. “you caught me.” you mumble defeated. “what do you mean?” he is more than confused right now. “that i like you.” the words leave your mouth faster than you wanted to. they just slipped out.

the both of you are staring at each other now, both of your eyes wide open and in shock. “shut the fuck up! i’m the guy you've been trying to forget about?” you dont think you’ve ever seen him so shocked at something before. “no! fuck! i didnt mean to..ugh! no, yes! yes, it's you. it’s always been you.” you ramble on while hiding your face behind your hands. hanma is a smiling mess right now. he just watches you being all flustered and listens to your rambles. he didn’t think it would be impossible for you to catch feelings for him, he just never thought that it would actually happen and he is more than fucking happy right now.

he quickly rolls on top of you and removes your hands from your face. he is met with your beautiful eyes that are staring right back at him in shock. this isn’t the first time in your friendship that he's on top of you or that you've been on top of him, but you just confessed your love to him and now he's laying right on top of your body and you feel like you might explode from feeling so embarrassed. you wish you could just sink right into the mattress and then disappear completely.

“cat got your tongue? what happened to your rambling?” he breaks the silence, smirking. “fuck off!” you whine, turning your head away. you know him too damn well so you know that hes gonna tease the fuck out of you now and hes going to have the time of his life with this. he suddenly grabs your chin and turns your head back to look at him. “i know you’re fucking embarrassed right now and i find it hilarious,” the smirk never leaves his lips and you roll your eyes at him. “but, i like you as well. i’m pretty sure you knew that though.”“shuji?? i did not know that?!” you squeal. “oh? i thought i was being pretty obvious. you’re just blind i guess.” he chuckles. “but anyway, i do like you as well. and now that you know that, please stop going out with other men before i end up murdering them all.” you both break out into a fit of laughter. hanma lets his head fall into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him.

the laughter dies down after a short while and he mumbles against your neck, “please be my girlfriend?” he asks a bit careful and removes his head from your neck to look at you. “yeah,” you answer, smiling like an idiot. “i’ll be your girlfriend, yes!” you happily pull him into a hug, his head buried in your neck again. “thank god you said yes, i would've actually went on a murder spree to get rid of every single man.” “i know you would.” you laugh again as he pulls his head away from you again, his hand softly brushing over your warm cheek. “so, i can kiss you now that you're my girl, right?” he grins. “of course!” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours and in that moment you feel like this is not only the happiest moment of your life, but also the most beautiful one. you thought and dreamt about this very moment so many times more than you would like to admit to yourself, but the reality of having his lips move softly against yours is a million times better than any of your dreams have ever been. his lips are surprisingly soft and warm and they're moving perfectly against yours, his tongue brushing over your bottom lip every once in a while. you don’t want this moment to end, ever, and neither does hanma. he’s kissing you gently but with a small hint of desperation and his big, calloused hands cupping your cheeks. he deepened the kiss and you pulled him as close to your body as you possibly could and both of you wanted more, more of each other, but your air is ran out so you finally pulled away and now you’re looking into each others eyes again while panting softly.

“fuck, if i knew kissing you would feel this fucking good, i would’ve hoped ​one of those guys you dated would hurt your feelings way sooner.” he earns a slap on the back of his head for that. “you could’ve confessed as well, why’d you wait so long?” you snap back. “ah, that’s a story for another time. i want more kisses.” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours again.

he kisses you over and over and over again. throughout the entire night. “you’re mine now. forever.” he said.

he’ll never let you go.

tags: @ranscutedoll @bertholdts--butt @zazcie @getcozylove @hoshiko @nanaosaki3940 @nanamikentoseyebags @sin-and-punishment @peachebmad @wakashawty @shamelessperfectionhideout @vmlnrz @saintokkotsu @satanlovesusall666 @kiirsteinn @noritopia @gothamgurl2024 @unknownspecies

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