#for all the hoops i had to jump through to figure this out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelalorian · 1 month

Text

Fall Into Me - Chapter Six: And I Knew My Heart Wasn't Mine

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling in love. Finally some smut-ish stuff. Dry humping on the couch. Joel is his own warning. Tommy keeping it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Five | Main Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, you reviewed an email on your phone from the Texas Education Agency. Relief washed over you. The State Board finally approved your certification after jumping through a million hoops, just in time for your upcoming meeting at Sarah’s school.

Yet another step closer to finally feeling like an actual adult contributing to society.

“Morning, Spud,” your dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. “You’re up early. Did you have fun with Sarah yesterday?”

“I figured I’d seize the day and all that. I had a blast yesterday! Sarah is so smart, and Joel was really nice, as always,” you replied, playing down quite how much of a roll Joel had in making the day so enjoyable. You still couldn’t believe how things worked out.

Joel Miller, dead sexy single father, liked you, wanted to be with you. Little morsels of doubt tried to weasel their way into your mind, trying to make you question what was so special about you that a man like Joel would be interested in. You shook those thoughts away, resolving to believe that you deserved someone like him, someone who liked you for who you were and not who they wanted you to be.

“He comes from good stock, that Joel,” your dad interrupted you’re wandering thoughts. “Not sure what happened with Tommy, though. Musta been dropped on his head as a baby or somethin’.”

“Dad!” you laughed, shaking your head. “There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s young, single, and unburdened by responsibility. I imagine you were like that once upon a time.”

“Musta been so long ago I can’t remember,” he replied, hip checking you into the counter when you stood to place your glass in the sink. “Watch yourself there, Spud.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” you replied with an amused eye roll. Your dad watched as you tidied up your little mess from breakfast and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You know, Spud. You’d do well to find a man like Joel. He’s a really good guy. Shame he doesn’t date. All the women go crazy over him.”

Your dad kept going on about Joel’s aversion to dating, but your mind froze on that one simple statement – you’d do well to find a man like Joel. You tuned back in just in time to hear him say, “He needs to settle down with a girl like you. Someone smart and responsible who’ll still give him a run for his money.”

Practically bursting with the urge to admit that you and Joel just officially started seeing each other, you curled your lips between your teeth and just nodded. You promised Joel you’d wait a bit before mentioning anything to your dad and you planned on keeping that promise. “He should be so lucky to find someone like me,” you sassed finally.

The day carried on as you spent some quality time with your dad watching TV and lounging around. It was refreshing and relaxing, reminding you of times past where the two of you spent a bunch of time together.

The urge to text you plagued Joel all day Sunday, distracting his attention from the football game until Tommy finally snatched the phone out of his hands and hid it.

“Enough, brother. You’re like a lovesick fool checking your phone every five fuckin’ seconds. You just spent the day together yesterday. Give her a little breathin’ room,” Tommy chastised. “Women like a little mystery after all.”

Flopping back into the couch cushions with a huff, Joel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to play games with her, Tommy. None of that aloof, hard to get bullshit.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waited until a commercial break to turn to his brother again. “I’m not sayin’ to play games. I’m just sayin’ you don’t need to be up her ass 24/7. You’ll see her every day this week. It’s ok to build up a little healthy anticipation today.”

Joel knew his brother had a point. He just couldn’t help himself. It’d been so long since he felt like this about someone – if he ever really did before – and it was messing with his head. Berating himself for not even kissing you yesterday, Joel wanted to at least text with you today. It felt somehow wrong to not talk to you.

Then again, you hadn’t texted him either.

Tommy made a valiant effort to distract Joel from his thoughts, talking statistics about the game and the players, anything to get the guy talking. It only worked for so long before Tommy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, how ‘bout this. I’ll take Sarah for a dinner and ice cream date tomorrow so you two can spend some time alone. Get a little action in and maybe that’ll help you get your head out of the clouds.”

For the first time in hours, Joel’s face lit up. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Tommy replied. “You two need to figure out if there’s something there and you can’t do that with a ten-year-old hanging around all the time. Not unless you want to scar her for life.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to take his phone back. Before letting go of it, Tommy grinned. “I already texted her for you. You’re welcome.”

Ripping his phone out of his brother’s hand, Joel scrolled through his text messages to find what Tommy sent you.

JM: Hey sweetheart. Netflix and chill tomorrow?

He only knew what that meant because of Tommy and you had to know that wasn’t something Joel would say. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!” Joel growled, his ears turning red from what you must think. He was about to really lay into his brother for overstepping when you responded.

You: Netflix and chill, huh? Sounds like my kinda date 😉

Not expecting that response, Joel chuckled. Maybe Tommy knew exactly what he was doing after all.

“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he saw the goofy smile on his brother’s face.

Joel ignored him, proceeding to ask you about your day. The two of you texted back and forth well into the night until it was time for bed.

Climbing between the cold sheets of his large, empty bed, Joel wished you were there with him. He could already imagine you there, falling asleep together after a romp or two, waking up next to you in the morning. It sounded like heaven to him.

Hmm, maybe he could Netflix and chill his way to convincing you to spend the night tomorrow.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked into Joel’s house Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered Joel, knelt on the floor, staring down at a mess of pancake mix surrounding him and Sarah giggling her little heart out at the breakfast table.

“What happened here?” you asked, hands on your hips and eyes surveying the damage. “Did you have a fight with the boxed pancake mix.”

“He really did!” Sarah exclaimed, still laughing. “It went everywhere!”

“I see that,” you replied, grinning at her before turning back to Joel.

He stared up at you with wide, sad eyes and shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get it open and then it just…” His arms spread wide, gesturing at the powdery mess on the tile in such an endearing way. You couldn’t stop your smile from growing wider.

“Go finish getting ready for work. I’ll get Sarah some cereal and clean this mess up,” you directed, gently pulling him to his feet and around the mess.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess, sweetheart,” Joel replied, pulling you in for a hug. You could tell the warm press of your bodies together made him feel better and you basked in it as well, not minding the bit of pancake mix that transferred to your clothes.

“Don’t worry, I got it. Now git!” One hand swatted at his ass playfully as he rushed out of the room. “Now, what kind of cereal do you want, nugget?”

Fifteen minutes later, Joel returned to find the mess gone and you running a mop over the tile to wipe away any last remnants of the pancake mix disaster. Sarah already finished her cereal and was upstairs brushing her teeth before it was time to head to school. When you put the mop back into the bucket, Joel crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down your arms. Joel pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear and left a trail of kisses down your neck. The feel of his lips on your skin exceeded any expectations you had, and a contented sigh left your own lips.

With a hurried tenderness, he spun you around in his arms, the mop forgotten as it nearly fell out of the bucket. Faces close together now, your eyes drank in every detail of him from the richness of his dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose, the purposeful stubble of his beard, and, finally, to the fullness of his bottom lip. You could feel his eyes doing the same, drinking in every bit of your face before tilting his head impossibly closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Joel murmured; lips nearly pressed to yours already and you hummed in approval.

After all the weeks of mutual pining and self-doubt, Joel finally kissed you. It started as a soft press of lips and quickly morphed into an overwhelming need to devour each other when his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, begging entry to deepen the kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues tangled as you tasted each other – somehow, the taste of coffee was suddenly appealing when it came from Joel’s mouth.

Hands wandered – his over your curves and yours into his luscious, dark curls. Joel’s hair felt as silky as it looked, and you had been itching to get your fingers in it from the moment you met him.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps bouncing down the stairs broke the two of you apart, breathless, and dazed.

“Wow,” Joel murmured, struggling to remove his hands from your waist.

You smiled up at him, equally unwilling to remove your fingers from his hair. “Exactly,” you whispered, stepping back with your hands at your side just as Sarah entered the kitchen.

“I’m ready!” she declared excitedly and you both grinned at her cuteness.

“Okay, nugget. Let’s head out.”

Heart melting in your chest, you watched Joel and Sarah do their morning routine of saying goodbye. The love between the two of them was so strong it was like a tangible thing you could hold in your hands. Nostalgia washed over you as memories of your own childhood, moments like this with your dad, flooded your mind. What you had with your dad, what Joel and Sarah had together, was a connection that would never fade, only grow stronger with time.

Briefly, you wondered if your evolving relationship with Joel would affect that connection, interfere with it in anyway. You couldn’t move forward with him if that was the case. Some woman showing up and changing the dynamic between you and your dad would have upset you as a child and you refused to be the cause of any upset Sarah felt.

When the two of them stepped back from their hug and grinned at you, any question about your place in their dynamic washed down the drain. You felt nearly dizzy with relief when Sarah quickly said, “Give her a hug, too, Daddy,” and shoved him as hard as she could in your direction.

With a chuckle, Joel gave in to Sarah’s demand, wrapping his arms around you. The broadness of him surrounded you, enveloping you in warmth and a sense of security you’d not experienced before. Was that what love felt like?

“Have a good day, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” Joel’s deep voice was but a whisper in your ear, his lips just grazing your earlobe. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Warmth raced up your neck to your cheeks and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of what you hoped would happen later. “You have a good day too, Joel. Be careful, ok?”

“Always, darlin’.” He winked as you led Sarah out the front door to your car.

The journey to Sarah’s school started off quietly, Sarah bopping along to the music on the radio as you navigated the morning traffic. Your thoughts wandered to what you should wear later when Sarah startled you with a sudden question.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend now?”

She asked the question so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure how to respond. Would she be upset with whatever answer you gave? Was there even a right or wrong answer? What did she want to hear? Mind racing, you settled on asking Sarah a question in return.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

Tilting her head side to side a few times, the little girl contemplated her answer while you held your breath. She turned to you with a smile so big it scrunched up her nose. “Nope! It’d make me really happy.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline.

“Uh huh. You’re the coolest and prettiest. My dad would be lucky if you were his girlfriend,” Sarah admitted with all the confidence and knowledge of a ten-year-old. Another head tilt and she added, “So, are you?”

Equal parts amazed and grateful for Sarah’s acceptance of the idea, you opted for honesty. “I mean, I don’t know,” you shrugged. How could you explain what you had to a 10-year-old? “We haven’t talked about naming it yet, but we did decide to see how we like being together. Does that make sense?”

Sarah gave it a moment of thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s kinda like how you’re a teacher, but not officially until you get the job, right?”

You laughed at the comparison with a nod. “Exactly. I’m as good as your dad’s girlfriend, we just haven’t made titles official yet.” You pulled up in front of the school and it was Sarah’s turn to get out. “Now get going, nugget. Have a good day!”

The little girl bounced out of the car, calling out to one of her friends. Just before you pulled away, you heard Sarah tell the other girl that you were her dad’s not-yet girlfriend.

The day absolutely dragged. Joel could swear that time went backwards every time he looked at a clock. It didn’t help that every single subcontractor gave him a hard time about something today.

The roof trusses arrived six weeks early and the sub refused to take them back even though the damn things would rot before they got to the roofing phase of construction. The company he rented the extra backhoe from wanted to raise their rates in the middle of his contract. The list went on and Joel ran out of patience three hours ago.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of you. Spending time with you. Kissing you. Touching you. Burying himself inside you… He adjusted himself with a sigh. Damn, he needed to put those particular thoughts on ice before he got himself riled up. The workday was shitty enough, he didn’t need the guys giving him a hard time about an untimely chub in his pants.

Finally, Joel had enough of everyone’s bullshit and called it a day, leaving his foreman in charge of the worksite.

“Off to doll yourself up, are ya?” Tommy teased as Joel headed for his truck. Gesturing in the general direction of Joel’s crotch, he added, “You remember how to use that thing? Make sure to clear out the cobwebs and use protection!”

“Jesus, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, climbing into his truck, and driving off. He knew his brother was only teasing, but Joel was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t need Tommy getting in his head. He did have a point about protection, though.

A quick stop at the convenience store to grab a box of condoms, Joel made it home before you and Sarah. Putting on some 90s rock, he jumped in the shower, putting in the extra effort to tidy himself up down there. He wondered if you preferred pubic hair or not. Fearing he was getting way ahead of himself, Joel opted to just trim his down and hoped for the best.

By the time he finished trimming his facial hair and tousling his curls, you and Sarah were downstairs, working on her homework. As he walked down the stairs, Joel could hear you encouraging his daughter to think the questions through and congratulating her when she got the answers right. His heart grew three sizes watching how you were with Sarah. You held his whole world in the palm of your hand and treasured it like the precious cargo it was.

Joel was falling so hard for you. You were quickly gaining the power to destroy him.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called out when she spotted him in the doorway. “We just finished my math homework. Can I play in the backyard?”

He set up a tire swing on the large live oak out back a week ago and it quickly became his little girl’s happy place. “Of course, nugget. Come give your old man a hug first.” Bending down, Joel swept Sarah up in his arms, biceps stretching his shirt sleeves as he swung her around in a circle. Sarah’s laughter echoed through the room, and you smiled sweetly at the pair of them.

“Uncle Tommy’s coming to take you out for dinner and ice cream in a bit. Ok?” Sarah nodded when he settled her back on her feet and raced for the sliding door. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Joel turned to you. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he said, voice deep and velvety.

Your body followed his command without conscious thought, so great the need to be in his arms. “I thought about you all day,” you admitted, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Me, too. Could hardly focus on the job thinking about you and spending this evening together.” He tightened his arms around you, head bending to seal his lips to yours. When your lips parted at his prompting, Joel teased your plush bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s like a tasty little gummy worm,” he teased. “I could nibble on it all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, the little breathless sound music to his ears.

The kiss deepened until you were licking into each other’s mouths, hands wandering and grasping for purchase on any piece of real estate you could reach. Neither of you heard the front door open or the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” he asked cheekily as the two of you sprang apart, disheveled and gasping for breath.

Joel ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “Excellent timing as always, brother.”

“Y’all just couldn’t wait five more minutes, could ya?” Tommy’s grin a mile wide as he teased. “Lemme get the nugget out of here before you two scar her for life.”

You tucked your face into Joel’s shoulder bashfully when Tommy slipped through the sliding door. Joel groaned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t mind him, darlin’. He just likes to bust my balls.”

Ten minutes later, after some hugs from Sarah and more teasing from Tommy, you and Joel were alone. Taking your hand, he led you to the couch. He hoped you didn’t notice that his rough palms were sweaty with nerves. You were abnormally quiet, and he wondered if you were nervous as well.

Seated a few inches apart, the tension became too much. “What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up Netflix on the TV. He barely logged into his account when you suddenly straddled his lap.

“Hi,” you said when he stared at you in surprise. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

“What?” He barely got his mouth to form the word, his brain short circuiting with you in his lap. His grip on the remote loosened, yet neither of you cared when it fell to the ground.

“You.”

There was a moment where you both froze, each waiting for the other to act first. Then the tension snapped, and Joel’s lips crashed against yours. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Tongues tangled in a never-ending dance as your hips tilted, grinding down on him. Joel was uncomfortably hard in moments, pressing up against your warmth.

His hands were everywhere, fingers tenderly tracing the structure of your cheekbones, down the curve of your neck, along the swell of your breasts. They finally settled, grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth, hips bucking in search of more friction.

Gasping for breath, Joel tore his mouth from yours, his hands urging your hips into a rhythm as you dry humped him. His mouth left a trail of scorching kisses down your neck, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to flow down your arms. Your hips rocked, gliding across his hardened length and Joel swore he could feel your wetness breaching through the layer of clothes separating you.

Fuck, how he wanted to taste you, get high on your sweet nectar. He knew, just knew in that primal way, that yours would be the best pussy he ever tasted. His cock swelled impossibly harder at the mere thought of burying his face between your legs.

“Jooooeeelllll.” His name coming from your luscious lips in a drawn-out moan caused his own hips to buck up into you, hitting just the right spot to make you both see stars from the friction alone. His mouth sucked little marks into your neck, leaving his left ear exposed to your mouth as crooned, “I’m gonna come, fuck. You’re gonna make me come in my panties, Joel.”

“Fuck, darlin’. Come all over me, pretty girl. I want to see you fall apart from grinding on me like this. Drench those panties.” Joel sat back a little, just enough to watch your face as your orgasm swept over you. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’ as you trembled above him, delicate hands clenching the meat of his shoulders for balance. A little sheen of sweat dusted your hairline. Fucking beautiful.

Joel was absolutely certain he could feel you drenching his pants as you came, your breath finally coming back in a sharp exhale. He had never been so turned on in his life. Watching you come apart for him, feeling it seep through the layers of clothing became too much. For the first time in his adult life, Joel Miller came in his pants with a desperate whimper.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981 @marirxse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

432 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

Text

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

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

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know.

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”

“What’s there to discuss?”

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.

“You sure?”

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington.

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.”

You’ve never been so short with your friends.

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.

It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”

“Oh, you must see the irony there-”

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.

We really need to just buy a second helmet.

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“What?”

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.

Bastard.

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”

—

You were wrong. They do notice.

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”

Ah, fuck.

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.

Fuck.

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed.

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”

“Is that a good idea?”

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”

“Holy shit.”

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no.

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is.

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.

Well, so much for next time.

You give him a little nod.

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary.

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

And the feeling was mutual.

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“How’d you know?”

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.

And yeah, you did know what to do.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.

Next time. You have to tell him next time.

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you.

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“

Now. Not later, not next time. Now.

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-”

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.

Loving Eddie is easy.

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.

Finally.

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”

His lips meet yours for good measure.

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

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

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #i cannot believe it's over holy shit #holy fucking shit #told y'all the photo would make a reappearance!#im resisting the urge to be so so sappy jesus christ

1K notes · View notes

bookishdreamer28 · 5 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 🌌

𝑩𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄✧

Rhysand

You and Rhysand have been known each other since you were babies. Your mother was best friends with his, and ever since then, you have been inseparable.

As the years passed by, you started developing feelings for him, feelings you'd never thought you'd have for Rhysand because all you were to him and all he was to you, was a best friend. But you couldn't deny the fact that throughout the years, every moment with him, all the laughter you shared together, all the sleepless nights you spent on the balcony, counting the falling stars, made you realize just how much you loved him. And just like that, you realized you were in love with him.

But what you didn't know was that Rhysand felt the same way. Every time you two were together, he felt like he couldn't breath properly. It all happened one solstice, you two were far away fro the crowd wanting to spend some quality time together. You were dancing, singing and having fum on your own. And when the statfall happened, his eyes were glued on you only. He was looking at you as if you one of stars that are falling from the sky, and you landed right next to him. That was one of his favorite moments, and it was specifically the one that he was sure he lost his heart to you.

One night as Rhys laid on his bed ready to sleep, he thought of you. He took a deeb breath and exhaled, trying to find a way to sleep. But he knew it was impossible knowing that you were a room away. He turned on his side and closed his eyes. But then he felt something changing in the atmosphere. He felt like something had knocked a breath out of him and he gasped standing up immediately. Rhys touched his chest feeling his heart beating fast, and he tried to calm himself down. Without spending a second more in his room, Rhys opened the door and started walking straight to your room but before he could knock on your door, you opened it fast. You looked like you jumped through hoops.

"You..." Rhys whispered and took a step closer to you slowly. You were panting, looking like you jumped through hoops.

" Rhys...my mate" your eyes welled up with tears and smiled so wide, that your cheeks were hurting. When Rhys heard you calling him your mate, he chuckled not believing you said these words and cupped your face in his hands.

"My mate" he growled and gave you a deep, love-filled kiss that swept you off your feet. His hands went to your waist and pulled you closer, his warmth enveloping you.

"What's all the fuss about I need to slee- oh" Cassian smirked as his eyes fell on you and Rhys. And then his whole expression into a shocking one. "OH! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE MATES!" He was ready to approach you but stopped in his tracks once he saw Rhys hard expression.

"Don't you dare take a step closer Cassian" he said in a serious, dark voice that gave you shivers and made your legs wobble.

Rhus turned to you and took you in his arms in a bridal style.

"Well guess I'll see you two after a month. Or more"he laughed as Rhus winnowed you to the wind house.

Cassian

Lately everything looked dull to Cassian. Even though he was the life of the party, he recently had become less and less energetic. He felt weird. Watching all these people around him every time he went out being with their other half, made him longing for something like this.

It was late and Cassian wasn't in the mood to rest or talk to anyone at the moment, so he thought it would be best of he took a walk through the beautiful and bright streets of Velaris. When he came across the bar he usually goes with Rhys and Az, he was skeptical about going. Another night getting drunk wouldn't do him any good actually. When he decided to turn around and continue with his walk, a shorter than him figure pumped into him. He heard a small yelp and he instantly made sure that the person wouldn't fall by grabbing them by the shoulders. The girl in front him had her head down, mumbling a few sorrys and once she looked up at him, his breath got caught in his throat. You were so beautiful. He kept staring at you and slowly stepped back.

"I'm so sorry I-"

"It's fine I'm fine a-are you ok? Are you hurt?" He voice was shaking and he wanted to slap himself for that.

You smiled and shook your head.

"Nope I'm good. I'm Y/N"

"Y/N" Cassian whispered, repeating your name. It felt like a sweet nectar rolling down his tongue when he said it.

"Ah...I'm Cassian" He smiled widely and moved closer.

"Nice to meet you! I should go cause I'm in a hurry but I hope to see you again soon!" You said and walked away, looking back one last time.

"Yeah sure bye" he waved and watched you walk away. He wanted to go with you. He didn't care where you went but on thing he knew is that he wanted to be with you. That night when he returned home, he didn't sleep at all. His thoughts were constantly on you.

Ever since that day he made sure to go for a walk every night, with the expectation of seeing you again. And even though he never had the chance to mee you with you yet, he wouldn't give up thay easily.

"Hey Cassian, how about we go for a drink?" Rhys suggested.

"Ah that would be great but I think I'll pass. I thought about going for walk. You know, it's refreshing especially after practicing for hours"

"Whay is up with you lately? Oh don't tell me, is there a woman? Who is it?" Az asked smirking at his brother.

"No nope no woman just me enjoying the chilly fresh air of Velaris anywaysgottago" he said and left Rhys office and his brothers stood there, laughing at his reaction.

Cassian was standing outside the bar, hoping to caught a glimpse of you somewhere in the crowd of the people who passed by. To his disappointment, you were nowhere to be seen and groaned to himself as he took a turn to leave.

"Cassian!" His head whipped up so fast and turned to your direction. There you were. Seeing your beautiful smile after all these days, was the greatest thing to witness. The moment you started walking towards him, something inside him snapped. And he could tell by your expression that you felt it too. You just stood there with your eyes widened. He felt his body shaking and was unable to make a move.

Nothing mattered at the moment. It was just him and you. The bond had finally snapped. And the most unbelievable and extraordinary thing ever, was that you were his mate. You are his other half. You are his everything. You.

He wasted no more time. He ran up to you and swooped you up in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his arms and held him tightly against you. You both started laughing from happiness and when you pulled away from the hug, and leaned in for a kiss. A kiss you both needed more than you thought. Cassian cradled your head and kissed you deeper. He couldn't break away. You couldn't break way.

After a few minutes you pulled away and Cassian looked at you.

"Look at you, my mate. My" he placed a small kiss on your nose "mate" and then another one on your lips again. You giggled and hugged him tight.

"How about we go somewhere with less crowd watching?" You whispered. Cassian didn't look away from your eyes once and said:

"Let them look. I'm the happiest male in Velaris right now." He murmured and sweetly kissed your forehead.

Azriel

His eyes followed your figure carefully. He was captivated by you the moment he stepped foot in the library 2 months ago and saw you reading a book on a table close to the window. He can't really explain what was it that made him want to get to know you but he couldn't help it because he was already intrigued by you. He was sitting on a table a little bit further from yours, and looked your way every now and then. He was now watching you placing the book you've been reading for the past hour back on the shelf, and when you turned around you eyes met. You looked at him with a blushed face since you caught him staring, and hesitantly waved at him.

His eyes widened slightly and cleared his throat standing up from his position. He avoided your gaze at all costs and left the library without glancing once behind him.

The moment he stepped outside he inhaled and exhaled a long breath, trying to take his mind off you. He closed his eyes and yet he could still see your beautiful eyes looking back at him the moment your eyes met his. He opened them again and winnowed away, not wanting to stay any longer here.

The next day he went to practice with Cass, wanting to release some tension and then go help Rhys with some things regarding the court's safety and more. Once he finished with all his tasks he was ready to go back to his room but his heart told him to do otherwise. And that's how he found himself standing outside the library's front door.

"What Am I even doing?" He murmured to himself and stepped inside. Clotho was in her usual position, behind the desk near the entrance and when she saw Azriel coming in, she raised her eyebrows. He awkwardly said hi amd went straight to an empty table. He sat down and rested his head in hos hands. The sound of soft footsteps making their way to him got his attention and when he lifted his head, his whole body got tensed.

"Hi" hearing your soft voice gave him goosebumps.

"Hi" he greeted back not wanting to seem rude and made way for you to sit.

You happily sat on your seat and opened your book. He wanted to get up and leave because being around made him so unusually nervous but he didn't find it in him to abandon you juse like that, so he kept himself busy by staring out the window. And though you were invested in the book you chose, you couldn't help but throwing a few glances at the shadowsinger from time to time. Azriel feeling your stare, he turned his head to your direction and your eyes locked. As you kept staring at each other, not being able to say or do anything more something spectacularly beautiful happened.

The bond locked into place. Nothing else could be heard at that moment but the sound of your hearts beating loud. Azriel was puzzled. You scooted a little closer to him and slowly reached out to grab his hand. The shadow singer's breath hitched the moment he felt your lips on his palm, leaving a soft kiss.

"Can't believe you finally felt it" your hand caressed his face gently. Wait what?

"You knew?! Since when?" He whispered and leaned closer.

"Since the moment I saw you returning a book you borrowed which was, 2 months ago" your little laugh filled his heart with happiness. He chuckled not being able to comprehend what just happened.

"We're mates" Azriel said smiling.

"We're mates!" You nodded and laughed at how happy you were right now.

You just stayed there just holding each other's hands, but Azriel's eyes went to your lips. There was so much tension between you already and he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to feel you. Taste you.

He instinctively ran his thump over the soft flesh of your lips, making you quiver. He knew what he was doing.

He leaned forward a fraction ready to capture your lips in a kiss but he slightly pulled back.

"Do you want this?"

"More than you can imagine"

Azriel then started sliding his hand in your hair slowly and then brought your face closer. Once his lips touched yours, he felt like melting.

In all his life, all he did was to avoid beautiful things in fear of breaking them. But you changed that entirely for him. You made him feel lovable and unique with just one look. One touch. And he knew he had finally found his purpose in life after so long.

¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ .·

It was about time I posted something ACOTAR related 🙌

Hope you'll enjoy reading this one ♥️

659 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 9 months

Text

bad idea, right?

As you slipped a gold hoop through your ear, you wondered if you were making a huge mistake.

You weren't, you knew you weren't, but the butterflies swirling around in your belly were making you anxious. This was nothing, so why was your body reacting this way?

"Well don't you look hot!"

You turned to look at your roommate, jumping a little in front of the mirror. "Thanks."

She took that as her cue to come into your room, settling on the edge of your bed as you finished getting ready. You normally wouldn't mind, you and Marissa hyped each other up before dates all the time, but you didn't think she would be in favor of this particular outing. That alone warranted you to question whether or not this was a good idea, but you were confident it was, so you pushed it aside.

Well, not good, per se, but not bad either.

"Is that new? I've never seen you wear that top before."

You looked down at your cropped sweater, the one you'd cut yourself yesterday after buying it. The amount of time it took for you to figure out what to wear tonight was too embarrassing to admit—and perhaps what was more pathetic was the hours of shopping you did—but at least you'd settled for something that was on the casual side. The last thing you needed was to come off as if you thought about tonight too much, or worse, you didn't want anyone thinking you had expectations.

Shrugging, you hoped you appeared more nonchalant than you felt. "No, this was just... something I had deep in my closet."

"Really?"

No. "Really."

Having snagged the last earring in the set of holes on your right ear, you moved to the left. You pretended to focus hard on your task, even though you could've done it without the mirror, but now you were trying to hide your blush from your roommate. If she sensed something was off, she'd keep questioning you, and you really couldn't have that.

"I didn't even know you were going out tonight," she said. From the reflection in the mirror, you saw her eye your outfit one more time. "Where are you going again?"

"I never said," you told her. "It was kind of a last minute thing. Someone from class invited me."

"Like a date?" Marissa asked you. "Wait. Is this who you've been going out for coffee with the last few days?"

You winced, your hand having slipped and stabbed your ear on accident. You didn't realize your roommate had been keeping such close tabs on you, which was probably a good thing seeing as you lived in a big city together. But you hoped Marissa wasn't too perceptive. She'd kill you if she knew. So you put on your best smirk and said, "Could be."

Marissa kept peppering you with questions about the "mystery man," but you wouldn't budge. You couldn't. Finally done with jewelry, you turned around and presented yourself to her. "How do I look?"

"Like whoever you're seeing tonight is gonna fall to their knees when they see you," Marissa said.

"Perfect," you said. That was exactly what you were going for.

On your way out, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach continued to build, messing with your head and making you think this whole thing was a bad idea. It probably was, but maybe it wasn't. But then again...

"Fuck it, it's fine," you muttered. Then, over your shoulder, you called out to your roommate, "Don't wait up for me!"

"Text me at 12:30 so I know you're still alive!" Marissa called back from the couch where she was watching, re-watching, Pride and Prejudice. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Too late for that.

*.*

"Thanks for coming over."

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine. "Thanks for inviting me."

Harry grinned before sipping from his own glass. "This isn't weird, is it? I know inviting you over for dinner seems a little forward, but I feel like enough time has passed that we can catch up as friends, right?"

Friends. You really were an idiot. You'd been stupid enough to think that after the first few catch-up coffee dates, this might've been more, which was completely insane. You and Harry broke up almost two years ago now. When he texted you saying he'd moved back to the city, you agreed to see him and catch up, as any two people who used to know each other would. Then it happened a few more times, and then he texted you asking to come to his place for dinner, and you'd been confused but intrigued. Now you just felt silly.

"Y—Yeah. Of course. So, um, how—how are you?"

"Good. Just, you know, getting settled in the new apartment and finding my footing as a proper adult here and not a student. Did you know the Thai restaurant on 28th closed? I went..."

You listened to Harry as he spoke about moving back to the city, your eyes focusing on different parts of his face as you tried to determine which parts of him had changed and which stayed the same. Overall, he looked a little older, but that made sense seeing as a lot of time had passed since you'd last seen him. He had stubble on his cheeks and around his mouth as if he was trying to grow a mustache, something he definitely couldn't do when you were with him. His hair wasn't long anymore, but curled around his ears and reached just past the nape of his neck. He looked tanner, more muscular, more handsome. You could only hope he was thinking you looked more beautiful too.

"—about you?"

"Huh?" You hadn't realized that you zoned out the last few minutes.

Harry grinned, like he knew you'd gotten caught up in staring at him. "I was asking how you've been? Good, I hope? I mean, since I saw you two days ago, I mean."

Nodding, you took another sip of your wine, yet another thing that had changed since you were together. In school, it was whatever you could afford from the off-campus corner store. Now you were drinking from a bottle that had to be expensive. You couldn't even pronounce the label when Harry showed it to you.

"Good, I guess," you said. "Still in school, still working."

"At the MET, right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I'm doing guided tours right now, but once I get my master's I can start doing more research-based stuff."

"That's exciting. I know you've always wanted to work there," Harry said, inching closer to you on the sofa. It was currently the only piece of furniture set up in his apartment besides his bed. He'd apologized when you arrived thirty minutes ago. You didn't mind, though maybe you should've. Maybe this really was just a catch-up, not a hookup. When Harry invited you to come over, you thought there might've been some subliminal messaging, but he hadn't made a move, and the less-than-put-together apartment screamed that he wasn't trying to impress you.

Promptly, you attempted to drown your shame and embarrassment with a longer sip of wine.

"Thanks. You should stop by sometime. I get to give out free tours."

"I'd be happy to."

He hadn't done anything wrong, but now you just felt like an idiot. The entire time you were getting ready, you wondered where tonight would lead, debated if you should cancel or not because of said wondering. And in the end, maybe you should've because if tonight had told you anything so far, it was that you were hung up on your ex and all he thought of you was someone who could get him into the MET for free.

Tonight really had been a bad idea. Maybe even a terrible one.

"Um, is your restroom through there?" you asked, pointing at the shut door closest to you.

Harry looked over his shoulder to where you were pointing. "Yeah. Sorry, should've mentioned that earlier."

Setting your glass down on the floor, you stood up and hurried to the bathroom. You sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and pulled your phone out of your purse and shot a frantic text to Marissa.

You: i need you to call me with a fake emergency in five minutes.

Marissa: what? why? what's wrong?

You: i was an idiot

You: i'll explain when i get back

Marissa: five minutes?

You: make it four

Putting your phone away, you turned the faucet on so it seemed like you really had used the restroom. Now that Marissa was going to bail you out, all you had to do was finish your wine—it was really good, to be fair, so that wouldn't be a problem—and wait for her call. This night was not going in the direction you expected, and it was probably for the best to cut it short instead of letting it drag on. Dinner smelled amazing, and you'd wanted to share a meal with Harry more than anything, but now you just wanted to go home and wallow in your own stupidity.

When you came out of the bathroom, Harry was standing in his small kitchenette in front of the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious in a saucepan. With his back turned, you let yourself stare unabashedly for a few seconds before picking up your wine glass and polishing off its contents. With the small clink of the glass being set on the counter, Harry turned around, dimples set deep in his cheeks as he grinned at you.

"Dinner should be ready in a few," he said. "Here, come taste."

You knew you shouldn't have, you'd already made enough slip-ups tonight as it was, but you walked the few steps to his side anyway, opening your mouth when he raised a spoon to your lips.

"Wow," you said, honest shock in your voice when you tasted what he'd given you.

"Good, right? I've picked up a couple tricks over the years," he said, pulling the towel off his shoulder and reaching down to open the stove and pull out a pan.

"Yeah, you could never cook like this when we—Is that lasagna?"

For the first time tonight, Harry seemed sheepish. "Yeah. I was kind of hoping it was still your favorite. You used to love the one from that small Italian place a couple blocks from campus."

Had you read the situation wrong? Harry wouldn't have just made what he thought was your favorite dish on a whim. It was possible he still considered this thing you were doing platonic, but you foolishly hoped you weren't the only one who had expectations.

"Y/n?"

"I—"

Before you could say anything, your phone rang. Damn it, you thought, pulling your phone out of your purse. You answered it, trying to quickly come up with a way to call off the fake emergency. "Hey, listen, now's not a good—"

"I'm locked out of our apartment!" Marissa cried dramatically. If Harry hadn't been watching you, you would've rolled your eyes. You loved your roommate, but she didn't need to wail. "You need to come back immediately or I'll freeze to death!"

"It's the middle of July, M," you said, trying to put some intention in your voice to let her know you were fine.

"You know I have poor circulation and it makes me cold!"

"Have you tried calling the super?"

"I need you!" she wailed again.

"Okay, okay. I'm on my way," you finally said. "See you in a few."

When you hung up, you looked up at Harry, apology dying on your lips when you saw the disappointed look on his face.

"That bad, huh?"

You knew he wasn't talking about the phone call. "Maybe it's just me, but things feel awkward between us. I think we should stick to coffee from now on, you know? That seems a lot more friendly than—"

If you'd had any doubts about where Harry's mind had been regarding tonight, they were completely wiped away when he surged forward and kissed you.

You told yourself the gasp was because you were surprised, not because it felt so good to kiss him again after so much time had passed, though that did not go unnoticed by you. Everything about his lips on yours felt achingly familiar. Harry parted your mouth with ease, his hands sliding down your waist and gripping firmly. Your body reacted almost of its own volition, every one of his touches garnered an immediate response. When he settled his teeth on your bottom lip, your hands gripped his hair, when his hands squeezed your body appreciatively, you wrapped a leg around his waist, when he finally detached his lips from yours and began kissing and licking a stripe down your neck, you sighed and arched your back into him.

It was too good to be true. The way you felt, how pliant your body immediately became, his hair as it tickled your chin the lower his kisses went. It lit you on fire, made you want to burn brighter.

"Har—Harry—"

You didn't even know what you were going to say, but Harry took it as you needing him. He raised his head back to yours, taking your bottom lip between his own and sucking, his thumbs dipping below the waistline of your jeans casually. You leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the fire and intensity from the first one, but Harry wouldn't move any faster. His kiss was slower now, more drawn out, like he was attempting to taste every inch of your lips and savor it. It left you even more breathless than before.

"You thought I didn't want this? Want you?" he said, his teeth nipping at a spot where the zipper on your sweater opened.

"I—"

"Thought that the smell of my favorite perfume on you wouldn't drive me absolutely mad the second you walked through the door? I've been trying to be polite. I've been trying to be a gentleman because it's been so long, but maybe we can skip the pleasantries, hm? What do you think, mon rêve?"

It all became too much as he began to grind his hips against yours. He was still taking his time, as if there was nowhere else he'd rather be at the moment, and to be honest, you didn't want to be anywhere else, either. Using the nickname he used to call you put you over the edge. My dream, he called you, because he swore no one in real life could be so perfect that he had to have been dreaming when you met.

Bad idea or not, you weren't going anywhere. Even if this was just one night, you would make it count.

But the buzz of your phone had you pulling away with a start.

"Don't," he murmured, pressing the word against your lips with his, slowly reaching for the hem of your sweater to pull it.over your head.

"She'll keep calling if I don't answer," you said, obliging Harry's hands and hoping he would understand what you were trying to say. You weren't going anywhere, but if you didn't answer now, Marissa would track you down and come here if she was under the impression you were in trouble.

"Don't go," he said this time, kissing the line of your jaw up to the shell of your ear. "Just stay."

"And what happens if I do?" you asked breathlessly.

This wasn't a rekindling of a relationship, you knew that. Perhaps it was the familiarity of your embrace in a city filled with millions of people making you both feel drawn to each other. You'd broken up a long time ago for reasons that had yet to be discussed, one night wasn't going to change the history you shared just like that. You knew that even as you got ready to come over to Harry's apartment tonight. This was just...

"Two people can reconnect, can't they?" Harry said. He hooked your other leg around his hip and sat you on the small counterspace, his eyes heavylidded as they roved your face. His gaze sent butterflies alight in your belly, making you feel things you hadn't felt in a long time.

Before you knew it, your ankles crossed over one another on the small of his back. Your hand carded through his hair, and you grinned a little when Harry shut his eyes at the feeling of your fingers against his scalp.

Phone call forgotten, you leaned in, but moved slightly so that you kissed the corner of Harry's mouth. You kissed him all over, starting with his cheek, then along his jaw to behind his ear where you knew he was sensitive, making sure to leave a mark, just because you could. You couldn't contain your smile as he groaned and pulled you closer, held you tighter.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a text. You didn't want to, and you could tell Harry didn't want you to, either, but you pulled away to look at it.

Marissa: hello?? i thought you were fleeing?!

"Are you?"

You held your phone close to your chest, having realized Harry read your text with you. Not letting him see the screen, you typed out a response, then locked it and set it down.

"This could be messy," you said, not sure why you were trying to talk yourself out of this. Or whom you were trying to talk out of this.

"Maybe," Harry said, running his thumb over your lip so that it separated and bounced back into place.

"And you're the one who said we were two friends catching up," you said.

"Friends hook up all the time," he said, undoing his belt with one hand while the other continued to play with you bottom lip. When he fiddled with the strap of your bra, you didn't stop him from gently urging it off your shoulder.

"I think—" the words died in your throat as Harry dipped his thumb past the seam of your lips, effectively shutting you up.

"And I think," he said, lifting you up and bringing you to the edge of his sofa. "I think I'd like dessert before dinner, What do you think, mon rêve?"

This whole evening screamed bad idea. There were too many tangled strings, too many unanswered questions, too many unknown variables. But Harry was already kissing his way down from your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin in all the spots that made you keen and your breath hitch. Maybe it was a bad idea, but you'd come over anyway. Might as well see it through.

"Fuck it, it's fine," you muttered, gripping Harry's hair between your fingers and directing his path of burning kisses with little care for the aftermath that was sure to bite you in the ass tomorrow.

*.*

Harry was gone the next morning. Disappointed? No. Surprised? Maybe. It definitely meant there wouldn't be an awkward goodbye, but it also meant this really was a one time thing.

Which was good. You got it out of your system, got him out of your system. Last night was just a trip down memory lane. An excellent trip, but it was over now.

You stretched your arms above your head, working out the aches and pains from last night's fun. It had been a while since you'd been sore from having sex, and you'd kind of missed it—knowing that the night before had been so good that it carried over into the next day. Days, sometimes.

Searching for something to cover you up, you spotted Harry's shirt from the night before. Walking around in one of his shirts wasn't what you were going for, but it would have to do until you found your own clothes. Sliding it over your head, you prepared to stand on wobbly legs when the turn of a lock sounded at the front door.

Frantically, you rubbed at your eyes and whipped the shirt back off before lying against the pillows again as if you were still asleep, which wasn't hard seeing as you were still exhausted. Your heart was racing as you heard Harry step into the room, humming as he fiddled with his keys and kicked off his shoes.

You figured he would wake you up, but he didn't. To your surprise, Harry slid back into his bed next to you, his arm snaking around your waist and lips sponging kisses onto your bare shoulder. "You awake?" he mumbled, his thumb rubbing circles on the warm skin just beneath your breast.

Pretended to wake up, you breathed in deep and said, "A little."

"I don't have a coffee maker yet, so I went down the street. There's a latte with your name on it in the kitchen."

You smiled wide without really meaning to. You'd been thinking he'd just left to avoid an awkward conversation, but it seemed like you were both eager to put it off as long as possible. Shifting in Harry's arms, you turned to face him through half-opened eyes. His hair hung in his face, grazing the sunglasses he'd yet to take off. His sweatshirt was a little cold to the touch from being outside, making you shiver a little.

"Are you cold? Here." Harry pulled the sweatshirt over his head and helped you fit it over your head, which still had your hair wrapped in a silk scarf from last night.

When it was on, you grinned at the feeling of his warmth wrapped around you, of a cologne that was foreign to you but just as head-spinning. Reaching up a hand to his face, your fingers grazed his sunglasses. "What are these for?"

"My terribly embarrassing dark circles. I get those now," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a grin.

"Hm."

You weren't sure if he was in the mood to chat or drink the coffee he bought, but now that you were facing the broad expanse of his chest, all the tattoos that were familiar and the ones that weren't, you didn't want to do either of those things. Leaning forward, you kissed his chest, creating a path with your lips all across his body. Harry's stomach flexed, and you could feel the quickened beat of his heart when you passed over it. It made you grin as you worked your way down and sucked a hickey on his hip.

"You can tell me to stop," you said, just before reaching the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, prepared to do away with both of them in one go.

"I don't want you to," Harry panted. He groaned at the cold air as you rid him of his clothes. "Still—Fuck, Y/n—Still reconnecting?"

You nodded, too caught up in what you were doing to speak. After a few minutes, though, just as you felt he was close, you inched your way back up and kissed him, your leg sliding over his waist.

"Yeah. Reconnecting."

*.*

"Harry?"

When you came home later that morning, Marissa was already awake and waiting as you walked through the door in your jeans and a hoodie that definitely didn't belong to you. She took one look at the sweatshirt and shook her head at you with a sigh.

"Yeah."

"He's the one you've been meeting for coffee?"

You hung your head. "Yeah. He moved back about two weeks ago."

Marissa slid you a mug filled with steaming black coffee, the smell alone waking you up slightly and bringing common sense back to your brain. You took it between your hands appreciatively, blowing over the top instead of meeting her eye.

"You know this isn't going to end well, right?"

Now it was your turn to sigh. "Yeah."

But fuck if it didn't feel right.

#harry styles #exrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn

939 notes · View notes

giantmushyfriend · 5 months

Text

Welcome back to the Ineffable lyric discussion (can I hear a wahoo)

In honor of the announcement of season 3 of our beloved Good Omens, I find it completely necessary for us to discuss one of the many songs on Aziraphale and Crowley's angelic playlist that made me scream my bloody head off. One of those songs is the one and only The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel. While I UNDERSTAND this song may have just been chosen to spell out SEASON THREE, I think it goes much deeper than that because of all of the parallels it draws to Aziraphale and Crowley. And ultimately, what I think is going to happen in terms of their relationship when they finally sort their shit out. So beware if you haven't watched season 2 of Good Omens because we're about to do a fucking DEEP DIVE into this.

First, the title of the Book of Love feels almost like a call to this looming threat to the Book of Life that was consistently used in series 2. The entire season, Crowley and Aziraphale have to work oh so carefully because with the Book of Life being confirmed, they know that either of them could get the other erased, and whether they want to admit it or not, losing the other is their biggest fear. We've seen this when Crowley believed Aziraphale to be dead in Series 1 when he couldn't feel Aziraphale's presence anymore since he got incorporated. When Aziraphale isn't there, Crowley is a mess. Likewise, we saw how both reacted during the ineffable divorce scene in series 2. Crowley is full-on begging Aziraphale to stay, and Aziraphale has finally admitted that he needs Crowley and full-on mouths for Crowley not to leave him. The Book of Life inherently, from how Neil set it up, feels threatening. The Book of Love, on the other hand, raises an entirely other reaction. Throughout the series, as corny as it sounds, love has been what grounds our protagonists. It is the love of Tadfeild and his friends that keeps Adam from kickstarting the end of the world; it's what keeps him from rejecting his father, the literal devil. It is the love of the earth, of humanity and all its strange creations, and for each other that keeps Aziraphale and Crowley attempting to prevent the end of the world when it could be so much easier to just accept the fate of it all. Love is the key theme that grounds our protagonists, that makes them tick. Love is safe; love is, at times, painful but overall kind. So when we see this title on their playlist, listed amongst heartwrenching tales of grieving a relationship, you could have had, and of loss, it brings a sense of salvation and safety. The Book of Love, unlike the Book of Life, is not a threat- it's a sanctuary for Aziraphale and Crowley.

Now, diving into the lyrics.

"The book of love is long and boring

No one can lift the damn thing

It's full of charts and facts, and figures, and instructions for dancing

But I

I love it when you read to me.

And you

You can read me anything"

The first couple of verses inherently feel like Aziraphale and Crowley's original view on this notion of love. As two supernatural entities who aren't bound by human emotion or logic, love may seem superficial and downright silly at times. The courting procedures that different societies have taken on throughout the centuries and the songs and dances that come along with it may all seem like a big waste. The book of love is a manifestation of love itself, and originally, it seems unappetizing to our protagonists. That is until they refind each other, and love goes from this thing that humans feel and jump through hoops for to this tidal wave of emotions. Love felt silly and unrealistic before, but with each other, they are willing and excited to explore it, even if it comes with things that feel inherently silly.

Also, these verses draw some cute parallels to headcanons and features of cannons. If you've been involved in the Good Omens fandom long enough, you've probably stumbled across the idea that Crowley asks Aziraphale to read to him for a multitude of different reasons. Some people say it's because his eyes aren't meant to read, one of the many punishments that came with him being cast down from grace, or maybe it's just because he finds Aziraphale's voice comforting. Additionally, the line about instructions for dancing is just so heartwarming when we look at the ball scene from this past season and Aziraphale's daydreams of a romance worthy of a Jane Austin novel.

"The book of love is long and boring

And written very long ago

It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes

Adn things we're all too young to know

but I

I love it when you give me things

and you

You ought to give me wedding rings"

I'm sure we've all heard this idea that you'll understand love when you get older, but even when you get older, it never seems to make sense. This idea that love is too old for any of us to truly understand, and that humbles us but in the best way possible. There is no point in trying to figure out what exactly love is because you could spend thousands of years feeling it and watching it happen all around you and still not know exactly what it is besides this all-encompassing feeling. And that is exactly the perspective of Aziraphale and Crowley. They have seen countless examples of love, true, unwavering love, and they have felt it for each other. And yet they themselves cannot begin to fathom what love, true unconditional love, is exactly. These two supernatural, ethereal/occult beings are humbled by the very concept of love like humans are- and that love is drawn from each other.

And then there is this notion of giving, which pairs so well with Crowley's primary love language, acts of service and gift giving. If the first chorus was Crowley talking about how he loves it when Aziraphale reads to him and takes care of him, then this is Aziraphale talking about how Crowley displays his love. And this final notion of asking for that final commitment, one of the key ways humans express their love for each other, is just amazing. Because in a way, Aziraphale moving to make this commitment, to fully be on their side in this way, is the resolution we have been wanting since the beginning. For Aziraphale to finally feel safe enough to let go and finally let himself settle to where he finally belongs, on his side with Crowley.

415 notes · View notes

bigassmoonchild · 8 months

Text

Hoops

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: None of your squad was ready to be a part of a mission. You knew they weren't, they were just kids who were getting ready for a life of misery. So you went instead. Missions never go right with the 141, and as much as Simon didn't want you to join you had to. It seemed you couldn't stray from an argument with him for too long.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Missions Gone Wrong, Mentions of dead bodies, Medical Inaccuracies, Arguments, Simon Realizing His Feelings For You, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: Here it is! Chapter 9 of Maple Syrup! I would've thought you guys would prefer the smut, but it almost seems like you like the angst more?? Here y'all go, enjoy! As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"Is anybody on your training squad ready to be placed in a mission yet?" You sighed deeply, running your hands down your face. Shaking your head, you looked up at the man leading the operation. You didn't know his name, and quite honestly you didn't want to.

He looked away, thinking. "My last squad? Maybe there would've been one person strong enough for it, but this one? They didn't even know how to go about placing a tourniquet, let alone stitching someone up on the battlefield," you told him. You didn't want to be sitting here, busy with trying to make sure you didn't send any of your squad out too soon to be ready for the actual fight.

All you wanted was to be curled up in your nest, trying to figure out where the hell Simon had run off to this time. For the last two weeks Simon had seemingly disappeared, not even having lunch or dinner with you.

"Do you think that you're capable of going on this mission?"

"I'm not allowed on missions anymore, I thought?" You were appalled. Stunned. You hadn't ever thought of returning to the field, not since you'd become mated. "Aren't there a bunch of hoops to jump through if you wanted to have me return to the field?"

He shrugged. "I have enough of a reputation that I'd be more than capable of getting this through the hoops," he told you.

The next morning, as you were just about to take a sip of the coffee you had oh so carefully made, the door slammed open and made you jump, spilling it just between your legs. You stared at the coffee splattered on the floor before looking up.

Simon. You went to talk, opening your mouth to say something when he interrupted. "You're not going on that mission," your brows furrowed. Of all things he could've fucking said to you, for the first time in weeks, that's what he chose?

"I don't recall you having a say, considering you come and go in my life," you snapped at him. He looked almost taken aback at your words. "When you finally make a decision about whether you want to be in my life or not, then you'll get a say in these things," you told him.

He looked away, closing his eyes tightly before opening them and staring at you. "Last time I checked I was your Alpha,"

"Last time I checked an Alpha didn't abandon his Omega because he wasn't good at talking," you snapped, standing up. "Now, if you'd ever so kindly leave, I have work to do. If you come back, I'm expecting an apology, explanation or both," you pointed at the door.

Mouth agape, he stared at you, blinking rapidly. You pointed at the door again and he turned, not looking back as he walked out and shut the door softly.

You sat down, hands holding your head as you gave little gasps, trying to breathe through the panic you felt. Tears were dripping through from your eyes, throat burning.

Jesus fucking Christ, Simon Riley was going to be the death of you.

Being back in a plane was a little unsettling, even if you had gone through a quick two-week training session, to get you back up to speed, they said. They taught you basic combat skills, got you comfortable with simple weaponry. Made you a soldier, at least once again.

The bumping of bodies together because of how close everyone was. You could feel the weight of the gun you were holding and the packs you were holding, filled with medical supplies.

People were speaking loudly, some through their radios and some just between each other. You could see Soap and Price sitting just across from you, Price leaned in to listen to what Soap had been saying. Ghost and Gaz were on the other flight, with another squad who had another medic.

The flight shook, tremoring with the turbulence, shaking like you almost felt like you were. Your hands were grasping at the straps holding you in place, and you saw Price press into his radio to be heard on the team channel.

"Alpha Team, drop in 5, be ready," he spoke and you nodded at them, listening to a few others give their affirmatives. The plane shook, you could hear from inside the shots it was taking. Hopefully, it would remain intact enough to get you to the landing point and be okay to extract you if need be.

Alarms began blaring, people stood and moved, seeming to try and run away. You stood yourself, glancing over at Price and Soap to try and figure it out.

"We're jump-" Black. Everything was black and as you came to it felt like your body was on fire. Everything hurt and you could feel that sticky wetness covering parts of you. You moved your fingers and toes, trying to make sure nothing was wrong.

As you sat up, you looked around, feeling for your in-ear mic. It was there and you smacked at it a few times before it turned back on, albeit slightly staticky.

"-nyone there? I repeat, is anyone there?" Gaz?

"I'm here, we went down," you spoke, struggling to your feet as you looked around. "I'm going around to find any survivors or see if people are dead, send for extraction. I'll let you know the injured count," you tossed some rubble off of a person, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing. The next person was cut through the abdomen, their eyes glossy as they stared into the smoking sky. From what you could see on his uniform, he was just a boy.

The next person was blinking up at you, their leg sliced all the way through, nothing but flesh and blood splattering it. You slid on a tourniquet, giving the soldier a small smile and some reassurances.

You hadn't been out for too long, you'd realized. If that soldier was still alive, even with a lost limb, it had been seconds or minutes at most. You reached for you mic before hearing a voice.

"Sit still, I'm coming to give you backup," Ghost. You shook your head, crawling through more debris as you found Soap.

"You're going to want to bring as many people that know how to treat severe wounds," you told him. For what seemed like seconds, you worked to stitch up the major wounds on Soap, closing up an artery.

When you found Price, you became horrified. There was rubble covering him, his body limp, blood surrounding him. You moved to pull the rubble off of him, unable to do it because of the weight. Instead, you jumped to stitch up the wounds you could see, listening to the calls of Ghost and the others.

"Over here!" You shouted at them, waving your flashlight. When they were finally able to get there, you started ordering people around. "I need at least two people helping me search and fixing people up. Price is here, someone needs to get the rubble off of him," you watched as Ghost and Gaz pulled the rubble off, moving it away and you jumped in to tourniquet the wound.

With each stitch, you could feel yourself falling more and more into fear. His artery was almost severed, and you needed to spend more time on him. You looked up and found Ghost hovering over you.

"How far out is extraction?"

"Few minutes, maybe 10 max,"

"They need to get here faster, or there are going to be a lot of deaths," you told him, watching as he reached for an actual radio, talking into it and nodding. He'd ended up getting them to arrive not five minutes later, their speeds picking up with the knowledge that there were survivors.

As you boarded the flight with the worst of the wounded, which ended up being a young girl not too much younger than yourself, you watched Ghost fight his way on. He stood in the corner as you ordered the people around and trying to fix her up.

He watched, intently, as you moved in your natural habitat. He could see the blood pooling down the back of your head, as much as you tried to ignore it.

When you moved too quick around a corner, you had to catch yourself to keep from passing out. Lightheaded, you stood trying to bring your vision back from tunneling. There was nothing short of panic in your body as you turned to say something, vision fully blacking out before you felt yourself falling.

Your head was throbbing when you came back to, the bright lights burning your eyes as you opened them. You could smell fear and stress all nearly fully coating the tobacco, leather and little hints of smoke from the last mission. You lifted your head as much as you could, glancing over to where the scent was strongest.

"Are you finally back to deciding I'm worth being in your life?" You whispered, voice hoarse from all the screaming. You could hear Simon sigh heavily, a groan coming from his throat.

"Can we please do this another time? You nearly died," he whispered the last part, moving closer to you. You shook your head vigorously, trying to bite your tongue to keep from snapping at him.

You looked at him. "I've told you already. I can't do this up and down with you, this back and forth. It's ruining me," you whispered, feeling your eyes watering. He shook his head, cupping his face in his hands. "Either you figure out how to talk to me, or we get rid of this," you watched as he rubbed his eyes, you could smell the distress and sadness overtaking his scent.

He looked up. "I don't know how to do anything but retreat," he whispered to you. Shaking your head, you looked up at the ceiling. Glancing at him shortly, you had to close your eyes.

"Then you need to leave until you can figure out what it is you want," you told him, hearing him stand and the door opening and shut. With him went his scent, the only thing you could smell was the distress and hurt.

You could feel the tears pouring down your cheeks, your knees bending in an attempt to curl in on yourself. It had felt like hours until your tears dried, your chest hurting and the little gasps you gave out slowly became hiccups. It slowly turned to little breaths, your eyes blinking slowly as you stared to the side.

It took about a week until you were released, the concussion having healed through the week, large bruises and scrapes were slowly healing, a few stitches scattered on your body. You found yourself in your room, the area feeling too clean for your opinion.

The nest had lost its scent, leaving you to re-make it with materials that were better scented.

You took out the one last hoodie of Simons.

The not knowing was what hurt the most. Not knowing if Simon was going to keep you as his mate, not knowing if he was going to try and help himself and help you.

With a deep breath, you started a bath. Your thoughts would be the end of you, and you needed to take some time to just not think. Maybe have an orgasm or two, by your own hands this time.

Simon left. He just completely left the compound when you had made your comments to him, still lying on that bed and slightly bloody. Hair a mess, mud (or blood) splattering it. He put in his leave request the minute he left your hospital room and then booking a flight home.

Home. What a strange concept. Was home just a building, the place you laid your head down to rest at night? Was is the place that you went to when you had nowhere else to go?

Was it a person?

Simon didn't know. He didn't want to know, to be completely honest, and all he could do was run. Just like he always did. Either way, Simon needed a minute to think about everything that happened. Everything he did, everything you did and the things that were caught in his mind.

He hadn't even told Price he left, not yet at least. Not to his face. Sure, he left the note, but Price had been off doing things when he went there.

There was nothing that was good when he got into his apartment. The area smelled stalely of him, and he felt this weird sense of longing lodge into his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, he had never felt something like that, at least not for a long time.

Little whines escaped from his chest, and all he could think about was the scent that was missing. The voice that was missing, the person who was missing.

You. You were missing, his little Omega who was oh so good when he had you. Who was oh so patient with him, the little Omega who gave him love. He didn't want anything short of you, even a little pup or two. Make yourself a pack, create a life with you.

And the only thing Simon could think about was getting back to you. It eventually turned into trying to think about how he would explain everything to you, how he would tell you everything. Give you an explanation, no matter the hoops he would have to jump through.

You deserved it.

Taglist:

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar

(I definitely forgot to add the taglist for my initial post, but I added it only minutes after posting)

#angst #canon typical violence #simon riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty x reader #no use of y/n #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #hurt/no comfort #mentions of death #simon realizing his fucking feelings #simon ghost riley #maple syrup

477 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 11 months

Text

Yandere! Feitan Portor General Profile

Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, murder, mentions of torture, mentions of Feitan carving his initial into you, mentions of masturbation, stalking, jealousy, threats, Feitan tortures a man in front of you, I stand by the (semi) soft creepy yandere Feitan agenda and I will not be swayed otherwise, this got super long I'm so sorry, I'm also delirious as I'm writing it so hopefully it makes coherent sense/is consistent, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Empathetic

In general, Feitan finds his attention drawn by a darling who is almost the complete opposite of himself.

He wants someone sweet and caring, all soft and squishy and warm. He’s never found this particularly attractive before meeting his darling, but there’s something oddly endearing about the way they’re always trying to help those around them, fruitlessly asking them to vent about their feelings, to use them as a supportive shoulder.

It makes him scoff, rolling his eyes and wondering at how impossibly naive his darling can be, but even he can’t deny how nice it is to have someone by his side, a human presence that’s steady and calm and understanding. It makes him feel good, a warm sensation bottling up in his chest and threatening to explode out, and although he’ll never really come clean with how he feels for you (at least, he never will verbally), a darling who can kind of read his rather emotionless face would be a very, very big attraction for him.

He just wants a darling who can understand him, even if his rational brain loathes the idea. An empathetic darling is sure to draw his attention, if only because he’ll be mildly revolted and intrigued by how they can be so selfless and so foolish.

Submissive

Feitan doesn’t want a feisty darling.

He doesn’t enjoy having to tame his lovers, and although he’s never really had a lover, he gravitates towards someone who is more naturally submissive and willing to follow direction.

He already feels powerless enough in the situation, frustrated that he doesn’t really have any say in how he feels. It scares him, quite honestly, if only because he doesn’t like how easily and quickly he’s jumping to conclusions where his darling is concerned, more than willing to jump through any hoop necessary in order to get what he wants, in order to make sure his darling is safe and isolated from every other man on Earth.

He likes knowing that his darling will do what he tells them to; it builds a layer of trust that makes Feitan go feral, and for every ounce of trust his darling gives him, he’ll try to return it as full heartedly as he can. He likes that he’s fully in control of his darling, and particularly if they were to be submissive in more… intimate aspects of the relationship, he’d be absolutely smitten.

He just wants his darling to revere him and believe his word as the word of God, and the moment that happens?

He’s only falling deeper into obsession, his desperation for them growing with every beat of his heart, getting harder and harder to swallow until he gives up, jumping head first into every swirling, dark, lecherous desire he harbors.

Soft

Of course, Feitan’s darling doesn’t have to have a softer body, but he can’t deny that there’s something enticing about a darling who is physically quite soft. Whether that’s rounder features, a plumper figure, or even a soft, demure voice, it all entrances Feitan.

His darling is something of a dream to him, because he’s never really believed that someone that stereotypically weak could ever really survive in this world. He likes how his darling feels, the touches he sneaks late at night when they’re sleeping sending sparks up his spine and serving as fuel for when he’s unbearably horny, his hand around his cock not nearly enough.

He’s prone to fantasizing about his darling, slipping into daydreams of his they’d feel in his lap, how they’d look with their ass up and face pressed into the mattress, how they’d feel so good wrapped around him. He just thinks it’s oddly endearing, and a darling who fits these characteristics would help initially draw his eye - he just thinks they’re pretty, a polar opposite to him, even going so far as to playing into some of his more protective traits.

Of course, he’d rather die than admit any of it, but he’s interally a bit soft for his darling - they’re just alluring in an almost primal way he can’t describe, but he can’t fight it. He can’t fight anything when it comes to his darling, as it turns out, and soon Feitan will decide that he doesn’t care.

After all, once his darling steps into his life and stays there, nothing at all matters - how can it, when he’s decided that they’re his, his woman to keep and admire and touch and fuck?

(It will take him a very, very long time to get comfortable with either of the last two options, but the desire and sentiment is still there, if the frequent raging erections he gets as a result of his darling is any indicator.)

Talkative

This trait is one of the things Feitan loves and hates most about his darling.

He enjoys listening to them talk; he himself isn’t particularly fond of conversation, nor is he particularly talkative towards his darling in general. And so, a partner who is capable of filling the silence between them sometimes is something that makes Feitan grateful, if only because hearing the sound of their voice makes his breath hitch.

And when they talk to him, all their attention aimed solely at him?

Well, how can Feitan not be flattered, not feel a bit prideful that they’re spending their time directing all their focus and thoughts around whatever small question he prompted them with? He just likes listening to his darling go on and on, even if the topic doesn’t interest him much. However, the downside of this trait is that it creates a rather ugly combination with his tendency to grow jealous.

If his darling is talkative with everyone, it’s sure to extend towards the men they meet, who just stare at them like they’re a slab of meat waiting to be devoured, all of them eager to get their hands on them and destroy what Feitan has claimed as his own. It’s infuriating, if only because it means that they’re interacting with others, putting themselves into a position where they could develop feelings for another man or be put into harm’s way or overhead something they shouldn’t have or any number of things.

It becomes a massive liability, and one that Feitan is so, so very aware of. It irritates him, and as much as he loves when his darling is chatting with him, he’s not so approving when they're with others.

And so, it’s really in his darling’s best interest to reign in the conversations with anyone else - unless they want to see their blood splattered all over the walls, hear their cries, feel Feitan’s red soaked fingers grasp onto their arms and force them to see the results of their chattiness. It’s in their best interest, and they’ll learn that soon enough. Hopefully.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Distant

There’s a part of Feitan that genuinely hates you for making him feel the way he does. The constant pounding of his heart when you’re merely mentioned, the throb in his chest when he’s gone too long without seeing you, the nervous twitch of his fingers when he thinks about what you’re doing, what other man you’re thinking about…

He hates how paranoid you’ve made him, how so much of his time and energy goes into you. It’s your fault that he’s always distracted, that he’s not able to fully focus on his work anymore because he’s only able to think of you you you. It’s frustrating, and honestly it initially wards Feitan off from getting any closer to you - he doesn’t like the way he feels around you (that’s not true, but he needs it to be), so he’ll stay away and ignore you. Maybe that’ll get you to stop smiling at him so kindly, to quit asking him how his day was, to stop looking so pretty while you hum and make yourself dinner.

As time passes, slowly this hatred diminishes (or at least dulls), instead replaced with a desperate, pathetic need to be around you; he just can’t keep himself away from you, no matter how hard he tries. It’s demoralizing, embarrassing beyond belief that someone like you could get his emotions so twisted, but it’s reality.

He tries to fight it at first, believing himself to be above such stupid human emotion – he doesn’t need you, he’s a criminal and has never needed love or anything of the sort. And yet, each and every time he tells himself to not trail behind you as you walk to the grocery store, his resolve holds out for roughly five minutes. By then, there’s unwelcome thoughts drifting through his mind about what you’re doing, whether you’re talking to anyone, if you’ve managed to trip like you always do and scrape your knee.

(There’s even a small, very small part of him that wonders whether you’re buying foods that are nutritious for you, or whether you’re doing your usual junk food spree. A thought pops up in the back of his head: him beside you in the store, scoffing as you place chips into the cart. He’d replace them with fruit, mumbling something about you being so stupid, only to see you smile at him and thank him, telling him how grateful you are to have him watching over you. His cheeks feel hot at that, and he buries his face deeper into his jacket, grumbling under his breath.)

He’ll try to stop himself from circling back to you, but each and every time he finds some excuse of why he should be watching you, of how you aren’t really capable of taking care of yourself without his watchful gaze. It’s patronizing, more than anything, but eventually he’ll stop trying to fight it, submitting entirely and allowing himself the concealed pleasure of watching your horribly mundane life.

He’ll need to be around you, constantly, but he’s still not willing to let his emotional guard down. No, you’ve done enough damage just simply existing - you absolutely cannot know how deeply he feels for you, how wrapped around your pinky finger you have him. Not only would it eliminate any semblance of leverage he holds against you (in order to stay above you, that is), it also showcases just how far the extent of his feelings for you run.

And frankly, the thought terrifies Feitan – he’s never felt so strongly for anyone before, not even in the context of hatred or pleasure at their suffering. He’s in over his head, wading through waters he's always scoffed at and dismissed, and suddenly he’s finding himself nearly drowning, head always buried just under the surface.

So he steels himself, grabbing onto any shred of control and power he can against you – he grabs on and clutches on, strong fingers frantically staying attached so that he doesn’t get blown away and truly drown. And even in the beginning of your captivity, Feitan won’t change the way he’s so detached. He’s purposefully putting distance between the two of you so that he can remain in control of the situation, in control of you, and – most importantly, and most concerningly – in control of himself.

Because frankly, Feitan doesn’t trust himself around you. He doesn’t trust the way his body just does things, how any rational thought leaves his brain the moment your eyes meet, how fingers are already lifting up a bit to reach out touch you, to brush away stray pieces of your hair when you’re within a few feet of him.

The biggest way he maintains this control is by not giving you a whole lot of attention, aside from one stark, grave exception: his dark eyes are constantly watching you. He’s always just sort of staring, his expression blank as he observes you, motionless and still. It’s unnerving, terrifying you initially and only slightly calming down as time passes, but Feitan doesn’t care much.

He doesn’t necessarily want to interact with you, but just watching you allows him to be in your space, to be beside you, to smell you and listen to your breathing. You’re kept in one large room most of the time, and he’ll often sit in the chair in the corner and just stare. He’s not talking much, not trying to touch you or hurt you, but you almost wish he would sometimes.

He just doesn’t understand what about you it is that attracts him so deeply, that’s morphed him into this lovesick fool, and while he initially tries to understand, eventually Feitan gives up, because does it really matter?

Does it really matter how he became obsessed with you when you’re locked up in his spare bedroom, duct tape covering your mouth and an expressionless, frozen Feitan watching you with his heart practically bursting out of his chest? Does it really matter if he pinpoints exactly when he developed his love for you when you’re looking at him with those pretty tears in your eyes, whispering out a thanks as he sets the tray of food down in front of you?

It really doesn’t, now that his feelings for you are formed and solidified, now that they can’t be changed or reversed. So while he’ll never be the most accessible and sympathetic to your feelings, rest assured that Feitan really does love you in some fucked up way - he’s just unorthodox, incapable of properly expressing himself to you.

But actions speak louder than words, right? He’s always thought so.

Obsessive

Because Feitan is relatively quiet and secretive when it comes to his feelings towards you, it’s difficult for you to really pick up on this aspect of him. You’re unlikely to ever truly understand just how much he feels for you, the sheer depth of emotions you cause him.

He won’t ever tell you what’s going on behind that expressionless facade of his. He doesn’t tell you how oddly adorable you are when you’re sleeping in the early mornings, curled up in the corner of your room with your eyes shut and lips slightly parted, looking so soft and sweet and weak.

He’ll never make you aware of how his breath hitches ever so slightly when you make eye contact with him, even if it’s shaky and you look away too quickly, his spine tingling because fuck, your attention feels good.

You’ll never know why his foot is tapping lightly when you’re eating in front of him, the way those annoying nerves eat away at his stomach while he subconsciously wonders if you think he looks attractive today. (He’d trimmed his hair a bit, feeling it was too long and interfering with his work - do you like it? Did you notice? He’d hesitated a bit with the scissors earlier, brows slightly furrowing, dark eyes glancing at your sleeping form.)

He’s very cryptic, and this tendency to keep you out of the loop of his personal thoughts and feelings can cast a shadow on his more obsessive tendencies. That is, before he’s stolen you away from the world, Feitan did an extensive amount of research into you. He does nothing on a whim - he’s a calculating man, and once he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his feelings for you weren’t going to disappear, he was scouring every resource possible to garner your information.

He’s got access to all kinds of personal knowledge about you - your search history, for example. It’s a bit unexpected, if Feitan’s being honest - you’re much darker than he’d expected, the things you read about making him quirk a brow, his interest in you only deepening because hmm, seems the little sheep may be a bit of a wolf inside.

He’s getting Shalnark to hack into the camera of your phone and computer, the stream of footage easy to access as he cleans his tools, blood washing away as you smile and laugh at some comedy you’re watching.

It’s stupid and at first he pretends to find your laugh annoying. But then he sees the way your cheeks get all full and round as you smile, your eyes crinkling up, even the way you wheeze slightly when it’s really funny.

(Briefly, he wonders whether you’d find his dry sense of humor entertaining.)

He’s got photographs of you from his time spent trailing you, and though they’re a bit blurry and not as focused as he’d like, they’re still something nice to pin to his wall, keeping his favorites beside his bed. He’s never had trouble sleeping, but something about looking at you as he drifts into slumber makes him rest more soundly, wake up more refreshed.

Once you’ve been trapped with him for long enough, however, Feitan’s front of careful indifference to you will slowly begin cracking. You’ll never see fully through him, but you’ll catch the way the corners of his lips twitch up ever so slightly when you snuggle into the blanket he gives you one day, noticing how you’ve been shivering incessantly at night.

(He won’t tell you the blanket was freshly stolen, that he’d made sure to take one with the softest, thickest material he could find, and even in your favorite color. It’s just a coincidence, so don’t read into it.)

You’ll realize he’s slowly inched closer to you the longer you watch the television program Feitan turned on earlier, your spot on the couch feeling smaller and smaller as Feitan’s hip eventually brushes yours, neither of you acknowledging what’s happening.

(You’ll never know how badly he wants to reach out and touch you, to freely run his hand up and down your thigh, so trace your collarbones, to feel just how soft your body is.)

It all makes him feel weak, pathetic, disgusting, but Feitan can’t help it. There’s something magnetic about you, and he can’t pull himself away. His pride won’t allow him to fully succumb to the thoughts and desires about you that are constantly swirling through his mind, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, that they aren’t bothering him constantly. He’s secretive, and maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know how many nights he’s spent with his fingers wrapped around his cock, his pale cheeks rosy as he imagines the way you’d like tied up with hickeys he made spanning the insides of your thighs.

Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know how often he’s (begrudgingly) held the extra pillow on his bed close to his chest, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tightens his arms around it.

(No, he wasn’t imagining it was you – he’s a touch starved man, and everyone has urges, right? It’s just coincidence that the pillow casing is one he stole from you, that he never washes it because it smells like you, that he nearly loses his mind when he almost gets a drop of blood from a victim on it.)

It makes it much easier to scare you into what he wants when you don’t know - you’re much more complainant this way, malleable, willing, and Feitan likes it that way. Sure, having you fall in love would be ideal, getting your obedience through a genuine desire to please him, but at least this way he can keep a piece of his pride intact.

This way, you’ll never realize the power you have over him - how he’d be willing to wipe out entire towns for you if you so much as mention it. You’ll never understand just how he needs to have you - to have you for what, you don’t know, but you can sense the odd sort of desperation coming off of him.

You can feel it in the way his fingers grip you just a bit too tight, the way his eyes linger on you just a tad too long, the way the smallest, most embarrassing little whimper falls from his lips when your hand touches his.

He’s good at hiding it, but everyone makes mistakes - just don’t pry too hard, because Feitan still needs to be the one in control, and you’ll quickly find yourself learning much, much more about the short man than you’ve ever wanted to know. Namely, that the only thing worse than him staring at you is him ignoring you.

Protective

Although, it will take you a very long time to see this side of him. Initially, Feitan’s feelings towards you are that of mild interest, mild disgust, and mild indifference.

Mild interest because he had, of course, noticed that you were pretty, what with your soft lips and doe eyes, your figure and the lilt of your voice. Indifference, because Fietan was sure there were a thousand other people just like you on Earth. And disgust, because you were so visibly weak and unable to fend for yourself, like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.

And yet, the more time he spends around you (maybe a long job has him centered in the same city for a few weeks, and you work at the little store he gets his meals from, or some other service job that brings you in contact regularly), the more complex these feelings become. His interest becomes peaked because you’re not just pretty, but also entertaining to talk to, handling his dry jabs well and even daring to throw back some jokes of your own. (He never laughed, of course, but a wry smile sat underneath his jacket.)

He’s still a bit indifferent, but not when you’re helping other customers or smiling down at your phone. (Were you texting someone? Your fingers were moving, implying typing – what were they saying that was making you giggle like that? What could he say that would make you giggle? Why does he care?)

But the starkest, quickest change of heart that Fietan experiences in how he feels about your strength and abilities. Of course, you are weak. Even if you can use nen, even if you know the basics of self defense – Feitan is sure that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, cleanly, easily. (He’s sure because he’s thought of doing it before – never seriously, just a fleeting thought, something that only briefly passed through his mind when he was still resistant to his attraction towards you – it was promptly expelled after that familiar sinking, uncomfortable feeling started up in his gut, but still.)

You’re embarrassingly weak, really, and as much as he tries to make himself ignore it or to simply stop caring about it, he can’t get it out of his head. He can’t seem to stop imagining you getting hurt, doing something stupid or careless and tarnishing that pretty skin of yours.

He can’t seem to stop imagining the way you’d take a corner too fast and slip on your own feet, tumbling to the ground and ending up with a sprained ankle or a scrape across your knee.

He’ll be sharpening a blade, blood stains caked onto the metal, and suddenly a flash of what your blood would look like staining the material makes him freeze for a moment, black eyes just a tad bit wider, the muscles in his arms and legs taut because there’s something sickening about the thought, something malicious and just carnally wrong.

He can’t help but imagine how you’d fare against someone like his coworkers, whose strength is difficult to handle even for an experienced nen user. How would someone like you fare against someone like Uvogin? Someone like Shizuku? Hell, even someone like Kortopi?

(Upon first meeting Hisoka, a very sudden and very intrusive image of the clown slicing a card clean through your throat flashed through his mind, and he’d nearly reached forward and ripped out the taller man’s heart at the thought, a purely instinctual response that left him more shell-shocked than he’d care to admit.)

He knows you wouldn’t stand a chance, and while he doesn’t want it to bother him, it does. It does, as much as he tries to forget the mental images or assure himself that you deserve getting injured for being so weak and helpless. But he can’t just sit still and let it pass by, if it were to ever happen - and so, Feitan’s protective tendencies begin manifesting.

They’re small, for the most part; making sure to keep his torture tools as far away from you as possible, just so that there’s no chance of you accidentally tripping or running into one or being stupid and getting any ideas.

He’s making sure that you’re under his watch as often as possible, becoming your second shadow and stalking you every free moment he can spare, just in case someone unsavory crosses your path.

He’s making sure that all your locks are working every night, compulsively checking them even though he knows they’re still good.

He keeps his protective tendencies under wraps, making sure that they’re subtle and just ambiguous enough that you won’t pick up on his intentions. Because while there’s something appealing about you knowing that he wants you to be safe, he would rather you not find out just how extensively he watches you, just how much he cares about your wellbeing, deciding that it’s yet another potential opportunity for you to manipulate him.

And of course, he’s embarrassed - he briefly considers requesting help watching you from a Troupe member or two, only for when he’s aware for long periods of times on individual jobs, but eventually he chickens out, too scared to have to explain why he wants Pakunoda to keep an eye on you.

He’s not embarrassed of you, per se, but rather the extent to which you affect him. And even once he’s stolen you away (an action which has roots in his paranoia for your safety), those protective tendencies are still firmly in place. He’s not a good cook, but he still tries to provide you with somewhat healthy foods, even if they’re undercooked and limp, bland and just overall unappealing.

He’s by no means an interior designer, but he’s getting you a somewhat soft, thick blanket, making sure the one pillow you have isn’t covered in stains or lumpy. It’s all subtle, nearly unnoticeable things that you’d have to be very perceptive to catch onto - but to Feitan it’s all important, because while he may still resent you for turning him into a lovesick fool, he’ll be damned if he lets you starve or be uncomfortable.

It’s stupid and he knows it, grumbling to himself the entire time he’s doing something to prevent hurting you, but it’ll always get done - and if you were to ever notice it, to thank him? Feitan would deny your allegations, telling you to shut up and eat your food, all the while the tips of his ears turn pink and his heart flutters because you noticed.

You noticed the way he takes extra precautions for you, the way he thinks of you and your wellbeing, even having the gall to thank him for it…

Don’t bring it up again or he’ll grow angry, but the pride sitting in his chest at your words is enough for him. It’s enough for him to know you see him, that you’re paying attention to him, that you appreciate all he does for you - it’s enough for now, at least.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Feitan is, unfortunately, a bit prone to jealousy – as someone who is aware that he isn’t the best option out there for you, the acknowledgement that there is a multitude of other men that deserve you more and could likely land you never fails to get past him.

He’s so, so aware of the fact that you likely don’t like him, that stalking you and planning to kidnap you likely doesn’t earn him any favors. He knows he’s fairly quiet, and while it’s mostly a fear of mildly embarrassing himself that bars him from actually interacting with you, it only pushes Feitan to worry that you only see him as a strange, unfamiliar man.

It’s likely that you think of him as nothing more than an acquaintance, a man who doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you. And so, the minute that another person tries to flirt with you, to look at you and think of you and speak with you, the insecurities over how you perceive him are blooming in his chest, growing and blossoming into full blown panic, because what if you fall for another man?

Of course, Feitan has absolutely no problem eliminating the threat, even enjoying taking the life of such a worthless man, but he can’t help the way fear grips his heart, cold and stabbing and brutal, because while he may be icy and difficult to approach, a stone face that leaves little emotion o be seen, Feitan wants you so fucking badly, to the point that it genuinely hurts.

And while he isn’t all that soft towards the beginning of his obsession (and really, even once you’ve been ‘living’ with him for a while as well), he does honestly want for you to return the feelings, to love him and care for him, to want to be with him and enjoy your new life by his side. Ideally, he wants you to fall for him, to see him and smile, to have your soft skin pressed against his rougher, more callused skin, your hands cupped in a firm embrace, a soft hug, a kiss against the lips and short, whispered words of trust and acceptance.

Of course, it’s makes him feel so damn pathetic each time he gets caught in a daydream where you’re smiling and laughing with him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and telling him he’s handsome, but try as he may, he just can’t allow another man to steal the opportunity to make you theirs.

He wants to be the only one in your life, the only man you see and think of and talk to, and quite honestly Feitan will succeed – his profession is death after all, and he’s a master at stalking his prey, locating their weaknesses, seamlessly killing and annihilating his target before they even have a chance to fight back.

And so, once his jealousy is triggered, the poor man’s fate has already been decided. Feitan’s never been particularly merciful, and where you’re concerned, this trait only grows - it feels good to kill whoever dared to speak with you, like some sort of cathartic release of all the emotions he’s been bottling up, all the anger and desperation and self-loathing and yearning trapped in his chest.

It feels good, euphoric in a way he can’t describe, and so he’s quick to jump on any man posing a potential threat to your status as single and ripe for Feitan to claim. He’s a trained killer, after all, and who is he to waste away a perfectly good target?

When the man in the black dress shirt approaches you in the grocery store, Feitan’s eyes narrow. The shorter man had been trailing you all day, watching you go about your weekly errands, and the tri-annual trip to the grocery store had been your last stop. You’d managed to evade any male attention today, a fact that had Feitan simultaneously sighing in relief and growling in anger.

And yet, here you are, dressed in a rather provocative set of leggings that have Feitan’s eyes absolutely glued to your supple ass, matched with a slouchy, oversized sweatshirt. You’re cute, he begrudgingly admits, and it seems the stranger agrees.

Feitan’s standing in the next aisle over, staring through the holes in the shelving to see the way you tap your chin and scan the aisles of bread, searching for the perfect loaf. You don’t seem to have noticed the man slowly walking up to you, his eyes visibly scanning up and down your body. Feitan scowls, black brows drawing tightly together as he debates what to do.

On the one hand, there’s not much he can do - you’re in a public grocery store, and he doesn’t particularly want you to notice his presence. And yet, he can’t just let this man approach you, speak to you, look at you, now can he? He grits his teeth, steeling himself to just watch for now, and jump in if the time is right, if he feels the man goes too far. The man clears his throat, making you jump and look over at him, the suave smile he sends you making your own smile falter a bit.

Which bread’s best? He’s asking you, and you answer quickly, naming your favorite brand and which style you like best - Feitan’s scowl only deepens when he realizes you’re telling him the truth.

The man nods along, before his smirk turns smarmy, one eyebrow cocked up as he asks which rolls are best then? I’m thinking they’re yours.

You blanch at that, disgust written across your face as you awkwardly laugh and inch away, but Feitan sees none of that - how can he, when he’s already moving, already grabbing the man by the neck and sprinting down the aisle and around the corner, all too fast for you to see with the naked eye?

You’re confused, unsure of how the man just suddenly disappeared, but his comment left you shellshocked and lost at what to do, so you quickly grab a random loaf and anxiously push your cart away, trying to put distance between you and wherever the man had ended up.

Meanwhile, Feitan’s got the man held against the back wall of the grocery store, fingers wrapped around his neck and a cold, menacing look in his eye.

Bastard, he grits out, tightening his grip and feeling the way the man panics and scratches at his fingers, trying to rip them away.

Disgusting, she is mine, didn’t your mother teach don’t touch what’s not yours? Feitan’s shocked he hasn’t just slaughtered the man yet, but there’s something in his heart telling him to prolong this out, to let the man suffer, to make this as slow and torturous as possible. He wants the man to bleed, to scream and sob and beg for his mercy, for being stupid enough to even try to seduce you.

Feitan’s angry enough that his breathing is uneven, his muscles occasionally flexing without his permission, the rage simmering in his veins nearly potent. He can’t stop replaying the sight of your disgusted and uncomfortable look, the fact that this scum caused you to feel such an emotion making his skin feel hot, his fingers eager to steal the man’s life.

He smiles as the man wheezes, the lack of oxygen making his face slowly take on a purple hue. What’s wrong? Can’t breath?

He squeezes once, harshly, roughly, and the man splutters, spit dribbling down his chin and getting onto Feitan’s wrist. He scoffs. Filthy, disgusting. Die.

And then the man is being stabbed with his sword, not once, not twice, but again and again and again, until holes and wounds decorate the planes of his chest, blood flowing down in rivers onto the dirty concrete floor.

The man is dead within a matter of seconds, but it’s not enough for Feitan. He’s quick to throw the body to the ground, kicking and stomping and mutilating the body until its unrecognizable. He’s still breathing hard, his fingers shaking, and he finishes it off with a spit at what was once the man’s face, a scowl thrown his way.

Pathetic, he says, dark eyes closing for a few moments as he looks to sense your familiar presence, already on your walk back towards your apartment. Feitan gives one last, firm kick, before taking off, the urge to have his eyes on you once more making him rush even quicker than normal. He’ll spend the rest of the evening watching you, like always, but this time he’ll pay more attention to your face.

You’ve never looked at him the way you looked at that man, all scared and revolted.

You’ve never tried to get away from Feitan, never ran or panicked or anything of the sort. Pride swells in his chest at the knowledge that you like the dark haired man more than that mangled corpse; you’d choose Fietan over him, he’s sure.

And as you slip under your covers, a soft look on your face as you drift to sleep, Feitan can’t help but slide open the window, slipping into the bedroom and coming up to stand beside your unconscious form.

Would you choose him over other men?

If given the choice, would you want him?

He’d always choose you, his heart always coming back to you no matter what he does or how he hates it - and one day, he’s hopeful you’ll feel the same. One day, you’ll be just as stupidly, pathetically, frantically in love as he is.

He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Someday, you’ll be all his.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

It takes Feitan a long time to resort to kidnapping you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but rather that it’s never been a priority for him. He’s reclusive, and because it takes him so long to sort out his feelings for you, stealing you away was certainly not at the forefront of his mind.

It takes him so long to even admit to himself that he cares for you, and that process alone takes anywhere from a month to three months, and only then does the stalking begin. Only then is he allowing the feelings for really grow, to fester and brew in his chest until he’s insatiable, desperate to see you and be in your presence. It takes him so long to warm up to you that he just simply doesn’t have the time or forethought to consider taking you for himself - that is, until his protective tendencies begin coming into play. Once he starts actively caring about your safety and wellbeing, little thoughts begin springing up in the back of his mind. He’s chastising you mentally for staying up late, the hands on the clock moving past hours he’s comfortable with.

He doesn’t like when you lay in your bed scrolling through that damn phone of yours, the bright light bad for your eyes and making you delay sleeping for as long as possible. It makes him angry (if not hypocritical, seeing as he himself only gets roughly four hours of sleep per night), and before he can even stop himself he’s thinking of how he’d make you fall asleep if he was with you, prying that phone out of your hands and telling you to sleep now.

He doesn’t like when you walk home alone at night, as if you’re practically asking to be mugged or assaulted or killed, which is why he has to follow you, begrudgingly hiding in the shadows and trailing you as you meander back to your apartment.

You’re stupid, is what you are, and as time passes, Feitan becomes more and more shocked at how lightly you take your own life - how can one single person be so careless? How can you be willing to eat food so close to the expiration date, or look both ways at the sidewalk just once? You’re helpless, truly, and it pisses Feitan off.

It makes him mad, if only because he’s trying so much harder than you are to keep you safe, and isn’t it unfair to him? Isn’t it awfully inconsiderate of you to make him spend so much time looking after you, doing everything for you because you’re so damn incapable? It’s a negative view and Feitan doesn’t really blame you, only convincing himself he does in order to make him feel better. It’s an excuse to help him feel like he isn’t as attached as he really is, a way to help alleviate some of the embarrassment he has regarding his feelings for you.

It’s pathetic, he thinks, but then something happens - something bad, something Fietan had hoped never would. Somehow, an enemy of the Troupe had discovered you. Maybe he was too preoccupied by keeping his eyes on you that he missed the stranger’s presence, unknowingly leading them directly to you.

Sweet, weak, defenseless you.

Time is frozen for Feitan as he returns from Troupe work, slinking to your apartment and letting himself in the front door, knowing that although it’s horribly late, you’re surely freshly asleep - except, the door is already ajar, and Feitan feels his blood run cold. There’s someone here. It doesn’t matter if they’re a friend or enemy to you - why the fuck is there another person in your home at such an ungodly hour?

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and for a moment Feitan feels pure, absolute panic - you’re incapable of warding someone off, especially if you’re asleep, and although he feel sense your presence, there’s a distinct aura coming from your bedroom that isn’t yours. He’s quick to rush in, dark eyes narrowing when he sees the figure over your bed, a man hunched over and about to touch you -

His sword is slicing through the man’s neck before he can even blink, head dropping to the ground with a dull thud and blood pooling where it lands. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, brows pinched together and his grip on the sword hilt tight.

His gaze flicks to where you’re still sleeping peacefully, utterly unaware of the man standing beside your bed and the lifeless corpse bleeding out onto your floor. He’s got no choice, really - there’s something ugly stirring in his chest, something big and bad and painful, and he’s reaching out and scooping you into his arms all too quickly.

The man surely was after Feitan - he’d looked at him with recognition, and Feitan can only swallow and tighten his grip on you ever so tightly, hopping out your window and taking off into the night, the makeshift home he’d been residing in lately eventually coming upon the horizon.

The whole event spurs Feitan to believe that relocation is really the best option - his enemies are aware of you now, and who’s to say more won’t come knocking? How does he know you won’t be targeted again, those with vendettas against the Troupe knowing that someone weak and such an Achilles Heel like you would be the perfect revenge?

He doesn’t, and so although he’s grimacing and slightly worried to have you under the same roof, he sets you down on the hard mattress, giving you a few glances before closing the door, sighing to himself and hoping you wake up soon.

Feitan, once you’ve been stolen away, is mostly just an enigma to you.

He’s so painfully unexpressive, so difficult to interact with that you’ll be left to wonder just why he stole you away, why he even bothered to take you when he seems so utterly disinterested in you. He doesn’t talk to you - outside of a few clipped, short commands, he’ll hardly ever let you hear his voice.

Particularly in the beginning of your captivity, he would listen to your crying and begging to be released silently, his eyes slightly narrowed before a small, curt stop filled the room.

He’s never given you any sort of an explanation for why you woke up in his home one day, even when you ask him over and over again. He’ll only look at you, dark eyes fixed on your face, before telling you to go to sleep, you need sleep and promptly shutting and locking the bedroom door. He’s entirely unwilling to really interact with you in any meaningful way - except, it’s not because he hates you, or because he’s simply biding his time to kill you.

You may think that, fear swimming through your veins every time you see him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth - he’s not interacting with you much because there’s a part of Feitan that’s honestly afraid to. It makes him feel stupid and pitiful, but every time he tries to ask you a question or tell you something, the words just sort of die in his throat, his tongue frozen in his mouth even as he tries to move, tries to interact and get you to just look at him, dammit.

Honestly, he’s embarrassed to speak to you - he’s been watching you for so long, acting as your shadow and seeing you so natural and perfect and raw, and he’s grown used to having a front row seat without having to do anything. He’s not used to you being able to see him or hear him or even know he’s there at all. It’s scary to have you be aware of him, placing him in an uncomfortable position where he can no longer simply watch you or long for you from afar - no, now, as much as he hates to admit it, he cares about your opinion.

He cares about how you view him, how you perceive him, what you think about him. He wants you to think he’s funny when he tells cutting jokes, and generous when he gives you bowls of semi-cold soup. He wants you to find him attractive, catching your eyes settling on his body or your fingers running through his ebony locks.

He wants your opinion to be favorable, but despite how strong this desire is, the fear that you’ll find him weird outweighs it. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s terrified that you’ll think he’s strange, a freak, some sort of monster if he talks with you. He’s scared he’ll say something wrong, something to scare you or offend you, and while he may be a mass murderer and an atrocious man, there’s something about the way your eyes would get all glassy and teary, face contorting into disgust as you physically recoil from him that makes his gut wrench, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

He’s too awkward and nervous to speak with you - and so, he resorts instead to the staring, to the watching, to the observing. It’s what he knows best, after all, considering that was how most of his time was spent before kidnapping you. This is better; he has control in this situation, and he won’t accidentally slip and say something that bears too much truth, that lets you in on too much of what’s going on in his head.

There’s less room for error if he relegates himself to minimal verbal and physical interaction, and while he aches to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your cheeks or the texture of your hair, he’s restraining himself. Just the mere thought of your skin against his gets him shivering, but it’s quite easy to overwhelm him; he’s not used to being the recipient of your attention, and while it feels good to have you looking at him and attempting to start conversations, it can get to be too much for him very quickly.

It’s easy enough to answer trivial questions; things like what the food is that he placed in front of you (doesn’t matter, it’s good is all he’ll answer with) or inquiries into why he wears that same massive coat all the time (warm and my favorite color).

Those are easy enough, not breaching too close to anything personal or anything that you could use against him. But the more complex questions, or - once the Stockholm Syndrome eventually kicks in and you’re so lonely you’ll happily converse with your kidnapper - compliments?

As soon as the words slip from your lips, a simple your eyes are pretty or a I hope you sleep well makes him stiffen up a bit, lips parting ever so slightly under that cowl of his, before he’s quickly darting out the door and slamming it shut behind him. He has to take a few moments to collect himself, his ears and cheeks feeling hot because god, you were looking right at him, and you’d even said his name.

(He spends the rest of the night in the basement, compulsively cleaning and recleaning his torture tools over and over, trying to distract himself from replaying your compliments over and over in his head, ingraining the sound of your voice and the tingling warmth he felt into his brain. Everything is sparkling clean by the time he’s done, a few hours having passed, and yet he’s spent the whole time thinking of you, letting you plague his thoughts like you always do.)

He just can’t handle having all of your attention on him like that, and although he gets better at it and more used to it as time goes on, he’ll still be very skittish. He’s like a feral cat; he’ll stalk and watch, staring at you with beady eyes from the corner of the room while you try and act natural, only to scamper away when you try to reach out and pet.

You’ll be starved for human contact as his captee, but aside from the lack of any sort of touch, you’ll find that being stuck with him is actually not too bad - he feeds you a decent diet, and lets you live in the spare bedroom of his home. He’d even cleaned everything up before you arrived, a preemptive measure he underwent one night when he couldn’t sleep, both his dreams and thoughts revolving around you.

(There’s still bits of dust and a spider or two in the corner of the ceiling, but everything smells not terribly musty, and you don’t notice any mysterious stains on the sheets, so it could be worse, right?)

He leaves you to your own devices more often than not, just on the condition that he can be present, whether you’re reading a book or sleeping or doodling with some art supplies he stole for you a while back. He’s not too demanding, but eventually the Stockholm Syndrome will get to you - you will eventually start wishing he’d do more than just look, even when he comes home with blood speckling his jacket.

You’ll grow to wish he would sit just a bit closer to you, so that you could feel his body warmth or a brush of his skin against your own. You’ll hate yourself for endearing your captor, but you don’t have much of a choice - Feitan, while terrifying and absolutely capable of killing you in more ways than you can count, is strangely sweet in his own way, even if it takes you a while to notice it.

He’s not buying you flowers or declaring his undying love to you, but he is leaving small, insignificant gifts on your nightstand, maybe a small pastry that you love, or even a small, pretty little jewel he managed to snatch away from the goods Chrollo said were communal among the Troupe from the latest heist. He won’t ever say anything about them, and if you bring it up to him he’ll either ignore you or deny their existence, but he likes leaving them there as a token, as some way of quelling the intense desire to please you that wells in his chest.

It’s the only route he can allow himself to take, because that way he doesn’t have to confront you, only looking at your sleeping face. You always look so peaceful and pretty this way, all the lines of stress and worry smoothing away - you look how you used to, before he stole you away, back when his infatuation first started.

And as he gently, carefully, hesitantly sits down beside your sleeping form on the mattress, he can’t help but gulp harshly and slowly, ever so slowly, reach out and rest his palm on your leg, the sheets separating your skin. He’ll keep his hand there for a while, dark eyes appraising your form under the covers, before exhaling shakily and standing back up, making sure the jade he’d brought back for you was securely on the bedside table, right in your view when you wake up. He’s not a bad captor by any means; he just has trouble expressing himself, walls built up too highly and too thickly to ever really knock them down.

And you’ll get close - as close as you can, at least, as time passes. Feitan will eventually warm up to you, but he’ll never be particularly loving, particularly obvious with his feelings for you - he’ll always be a lovesick fool, but he’ll be damned if he lets another soul know that.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Feitan doesn’t particularly like hurting you. Of course, his career rides on his ability to harm, torture, mutilate and extract information out of even the worst criminals and agents, and for the most part he enjoys it.

There’s something about the way he can elicit screams and tears out of others that gets him giddy, the smile stretching across the part of his face covered by his jacket as wide as can be. And yet, for all the enjoyment he derives out of hurting others, seeing you harmed, bruised, crying and begging isn’t nearly as fun as Feitan had expected.

He’s not really sure why, but for some reason seeing you looking at him with so much fear dancing in your pretty eyes makes his gut wrench, an uncomfortable feeling sitting at the base of his throat while he mutters something demanding you to stop looking at him like that. It makes him feel weak, frankly, that you have this effect on him, but he can’t help it – early on into your captivity with him, he tried to settle your disobedience by physically harming you, but he got as far as leaving a rather large carved ‘F’ right over your heart before your crying got to him.

He couldn’t lift his hand as you sobbed below him that day, your wrists bound by leather cording stained with his previous victims’ blood. Your eyes were puffy and glassy, snot dripping from your nose and pathetic little cries and begs for him to stop tumbling past your quivering lips.

Frankly, Feitan was embarrassed for you. But more than anything, he was pissed – his hands were trembling, the switch knife grasped between his fingers frozen, his dark eyes wide as they stared down at you, guilt flashing through them the longer you sniffled and shook, the sight of you in pain with your pretty red blood dribbling down your collarbone simply too much.

That day, he cleaned your wound, packed up his torture gear and locked you into your designated bedroom, all without a single word, mostly because his tongue didn’t seem to be working. But the shaky gasps stumbling from his lips as he stared at his own two hands later that night were enough to make him realize he hates to see you in pain, particularly when he’s the cause.

It’s confusing, irritating, scary, even, that you have this effect on him, but try as he might, any thought of physically harming you from that point on makes his stomach twist, bile rising up his throat and nausea hitting him square in the chest.

But trouble, of course, arises; he refuses to physically harm you in most cases, but he still will only tolerate absolute obedience from you. You can’t simply walk all over him, he won’t let you – you need to listen to his instructions, follow his rules, eat the food he gives you, smile at him all pretty and warm, and let him sneak into your room and hold you when you’re fast asleep in the middle of the night, just as he starts craving.

Feitan needs you to be obedient and submissive to him, and so how can he mold you into the perfect, obedient partner without laying harm to you?

The solution, as it turns out, lies in making you absolutely believe that he will hurt you, despite it not being true.

You don’t need to know that the thought of making you wince or scrunch up your face in pain makes him physically hurl; no, you’re much better off thinking that he’s simply playing nice, waiting for the right moment to strike and leave you broken and bleeding. He’ll allow you to believe that he’s constantly ready to punish you, because then you’ll have some incentive to follow his words and rules, and to do what he believes you should do.

And why wouldn’t you believe it?

You know what Feitan does – he makes no effort to hide the torture tools scattered across his basement, and while you’ve only been down there once (the initial carving of the F), your imagination can conjure up plenty of scenarios of what goes on in that damp, dark basement.

The fact that he has hurt you leads to you staying mostly in line – you’re more than aware of what he’s capable of, and although it slightly pains Feitan that you think of him as a monster, it’s for the best. It’s better for everyone when you’re well behaved – when you simply follow his orders and do what he wants you to, no matter how strange it makes you feel.

You probably aren’t particularly fond of eating in front of him, but he’ll be sitting at the other end of the table as you carefully, hesitantly, twist the strands of pasta around your fork, your gaze flickering from the slightly undercooked noodles to your captor and back again.

You probably don’t really like sleeping while he sits in the corner of the room, that stupid jacket pulled up over his mouth, making the only part of him visible to your drowsy self those damn eyes – and his hands, of course, with just the slightest touch of dried blood under his nails. You’re probably not particularly a fan of any aspect of being his captive – and Feitan carefully controls this.

However, on the off chance that you do act up, that liquid courage flows through your veins and you cross him, you’ll quickly grow to regret it. Feitan still won’t hurt you – not physically, at least.

But others?

Well, it’s not hard to get Chrollo to give him someone who needs to give up some information, to set up the basement and make sure you get a front row seat as he makes the knots tight around the man’s wrist. It hurts him, really, to see the way your face contorts into horror as you watch him break bone after bone in the man’s body, but Feitan can’t stop looking at you. He needs you to be watching – you have to see what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t really want you to know.

You have to know that he’s serious when he tells you that you can’t leave, that there’s nowhere in the world you can run to where he won’t find you. He rips the man’s nails off, a finger at a time, just to make sure you understand that his touch can hurt – but maybe, some part of him hopes, you’ll realize that when he touches you, his touch is only ever gentle. Or at least as gentle as he can be.

It’s all to make sure you understand that he’s utterly, absolutely in charge – his word is law, and while he craves for you to love him, he’s willing to compromise with just your respect and undivided attention.

It’s not ideal, but as he watches the way tears stream down your cheeks and your body heaves and shudders with your sobs, he can’t help but slice the knife into the man’s thigh deeper, send the punch to his jaw harder.

He has to keep you in line – this complicated, doomed relationship he’s forced you into is the only thing that makes him feel that strange, fluttering feeling in his chest, and he’ll be damned if he lets it go. He’ll be damned if he lets you go – even if you think of him as a monstrous, sadistic freak.

Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t; it doesn’t matter, because you’re never getting away.

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

The danger that lies with being Feitan’s darling is much more mental than physical. By all means, he’s not the ideal captor – he’s a criminal and mass murderer, torturing people for a living and liking it. And yet, there’s something about you that tones down the more deranged, violent aspects of his personality - he’s by no means soft, but he’s rounder at the edges, less rough and bitter and cold.

He hates himself for falling in love with you, for having allowed you to worm your way into his heart and settle there, plaguing his every thought and dream with your face, your voice and laugh and smile and god, your body -

He blames you, initially, but as time goes on and his feelings only grow stronger, harder to suppress, he finds that it doesn’t matter. You’ve already staked your claim on his heart, and there’s simply nothing he can do to stop what’s inevitable.

Kidnapping is imminent with him, but it really does take him a long while to actually go through with it; you’ll have a long period of freedom from his clutches where you’re living your own life, with him only controlling it from the shadows rather than blatantly, like when he’s stolen you away. He’s not particularly needy, only demanding that you stay in his line of sight, but there’s something more terrifying about the way he’s always watching you like a hawk watches its prey than simple touching would be.

You’re thankful he hasn’t forced himself on you or even forced any kind of affection, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that you miss human touch, that you almost wish he would reach out and hold your hand, press a kiss to your lips, slip the ratty old t-shirt he’d given you over your chest.

You’ll find yourself growing stir crazy under Feitan’s rule, growing desperate but still too scared to confront him, because his intentions with you will remain ambiguous at best - he hasn’t killed you yet, so you must be important to him somehow. You’re not sure, but the longer you spend with him, the less you’ll care until eventually you’re actively dreaming of the day when he finally, finally touches you with those cold fingers and lets you out of that bedroom you’re locked up in.

Feitan loves you, in his own sick, twisted way, and the sooner you realize that the better - maybe you never will, but Feitan will always, always be there waiting, his gaze never faltering once from your figure.

You’re just too mesmerizing, after all - and Feitan’s never been particularly good at denying himself what’s his.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan portor #hxh x reader #_hxh #_lee's profiles #_feitan portor

659 notes · View notes

withahappyrefrain · 2 years

Text

The Heat is On

Summary: When the AC goes out in your apartment, your roommate Peter reveals he knows more about you than you think. 18+

For @blooming-violets, who asked for "AC is out" trope with blonde asshole roommate Peter Parker for my 3K celebration

Moving to New York, you hoped you would finally get to experience more mild summers.

What a joke.

"When did Frank say it would be fixed?" You asked your roommate after removing your head from the fridge.

Without looking up from his phone, Peter remarked, "Hopefully tomorrow."

"Hopefully?!" You gawked. There was no way you could live like this for more than twenty- four hours.

"What? You're not enjoying the view?" Peter motioned to his bare chest. Lying on the couch, he was clad only in boxers.

You rolled your eyes, "You're right, I forgot what a show all six of your chest hairs are."

He put a hand over his heart, throwing his head back as if he had just been struck by an arrow shot by you, "Ouch. You know, people usually have to jump through a lot of hoops to see this."

"Oh, like go to frat parties and pretend your jokes are funny?" You opened the freezer to find several ice cubes. You grabbed them, the coolness feeling delightful in your hand.

"You should be a comedian," Peter remarked, rolling his eyes before he returned to his phone.

You made your way over to the chair that was across from your roommate. You pressed an ice cube against your neck, relishing in the small relief from the heat.

"It's inhumane to let people go more than three hours with no AC," you muttered.

"I'm not complaining about the view I'm getting," His brown eyes motioned to your figure that was clad in only a sports bra and athletic shorts.

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his comment.

Living with a frat guy was not on your bingo college card. But your original housing plan had fallen through, the place was well within your budget and you were desperate.

Despite looking like a walking stereotype, Peter was actually a decent roommate. He paid all his bills on time, did his dishes, and kept the parties at his brothers' places.

The only thing Peter would not shake, despite the countless people you both had brought home, was his comments about how attracted he found you. Sometimes you just shut it down, sometimes you ignored it, sometimes you came back with a snarky remark that silenced him.

Peter was attractive, there was no denying that. All your friends wondered how you two hadn't fucked yet.

"Easy. I don't fuck frat bros nor do I fuck my roommates," you would tell them.

But sometimes, it was hard. Especially when he looked at you with a gleam in those honeyed eyes. Or when he just woke up in the morning and his dyed hair was sticking up in every direction and his voice was even deeper.

Thankfully, an alert from your phone saved you from having to make any kind of comment.

"Who's texting you?" Peter asked without even looking up from his phone.

"Chris, telling him about our lack of AC." The name briefly brought a scowl to Peter's face. One that he quickly hid as soon as he felt it.

"The Econ major who can't find a shirt that fits to save his life?"

You looked up from your phone, a smirk forming, "I'm not complaining about his too tight shirts. They show off his pecs quite well."

Peter muttered something about increased gym time when you had an easy major.

You chose to ignore his comment, instead reading the text you've received.

Peter noticed how a small smile appeared on your face as your eyes scanned the message. He also noticed how quickly you got up to head back to your room.

And he definitely noticed the sundress you were wearing when you came out of your room twenty minutes later. Along with the fact you had combed your hair and put on some makeup.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, knowing the answer. Jealousy twisted through his stomach, bubbling up to his throat.

"Chris invited me over to hang out, said I could use his AC," you remarked as you slipped on your shoes.

Peter scoffed, "You do realize he's not wanting to hang out, right? Or that he's not offering you AC out of the goodness of his heart?"

You looked up, trying to read his face. The most annoying thing about Peter Parker was that he was impossible to read. Was he jealous? Or simply judging you?

"Peter, I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't know what he wanted," You leaned forward, "I also wouldn't have gone without a bra."

His amber eyes darted to your chest, the tops of your breasts now exposed thanks to the sundress you had on, combined with you leaning forward.

He chewed his bottom lip, "So you're aware he's just trying to fuck you?"

"Maybe I want to fuck him," You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster.

The truth was that you weren't crazy about the dude. He wasn't bad. Chris was just fine.

But the heat was awful and you needed an out. And maybe this time, you could enjoy it.

Peter turned his attention back to his phone, shaking his head. It wasn't the heat that was making the air thick.

Normally he didn't comment on who you brought home. It was an unspoken rule you two had. You wouldn't judge him for who he brought home and vice versa. So long as they weren't a dick, didn't overstay their welcome, and you weren't super loud.

So why was this time any different?

"Let me know if the AC gets fixed," You said as you grabbed your purse. His eyes remained on his phone. Whatever had put him in a foul mood, you wanted no part of it and were glad to be leaving.

It wasn't until you headed towards the door that you heard his voice.

"Have fun faking another orgasm."

You stopped dead in your tracks, a flash of heat coursing through your body.

"Excuse me?" Was all you could get out as you turned around.

Peter was now standing, his arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk now on his face.

"I said, have fun faking another orgasm," he repeated.

"I don't know what-"

Peter scoffed, "What, you're still trying to hide it? I thought it was one of those unspoken roommate things where we both knew what was going on. Like that spider bite I got back in high school."

Your fingers curled into a fist, "Parker, I don't know where the fuck you get the audacity but-"

"The walls here are thin. I know what you sound like when you touch yourself versus when you're with someone. There's a huge difference," He walked towards you.

"Though, I will say that you have gotten a lot better since we moved in. Last week, when you brought Chris over?" He brought his long fingers up to his lips, kissing them, "Probably your best performance to date."

"What I do in bed is none of your concern. Also are you listening to me?" You deflected. If you could pin it back to him, you could get out of this.

Sure, you could just leave. But then that would make it seem like he was right.

Peter was right. But you couldn't let him know that.

He was now inches away from you, his arms still crossed as he looked down. Every mark, mole, and scar were visible.

"Again, the walls are thin. Should probably keep your voice down when you use your vibrator," He bent his knees, now at your eye level, "Or don't. You sound really pretty when you moan."

The grip you had on your keys was so tight, the metal was digging into your skin. You didn't care. All you cared about was trying to put on a brave face in front of Peter.

"Has anyone actually made you come while they fucked you?" He asked.

"Why the fuck do you care?" You gritted between your teeth.

Peter leaned in, which made you realize you had never been this close to him before. He didn’t smell like cheap body wash and bleach. Instead, the scent of spicy cinnamon flooded your nostrils.

It was the only pleasant thing about this whole ordeal.

“Well, based on what I’ve heard when you touch yourself, I think you’d sound even prettier coming apart with an actual cock inside you, rather than that dildo you use.”

The way he said it so casually with that smirk and a gleam in those amber eyes was infuriating. At least, it should have been.

You felt heat all over your body and it wasn't from the lack of cool air.

"What do you want Peter? You want me to admit it? Fine," you spat, "No, I've never come while actually getting fucked. You happy?"

He shook his head, "Actually I think it's a shame."

You rolled your eyes, "and what? You want to fix it?"

His lips were now inches away from yours, "If you want me to."

Peter's fingers ghosted over your bare arm, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin. They trailed upwards to your shoulder, moving to your neck.

"And what if you can't make me?"

"Then I'll cover utilities for the next three months." His eyes were on your body, his fingers now brushing over the pulse on your neck.

"With what money?" You stammered. The longer you could draw it out, the more time you had to avoid thinking about what your bleached blonde roommate was offering.

"New York's favorite friendly neighborhood Spider has some new pictures out." He explained, the smirk remaining on his face, his hand now firmly on the back of your neck.

Your eyes trailed down his bare chest to his hips. A smattering of dark hair trailed down his stomach, going below the waistband of his grey boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight of a now prominent bulge that was creating a clear outline in his boxers.

He was getting turned on by this. That fucker.

Before you could say anything, pressure was applied to your throat, forcing you to look up into Peter's eyes.

"So you do like being choked," He muttered.

"Don't lie. I can smell you," Peter said in response to your attempt to shake your head.

"So what do you say? Want to see if I can make you come with my cock?"

You heard the men and women he brought home. The walls were thin. You didn't hate how loud they would get because it kept you awake.

You hated it because they were enjoying it immensely. They always came. You wanted that, wanted to know what it felt like.

Plus, your lease would be up in a few months anyways.

"Fine, let's see if all the folks you brought home are better actors than me," You spat.

Peter chuckled, "You're so cute when you act tough."

He brought his other hand up to cup your face before sealing his lips onto yours.

It was gentle at first, which surprised you. His lips were soft, probably from the chapstick of yours that he keeps stealing.

The kiss was sweet. Something you knew was possible for Peter, but didn't expect to see it in the way his lips moved against yours.

Peter used his hands to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss. His tongue darted out, your lips parting without even thinking.

He was a good kisser, you could admit that to yourself.

Not to his face though. Peter Parker didn't deserve that satisfaction. He didn't deserve to know that he wasn't the only one who listened through that thin wall, picking up on how the other sounded when they moaned.

Be it due to pride or fear, he couldn't know.

"Thought you were going to fuck me," You said, taking a step back to lean against the wall.

"Do none of the guys you fuck do foreplay?" He's walking towards you with such focus, it makes your thighs clench.

"Foreplay would be like you going down on me, I thought you knew that."

"If you want me to go down on you, just say it." He's leaning forward, his lips brushing over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

"I already told you that you could fuck me," You mumbled. He looks up, his eyes on you. They're soft now, gone is the mischievous glint.

"I only want to do what you're comfortable with. But I'm not a fucking mind reader, you need to actually say it."

"You just want to hear it." You looked down, avoiding Peter's gaze.

"I want to make you feel good. Just say the word." You looked back up at him. His whole expression had softened, which you hated.

You were familiar with the smirks, the quippy one liners. Those were easy to deflect with an eye roll or snarky comment.

"Why are you doing this Parker?" Your voice was now barely a whisper.

"Have I not made it obvious that I like you?"

He looked genuinely confused, as if it was as clear as the sun rising and setting every day.

"Y-you're just flirting, like you do with everyone-"

"That's a fucking lie and you know it. You're the only person I've introduced to my Aunt and I tell you shit I haven't told anyone else. You're the one who keeps brushing it off like it's nothing." Peter sunk down until he was on his knees, both his hands gripping your thighs.

"So why don't you be a big girl and tell me whether or not you want me to eat you out? It's the least you could do." His admission was so casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Because it was. Peter hadn't brought anyone back to the apartment in over a month. He would find ways to spend time with you, whether it was while you were folding laundry or cooking dinner.

You saw the look in his eyes when you helped him patch up after a rough night. It was so intense that you found ways to avoid eye contact.

He kept those overly flirty comments because he knew that was what you were comfortable with.

You stared down at Peter, whose fingers were gripping the hem of your sundress.

He wasn't going to budge. You had to make the choice.

"You can eat me, but you can't make me come with your mouth. Defeats the whole purpose of seeing if you can make me come with your cock," you finally said after what felt like an eternity, the heat making you almost dizzy.

The hem of your dress was pushed up to your waist, a low groan escaping Peter's mouth from upon seeing that you had opted to forgo underwear.

A snarky remark formed on your tongue, but it died as soon as Peter buried his head between your thighs.

His tongue lapped greedily at your folds, your arousal mixing with his saliva. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt Peter's nose brush against your clit.

Your hands found themselves in his bleached hair, tugging on the surprisingly soft locks.

His mouth was good, which your body loved but your brain hated. You had bitten your bottom lip so hard in an attempt to hold back any pleasurable sounds that the taste of copper filled your mouth.

"Just let go. Probably why you haven't ever come," He muttered into your thigh before latching his mouth to your clit.

The grip you had on his fake blonde locks tightened as a strangled cry fell from your lips.

You could feel Peter moan against your cunt, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

"J-just get on with it Parker."

He took his mouth off of you, it taking everything in you not to whine from the loss.

Peter stood up, which was when you saw that his chin was glistening. His fingers gripped your chin, his other hand on the back of your neck. With his broad chest, he guided your body until it was fully against the wall, one of his thighs in-between your legs.

"Why don't you ask nicely, princess?" You could feel your slick against your skin as his lips ghosted over your cheek.

"T-thought you liked me," you stammered as his thigh pushed against your core.

"Doesn't mean you get to be a brat. That's no way to treat the one guy who actually wants to make you come on his cock."

He was right. He was the only one to realize you had been faking it, that you weren't satisfied. The only one to offer to try, to express not just interest but want in making you feel good.

"P-please, Peter," you whimpered.

"Good girl," he praised before gripping onto your thighs and picking you up. His words caused you to clench around nothing, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

When exactly you ended up in Peter's room, you were unsure. But as the back of your head made contact with his pillow, his fingers gripped your sundress, pulling the fabric up and over your head.

Peter muttered a curse at the sight of your bare body. Of course you didn't wear a bra either.

His lips found themselves on your chest, his teeth grazing your skin. Your nails dug into Peter's back as his fingers slipped through your folds, into your entrance.

"T-Thought- you said you would f-fuck me," you whined, your pitch increasing as you felt Peter's teeth against one of your nipples. The air was hot from the lack of AC, his cracked window doing very little to cool you down.

You could hear him laugh against your chest, "Put up such a fight only to beg for me to fuck you."

Peter flicked his wrist, his fingers hitting a spot that left you breathless. He saw how your eyes widened, your lips parted yet no sound came out.

That all too familiar smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off his face, the one that made him look almost boyish despite his stubble, the one you adored, returned.

He pulls his fingers out of you, pushing down his boxers to free his cock. His fingers are glistening with your slick.

You're staring, unable to look away as he uses those same fingers to pump his cock.

"Like what you see?" Peter grins.

You roll your eyes, "I thought you were supposed to stop being an asshole after you admit you like me."

Peter shakes his head, leaning down so his body is hovering over your's, "Don't you know it's bad to change yourself for the person you like?"

You lift your head up to capture his lips, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip. You clench at the deep groan that comes from Peter.

His free hand wraps itself around your throat, pushing your upper body back down to the bed.

A choked scream escapes your lips as you feel him enter you. You feel full, the sensation of Peter inside of you almost overwhelming.

"Just tell me when you're ready for me to move," He whispered softly before pressing his lips against your cheek.

"Move, please," you whimper.

"You wanna come so bad, don't you?" You nod your head at Peter's question, whining as you feel his cock pull almost all the way out of you, leaving on the tip.

"Don't worry princess," his accent shown through as he thrusted back into you, your back arching off the mattress.

It actually feels good, the way his cock fills you up and brushes against your walls with every thrust. Peter's lips are all over your neck, alternating between giving you bruising marks and soothing kisses.

You can feel sweat rolling down your chest, but for once you don't care. A coil is tightening in your stomach, a sensation that until now, you had only experienced when touching yourself.

"Feels good?" Peter asks, his face not even inches away from yours. You can feel the ends of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead.

You nod, but that isn't good enough for Peter, "Use ya words. Wanna hear ya."

A scowl forms on your face because of course he'd still be an asshole when he's getting you close to coming.

As if he could sense it, a large hand grips your chin, his fingers squeezing the sides of your lips.

"What did I fucking say about being a brat? I know you're close, can feel your cunt squeezing my cock."

His words only push you further and he can tell by how the near vice grip your cunt has on him somehow gets even tighter.

Peter grins, his eyes lightening up as realization sweeps over him, "You put up this tough girl act but you want someone to put you in your place, don't ya?"

It's all too much. His words, his cock, the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

How he figured you out in record timing. How despite the fact you both tried your best at the beginning of this lease to keep each other out, you were more comfortable around one another than anyone else.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya." Peter shifts so he's on his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs and pinning them to his hips.

The new position allows him to not only thrust deeper, but also gives him access to your clit.

Inhibitions now gone, you throw your head back as you feel his calloused fingers draw circles on your bundle of nerves.

Your hands find themselves practically clawing at Peter's thighs, desperate for him to keep going. You loved how good it felt. That he was actually fucking you, rather than treating you like a life-size fleshlight.

"Please don't stop," You manage to get out in-between the whimpers and moans.

"Not a chance. Wanna hear how loud you get when you fall apart on my cock."

You opened your mouth to call him an asshole, but then his fingers brushed against your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

Your nails dug deep into his back as you fell apart around him. Your whole body tightened and unwind over and over again. The neighbors next door were sure to draft up a noise complaint, given the way you were practically screaming.

Peter continued to fuck you through it, prolonging your orgasm. You never wanted it to end. Your eyes couldn't help but close, all you could focus on, all you could feel, was how your walls tightened around his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you come," Peter grunted, his eyes never leaving your withering body.

You opened your eyes again, unsure of how long you had them closed for. Holy shit, he was still fucking you. You could still feel your body spasming in pleasure.

"D-don't….don't stop," you begged, jolts of pleasure still running through your body.

"I won't baby. I'll make ya feel this good every night if ya let me." Peter's words combined with his fingers still drawing circles on your sensitive clit, pushed you back towards the edge of pleasure, further away from coherent thoughts.

"F-fuck, you feel incredible," Peter stammered as he watched you fall apart again.

His hips snapped against yours, the feeling of your tight cunt practically milking his cock becoming too much. The sounds of your wetness were loud and lewd, spurring him further.

Peter collapsed onto you, a deep groan falling from his lips as he slammed his hips against yours one last time before coming inside of you.

The two of you laid there, the only sounds in the room were of the small fan Peter had on and you two trying to catch your breath.

"So what do you get?"

Peter lifted his head up from your chest, his brows knitted in confusion at your question.

"You said if you couldn't make me come, you'd pay utilities for the next three months. You never said what would happen if you did make me come," You explained as you run a hand through his dyed hair.

A soft smile appeared on Peter's face, the corners of his eyes creasing.

"I get to take you out to dinner," He revealed.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Y'know, most people take folks they like to dinner first, then fuck them."

Peter shrugged, "Figured you needed to relax first."

You playfully swatted his shoulder, "Asshole."

"This asshole just made you come so hard, you blacked out for several minutes," he reminded you before pressing a kiss to your jawline.

"Yes and I'm sure this won't be the last time you remind me," You shook your head, though a small smile remained on your face.

"I'll stop once I get you to squirt. Then I'll make sure you never forget about that," Peter whispered, sending heat all over your body.

Perhaps you could renew your lease with him.

#my writing #abby's 3k celebration #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter smut #spiderman x you

5K notes · View notes

sourlove · 17 days

Text

Kingpin ~ Part III of 'Street Rat' YANDERE BAKUGO KATSUKI

TW: OBSESSION, KIDNAPPING, YANDERE THEMES, MENTIONED GANG ACTIVITIES, MENTIONED MURDER, MENTIONED BLACKMAIL

READ PART 1 HERE

READ PART 2 HERE

(Female reader) (Mild NSFW)

Bakugo Katsuki was a force of nature. When Eijiro met him, Katsuki was an angry scrap of a boy who everyone thought was going to get himself killed with his attitude. But he didn't.

Despite having a rough start in life, he managed to join a small time gang on the outskirts of the city and fought his way, literally and figuratively, to the top. Eijiro was proud to stand next to Katsuki as his best friend and right hand man. He thought he knew everything about the man, from what made him angry (everything) to how he liked his coffee (black, boiling hot). Eijiro did know everything about Katsuki.

Everything, except you.

You were a wildcard nobody expected. When Katsuki ordered an attack on a wedding of all things, nobody questioned him. When he forcefully silenced all the guests in attendance with blackmail, everyone dismissed it as standard procedure. But when he brutally slaughtered the groom and showed up with the bride in his arms, it definitely raised some eyebrows.

From the moment you woke up at their base, you had done nothing but cause trouble. You would throw tantrums, destroy furniture and torment everybody who was unfortunate enough to approach. You were beautiful, sure, but clearly batshit insane and everybody tried to steer clear of you as much as they possibly could.

That's why it was so It was off-putting how nice Katsuki was to you. Eijiro had watched his boss rip out a man's tongue and feed it to his dogs because the man had called him called him weak. Now, you could hurl every insult under the sun at him and Katsuki would pat your head with an indulgent smile. You spoke like everyone was beneath you, sometimes barking out orders to the men who would stop and stare in confusion. Until Katsuki showed up.

"The fuck are you dipshits looking at? Did she fucking stutter?"

It was pretty clear that Katsuki worshipped the ground you walked on. And Eijiro supported that, he really did! Being so unashamedly in love, especially in their line of business, was pretty manly. He only had a real problem with how you treated Katsuki like trash. Even as a rookie on the streets, he was never one to take orders from anyone. But he jumped through flaming hoops to spoil you, just for his gifts to be thrown back in his face.

Literally. That was your favorite form of attack and your favorite victim seemed to be the man who would kill someone for you. Sure there was that little issue of Katsuki actually killing your very new husband, but couldn't you see that he was doing his best to make up for it?

Now, Eijiro wasn't the brightest crayon in the box but even he knew that the relationship between the two of you might not be the healthiest. So as the best bro he had to ask Katsuki, preferably when you weren't there. Though that proved to be very difficult (why did you go everywhere with the man if you couldn't stand him?!), Eijiro managed to slip into Katsuki's office when you went to bed and Katsuki wanted to get some work done.

"Hey Boss! Long time, no see, huh?"

The ashy blonde eyed him suspiciously. "I saw you an hour ago, Shitty Hair. You on drugs?" He turned back to his paperwork with a huff.

Eijiro laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I mean, sure I always see you, but...you're always with her."

It was only years of being in close proximity with the Kingpin himself, that alerted Eijiro to the fact that he had just acquired a shovel and was about to start digging his own grave. Katsuki calmly dropped his pen and steepled his fingers over the papers he was working on. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

The redhead gulped. "Nothing! There's absolutely nothing wrong with your relationship. Okay, good talk! Bye!" He stood up to escape.

"Sit down."

Eijiro sat down. Katsuki sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "You know, she's the only reason I'm where I am today."

"...what?"

"Look, Y/N, she-she was the prettiest girl I ever set my eyes on." He reclined into his seat, looking off thoughtfully into the distance. "Everyone wanted her but no one deserved her, not even me." Katsuki chuckled ruefully. "I always thought I had no chance, until she gave me one. And I'm obviously not a fucking idiot so I took it."

Eijiro frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Look around, Shitty Hair," he gestured to his office. "Do you think I give a fuck about all this fancy shit? It's all for her. Everything I have, everything I am, is all for Y/N."

"Bro, that's like, romantic but also a bit concerning. Everything you have? That's like...everything!"

Katsuki scowled at him. "Yeah no shit, dumbass. I'm gonna marry that girl."

"Woah, bro," Eijiro sniffled. "You're so manly! I totally respect your decision now, even though everyone said you were as crazy as her!"

"What the fuck did you just say?! Oi, Shitty Hair! Get back here, fucking coward!"

Katsuki growled as the annoying idiot who called himself a friend scurried away. He glanced outside and noted the dark sky, before packing up his remaining paperwork and hurrying out of his office. The few goons that saw Katsuki only received a grunt in return of their greetings before the boss flew off, leaving them wondering where he was rushing to.

Or who he was rushing to. When Katsuki carefully opened the door, you were stretched across the bed, fast asleep. He smiled and quickly took of his clothes, before slipping into bed next to you. While Katsuki enjoyed Y/N at any time, he especially enjoyed you when you was sleeping. Then, he could admire as much as he wanted without any disturbance.

He stroked a finger down your cheek and bit his lip. Once a distant dream, you were so soft and warm laying beside him. Now, he could also touch you as much as he wanted. And this time, you let him.

You woke up to the feeling of Katsuki's stubble scratching you as he mouthed hungrily at your neck. Rough, calloused hands tugged at your nightgown and squeezed your soft flesh.

"Noo, get off" you whined, half-asleep. "Still sore..."

He chuckled lowly. "My bad, baby. I'll be gentle this time."

You pouted as he nipped at your collarbone. "Liar. You're always so mean-ah!" His hands ripped your nightgown down the middle, finally growing impatient, and Katsuki grinned wickedly.

"Hmm, you say that now," he cooed. "But you love it, don'tcha? So be a good girl and spread your legs for me, sweets~"

A/N: This has been requested a lot and shown so much love! Its insane how I only started posting a couple of days ago and I already have so much support. Leave an ask if you want to see some side stories or headcanons!

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Go ahead and give yourself a kiss on the cheek for being so amazing xxx

@darious @ssplague @justabratsworld @pinkrose1422 @slayfics

147 notes · View notes

scarlett-vixen · 23 days

Text

Shattered

A/n: Here it issss the final part of the series. I can't believe I started Vicious two years ago...and that it took me 18 months to finish the last chapter akfdjjfd anyway thank you guys for all the love and support!! I hope the wait was worth it mwah Summary: Your year in the Devildom has come to an end finally. Before you head home though, there’s one loose end that needs to be tied up, and he gives you the perfect opportunity to do so. You’ve stood up to the Avatar of Pride a few times now but things are different now that you have a pact with each of his brothers…and him as well.

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, suggestive but not NSFW

The Fight: Vicious

The Apologies: Beelzebub, Satan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan

“To the Devils who tried to keep me living like a prisoner”

Hours ago, the sound of plates being set, the smell of dinner still cooking, and the warm feeling of a family getting along filled the massive dining hall and seeped out into the hallways, drawing the last few missing members in. Moments ago, the sound of pure rage, looks of terror partnered with teary eyes, and the cold feeling of dread and guilt swelled inside the dining hall making it nearly impossible to breathe. Now, the dining hall was void of nearly all sound.

Seven dinner plates sat unfinished, left behind and forgotten in the evacuation. Four chairs stood crooked from their usual places as their occupants had hastily left, two chairs laid on their side in pitiful form as their occupants had fled the scene in full force, one chair laid on its back far from the table almost lost from its counterparts. The force with which it was knocked back could still be felt in the air, a rage that was thick and unsettling, even though the one responsible had been the first to abandon the dinner. The last chair at the enormous oak table sat upright in its typical spot with its usual resident still seated and soaking in the aftermath, alone at the table and trying to process what exactly just happened.

“I’ve busted my ass!...I’ve jumped through every hoop!...I did my best! SO WHERE WERE YOU?”

Lucifer’s fist slammed against the table causing the plates to jump in fear, the glasses rocked anxiously, the liquid inside them threatening to spill but seeming to know better in this situation.

How dare you?

How dare you raise your voice with him? How dare you accuse him of not caring about the exchange program by letting you be in danger? Where exactly did you get off throwing around such powerful questions and accusations? And towards him of all demons??

He knew the answer to all those questions though. Yes, you were the exchange student that Diavolo was so proud and fond of, but you had become so much more than that.

You were the one who had managed to break down every wall his brothers had put up.

“I did my best to get along with your brothers and help them with their problems!”

Lucifer rose and began clearing off the abandoned dinner table. You were the one who managed to free Belphegor from the attic despite the magic placed on the door and stairwell.

“And as a thank you for all that I did.”

You were the one who tested him at every turn, never backing down and standing your ground even when faced with possible death.

“You think you have all humans figured out, don’t you?”

You were a pain in his ass.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

You were the reason he started to understand why Lilith had done what she did.

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

The sound of glass shattering jolted Lucifer out of the trance he had been in. While removing a wine glass from the table, the first born caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror that was hung on the back wall. Looking at himself and wondering how the hell he had let this all happen, how such a noble demon had slipped up so badly, your words echoed in his head and the glass fell from his hand like the final leaf on a tree before winter sets in.

Lucifer stared down at the shattered glass that was scattered at his feet. You always seemed to attract trouble wherever you went, perhaps that was just how it was for a human in the Devildom--- Devil knows Solomon seemed to be a disaster beacon when he visited--- but regardless of whether you went looking for trouble or it just had a way of finding you, Diavolo had placed you in the care of the six (now seven) brothers and at the end of the day it was Lucifer’s job to ensure your safety and clean up the mess left behind.

But this time he failed the first part, so now he was left to pick up the pieces he was responsible for breaking.

******

The next morning had been even more unusual than Lucifer had expected. With a cautious gaze he watched as you commanded the youngest brother to follow you out of the house and, to his complete surprise, watched as Belphie instantly jumped up to follow after. Something strange was going on. Twelve hours ago, you were red in the face and looked ready to jump across the table to rip Belphegor to shreds, now you were ordering him to follow you around. Clearly a change in dynamics had occurred, but Lucifer was unsure of how to feel about the sudden shift. Normally he would demand an explanation before you had a chance to leave the house, but the wave of guilt was still pulling at him from last night, on top of that the first born knew that both you and his youngest brother would both be in very sensitive states. For now, he would wait and see if he could put the pieces together himself.

All morning Lucifer found himself rather distracted from his daily tasks, thinking of where you might be and if Belphegor was also with you, what exactly had happened between you two in such a short time. Eventually he found himself watching you two from the second floor of Hexes Hall, standing in an empty classroom with a window that looked out over the courtyard where various demons and succubi were having lunch. Seated at a table towards the side was the odd pair that had captured plenty of attention today from numerous students yet somehow (thankfully) had stayed out of the gaze of any higher ups.

Typically, Lucifer could ask Mammon what was going on because, aside from knowing better than to lie when directly confronted, he seemed to be an open book when it came to you. In fact, there had been times that Mammon had gone to Lucifer questioning if you would be safe in certain situations and would even give subtle hints that the two of you may end up in trouble later. Not to say his brother was trying to narc on you, far from it rather, it was more that when it came to you Mammon was always more concerned about your safety than anything else. So if anyone would know about you being in potential danger, it would be him. However, the second born was not in attendance today which left Lucifer with no good source of intel on you. There was always Barbatos but that would most certainly prompt questions from Lord Diavolo and that was the last thing Lucifer needed right now.

A familiar voice echoed out in the hallway, Lucifer glided towards the door and waited for the demon to pass by before calling his name.

“Beelzebub.” The sixth born froze in the hall at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turned to face his older brother and Lucifer noticed an odd look on his face. One of shame and sorrow rather than his normal stoic yet happy expression.

“Is something wrong Lucifer?” he asked, shifting his bag slightly on his shoulder.

“I need to speak with you,” the first born started to turn back into the room but caught sight of the two demons who had been walking with his brother. “Alone.”

Lucifer gestured into the classroom and Beelzebub reluctantly followed after waving off the other two demons he had been with. Once inside Lucifer closed the door to prevent any wandering ears from lingering.

“I want to know what’s going on between them.” Per usual Lucifer’s words came across more as a direct order than a question.

“Between who?” Beelzebub had a look of genuine confusion on his face.

“Between your twin and our exchange student. The two who were just as each other’s throats last night but now seem joined at the hip.” Lucifer’s gaze was as cold and stern as always but this time it hurt Beelzebub more given the circumstances.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Beelzebub something has clearly happened and I want to know why they’re suddenly letting him be so close!”

“Nothing happened! I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Lucifer knew when each of his brothers was lying, they all had a tell, unfortunately for Beel his was total avoidance of eye contact. The sixth born knew something and Lucifer knew his brother wasn’t going to give that information up easily, not when he was protecting one of you. So instead, he would have to play dirty.

“Really? You have no idea what’s going on between them?” Lucifer gave an unamused scoff and walked back toward the window where he had stood before. “I’m not the only one who has noticed the change Beelzebub, seems to me that half the academy has taken notice.”

The sixth born seemed to move against his will toward the window, looking out to see you and Belphegor talking down below. His body flinched; Lucifer could tell he was uneasy.

“It won’t be long before this reaches Lord Diavolo’s attention…and I would hate to think what would become of Belphegor if it was discovered that ill intent was at play here.”

Beel’s head snapped toward Lucifer at that last part, his eyes seemed to glow with a hint of rage.

“What exactly does that mean?” He asked with a guarded tone.

“It means nothing…or possibly many things, that all depends on how exactly your twin managed to win over his former enemy.” Lucifer stayed put but shifted his gaze to see his younger brother from the corner of his eye. He could see the frustration on Beel’s face and knew it wouldn’t be long before he spilled everything he knew…or so he thought.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at Lucifer…and I don’t know what happened between them but I DO know that I won’t let you accuse Belphie of using some dark magic or evil power to get on MC’s good side! He’s not like that!”

“Oh please, the same demon who started all of this? You really think he wouldn’t stoop to that level Beelzebub?” Lucifer now turned to face his brother.

“No… I know he wouldn’t! Belphie fucked up but you can’t accuse him of every mistake for the rest of his life, that’s not fair!”

“This isn’t about fair Beel, this is about figuring out why he was forgiven so quickly!” Both their voices were starting to rise in anger.

“So you just assume he did something bad? Maybe they talked it out! I don’t know what happened but I’m done discussing this with you, you want answers go ask them yourself, but don’t come to me with accusations about Belphie anymore!” Beel took one step toward Lucifer, feeling his aura wanting to change, his wings and horns trying to emerge and his fangs trying to push through. No. Not this time, he had caused enough problems letting his rage blind him before, he had almost killed you by doing that. Instead Beel turned on his heel and headed out of the room, opening the door he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer once more.

“He’s your brother too you know… not just my twin.” With that Beel slammed the door shut behind him. Lucifer wanted to be mad but he knew this was all his doing, what had he truly expected to come from that? The eldest knew he needed to correct things so he hurried toward the door and called after his brother.

“Beel! BEELZEBUB!” The sixth born kept walking, until finally he was out of sight.

“Damnit..” Lucifer muttered. One more piece to pick up later.

“Well Lucifer…are you proud of yourself?”

The first born tensed up, immediately upon hearing the voice a headache started to form in the front of Lucifer’s mind. He had been wrong earlier; this was the last thing he needed. He didn’t need to turn to know who he had the displeasure of being in the presence of, yet he did, and instantly regretted it. There, leaned against the lockers, stood that damn sorcerer with the same shit eating grin on his face he always had when he managed to catch Lucifer with his guard down. If he wasn’t a necessary part of Diavolo’s program, Lucifer swore he would have destroyed this stain on humanity long ago.

“What is it Solomon, here to shamelessly beg for another pact?” Lucifer smirked, trying his best not to show his total irritation.

“Would that actually work?” Solomon suddenly had a look of awe in his eyes as if Lucifer had just offered to give him a pact as well as let him move into the HoL. “I’ll start begging right now if that’s all it takes Lucifer, on my knees and everything!”

Lucifer sneered as the sorcerer pretended to beg for a moment. Then through gritted teeth spoke again.

“What do you want.”

“Nothing really,” Solomon gave a light chuckle “it’s just come to my attention that there’s some…tension between residence of the House of Lamentation.”

A sly grin appeared on Solomon’s face, one that Lucifer knew meant the sorcerer knew more than he was letting on. For a moment he wondered if you had gone to him, seeking the comfort of another human after the fallout of last nights dinner, the thought made Lucifer sick to his stomach, but only for a moment until he realized the more likely answer.

“What exactly did Asmodeus tell you.” His voice was much sterner than he ever used with his brothers, even during more recent events. This was a family matter, one that he was already trying to figure out how to resolve quickly, he didn’t need Solomon sticking his nose into things.

“Why? Worried that your brother told me something I shouldn’t know?” the sorcerer teased; knowing better than to go too much further with it. The look of irritation in Lucifer’s eyes was growing more apparent and, as much as Solomon wanted to see just how far he could push the Avatar of Pride before causing him to make a scene, he didn’t want to ruin his already slim chances of ever getting that pact. “No need to fret,” he offered a smile as if to say he was backing down. “Asmo was so worked up that all I really got out of him was that something happened last night at dinner, other than that I have noticed the…unusual relationship that seems to have blossomed between Belphie and our little exchange student, then there’s the way Beel just stormed out of that room with you calling after which I’ll assume means the two of you had a not so enjoyable conversation. Care to enlighten me?”

“Firstly, the conversation I had with Beelzebub is none of your concern, nor is what occurred last night at dinner. That being said, I would advise you to leave Asmodeus alone regarding the matter, you of all people know how he can be when his emotions run high.” Lucifer could feel his temper rising, he never cared much for Solomon and always wondered if his disdain for the shady wizard hadn’t pushed his brother further into his arms. And why did he suddenly seem to care about your relationships with his brothers, Lucifer was confident that his younger brother could handle himself if Solomon ever tried to pull something on him, but he’d be damned if he was going to let Solomon try to go after you. “Secondly, they are not your anything. They are Lord Diavolo’s exchange student and my responsibility, as for their relationship with Belphie… that doesn’t seem to be any of your business either.”

“Of course, how silly of me to think the mighty Lucifer would need any help or advice from a human such as myself in this matter.” Solomon teased once more before continuing on his way down the hall, stopping to turn around and speak one last time. “If you do find yourself in need of help, do reach out to me! There’s no need to be shy Lucifer.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” The first born growled in response. Solomon gave another sly smirk before disappearing down the corridor. Lucifer stood for a moment trying to compose himself after the argument with Beelzebub and that unwanted interaction with Solomon just now, his pride wanted to confront you and force an explanation out of you, for both the dinner and what had transpired with Belphie last night.

Over the last several months Lucifer had watched you from afar, observing your interactions with his brothers, the relationships you had formed, the way they seemed happier and more relaxed with you around. More importantly he had watched how his brothers personalities had developed more into their own and less of just what their sin made them out to be.

The way that Mammon seemed to care less about his schemes and profits when he could spend time with you instead, how Leviathan was more willing to join group outings without complaining about how everyone else seemed to be having more fun when you were with them, and how Satan seemed to find a way to calm himself to prevent an outburst if you were next to him. He noticed how you managed to captivate and hold Asmodeus’s attention even with a mirror in the room, the way Beelzebub’s appetite seemed easier to satiate when you cooked, and even though he had only rejoined the group for a few weeks Lucifer noticed how Belphegor appeared less tired and more engage when you were involved in the situation.

Avatar of Pride came with many setbacks, the main one being the inability to express his feelings in an appropriate manner. It wasn’t that Lucifer was as cold and closed off as his brothers and other demons perceived him, it was that his sin, his pride, kept him from saying the things he truly wanted to. This wasn’t a new predicament for him though, even as an angel Lucifer had struggled with showing his love and appreciation, it had only worsened since being saddled with the sin of pride. The truth was that he had envied his brothers for being so close to you, more than anything he wanted to be like them, to be able to let his walls down and talk to you like everybody else. He wanted whatever bond it was his brothers had with you that would quell his pride and give him the chance to freely interact with you.

Maybe it was his desire to not be so controlled by his sin, or perhaps it was the guilt still eating at him. Whatever the reason was, Lucifer started down the hall but instead of barging into the courtyard for answers he retreated to Diavolo’s office. He chose to focus on his tasks and let you mend you bonds with his brothers in peace, well aware that eventually the time would come for him to have his own confrontation, but for now he would sit back and observe.

Just like he had for the last seven months.

******

“Mammon! Ugh, you suck so bad! How did you even die right there?” Leviathan groaned while waving his controller around wildly in a desperate attempt to still complete the level.

“Don’t ask me! How do you jump in this game anyway?!” Mammon barked, aggressively spamming the B button.

“The A button! It’s always the A button!!” Levi scolded.

The two of them had been bickering for the last hour while playing Levi’s newest game, although they sounded irritated with each other you could tell they were enjoying the game immensely. You couldn’t help but laugh as Mammon died yet again and Levi went into full dramatics over it. On the bed behind you Satan was busy giving an educational lecture about…something, while Asmo, Beel and Belphie listened. You honestly had no idea what they were talking about but seeing them all together and getting along made you happy.

You had made amends with the brothers, explaining why you were so hurt by their actions and finally getting apologies from them, Belphie had learned his position and had become your obedient servant as it were. Everyone was getting along, the previous tension was long gone, you were thrilled to have everything back to normal and be on speaking terms with all the brothers once more.

Well…all but one.

Ever since the fatal night, there had been one demon who seemed to successfully avoid you at every turn. Sure, you saw him at breakfast and dinner but that was clearly just to keep good face with his brothers, his way of not letting them know that the two of you had not spoken since the blowout. He always managed to finish his breakfast shortly after you joined but never soon enough to be noticed by his brothers, the only time you saw him at RAD was in passing between classes and typically he was always talking with Diavolo or some random professor, once dinner was over he would manage to lock himself away in his bedroom or study for the evening only to reappear at breakfast and start the cycle again. There were a hand full of occasions where the eight of you had gone out as a group, a few joined by the angels and Solomon, but even then he kept his interactions with you short.

You knew the main reason for this was because of Lucifer’s sin, it would be shameful for a powerful demon such as him to admit defeat or show weakness to a mere human such as yourself you were sure, but Lucifer seemed to have forgotten that you were stubborn and prideful yourself. You refused to be the one to crack, to go to him and seek an end to this ridiculous feud, you would wait until he managed to swallow that damn pride and approach you.

Apparently, Lucifer wasn’t very good at swallowing.

Tonight was your final night in the Devildom and that old man had yet to apologize for everything he put you through this year, all the dumb tasks you had to do, the never-ending events to support RAD, the various balls and dinners you had attended, not to mention the three accounts of murder he had attempted towards you. The thought of you returning home without Lucifer being held accountable for all the shit you went through was more than irritating, you considered confronting him tomorrow in front of Diavolo mainly so you could see the horror on his face as you tore into him in front of his precious prince, but you really didn’t want a repeat of That Night. You looked around at the six brothers, all deeply absorbed in whatever they were doing, and decided to go for a walk.

You got up from your spot on the bed and headed towards the door leading downstairs, only to catch the attention of your loyal servant.

“Where are you going?” Belphie sat up on the bed and looked at you the way a dog watching its owner leave for work would. You could tell he wanted to get up and follow but was waiting for your orders to do so, you were proud of how well you had trained him in the last few months and almost felt bad leaving him behind tomorrow.

“I’m just getting a drink!” You gave a reassuring smile in an attempt to keep him from wanting to follow and it seemed to work. Belphie sank back onto the bed before answering.

“Alright…don’t take too long.” You could tell he was forlorn.

You headed downstairs and only felt a little bad about lying to Belphie, technically it was only a half lie which is why you only felt a little bad. Sure, you were going to grab a drink from the kitchen, but you were going for something else.

You were getting that damn apology.

As you approached the bottom of the stairs you heard a faint melody coming from somewhere down the hall, recognizing it as a record playing you decided your drink could wait and followed the sound towards your potential prey. The soft symphony led you to Lucifer’s study, you lingered for a moment wondering if he was actually in there or if he was just throwing you off his tracks, after a moment you knocked on the thick wooden door. Twelve months ago you would have been terrified to confront Lucifer, the first born demon lord, Avatar of pride, but as you stood in front of his door there was no fear in you.

Only determination.

“It’s open” the familiar stoic voice stated from inside.

Opening the study door, you found Lucifer standing at the bar on the right side of the room, the heavy jacket he normally wore missing from his shoulders and instead neatly placed on the back of the large chair behind his desk, an elegant, bejeweled chalice in his hand as he poured himself a glass of Demonus. You carefully closed the door behind you while still facing the demon across the room, stealthily you reached your hand behind your back and quietly locked the deadbolt, you didn’t want any sudden interruptions tonight.

“I thought you were upstairs with the others enjoying your final evening here.” Lucifer spoke as he set the Demonus bottle on the bar and replaced the cork.

“I was, but I got thirsty… Beel went through all the drinks upstairs so I was on my way to the kitchen.” You slowly moved further into the room, making your way toward the lounge chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Well, you’re welcome to join me since you’re here,” Lucifer held out a second gorgeous chalice, decorated slightly different but obvious that it belonged in the same set as his. You took the chalice from him and he made his way over to a chair, you perused your options at the bar but settled on Demonus, it didn’t get you drunk but had a wonderful taste, it was probably best you didn’t end up intoxicated during this anyway. “That noise up there gives me the perfect opportunity to listen to my records in peace down here, so I guess I should thank you for whatever you did to lure them all up there.”

Lure them?? Why did he have to make you sound like a monster waiting to devour his brothers? Whatever. You let it go and tried to focus on the task at hand, admittedly there was something…primal that you had felt when confronting a few of his brothers recently so maybe he wasn’t completely in the wrong. Regardless, you decided to play nice for now.

“What are we listening to anyway?” You could feel his gaze on you as you poured your drink, you couldn’t place it but something about his behavior seemed a little off.

“The cursed vinyl edition of The Tale of the Seven Lords, the one you managed to acquire from Leviathan for me.” The usual stern matter-of-fact tone of his was missing, in its place was an unfamiliar, friendlier one.

“Don’t people say you’ll die if you listen to it?” You placed the cork back in the Demonus bottle and turned to take your seat. Doing so you caught Lucifer looking at you in a way that was new to you, though it didn’t last long as he quickly turned his sight away and down to his glass when he realized you were looking at him.

“I see you haven’t forgotten the story behind it,” he gave a soft chuckle but rather than his usual mocking one, this was much more amused. “It’s true that all humans involved with its creation died mysterious deaths, but that was nothing more than coincidence.”

You took your seat in the chair adjacent to his, making yourself comfortable before he continued. As you did you got your first good look of the evening at the first born. He wore his usual vest and dress shirt combo but his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving you sight of his forearms which were much larger than you remembered, his gloves were also gone, discarded somewhere else in the room (on his desk you assumed) letting you see his hands which were a rare sight to see in general, but tonight they were adorned with three different rings. A thick silver band on the index finger of his left hand with something inscribed on the side, a small golden ring on the pinky of his right hand that was greatly overshadowed by the massive ring on his index of the same hand. An onyx-black band with two thin gold lines that curved up into what looked almost like two small claws holding the largest ruby you had ever seen. Drawing your eyes away from his hands you noticed his usual red tie was missing and the top two buttons on his shirt were undone, his hair was a messier than the prideful demon normally kept it, and upon closer inspection you found his cheeks to be dusted a light pink. You immediately realized why his demeanor seemed off and couldn’t help but smirk.

The asshole was drunk.

“Besides, even if this vinyl were truly cursed, look who you’ve got by your side. You’re talking to one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. There’s not much to worry about now is there?” a not-so-subtle brag by the not-so-sober demon. You wanted to tease him, maybe even make fun of him a bit, for letting you see him like this. Obviously this wasn’t the first time Lucifer had drunk around you, it was, however, the first time you had smelt this cologne on him. You held your tongue and took a sip of your drink, buying you time to think of a response that wasn’t a snarky or smartass joke at his expense.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finally settled on.

“You know, it was in this very room that I selected you for our exchange program.”

Oh, here we go.

You rolled your eyes and took another swig of your drink, suddenly wishing humans weren’t immune to Demonus. Lucifer swirled his glass gently before going on, his eyes locked on the fireplace in front of you.

“When I first welcomed you here…I was only doing it for Diavolo.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction, if looks could kill he would be taking his last breath. Was he seriously about to start a fight with you, in his current state? Maybe he had to be drunk in order work up the nerve to finish you off.

“I figured that if you managed to survive a year here without any incidents…that was all I could really ask for. And even if things didn’t go as planned, as long as I could prevent you from getting eaten by any of the lower-level demons, everything would be alright.”

“Oh, but trying to kill me yourself was perfectly valid?” You muttered under your breath a little louder than intended, thankfully Lucifer was too lost in the flames dancing before him to hear you.

“That’s really what I thought…but somehow I managed to choose a human who’s such a magnet for trouble it almost defies belief.” Lucifer scoffed and shifted his gaze to his drink. “There were times I thought I’d made a mistake choosing you.”

You felt the familiar warmth of your rage starting to dance across your skin, you wanted to snap, to tell him off right here and now, but you were waiting for the perfect moment. This wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry for being such a burden.” You practically hissed. You were doing your best to hold your temper but Lucifer’s arrogance still managed to shine through even when drunk.

“It’s far too late to be trying to suck up to me with apologies, you know?”

Arrogant ass.

“Also, there’s no need…things are different now. I made the right choice choosing you, after all you’ve kept me quite entertained this past year.”

Entertained? You entertained him?? You didn’t really consider being forced to choose between protecting Beel or Luke entertaining, nor being attacked by Lucifer. Nearly being crushed to death while dancing with him at the Demon Lord’s Castle all because he was ensuring you understood he would destroy you if you harmed his brothers wasn’t a joy ride either. Let’s not forget the time the brothers trapped the two of you in a fake game and Lucifer almost killed you when you revealed you had met Belphie to him, that had gone in the opposite direction of entertaining. You remembered all the snide comments as well, the reminders that you were just a human and here as a part of the exchange program, that if Diavolo’s plans failed because of you--- you bit your tongue to stop the words from flying out of your mouth.

“Glad I could be of service.” You managed.

“So then,” He seemed to shake himself off before looking back at you finally. “have you done all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business?”

You started to demand your apology when the tingle of Satan’s pact mark sparked something in your mind.

“Actually Lucifer, I still haven’t made a pact with you. I think that’s the last thing on my list” You took a slow sip and watched the eyes of the first born go wide only briefly before slowly tilting his head in curiosity.

“A pact?” His voice suddenly much deeper than before; it caused a jolt to run up your spine. “I see, you’ve made a pact with all of my brothers…which just leaves me.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips. “Do you really want a pact with me?”

You could feel the steady beat of your heart in your chest, your mind suddenly fuzzy and your rage now mixed with a different feeling. His demeanor had changed again, still obviously drunk but now you had his full attention, his eyes locked on you and awaiting your response. While scrambling to sort out your thoughts you made a connection that you had missed before, the rolled-up sleeves, the unbuttoned shirt, the intoxicating cologne, the beautiful rings, the gorgeous glasses, the vinyl record still playing in the background…the Demonus. Lucifer hadn’t gotten himself drunk so he could finally kill you off, he had done it so he could make a move.

You suddenly realized what the look in his eyes was, this was all some form of a demon mating ritual, a trap that he lured you into--- lured? Damnit! He wanted you down here, he wanted you to ask for a pact, when you did you triggered something in him and now you suddenly felt like the prey. On top of this horrifying discovery, you also identified what the odd feeling was.

Along with Satan’s pact mark, that was still simmering on your skin, Asmo’s pact mark was also starting to tingle. You felt like throwing up for a moment, what the hell was wrong with you?? Admittedly you had always had a thing for Lucifer, he may have been an ass at times but which brother wasn’t? It was never anything serious though, just an innocent crush or at the very least recognizing that he was good-looking for a centuries old demon. So why the hell was this the situation that was turning you on? Yes he was very pretty to look at in the glow of the fireplace, but hadn’t he just insulted you like three times and brought up some sore memories??

“What’s so wrong with that?” You heard your voice say, unable to tell if the question was directed at Lucifer or yourself. All you got in response was an amused huff from the demon who now had you in a slight trance, was this some weird demonic power of his?

“I don’t know how my brothers felt about making a pact with you, but I am more than just another name to be crossed off your list.” Lucifer placed his glass on the table between you, sitting straight up in his chair you realized just how much bigger than you he really was. No comparison to Beel or Diavolo but after spending most of your time with demons like Mammon and Asmodeus, Lucifer’s build was intimidating; especially when you no longer seemed to be in control of the situation. You watched as he rose from his seat and strode over to his desk, lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the box he had pulled from his jacket.

“I won’t be lumped together with everyone else.” Lucifer turned back toward you, taking his time to walk back over. Without realizing it, you were suddenly standing up, your own glass now resting next to his on the table, and your feet seemed to be moving on their own. Lucifer had stopped moving but you were inching your way to him now as if an invisible rope were pulling you in.

“That won’t do.” You watched as his eyes shifted to the deep red you had seen on those rare unpleasant occasions, the horns on his head seemed to grow effortlessly without messing up his hair, his four jet black wings emerged and expanded as if to make him appear bigger. You were familiar with this part. This was where Lucifer tried to intimidate you, make you afraid and turn tail, or drop to your knees in submission, you were never really sure what he was looking for because you never did any of those things. Instead, you did what you always did in this situation.

You stood your ground.

“You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you irritating, and yet, as irritating as it is,” Lucifer reached his right hand up and lightly gripped your face. “it’s even more endearing.”

You were almost positive he could hear the pounding of your heart. This all felt overwhelmingly familiar, you preferred the version where you were in charge and held all the cards with Belphie, but no matter what he did next you would never give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Listen well little human,” Your eyes locked onto his, his right hand tilted your chin up slightly while his left hand pressed against your back to pull you closer. “I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

You felt your body tense momentarily, this didn’t excuse his actions, this wasn’t the apology you wanted, but you didn’t not want this pact. You tried to stay grounded, to keep your mind from flying off into the abyss, to not be completely overpowered by Lucifer’s aura.

“So, what will it be?” His grip on your face loosened and his hand fell away from your back. Something in your mind panicked, it felt abandoned suddenly, it needed his touch again.

“Yes.” You tried not to sound too desperate with that answer. You’d beat yourself up later for turning to putty in his hands, for now you had to focus, you were so close. You saw a genuine smile form on his face this time.

“Good, then it’s done. As of this moment,” Lucifer reached into his pocket and pulled out the box you had missed him pick up before. He opened it and inside was another gorgeous ring, almost identical to the large one he wore, a black band with a beautiful ruby posted in the center, smaller and sleeker than his but just as mesmerizing. He took your hand in his and gently slipped the ring onto your finger, as if by magic, you felt the band slowly start to form to you. “you are mine.”

You were busy inspecting the gaudy ring that now rested on your finger when a familiar burning sensation started, you took in a sharp breath of air as you felt a new pact mark forming on your skin, you had been through this six times already and each one had been less painful. This one, however, felt different, the burn was deeper and hotter than the others, you felt a little dizzy and closed your eyes from the intense pain, a bright blue symbol flashed in your mind as you did. You recognized it as Lucifer’s mark, opening your eyes again you found the first born looking at you with adoring eyes, his sight fixated on the pact mark that was glowing a brilliant blue. The excessive pain made sense now, this was the burn of a new pact mark along with both you and Lucifer feeling intense pride at the same time.

Aside from the overwhelming sense of pride in yourself for managing to pull this stunt off and not make a fool of yourself, something else was growing inside you. Your mind seemed clearer than before, no longer panicked or intoxicated by Lucifer’s power, you remembered the real reason you had come down here. You felt your rage returning but this time it felt intensified, your body felt lighter yet stronger than before, Lucifer no longer registered as a threat to you, there had been another dynamic shift but it wasn’t quite as obvious to the demon tracing your new pact mark.

This was the moment you had been waiting for.

“I agree that you’re different from the others,” you grabbed the wrist of his hand tracing your skin with a force that seemed to catch him off guard. “however, there’s one thing you got wrong.”

You pulled his hand away from your skin, a look of confusion and caution taking over his features. All the pain, all the tears, every insult, every fight, every bad day, every day you woke up scared all came flooding back to you at once. Satan’s mark glowed a beautiful emerald green against your skin while Lucifer’s continued to glow as well, he gave no visual signs but somehow you knew Lucifer was uncomfortable, as if you could sense his fear. Just like the night you had broken Belphie, the fear you sensed was feeding something inside you, filling you with that same confidence.

“It’s true that you’re a very powerful demon Lucifer, you could handle any of your brothers if they ever went rogue and not a break a sweat, really the only demon here that outranks you is Lord Diavolo himself,” You felt his mark tingle on you and knew you were feeding that ego of his. “And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have this pact with you now! If I’m honest this is probably the mark I’m happiest to wear!”

Time to destroy it.

“Because that means you answer to me now.” Your voice was soft yet powerful. You narrowed your eyes and felt a grin on your lips, the fear was now apparent on Lucifer’s face, this was too good to be true.

“Over the last year I’ve been through my fair share of shit from you and your brothers, I’ve been the good little human you asked me to be but guess what my love? Even good humans go bad when pushed too far.” Just like before you started taking steps closer without realizing it.

“I’m aware that we put you through a lot, and I know Belphegor’s actions---” a psychotic type of laugh ripped from your throat.

“Oh, this has nothing to do with Belphie. See I’ve had fun little chats with your brothers, I think the most fun one was with Belphie himself the night that I snapped at dinner when he stopped by my room.” You watched Lucifer’s eyes go wide just like earlier, except this time there was a hint of betrayal in them.

“I know you’ve been oh so curious about what happened between him and I that night. Beel told me how you practically cornered him wanting to know what went on. You’re just dying to know how I turned a brat like Belphie into such a good boy who does what he’s told aren’t you?” With every word the look on Lucifer’s face worsened, like you were digging in his chest searching for his heart, and in a way you were.

You wanted him to break, just like Belphie.

“Well, how else would a human corrupt a demon so quickly?” You saw a grimace on the first born’s face, that one struck a nerve. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let him into my bed, he knows his place is on the floor. If you really need to know, he and I had a little… conversation, similar to the one you and I are having now actually. Let’s see if you can unlock a different ending though.” You gave a teasing wink.

“I’m here to discuss the issues you and I have had in the past, nothing to do with your brothers, in fact for the rest of the night let’s just act like they don’t exist shall we?” Lucifer had started to take small steps backward as you closed the gap between the two of you, his pride was trying to keep him in place but you knew it was slowly bowing down to you, you could feel it.

“Let’s talk about how you treated me when I first arrived, back when you were ‘just doing it for Diavolo’ as you put it.”

“That’s not what I---"

“Let’s discuss all the fun and entertaining moments where you tried to attack and kill me.”

“I realize I overreact---”

“Let’s go over how you threatened to kill me if I ever harmed your brothers and the ironic twist of how you let your youngest brother harm me instead!”

“Please, just let me---”

“Let you do what Lucifer? Let you smooth talk your way out of apologizing? Let you convince me that you were just having a hard time controlling your brothers? Let you distract me long enough to call your precious prince so you don’t have to take responsibility for how you behaved?”

“No, I just---”

“You see sweetheart, I just don’t care. I’ve done my part of listening to you for the last twelve months, tonight you’re going to listen to me instead.”

You had unintentionally forced Lucifer to back into the chair he sat in before, the back of his legs made contact with the seat causing him to stumble for a moment before regaining his balance. Similar to Belphie, you could sense his fear, but this time you could sense some pride still running through him as well. What could he possibly still be proud of? Pushing you to your limit? Or did he still have one more trick up his sleeve somehow? “You talk a big game, you know that?” Your eyes narrowed with annoyance and anger. Whatever he was proud of, you’d make sure to squash it. “You spent all that time telling Diavolo how you were happy to assist him and house the new exchange student. You paraded me around to every event and dance Diavolo held. You made me keep my head down so I wouldn’t embarrass the prince and subsequently, you. But it was all an act wasn’t it?”

A look of hurt flashed across the first born’s face. You felt that familiar rage burning deep inside you again, the one that wanted flip the table and throw plates at dinner, this time you just might set it free.

“You never really cared about my safety. You just didn’t want to upset or disappoint that prince of yours. I was an inconvenience to you actually, preventing you from focusing on more important matters, you loathed that Diavolo saddled you with caring for me. Didn’t he know you already had six, well…five brothers to look after?” a devious smirk crept onto your face. “But who were you to protest, hm? After all he saved your precious Lilith.”

The fire inside you flared up as you growled her name. You still didn’t fully believe that you were somehow related to her, it just seemed too convenient, but the brothers sure believed it.

“You only put up with me for her didn’t you? Did learning that we were related make it easier for you to accept my existence? Did you suddenly stop seeing me and pretend you saw her when I walked in the room? Or do you think I somehow am her? Because I’m not!” Your fists clenched by your side. You knew by now Satan was upstairs struggling to keep his composure, not wanting to alert the others that you were pissed off somewhere in the house. “I AM NOTHING LIKE HER!” You felt a sting in your throat and small tears trying to push their way to freedom. “It would’ve been so much easier for you if Belphie had gotten away with it wouldn’t it?? If Mammon hadn’t found him and I had just died! That’s why you didn’t save me ISN’T IT? YOU WANTED ME DEAD? YOU WANTED ME OUT OF YOUR HAIR!?”

“NO!”

His voice strained, the red in his cheeks now sprawled across his face. He jumped slightly after shouting, as if he startled himself with the outburst as well, then collapsed in the chair behind him. You watched his eyes fill with an unfamiliar hurt, his breathing became shaky,his wings went limp, his voice weak as it searched for words to say.

“That’s…that’s not what I wanted…it never was.”

“Then what did you want, Lucifer?” You seethed. A few seconds passed as you watched the once arrogant demon now struggle to find his voice. Your patience was running out. “Enlighten me.”

“I just…I wanted to have the same bond my brothers did…I wanted to be close with you—” Another maniacal laugh from you cut off the end of his sentence.

“And you think the way to do that is to constantly threaten me?? To always remind me that I’m nothing more than just a lowly human?? TO LET YOUR BROTHER KILL ME???” You could almost feel the fire in your eyes, your teeth bared as you did your best to not start swinging your fists.

“NO!”

“And yet you did! You did all of that Lucifer! Plus more! I FUCKING DIED AND YET YOU’VE NEVER ONCE SAID YOU WERE SORRY FOR ANY OF IT!”

“BUT I AM!”

“THEN SAY IT! SAY YOU’RE FUCKING SORRY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH!”

“I’M SORRY!! I LOVE YOU AND I’M SORRY!!” Lucifer’s voice cracked as he shouted at the top of his lungs. You were certain that the other six heard the screaming match that just happened all the way in the attic and wondered if they too had caught that middle part in between his apology.

“What?” You weren’t sure if it was because you had been caught off guard by the sudden confession or if his apology had finally satisfied the rage inside you, but your voice dropped back to its normal tone as you looked at Lucifer now sobbing into his hands.

“I’m sorry I was so wretched toward you” The first born looked up at you with pitiful eyes, tears streaming down his now bright red cheeks. “I’m sorry for saying such vile things, for making you feel worthless and alone. I’m sorry for all the times I let my anger get the best of me and nearly killed you. More than anything I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop my own brother from ending your life.” He gasped for air in between silent sobs before continuing. “I never understood why Lilith sacrificed everything she had in the Celestial Realm just to spend time with a human, but I realized a while back… that somewhere along the way I fell in love with you, and suddenly it all made sense. Every joke you made with Mammon, every late night spent in Leviathan’s room, every living room fashion show you sat through with Asmodeus, every afternoon in the garden spent with Satan and every meal you made just for Beelzebub… I witnessed it all and I realized…you care for them just as much as I do… and they all worship the ground you walk on. I wanted to be a part of that.”

You felt your rage begin to melt away, the fire burning deep inside faded to a small ember and your stomach flipped as you listened to the prideful demon pour out his true feelings.

“So many times, I wanted to tell you how I felt, to apologize for how I behaved before, to have a chance at forming the bond that would allow me to be happy just like my brothers. But each time I tried, my pride would prevent me from speaking my true intent and instead some condescending remark was made. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect you from him, the flashbacks of watching you fade away in Mammon’s arms keeps me up most nights, I failed both of you that day. And I’m sorry.”

His apology seemed sincere enough, but you still couldn’t shake this new feeling you had. You got more than you had wanted out of this, a pact, an apology, and a new sense of confidence it seemed. You felt bad watching Lucifer practically beg for forgiveness like this, and yet, seeing him sit there like that? A complete mess, eyes red with tears still gently rolling down his face, he looked like easy prey just waiting to be caught. It was still feeding the beast inside you.

“Can you ever forgive me?” The question was soft and weak. This was possibly the most vulnerable you’d ever seen the great Avatar of pride before. You were starting to enjoy it.

“Oh Lucifer,” a gentle smile appeared on your lips. “All I ever wanted was a sincere apology and for you to take responsibility.”

You bent down slightly before continuing.

“Of course I can forgive you, as long as you understand our dynamic now.” You wiped the newest tears off his cheeks with your hand and gently caressed his face, you felt him lean into your touch slightly. “I care deeply about my pacts and the demons I formed them with, I want nothing but for us to get along and have that special bond.”

Lucifer’s eyes softened and you could see his body begin to relax.

“However,” the same devious smile from previous encounters reappeared on your face as your firmly held his with the hand that had just wiped his tears. You planted one foot firmly on the seat of his chair right between his thighs and leaned in closely, your nose lightly brushing against his as you spoke. “If you think you control me, you don’t know what you’re in for.”

Your voice was practically a whisper now but felt more powerful than when you had been yelling earlier. Lucifer’s eyes couldn’t decide whether to stay locked on yours or watch as your lips hovered just out of reach of his. You had officially reduced him to the same pathetic puddle Belphie was during his little chat, but somehow this time it felt a lot more enjoyable.

“Understood?” You tilted his chin up just as he had done to you earlier.

“Yes, Master.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the response.

“How obedient, must come with the pride.” You let go of his face and stepped away from him. You glanced at the time on your phone and then one more time at the new ring that adorned your finger. Realizing how late it was and how early you had to be up to finally return home, you headed toward the office door. “You should head to bed soon. We have a big day tomorrow.”

You heard shuffling behind you and a few very clumsy footsteps before turning to look over your shoulder. Lucifer had scrambled to his feet half drunk on Demonus and the other half on you, you assumed he wanted to follow after you but either his legs stopped working or he was sober enough to stop himself because he only made it as far as the chair you had been sitting in.

“You cou— you could just stay here tonight…with me.” He managed to get out as his face flushed red again.

“I could,” you smiled “but I won’t.” You watched his face drop as you unlocked the door and stepped out. Before closing it you turned back one more time. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

**********

The next morning, you stood in the student council room at RAD along with the brothers and other exchange students one last time, back where it all began. As the others talked excitedly and goodbyes were said to Simeon, Luke and Solomon, you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened, both good and bad. You had been tossed into this world against your will, tasked with representing the entire human race, placed in a home with seven unruly brothers, faced death more times than you cared to ever remember, got caught up in weird family drama, and stood toe to toe with raging demons one too many times.

It wasn’t all bad though.

You made some new friends, you experienced things you never knew existed, you tried amazing food from both the Devildom and Celestial Realm, you managed to help the brothers patch things up, you pulled off making pacts with seven Demon Lords in just one years’ time (Solomon would be furious when he found out) and got the apologies you rightfully deserved from each of your pact members. All in all it wasn’t too terrible and the more you thought about going home the more you realized you would miss seeing these dorks every day, you wouldn’t miss the arguing…but you’d miss the bad jokes, the movie nights, the random adventures and most of all you’d miss watching them embarrass each other in front of you.

The others eventually departed and now it was your turn. You were trying to think of the easiest way to say bye without causing tears and dramatics when you felt a soft tug on your arm. Belphie stood a few inches away from your back, trying to get your attention the same way he had the last few months, when you turned he blushed slightly and dropped his gaze to his feet as usual.

“I’m sorry for fucking things up for so long. I really enjoyed the time we had together, I just wish it could last a little longer.” He lifted his gaze to look at you. “Are we okay?”

“Yes darling,” you smiled. You had put his ass through the wringer ever since the fallout yet with each passing day he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, the least you could do was forgive him before leaving. “I think we’ll be just fine. Listen to your brothers while I’m gone though, if I find out you’ve been nothing but a brat,” you pulled him in for a brief hug and whispered in his ear. “there will be consequences.”

You released him from the hug and noticed the deep red on his face, you’d miss how easy it was to tease him. Leaving Belphie to drown in his thoughts you turned to his twin and started to speak.

“Beelz—” Only to be cut off by a hug that knocked all the air out of your lungs but then melted into a firm but gentle one. “Good to know you learned some self-restraint.” You managed to squeeze out in one breath.

“Thank you,” the sixth born spoke into the top of your head, his arms trapping you against his chest. “For helping Belphie, for putting up with us, and for making us a family again.” You started to respond but felt a sudden wet spot on your shoulder, managing to look up you found the gentle giant staring at you with tear filled eyes.

“Oh Beel,”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I said I wouldn’t cry and look what you made me do Beel!!” The unmistakable sound of Asmo throwing a tantrum and stomping his boot on the ground made you laugh; they truly were predictable.

You freed yourself from Beelzebub only to be engulfed by Asmo who begged for you not to leave him here with his brothers.

“Who’s going to tell me how beautiful I am? Who’s going to help me do my nails? Who am I supposed to gossip with??” Asmo asked frantically.

“Well, I’m sure Solomon has an easier way of getting back here.” You offered.

“He doesn’t count!” Asmo sobbed before Beel peeled him off you. You adjusted yourself and moved away before getting sucked back in by Asmo’s grasp. Satan looked at you trying to contain his laughter.

“Just so you know, I won’t cry.”

“And I thank you for that.” You sighed.

“I will miss you though.” You hugged the fourth born and then he continued. “Thank you for teaching me how to feel things other than anger and for helping me find better ways to control it.”

“Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You teased.

“No promises.” He replied.

You turned to Levi who looked like he was waiting in line to meet Ruri-chan herself.

“Alright my otaku friend, I know this is far too much of a normie thing so I’ll keep it—” Cut off again by the world’s fastest and most unexpected public hug you blinked trying to figure out what just happened. “Did you just hug me in front of other people?”

“You’ll probably forget about all our games we have saved once you get home but I’ll keep them in case we get to play again…thanks for being my friend this year.” The third born turned bright red as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You knew this whole thing was probably a lot for him and were incredibly proud of how far he had come since day one, he was no longer the awkward little shut-in you first met. Now he was your awkward little friend.

“ANYWAY!” Mammon shoved his brother out of the way before standing next to you and leaning on your shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s probably suuuper boring back home ‘cause I’m not there so why dontcha just summon me on the daily and you can be entertained by the great Mammon?”

This time you gave the unsuspected hug.

“Thank you Mammon,” you squeezed your arms around him one last time. “For always being there for me…and protecting me until the very end.”

“’Course,” his voice was soft and you knew he was fighting tears. “Wouldn’t trade it for all the Grimm in the Devildom.”

You pushed out of the hug and grabbed his face with both your hands and smiled a big goofy grin.

“And thanks for being my first man!” you teased.

“Ack, why ya gotta go and say somethin cheesy like that?? Geez, like I care!”

You would definitely miss embarrassing him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you backed away and watched him blush while muttering to himself. One goodbye left and you’d be gone.

Once again you stood before Lucifer, the same old song and dance you had done for twelve months, but this time the dynamic was switched. You stood tall with a confident smile on your face while Lucifer seemed a little more nervous than usual, he of course would never let his brothers see that which is why he stood with his back to them.

“I’ll never forget this year I’ve spent with you.” Lucifer spoke with his usual matter-of-fact tone but you could sense sadness in his voice. You knew if the goodbye dragged on too long he would break just like he had last night, so you tried to keep it short, to spare his ego.

“Watch over your brothers,” you took a few steps closer and lowered your voice so your conversation became more private. “Keep them out of trouble but don’t work yourself to death in the process. Remember to relax every now and then.”

“I’m only truly able to relax when you’re around.” Lucifer had a pleading look in his eyes, one that was screaming for you not to leave. If you didn’t go soon you might just give in and stay a little longer. After all, things just got interesting and the cards seemed to finally be fully in your favor.

“Be good while I’m away.” Your final command to him.

“Of course, Master,” the first born lifted your hand and gently kissed the ring he had placed on you last night. “Anything for you.”

“Hey, Lucifer! What’s the big idea whisperin’ over there?? And why the hell are ya holdin their hand! No one said anything about that!” Mammon shouted from behind, breaking the trance Lucifer seemed to be in and drawing out the normal heavy sigh and eye roll.

“It’s time.” Diavolo interjected before an argument could break out.

You grabbed the few belongings you had gathered during your stay and walked toward the portal Barbatos had opened, a few more steps and you’d finally be back home. You had officially survived your stay in the Devildom.

“Before you go,” Diavolo spoke again. “I’d like to know, is there anything in particular you learned during your stay?”

You turned back around to face the prince along with the brothers. Had you learned anything? Honestly you learned a lot, about the three realms, about magic, and above all about yourself. It was hard to pick one singular thing and even harder to find a way to condense it all.

“I guess if I had to choose,” you paused for a moment to think. While doing so you made eye contact with the spoiled brat who had caused the last five months of tension and ultimately unlocked some bizarre power and feeling inside you that you still didn’t quite understand. “I learned that what doesn’t kill me, just makes me vicious.”

You watched as the youngest brother ducked his head and began to fidget with his sleeves, you caught the pink in his cheeks as you turned back around and headed through the portal leading to home. The brothers watched your every move, hoping that at the last minute you would turn around and run straight back to them, but you didn’t. Just as you entered the bright light and your silhouette started to fade, Leviathan caught sight of a bright blue symbol shining against the glow of the portal, one that definitely wasn’t there before.

“Wha—” the third born recognized the symbol immediately but couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way you had pulled that off, and if you did then that made you the most badass person ever, like insanely badass, more than any anime protagonist he’d ever heard of. He frantically looked around at his brothers who seemed clueless to the new symbol. “IS NOBODY ELSE SEEING THAT??”

“Ow, Levi don’t shout in my ear like that, ugh.” Asmo scoffed while blinking tears from his eyes as to not ruin his mascara.

“NO NO! You guys totally see that right?!? That’s Lucifer’s pact mark on—" Levi turned and pointed back at the now gone portal. “them…”

“WHA— DID YA GET A PICTURE OF IT?!” Mammon screeched while grabbing his brothers shoulders.

“N-no?”

“Levithatwasaoneinamillionshotwhaddyameanyoudidnttakeapicture??” Mammon sobbed while shaking his younger brother like a rag doll.

“Mammon stop! You might snap him in half.” Beelzebub said as he picked the second born up and threw him over his shoulder before heading toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Honestly Leviathan,” the third born jumped, not expecting Lucifer to be directly behind him. “you might want to take a break from all the video games, I think it’s ruining your eyes.” Levi smiled sheepishly and watched his brother turn to leave the council room. “We’re done here.”

The brothers said goodbye to Diavolo and Barbatos before departing, Belphegor teasing Mammon as Beelzebub carried him out of the room, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Satan speaking in hushed tones while gossiping about you potentially having a pact with the demon of pride himself, and Lucifer leading them out with his head held high and a smug grin on his face. He knew damn well you had flashed his mark on purpose, just to stir his brothers up.

“Well, I suppose that brings the first year of our exchange program to an end Barbatos! I have to say, I think it was a rousing success!” Diavolo grinned, feeling overly proud himself.

“Of course young Master, however,” Barbatos said. “Did you happen to notice our human exchange student seemed a little less…”

“Human?” Diavolo finished his question. His grin disappeared and a look of concern took its place. “Yes, I did notice that. It’s very troublesome but I’m unsure if Lucifer and his brothers are aware of it…Barbatos, could you—”

“I’m already on it sir,” Barbatos smiled calmly and opened a new portal.

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

Tag list: @hero-the-diamond @purplerosewrites @alydra @lotusyasumi @bagofwetmice @itsmeninerz @elssecondaccount @a-toxic-person @takimarasukido @umbra-davina @littleagxs tumblr hates me and I couldn’t tag some people >:( also @delphi-dreamin just because I feel responsible to tag you in all my Lucifer pieces💖

139 notes · View notes