#but it's a lackluster experience for the most part

[astrafell]

i think the thing that makes me sad is the fact that i’ve had geralt for around 6 or 7 years now and i can’t remember ever getting the chance to write a monster hunting thread that went somewhere. you would think that a man who hunters monsters for a living would have that be his main go-to prompt. but yea, when i think about it? i genuinely think i had about 2 threads in that area and neither of them were really wanting to go into horror or magic or mystic. i love complex npcs too. but sometimes, i just wanna write geralt killing things and protecting innocent people from monsters.

#🐺 ( out of potions -- ooc. ) #there's like... so much i wanna reconfigure with this blog now that he's active again #and there's so much i refuse to subject myself to that i did in the past #bc looking back it was really disheartening investing so much into threads and partners and not getting the same respect #and i really wanna go forward and explore certain plots that could blend a ton of different characters and relationships #i think we all kind of want that when we come on this site #but it's a lackluster experience for the most part #i dont want that to continue #i want to feel like my time that i invest in is worthwhile #not look back like i am now and go: jesus what was that time and why did i let that happen?

[remlionheart]

Split Decision

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ i woke up this morning w a slutty, feral, urgent need for some soukoku x fem!reader smut and this fic just kinda poured out of me (literally), 3.7k words. porn with a plot. (hope u like it nasty) you're an intern, ending your last day in Yokohama when you're approached at the hotel bar by two men who have one very pressing question for you: red or white wine? i was melting into an actual puddle writing this so lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡ (and as alwaaayysss, thank u to the loml @bratbby333 for proofreading and being just as fucking pumped for this to come out as i was ♡) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You were tired, exhausted after a day filled with meetings that you barely contributed anything to. You were grateful for your internship, happy that it held the promise of a job right after graduation but being in Yokohama for the last two days had been a bit lackluster.

You sat at the bar of your hotel with lazy, muffled jazz music dancing around you as you fiddled with the straw in your empty cocktail glass.

The trip itself hadn't been all bad. The days were long, but you'd managed to make the most of your nights. The firm you were interning for was gracious enough to make it an all-expenses paid trip and you'd definitely taken full advantage of that over the last week.

You'd spent your nights in the most upscale restaurants the city had to offer, taking yourself on little dates to pass the time. You'd found yourself sitting alongside powerful businessmen and prominent executives that made you feel important even though you were still very much on the outskirts of their social circles. You had been a fly on the wall, quietly observing a world that you could only hope to one day be a part of.

It'd been a learning experience if nothing else. A secret glimpse into how rich men behaved when they thought no one was watching. There was something intoxicating about it all. Something that made you want to try harder when you got back home. You were determined to have this sort of life for yourself one day and you would.

That's what made being responsible tonight all the more important. Your flight back home was set to leave at 6 am. Your bags were already packed and waiting for you in your room. As tempting as it was to venture out into the city again, you needed to be well-rested and level-headed when you woke up tomorrow. So, you'd kept your promise to yourself and settled on slipping into your last clean black dress and grabbing a few drinks at the hotel bar to end your makeshift vacation.

Your legs dangled from your stool, the strap of your dress slipping down your arm as you yawned. The bar had been mostly vacant all night. People passing by, but never actually staying for more than one drink. The vintage grandfather clock at the corner of the room watched you tauntingly, another sway of its heavy arms indicating that it was nearing midnight.

You knew it was time to head back. Your hand reached out to bell for the bartender when two opposing, but equally powerful drinks were suddenly placed at either side of you.

A deep, rich red wine on your left and a deceptively alluring white wine on your right. Your eyes hesitantly drifted between the two men that were now occupying the seats next to you, the warmth of their bodies radiating off of them as they sized you up.

"Which one will it be, angel?" His voice was like velvet, a dangerous smirk creeping across his face as his brown eyes met you. His partially bandaged fingertips slowly pushed the Chardonnay towards you. "You look like a woman of good taste. Honestly, I think you'd like this one much better."

A gloved hand rested on the small of your back, gently turning you around to face him instead. His disheveled red hair and azure gaze were hard to ignore as he nudged the Cabernet closer to you. "Tch, you're too pretty for that cheap shit." He smirked. "Besides, I bet you're wantin' something that would hit way deeper than that, right?"

Your breath was suddenly lodged in your throat, an ache burning between your legs at the sheer shamelessness of it all.

The brunette's smile was piercing, his stare slicing into the man on your left as he let out a low laugh. "You've always had quite the imagination, haven't you Chuuya?" His eyes maintained the same sharpness, dragging back to yours with fervor. "I think what she really needs is something that would leave her begging for more and that's not something that measly little sweet red of yours would do."

The air between the three of you was suddenly suffocating.

You crossed one leg over the other, finding yourself actually having to clench while they carried on with their salaciously threatening banter. Their fingers roaming along your back and the top of your hand. Both inching closer and closer, still spilling out corrupt little nothings about which one would taste better going down your throat and which one would fill you up until there was no more room left.

You needed to be in bed. You needed to keep your wits about you. You needed to tell them both that you didn't have time for this, but your insides were on fire the harder they fought over you.

After being ignored at every meeting you'd gone to this week and being nothing more than a wallflower at the dinner parties you'd attended, having two admittedly depraved but attractive men competing over you like this was enough to make you forget about trivial things like time and responsibilities.

They were still going on. Still gently petting and praising you while their insults towards each other grew heavier and headier.

Your blood rushed through your veins as you looked down at the contrasting wines sitting in front of you. You knew the minute that you took a sip of either, your fate would be sealed for the night. You'd be declaring yourself to one of them. The only smart option you had would be to push both drinks aside, to choose yourself, and to leave the two of them to carry on with their degenerate rivalry with the next unsuspecting girl that waltzed in here.

But you weren't going to settle for either.

As you glanced between them, it dawned on you that there was an alternate, much more menacing 4th option at your disposal.

Their voices came to a pause when they noticed your hand finally raise, hovering directly in the center of the two glasses. Your eyes danced from the brunette back to Chuuya, a hazy smile pulling at the corner of your mouth despite the fact that your heart felt like it was capable of ripping straight through your chest at any given second.

You rested your palm over both, letting your middle finger slide into the Cabernet and your index finger slide into the Chardonnay in perfect unison.

The tension was palpable as they watched you slowly pull out and bring them to your lips. You cocked your head to the side, your tongue generously gliding against the mixture of red and white before you brought them all the way into your mouth, spit slightly dribbling down your chin while you looked between the two men.

A smile cut across your face as you noticed the two sets of blown out pupils staring back at you. "Does that answer your question?"

"No," Chuuya was the first to break the silence. "No fuckin' way am I letting that asshole anywhere near the same room as us."

But it only seemed to pique the brunette's interest more.

A grin that could rival that of the devil's began to pull at the corner of his mouth. "Oh c'mon, Chuuya. You're really gonna deny this angel what she wants?"

"Don't start with me, Dazai." he snarled, his eyes softening a bit when they reached yours. "Look, I'd love to fuck you, but -"

Dazai took full advantage of the redhead's decision to opt out, spinning your barstool towards him so that your back was abruptly facing Chuuya before he could even finish his sentence. "Well," he smirked with a dangerous sense of wit in his voice. "Guess that just leaves us then."

"Wait a minute, that's not how this works!" Your chair was once again being flung in the opposite direction. A gloved hand gently cupping yours as he tried to reason with you. "You're gorgeous, y'know that, right? Even if you end up leavin' by yourself, I promise it'd still be better than endin' up with that mackerel over there."

It should've been an insult. In fact, you were certain that it was an insult, but for some deranged reason, it made Dazai all the more persistent to get you what you had originally asked for.

"Okaaay, okaayy." He conceded as he stood up. "There's no need for petty nicknames. If you're too self-conscious to share a beautiful woman's body with me, that's all you have to say."

"Self-conscious?" The edge in Chuuya's tone only gave Dazai what he wanted. "I'm not self-conscious, you arrogant bastard. I just don't trust you."

Dazai leaned into your ear, his hand shielding his mouth though his voice was far from a whisper. "It's because of his height, I'm afraid. Quite sad really."

"Alright, cut the shit." It was enough to finally bring the redhead to his feet.

He stood up, grabbing your hand to help you off your chair, eyes now locked firmly with yours. "You really want us to fuck you?" He asked, completely ignoring the absolutely vile smirk Dazai was sporting.

A mix of fear and arousal pooled between your thighs as you realized that this was your one chance to back out.

You looked between the two of them one last time before promptly grabbing the drinks that were left on the counter and knocking them both back one right after the other.

"My room or yours?" You asked.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The three of you had ended up in Chuuya's suite which was at least three times the size of your room. It was lofty, decorated with high-rise windows that were covered by thick, black privacy curtains. His king-sized bed made up in pristine white sheets that you feared would soon be ripped to shreds with the way the two of them could barely share the same elevator without almost killing each other, let alone share you.

Chuuya took off his gloves and hung his coat in the closest next to Dazai's as you slipped out of your heels and left them by the door. Your heart was suddenly in your throat now that you were actually here.

You were still by the entryway, not entirely sure how this was going to start while Chuuya went around and began dimming the lights, making a snide comment about how the less he had to see of Dazai, the better. The brunette just smirked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to join him.

He spread his legs, lightly guiding you to stand in front of him as he kissed the back of your hand. His brown eyes trailed over you intently, his slender fingers tracing along the curve of your hip. "No need to be nervous," he whispered, tangling his free hand into yours.

There was something so tantalizing about the way he was looking at you. Eager but thorough, like he wanted to memorize every single inch of you. "See how pretty she is, Chuuya?"

You felt him approach you from behind, his calloused hands holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while his breath fanned across the top of your shoulder. "Care if I unzip this?" he asked, his lips pressing softly against the side of your neck as you nodded. He continued to kiss and nip at you, carefully dragging the zipper down your spine before letting it fall to the floor.

"Fuck."

It was perhaps the one thing that they'd agreed on all night.

Dazai had the full-frontal view of you and Chuuya had the back. You were on full display for them both due to the fact that you'd opted for no bra or panties when you'd left your room earlier, thinking that you'd be coming straight back anyway. What a lie that had turned out to be.

Dazai's hand roamed along your stomach, goosebumps dancing across your skin as his fingertips dipped a bit lower. Chuuya's mouth was still on the nape of your neck, his grip tightening around your hips, drawing the poutiest little whimpers out of you.

"And to think you almost made us pass this up." Dazai taunted. "That would've been suuuch a shame."

"Shut up." Chuuya grunted, pulling you closer so that your ass was flushed perfectly against him. Your back arched feeling how hard he was, another little noise you couldn't quite control escaping you.

Dazai raised an eyebrow at this, realizing how easy it was to make you squirm.

"Oh, our girl's sensitive, isn't she?" He smirked, his fingers making their way to your center, just barely touching the outside of your folds. "Hmm," He hummed, surveying your desperate, dripping cunt. "What kind of sounds do you think she'll make if I do this?"

His finger ran along your clit, only giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before he immediately plunged it inside of you.

"Nngh ~!" You whined, ramming yourself further into Chuuya's bulge. He held you steady, stuck somewhere between severely hating that Dazai had made you moan like that and fucking loving that you did it while grinding against him.

"Aw, look at that. I think she likes you, Chuuya." Dazai mocked, sliding into you again without warning, jealousy washing over him at how you were holding onto the redhead for support.

He went deeper, adding in another finger, to redirect your attention down to him as you mewled. "Feel good, angel?" he asked through heavy lashes.

You nodded back at him so pitifully, it made him groan, rubbing his thumb against your clit as his other two digits continued their assault on you.

You felt Chuuya undoing his belt behind you, his pants quietly dropping to the ground.

"You're doing so good," he praised into the softness of your neck, stroking himself with one hand and palming at your chest with the other. Squeezing a nipple between his fingers as you filled the room with more heavenly noises. "Think you can do me a favor, baby?" His voice felt like blissful static against the shell of your ear.

"M -" you struggled, your eyes nearly crossing at Dazai relentlessly hitting your g-spot. "Mhmmm." you finally managed.

"Can you bend over f'me?"

You tried your best to comply, but Dazai wasn't making it easy. In fact, he was making it impossible. Every time you tried to move, he'd go deeper, practically pulling you towards him from the inside with the curl of his long fingers.

Your vision was blurry, your body forgetting how to move altogether as the two men fought over you like you were a toy that they were willing to break in half as long as it meant the other person couldn't have it anymore.

"I -" you whined, noticing the absolutely feral smirk spread across Dazai's face. "I'm gonna - fuck, I can't -"

As much as Chuuya wanted to murder him for making you cum first, he knew his turn was next and he was going to fuck you into oblivion. "I've got you." he breathed, still playing with your nipple and holding you in place. "You're okay, baby. Let it out. Oh, just like that. Good fuckin' girl."

Dazai panted as you soaked his fingers, greedily trying to draw another one out of you before Chuuya intervened. "Alright, enough." he said, carefully pulling you away from him. "Here." he said, guiding you so that your ass was arched up for him and your face was on the mattress.

He was just about to put it in when Dazai stopped him, swiftly wriggling himself out of his pants before sitting on the edge of the bed again and placing your head above his dick.

Chuuya ran a frustrated hand over his face, the last fucking thing he wanted to see was your pretty mouth wrapped around Dazai while he was inside of you, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

"Be easy on her," he warned him.

You looked up at Dazai with glazed over eyes as he smiled down at you, proud of his work. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right angel?"

Your pussy throbbed at the way he was able to make such a reassuring question feel so sinister.

His cock was long and thick and you were quickly realizing just how hard it was going to be to not choke on it. You started off slow, letting him tangle his hand into your hair as you lolled your tongue out and pressed it against him.

"Oh, fuck." Dazai groaned watching you make your way up to his tip, graciously opening your mouth wider to accommodate him.

Chuuya was wildly annoyed but not at all surprised at how vocal Dazai was. He blocked it out by rubbing his tip between your folds, reeling in the way your back arched for him as he softly massaged your abused little clit.

You were moaning, doing your best not to lose your concentration from how intoxicatingly tender Chuuya was handling you.

Whereas Dazai had practically bullied an orgasm out of you, Chuuya was prepared to play the long game. He'd fuck you slow and deep for hours if that's what you wanted. He was determined to make you feel so good you wouldn't be able to remember any other words besides his name.

Once he was satisfied with how wet both of you were from your cum, Chuuya lined himself up with your entrance. "You ready baby?"

"Y - yes." You struggled, Dazai only letting you come up for air for a second before your head was promptly pushed back down again.

You whimpered, completely forgetting what you were doing when Chuuya entered you. His cock stretching you out more than you knew you were capable of. "Oh - mygod." You choked out, eyes pleading as you looked back at Dazai.

Surprisingly, he wasn't jealous. Wasn't instantly shoving your head back down to get you to focus on him. He was in a euphoric daze seeing how fucked-out you looked. Your eyes were full-on watering, your pussy wrapped so tight and snug around Chuuya.

Dazai's grip in your hair lightened, pulling you up but only so he could watch you from a better angle. He held your head in one hand and began stroking himself with the other. "Oh, angel. You love being fucked like that, don't you?"

You nodded pathetically, completely overstimulated by the feeling of Chuuya pounding into you and the beautiful sight of Dazai jerking himself off to you getting railed. "Say it." He smirked. "Use your words."

Chuuya groaned, it was the first time all night that he wasn't tuning Dazai out. His hips thrusted into you harder as you whined. "I - love." Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open at how deep Chuuya suddenly was. "I love - it." You cried out. "I love it so fu - cking much."

Chuuya wasn't sure if Dazai was trying to hurt or help him by coaxing such depraved things out of you, but he was lost in the sound of your moans.

Your legs began to shake, your cunt pulsating as Chuuya's tip knocked against your cervix. "I -" your head shook, you felt like you were going to pass out. "I can't - s'too much, I'm gonna -"

"Let me feel it, baby." It was almost more of a beg than a command. "Let me feel that pretty pussy soak my cock."

Dazai's breathing hitched in his throat watching the two of you. The tears that were spilling down your pretty face and the guttural noises you were forcing out of the redhead so effortlessly. The way neither one of you were coherent anymore, too lost in the way your bodies were aching for one another to know anything else.

Dazai wasn't sure why it was doing this to him. Wasn't sure why he couldn't stop himself, but just as you started to cum, he did too. He shoved your mouth back around him, reveling in the shock and pleasure and absolute awe on your face as you swallowed every last drop he shot into your mouth.

Your body felt like it was convulsing. The three of you had somehow all managed to reach your climax in perfect, lewd, synchronicity. Dazai's cum was pooling down your chin while Chuuya filled you up from behind. A combination of both of your fluids mixing together and then squirting out of you when he finally pulled out with a heavy, "Oh, FUCK."

You collapsed into Dazai's lap, your legs refusing to hold you. Chuuya helped pull you up onto the bed as the three of you fell into the mattress with a thud. You laid in the middle of them, your head rested peacefully against Dazai's chest as you tried to stop the room from spinning.

"And you told me to go easy on her." Dazai mused, running his fingers through your hair.

Chuuya rolled over on his side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck. "'Least I didn't get off watching her get railed by another dude." he sneered.

"Yeah, you're right." Dazai tsked, "Only thing that could've made it better is if it was by a taller man."

"Dazai, I swear to god -"

But their bickering came to a quick end when you began to shift against them.

"Hey," you mumbled dreamily, causing both of them to immediately revert back to petting you and leaving light kisses along your skin. "Could you shut the fuck up? I've gotta be up at 5 tomorrow to catch my flight."

Chuuya smirked and set an alarm on his phone. Truthfully, he was willing to let you talk to him however you wanted with what you'd done to him tonight.

He reluctantly pulled the comforter up over the three of you. As much as he didn't want Dazai in his room for another minute, you looked too content to move.

You had never felt more safe or secure than you did being smushed between the two of them. Their words were hazy as you began to doze off, two sets of strong arms wrapped around you.

"Y'know, I think I'll kinda miss her." Chuuya breathed.

"Me too," Dazai smiled, looking down at you. "She's our girl."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#i wrote this in a DAY someone pls take my laptop away #rem writes #soukoku #soukoku x reader #dazai smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd

[erodasfishtacos]

hiiii guys.

this is my new trope on patreon. there are 6 more parts available on there and more updates to come. You can subscribe for $3USD a month here

THE KISSCAM TROPE

++

YN doesn't know why she thought that a hockey game of all things would make her feel any better about her breakup with Adam.

YN really can’t imagine that anything will lessen the sour taste of her high school sweetheart getting another girl pregnant.

All YN had known was Adam which she was now realizing how much she had been missing out on experiencing through her earlier twenties.

While Adam snuck around behind her back to experiment, hook-up, and do whatever else with other woman.

YN, unfortunately, only knew Adam intimately.

YN always knew that had been lackluster, always more to desire because he chased his own needs and very rarely helped her reach her own pleasure.

It was bittersweet.

There’s a massive relief that she doesn’t have to imagine her entire life with him and open it to new possibilities.

However, the hurt that came with his infidelity still ached enough that she sometimes physically felt her chest twinge.

:readmore:

A hockey game with a few of her close friends.

Her best friend, April, worked for the arena which meant that she was able to secure pretty close-to-the-ice tickets for a fourth of the price.

As they sat down, a few of them had already had a drink or two in them, and YN didn’t want to mix alcohol with a broken heart so she stuck to a soda instead.

After they’ve filed into their seats, YN was at the one end of her group which meant the chair next to her would be filled by another attendee.

She didn’t think anything of it, leaning across her friend Henry to chat to April, her back towards the empty seat.

YN does not realize that someone is trying to sit down until someone bumps her in the back with their elbow, not hard enough to hurt but enough that YN glances back.

“Sorry for that,” The most gorgeous man she’s ever seen apologizes, a big genuine smile that makes dimples pop in his cheeks, “Got my hands full.”

And he did, he managed to carry three bottles of beer by the neck in one hand, his other filled with a tray of food.

His friends follow shortly after, tugging the beers one by one out of his hand until he can sit down comfortably with his carton of food on his lap.

“It’s okay,” YN assures him, trying to not make it too obvious that she’s giving him a sneaky once over because damn.

He was in a pair of well fitting jeans, a shirt that looked vintage but hugged his broad shoulders tight, looser as it tapered down.

The man continues to smile at her as his friends appear to be quite a rowdy group in comparison to him as they settle in.

“You’re pretty,” The stranger tells her, no shame in his words but not much meaning because he’s already turning back towards his friends like he didn’t just rock her world.

YN questions whether she heard it right because did he just call her pretty?

She tries desperately not to hyper focus on it like a schoolgirl with a crush but it’s hard when his shoulders are so broad, his biceps were built.

It was impossible for their bodies not to be frequently touching.

YN attempts to focus on her friends until the game starts, having to face forward and not be able to have her back to the man.

“You want a fry?” The stranger asks randomly after a few moments.

YN assumes that he’s talking to a friend until he nudges her with an elbow, “Do you want a fry or a chicken strip?”

YN normally wouldn’t accept food from someone she didn’t know but their dinner had been disgusting and inedible which meant her stomach was rumbling.

He’s offering the basket up to her, letting her pick out a fry, and his smile was still just plaster on his face as he watched her.

“Thank you,” YN replies after she’s finished it, giving him more of an unsure grin back.

“Help yourself,” He tells her casually before he’s placing the basket between them so she could grab a fry or strip more easily.

This was weird.

After a few minutes, YN hesitantly plucks up another fry, and the man next to her doesn’t acknowledge that she’s eating out of his basket at all.

When YN’s hand hits paper, she looked down in utter embarrassment, “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I didn’t even realize that I was eating all your food.”

The guy looks over at her for a moment, confused until he glances down at the basket balanced on his leg, and then back to her.

“I’ll go grab you another one right now-“

YN moves to stand up and his hand lightly comes to her shoulder to keep her sat, his expression is somewhat unreadable, somewhat amused.

“I offered them to you? Why are you apologizing?”

“You didn’t offer for me to eat the whole basket,” YN points out with a heat in her cheeks, this was embarrassing.

“Are you still hungry? I could go grab more,” He asks easily, it wasn’t a jest or teasing, he was being a hundred percent serious.

If YN would have ate Adam’s food, he would have demanded she go immediately to get more and then bring it up for the rest of the night too.

This man, who was unfairly attractive but more than that, suspiciously nice even though it didn’t come off as creepy or predatory.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry again,” YN apologizes again for good measure as she picks anxiously at her thumb.

“No apology needed,” He shakes his head with a laugh as he puts the empty remnants on the ground in front of him and swigs from his beer.

YN has to keep her eyes on the ice, she is much too focused on every time his shoulder brushes or his knee knocks in hers because he has to spread his legs an ungodly amount.

There was no conversation between them until another attendee who was further into the middle row was attempting to exit by their side.

The man was a bit wobbly, there was surely a lot of alcohol running through his system and he wasn’t being careful.

He trips over his own feet, over the debris on the ground, and rumbles right on top of YN who yelps in surprise.

The man next to her is quick to action, standing up and tugging the guy back up so that he was standing off his feet.

He was visibly annoyed with the drunk, voice sharp as he warns, “Watch where you’re fucking walking, mate. You could have hurt her.”

The guy mumbles an apology before staggering up the stairs, most likely to get more alcohol.

“Thank you,” YN says once again to him, adjusting her top and brushing off the pants of her leg, heart still pounding.

“Harry, bro. Johnson almost scored!” One of his friends pats his arm excitedly.

Harry.

Well, Harry gives her that signature smile before biting the corner of his lip, and his eyes stay on her a moment longer than acceptable before going back to his friends.

When a commercial break cuts, towards the end of the game, it’s the crowd's favorite time.

The kiss cam.

YN doesn’t think much of it, she’s not with anyone nor loving up on someone.

And it’s an area with fifty-thousand people, it’s next to impossible for her to-

But then her friends are squealing, shoving at her to look towards the Jumbotron, and there she is, projected on the screen.

The frame is decorated with corny swirling pink hearts, balloons popping, and most importantly bold letters that read, ‘KISS CAM’.

In the frame with her, however, is Harry.

As if they were a couple.

His friends must point it out to him because he’s glancing at the screen before he’s making eye contact with her.

Boldly, wildly, he grins and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

YN boldy, wildly nods ‘yes’.

He leans into her space then, big hands coming up to cup her face, and he pulls her into a kiss with an intensity that’s unwarranted but welcomed.

YN can feel her heartbeat in her throat, blood rushing through her ears, and her hand trembling when she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

It’s not chaste.

No, Harry is swiping his tongue against her bottom lip as the crowd goes absolutely insane, roaring and hooting.

Not to mention their friends.

At some point, the camera finds a new couple but YN is positive that they’ve kissed for much longer than they were on the screen before they both pull back.

His lips are puffy, pink, and his eyes are intent on her.

YN feels like panting and her heart jumps when he leans back in for another kiss, a shorter, more sweet one but his hand is grounding on her jaw.

“I’m Harry.”

“YN,” She smiles back at him, her hand still gripping onto him and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as they just can’t take their eyes off each other.

“Would you want to get out of here?” Harry asks brazenly, hopefully as he appears like he wants to devour her.

YN who’s never been a risk-tasker, who’s never had a hook-up, or anyone other than Adam finds herself agreeing, “Yeah, I do.”

+++

part ii

After Harry had opened his apartment door, the arousal and excitement has warped into a trembling nervousness.

What the fuck did a random hookup look like?

YN didn’t even know if she was good at sex because Adam only had a few trusty positions that he liked.

Harry locks the door behind them, the apartment is small but cozy and clean, it smells like his cologne and the lighting is just right for the mood.

He steps up behind her, leaning down to kiss her neck, and his hands on her hips, bigger and stronger than anything she’s ever felt before.

“Do you need anything first? Bathroom, food, water?” He asks against her skin, he was forward in the way that he was already pressing his hips into her backside.

YN shakes her head, trying to keep up, “No, thank you.”

Harry laughs softly, lips smooth against her pulse, “So polite. Let me know if that changes, baby.”

Baby.

They just met and it sounded sincere, not like a corny pickup line.

Harry moves in front of her, not once ounce of shyness as he crosses his arms over his chest and tugs his shirt up and off.

He was ripped.

Surprisingly so, not that he didn’t look fit with his shirt on but YN wasn’t expecting him to have abs, a sharp vee cutting towards his groin, nor the defined muscle near his ribs.

He looks like he walked out of a magazine.

Was she being pranked?

YN didn’t think this could possibly be real life where the most handsome man she’d ever seen was stripping for her.

He moves towards his jeans, unbuckling his belt, and shimmying them off his narrow hips before kicks them to the side.

Just in his briefs and socks, his groin was prominent, and YN’s heart lurches at that because she’s only taken Adam who was a little below average in size.

His wasn’t average, she could tell from here.

A nervous flip of arousal churns in the bit of her stomach, she wanted this man so much that she felt like clenching her thighs together.

Harry’s brow knife in concern when he notices YN stood like a statue, just staring at him, and making no effort to move.

“Is everything okay?” Harry checks cautiously, stepping towards her but not touching her as he looks unsure.

Fuck, she was embarrassed again.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” Her voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, “Just my first time.”

Harry’s eyes widen in alarm, startled, “Oh fuck, I would have done shit different if I knew that you’ve never-“

YN realizes she could have used much better wording and waves her hand, “No no, I’m not a virgin. I just got out of a long-term relationship. I’ve only ever been with him. This is my first time…just randomly hooking up with someone.”

A relieved smile crosses Harry’s face, “Shit, baby. I’m glad you chose me. How could someone let you go? Prettiest face I’ve ever seen, cutest set of tits too.”

“I just might not be the best but,” YN shrugs sheepishly, this has to be the most mortifying experience ever.

“Don’t be worried ‘bout a thing,” Harry assures her as he steps forward, “Now I gotta give it my all to prove m’better than your ex.”

YN decides to take a step out of her comfort zone, reaching forward to grip him through the cotton of his briefs, and he fills her whole hand.

“You weren’t going to give it your all before?” YN teases, feeling her confidence grow by the moment as she moves to thumb over the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, eyes meeting hers under his lashes, “I was always going to, baby.”

“Mhm,” YN hums, not convinced as he twitches in her palm, easy for her already.

“Gotta get you naked, my room,” Harry’s breathing is heavier as he reaches out for her hand, guiding her towards his bedroom.

Once they’re in, it’s surprisingly big, and has a comfortable looking king-sized bed that was actually made nicely.

“Please,” YN hears him asks after a moment of her being distracted, “Let me undress you. I’m fuckin’ dying to see you.”

YN can’t help but look over his body once more and she knew she was nothing in comparison to his athletic build.

However, pushing the insecurity down, she nods with a smile for him to undress her.

It was worth the nerves.

By the time she’s down to just her panties, Harry is groaning as he acts like he’s never seen anything better in his life.

“Knew you’d have the cutest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” Harry rumbles as he ducks down to cup them in his big palms, mouth wrapping around one and sucking.

It felt amazing.

Adam didn’t pay any attention to her body when they had sex, never had, and it did feel like her first time in a way.

She wouldn’t want it with anyone else but Harry.

His hand trails from her breast down her belly, fingers dipping into the front of her cotton underwear.

“Fuck, wait,” YN reaches down to hold his wrist, cheeks warm, “You don’t have to.”

Harry pulls his mouth back from her chest, frowning as he stands up straight again, “Do you not like that?”

“It’s not that, I just haven’t you know…” YN trails off, hoping that he would catch on.

He doesn’t.

“You haven’t….” Harry repeats back, he was still soft and gentle, unhurried and patient with her as she hesitated.

YN looks past his right ear as she replies, “I haven’t shaved in a while. We’ve been broken up for a few months and I haven’t maintained-“

Harry is letting out a humored snort, leaning forward to kiss her quiet before he’s kneeling down in front of her, mouth laying wet kisses on her belly.

“Baby, you’re insane if you think I mind hair. Anyway, I can get your pussy is fine by me. I like it, knowing I’m the first to have you like this in a while,” Harry replies, voice scratchier as his arousal grows, and his lips stay on her hip as he tugs the underwear down her legs.

Adam would refuse to have anything to do with her if she wasn’t freshly shaven.

Not shaving for the past few months had felt like the most freeing experience, she hadn’t ever thought she would be randomly having a hookup or she would have shaved.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Harry groans when he finally gets a look at her, his thumb coming up to smooth down the downy curls that were lightly dusting her pubic bone.

“Harry,” YN giggles anxiously, “You don’t have to act like -“

“Can I get my mouth on you?” Harry cuts her off, his eyes were glued to her center, where his thumb was pressing between her folds to nudge at her clit.

YN raises her eyebrow in surprise.

Adam had rarely done that, maybe five times total in their entire relationship, and YN never requested it because it didn’t feel good enough to want it again.

“If you want,” YN breathes out, still in a bit disbelief that this man was kneeling in front of her, asking to put his mouth if her.

“If I want,” He chuckles with a shake of his head before his hands are gripping his hips a bit firmer and keeping her still.

He doesn’t waste another moment, burying his face into her center, nose bumping against the curls on her mound as his tongue swipes through the split of her.

Harry knows what he’s doing.

His lips find her clit in seconds flat but he’s grunting at her, communicating without taking his mouth off of her, and shoulders her legs apart wider.

YN reaches for balance, finding his hair as something perfect to weave her fingers into, and hold steady.

He then just casually, again refusing to take his mouth away, hefts one of her thighs over his shoulder, and makes it possible to lick even deeper.

“Harry,” YN moans kittenishly, a sound she’s never heard out of her own mouth as she tugs harshly at his hair.

He lets out his own moan between sucks and licks, nose buried in the curls, and he’s taking heavy breathes because of his refusal of air.

YN has had orgasms when she had sex with Adam, occasionally, and with her own fingers.

This was the first time someone other than herself made her come.

Holy shit, it was life-changing.

“M’close,” YN warns but by the time she gets the words out, she’s throwing her head back and bucking her hips into his mouth as she rides it out.

His hands move to grip her ass hard, bruising enough as he pushes her as close as possible to help her feel it for as long as possible.

YN realizes just how much she was tugging his hair when her fingers ache, unwinding them as she pants, “I’m sorry. I pulled your hair so hard.”

Harry sits back on his heels, face shining as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip before sticking in his mouth.

He was fucking obscene.

“Loved it,” Harry replies, voice raspy and deeper than ever, “You tasted just as good as you look. I think I’m in love with the bush.”

YN giggles as he helps her unwind her leg from over his shoulder, he stands up and kisses her hard.

It shouldn’t be hot that she can taste herself.

“Want to see you,” YN murmurs shyly, her fingernails trailing down his stomach, his abs twitching in response.

“Yeah, baby?” Harry goads as he watches her hand, “Hopefully it’s to your liking.”

YN takes that as permission to tug his briefs down his thighs, he was beautiful here too, unsurprisingly.

YN had experience with this.

Kinda.

Adam was less than half the size, not as pretty nor as thick.

It was a bit intimidating.

Harry must sense it, pressing a kiss to her lips, and huffing when she wraps her hand around him, stroking upwards.

“S’gonna fit, nice and snug, huh?” Harry whispers sweetly before he bites her bottom lip, he takes it upon himself to reach down again.

He slips in index and middle finger through her folds, crooking them up inside of her, and cursing under his breathe.

“Baby, you’re tight,” He tells her as he goes slowly, working her open as she pumps him in slow, firm strokes.

YN bites her lip, brave as she thumbs over his shiny tip, “Fuck me, please. Want it.”

“What do you like?” Harry asks as he walks them backwards to the bed, YN landing on her back and squirming up to the middle center.

“What do you mean?” YN asks between a gasp when she feels him brush against her mound, tip bumping at her folds.

“What position gets you off the best?” Harry elaborates as he peppers kisses over her collarbone, tweaking a nipple in his fingers.

“Whatever you like,” YN replies because none get her off.

Harry glances up at her, “But what position is good for you?”

“They’re all the same, aren’t they?” YN shrugs mulishly, “I don’t usually, well, I can use my fingers in any one.”

Harry looks at her like she’s grown a second head, voice sharper, “Did you ex really never make you orgasm during sex without you using your own fingers?”

YN tucks her bottom lip between her front teeth for a moment, “He said it’s easier if I just did it so yeah.”

Harry shakes his head, a scoff of disbelief, “How did he not worship this perfect little pussy, baby? I’ve never seen anything more magnificent.”

YN tries not to let the compliment go to her head, he defiently says that to every other girl he’s been with, it’s just a line.

“Your fingers aren’t going to be anywhere near your cunt tonight,” Harry rumbles as he reaches over to his night stand, rummaging until he finds a condom and rolls it over himself.

“Sweetheart, you’re drippin’ to your bum,” Harry laughs but it’s not mean, it’s fond as he has her bend her knees and spread them.

Harry paints himself up and down her entrance, hitting the heavy weight of it against her clit a few times before pressing in.

“O-oh,” YN gasps because he’s big.

It’s not painful but it is a stretch, as he makes room for himself, and he goes slowly.

He leans down, kissing her, and murmuring encouraging words to her.

Much too sweet for a causal hookup.

“Look at you, never had anyone look so pretty while taking my cock, baby.”

“See? S’room for me, hugging me perfectly.”

“Shit, darling. Never going to want to pull out, just want to stay all tucked up inside you.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t decide whether I want to look at your pretty face or perfect pussy. M’spoiled for choice.”

“Please, please,” YN hiccups, she feels needy as he starts to put in more force behind in thrusts, and on every odd motion, he manages to hit a spot she didn’t know she had.

The spot that barreled her towards her second orgasm, nails digging to Harry’s bicep as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Fuck, there it is, pretty baby. Come around my cock, squeezing me,” Harry lets out a low moan when he feels her walls contract around him.

YN has never come twice like that.

When Harry reaches down to press a thumb to her clit, she squeals with the overstimulation but he kisses her and assures her that she can give him one more.

YN has pathetic, fat tears streaming down her face as her third orgasm hits her.

“There we go,” Harry croons, pleased as a peach as he kisses her damp cheeks, “Came on my tongue, on my cock twice, see how good you are for me? S’all mine, right? Only cock you’ve ever come on.”

The possessiveness in his words makes her stomach flip with something good, validating that she wanted.

“Just yo-yours,” YN manages to agree through bated breath, he was pounding into her now, barreling towards his own end.

“Good girl, fuckin’ making me come for you,” He grits out, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he stills, pulsing inside her, “Fuckin’ hell.”

++

YN wakes up before Harry the next morning, quietly as a mouse slipping back into her clothes, and leaving his apartment.

Was it a shitty thing to do?

Yes.

Did she do it to avoid him kicking her out after they used each other because it felt real to her and this was just plain fun for him?

Also yes.

YN guesses this is how hookups go.

++

four more parts are up on my patreon now :)

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: The first game of the 2023 season didn't go well. This fic covers the aftermath with a quick flashback to the game.

Time/Place: Monday, Sep. 11, 2023 (the day after the week 1 loss to Cleveland) / Cincinnati, Ohio

Edit: Explanation is here

Here's the follow-up - Hard Reset II

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

You wake up slowly, stretching and yawning before turning your head to look at Joe; he's still asleep, his lips slightly parted and his messy hair fanned out against his pillow. You ease out of bed -- careful not to wake him -- and walk into the bathroom, quickly peeing and washing your face before heading downstairs to make coffee.

You roll your shoulders and stretch a bit while you wait for the coffee to be done. Your entire body feels a little sore from literally tensing most of your muscles throughout yesterday's game in Cleveland. Between the awful weather, the lackluster offense, and Joe looking like he was one wrong move away from getting hurt, the game had been a miserable experience.

You pour a cup of coffee and add a splash of salted caramel creamer before taking a seat at the kitchen island, your mind rewinding back to yesterday.

~ ~ ~

You'd been anxious well before kick-off, worried that the team was rushing Joe back before his calf injury was fully healed. The steady rain had kicked your anxiety into overdrive, you and Joe's mom exchanging worried looks while his dad tried to remain stoic. It became obvious fairly quickly that Joe was hampered by the calf, not really rolling out or scrambling as well as usual. Every hit he took, every time he slipped on the wet turf, your heart jumped into your throat. The fact that he got out of Cleveland without getting anything but his ego hurt seemed like a damn miracle.

And his ego was definitely hurt, you think to yourself, remembering the look on his face when he got home late Sunday night after the game. You'd been home long enough to shower and change clothes before he came in; you hurried to hug him as soon as he walked through the door, pressing your face against his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"You okay?" you asked. "I'm fine," he grumbled, "and I really don't wanna talk about it," he continued, dropping a kiss on your forehead to soften his words. You leaned back and looked up into his face. "You hungry?" you asked, biting your lip when he shook his head no. "Can we just go to bed?" he asked, giving you a tired smile as you took his hand and led him toward the stairs.

~ ~ ~

The sound of Joe ambling down the stairs snaps you back to the present (Monday morning); you spin your barstool toward him and give him a smile, taking in his wild hair and grumpy expression.

"Good morning, sunshine," you chuckle. "Morning," he mutters, dropping a quick kiss on your lips before heading to the fridge to grab the orange juice. You zero in on his gait, trying hard to decide if he's limping or just doing his usual long-legged, loose-hipped stride.

"Calf feels fine, babe," he states, throwing you a knowing look over his shoulder.

"How did you know I was looking at your calf?" you scoff. "Your back was to me."

He takes a sip of his juice before answering. "Were you looking at my calf?"

"Maybe," you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully when he gives you a smug grin. "So it feels good?"

"It feels … fine," he answers, giving you a 'don't go there' look.

You really want to 'go there' but decide not to. "You want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," he groans, sitting beside you at the island while you list possible breakfast items.

"How does an omelet sound? And maybe some avocado toast?"

"Yes and yes," he chirps, his demeanor perking up at the thought of yummy food.

About forty minutes later you watch him finish the last bite on his plate. "That was delicious," he moans, giving you a smile while rubbing his stomach. "Wish I could go straight back to bed for a nap," he sighs. "I didn't sleep worth a shit last night, but I need to get to the facility."

"Too bad you have to go on your day off," you mumble, cutting the last bite of your avocado toast in half and handing him a portion.

"Yeah." He pops the tasty morsel in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before giving you a shrug. "But you know how it is. Gotta get treatment -- maybe watch a little film while I'm there -- then I can come home and take a nap."

You nod your head before responding. "Anybody coming over to watch the Bills & Jets game tonight?"

"No. I don't feel like having anybody over." He stands up and grabs both of your plates. "Guess it'll just be you and me," he continues, quickly rinsing the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

He walks to the stove to grab the skillet and you shoo him away. "I'll take care of that," you state, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss before he turns and heads for the stairs; you watch him carefully as he walks away from you, giving him a bland smile when he shoots you a look over his shoulder. "I was looking at your ass not your calf," you lie, smiling at the sound of his laughter as he disappears upstairs.

~ ~ ~

Several hours later after a shared nap and a 'cheat day' pizza dinner, y'all are snuggled on the sofa watching the lead-up to Monday Night Football.

"Think it's gonna be a good game," you ask, smiling at his inelegant snort. "Who knows," he sighs. "I just hope both teams put on a better show than we did yesterday. We sucked ass, especially me."

"You were playing in shitty weather after missing damn near all of training camp," you grumble. "Give yourself a break, okay?"

He turns his head and locks eyes with you. "I just signed a 275 million dollar contract. There are no 'breaks' when that kind of money has been handed to you."

"You earned every penny of that and then some," you retort. "This franchise has gone from being an absolute joke to a top contender because of you." You take a deep breath before plowing ahead. "What you've accomplished in just two full seasons is mind-blowing and …"

"Babe?" he interrupts.

"What?"

"None of that changes the fact that I sucked ass yesterday."

"But you weren't 100%."

"Tough shit. I've never made excuses and I refuse to start now."

You stare at each other for several heartbeats before you break the silence. "You're right. Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

You give him a smile. "Didn't mean to get my panties in a wad over it."

"Need some help with that?" he chuckles, sliding a hand up your thigh, laughing even harder when you playfully slap it away. "Easy there, horndog. You're about to miss Mr. Rodgers running out waving the flag." You point at the TV and Joe turns his head to watch. "This is some high-octane drama," he murmurs, shaking his head as y'all watch the remainder of the pre-game festivities in silence.

A little while later you head to the kitchen to grab some water. "That pizza was salty as hell," you mutter, guzzling most of your glass before refilling it, almost dropping it when you hear Joe holler.

"Oh shit!"

"What is it?" you chirp, setting your glass on the kitchen counter and hurrying back to Joe, your gaze locking on the TV as the replay rolls.

"Aaron went down really awkward," Joe mutters, standing up off the sofa to walk closer to the TV. "Looked like his cleat got stuck in the turf." You walk up beside him and watch the replay again, now in super slow-mo. "Jesus, it's his fucking Achilles," Joe whispers, running a hand through his hair in agitation as he watches the trainers help Aaron off the field.

"He's putting some weight on it," you offer hopefully. "Maybe it's not that bad."

"It's bad," he mumbles, pulling his phone out and doing a quick search. "Fuck," he breathes, shaking his head as he watches something, rewinding it a few times.

"What are you watching?"

"A man's Achilles tendon snap like a brittle rubber band."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't look too close at that replay or you'll see it too." His eyebrows slowly creep up when his phone starts blowing up with texts. He bites his lip while looking at the display.

"Who's texting you?"

"Just some teammates … and my parents."

"You're not gonna answer them?"

"No, because I know exactly what they're gonna say."

"What?"

He takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling for a minute before locking eyes with you. "Aaron had a calf strain like mine back during OTAs. Folks are gonna say that his Achilles injury is proof I shouldn't be playing until my calf is 100% healed."

"Was his calf strain on the same leg as the Achilles injury?"

"No, but overcompensating and favoring one leg over the other can result in an injury to the good leg."

"So it sounds like you shouldn't be playing until your calf is fully healed, right? Or you risk either making the calf injury worse or sustaining an overcompensation injury."

"No," he shakes his head in annoyance. "Aaron is older than me and has had calf issues his entire career. Plus, his cleat got stuck in the fucking turf. It's bad luck not an overcompensation injury."

His phone rings and he stares at it for a second before ignoring it.

"Who's that?"

"Mom." He makes a 'don't go there' face when you open your mouth to say something; you glare at him for several heartbeats before you're startled by your own phone ringing. You quickly check the display as Joe speaks up. "If that's my mom don't answer it."

"Hey Robin," you say, turning your back on Joe when he rolls his eyes. "I'm not talking to her," he says loudly, his expression totally belligerent when you spin around and lock eyes with him. "Well, I am!" you snap. "And I know you're not gonna tell me who I can and can't talk to!"

He's smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you continue your conversation with his mom. "Yeah, it's super concerning since it's the same injury Joe has. Something about overcompensating a calf strain makes you really vulnerable to an Achilles injury." Joe makes a snorting noise and you cut your eyes at him while continuing. "Well, he's a hard-headed, stubborn asshole when it comes to stuff like this, so no way he's gonna listen to us about it."

"Damn right," he mutters, ignoring your warning look while picking at his thumbnail.

"Okay, I'll tell him," you sigh, ending the call and hitting Joe with an exasperated look. "Your mom would like to talk to you when you feel like it."

"It's not gonna be tonight," he states. "And it may not be for a while since I don't feel like hearing a bunch of crap about why I shouldn't be playing."

"She's just worried about you, Joe. We all are."

"That's nice, but I don't wanna talk about it with anybody right now." You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off. "That includes you."

You heave a sigh and lick your lips before responding. "But …"

"Drop it!" he snaps, immediately grimacing when he sees the look on your face. "Fine," you whisper, brushing his hand off your arm as he reaches out to touch you. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he mumbles, following you as you turn and head toward the kitchen; halfway there you hear his phone ring, your eyes going wide when he answers it.

"Hey Coach," he mutters, turning back toward the living room as you continue into the kitchen.

"Of course he answers Coach's call," you grumble, stopping just out of sight to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Yeah, I saw it," Joe says. "Looked like his cleat got caught in the turf. It's def a ruptured Achilles." He listens for a minute before speaking back up. "As far as I'm concerned this changes nothing for me. I intend to play Sunday as long as I don't have any setbacks between now and then."

You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and walk farther into the kitchen, grabbing your water glass to refill it before setting it back down. "Fuck it," you mumble, reaching into a cabinet for a wine glass before pulling a bottle of rosé out of the fridge; you pour a large serving and take a couple of sips before heading toward the stairs, rolling your eyes when you hear Joe talking about some offensive scheme with Coach Taylor.

Fifteen minutes later you're chin deep in a bubble bath, the only light in the bathroom coming from several candles; you take a sip of cold wine and hold it on your tongue for a bit before swallowing, your pulse picking up when you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" Joe calls.

"Yeah," you answer, setting your glass on the tub ledge as he opens the door and slowly approaches you; he drops to his knees beside the oversized tub and blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he states. "I'm under a lot of pressure, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

You take in his earnest expression, struck speechless for a few seconds at how achingly beautiful his face is in the flickering candlelight. "I understand," you finally concede. "I just wish you'd talk to me about it instead of shutting me down."

"There's nothing to talk about because my mind's made up. If practice goes well this week -- and I receive clearance to play -- I'm taking the field this Sunday. I'm sorry if that makes you mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm scared," you whisper, blinking your eyes rapidly to try and keep tears from falling.

He bites his bottom lip and leans in closer. "Babe, I'm not gonna lie and say there's nothing to be scared of because you never know what's gonna happen in this sport. Here's the thing though." He runs a hand through his hair before continuing. "I could bubble-wrap my entire body and sit out until I feel 100% healthy," he shrugs, "but the second I step back on the field I'm at risk just like every other player. Instead of a calf it might be another blown-out knee, cracked ribs, a bad concussion …"

"You're making me feel a lot better, thanks," you butt in, grabbing your wine glass and taking a hearty gulp.

"My point is … guys get hurt every week. You can't play scared, though, or you might as well just go ahead and hang 'em up." He takes a deep breath and let's it out slowly. "You went through my knee rehab with me so you know it was hell. But we came out the other side stronger than ever. If, God forbid, something like that happens again, I know we'll get through it, okay?"

"I guess it has to be okay," you sigh. "I mean this is your job. It's violent as hell, and it may get you permanently maimed or worse one of these days, but unfortunately you're really good at it."

He gives a snort of laughter while shaking his head. "Unfortunately?"

"That was a little harsh," you admit, watching as he stands up and strips his clothes off.

"Scoot forward," he orders, stepping into the tub behind you as you do his bidding; he eases into the warm, frothy water, his long legs stretching out on either side of you as he pulls you back against him, your back to his chest.

Once he's settled he digs his fingers into your shoulder muscles, working out the tension as you give an appreciative moan. "That feels good," you whisper, your toes curling as he moves to your neck muscles, taking his time to give you a thorough neck and shoulder massage before dipping his hands below the water surface to rest on your thighs. "How did you know my thighs are sore?" you sigh, your eyes sliding closed in pleasure as his big hands knead your sore thigh muscles.

"Because I'm guessing you were so tense at the game yesterday you could've cracked a walnut with your buttcheeks."

"You have a way with words," you giggle, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass on the tub ledge and relaxing back against him. He continues to massage your thighs for several minutes, his right hand edging closer to your crotch before he finally ghosts his fingertips over your folds; your body reacts instantly but your mind refuses to play along. You wait a minute to see if you can get in the mood before dropping a hand down and gently moving his hand back onto your thigh. "I'm not in the right headspace for that," you murmur. "My body's saying yes but my mind's saying no."

"It's okay," he soothes, pressing a kiss on your neck. "I just thought some endorphins might help you relax."

"Absolutely would if I could shut my damn brain off for a few minutes." A thought hits you. "If you want me to get you off I'll be happy to."

"I'm not really in the right headspace, either."

Y'all fall silent for a bit before he speaks back up. "Since we're both tired as hell why don't we get in bed, put something boring on TV and hope it lulls us to sleep."

"Sounds good," you sigh, easing out of the tub and drying off before brushing your teeth; you step into a pair of panties as Joe blows out the candles, a smile gracing your lips at the comforting feel of his hand on the small of your back as he follows you into the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

The next morning (Tuesday) you're in the kitchen making breakfast burritos when Joe comes down the stairs already dressed for the day.

"Smells delicious," he says, watching you roll up two fat burritos before setting them on a hot griddle to get toasty. "What's in 'em?"

"Eggs, spicy turkey sausage, onion, red bell pepper, poblano, jalapeno, and some chipotle salsa."

"Yum," he groans, grabbing a couple of plates as you flip the burritos, smiling down at you as y'all wait for the second side to get golden.

"Did you sleep okay? he asks, dropping a kiss on your lips. "Not really. Check out these dark circles," you grimace, pointing at your face. "Your barely-there dark circles ain't got nothing on this huge zit," he grumps, pointing at a miniscule dot on his chin. You squint your eyes and lean in close. "Boy please," you scoff. "It doesn't count if you need a magnifying glass to see it."

"It's not nice to talk about Travis Kelce's dick like that, babe," he deadpans, both of you cackling like hyenas for a bit before settling down.

Y'all eventually sit down at the table and exchange small talk over breakfast, mostly about your plans for the day:

his plans = work-out, treatment, film session

your plans = work-out, virtual meeting for work, errands

Once breakfast is done you slide the last dish into the dishwasher just as Joe's phone rings; he checks the display before giving you a look. "It's Josh," he says.

"Josh Allen?"

"Yeah, I texted him earlier. He looked like he was going through it in his post-game presser last night."

You nod in agreement, loving the fact that a lot of the young NFL QBs reach out to each other to lend support. They're rivals on the field but off of it they're a very elite brotherhood. Nobody understands the pressure on a QB1 except for another QB1.

You finish wiping down the counters and tune into the conversation.

"Yeah, bro, I know it sucks," Joe states, "but even the best-of-the-best shit the bed every now and then. You just gotta flush it down and move on." He catches your eye for a second before continuing. "Listen, you're being too hard on yourself. The worst thing you can do is dwell on it. Keep your head up and unleash hell next week."

You give him a smile as he ends the call. "Is he okay?"

Joe shrugs. "He's really beating himself up about the four turnovers he had."

"You gave him some great advice. Actually, you're giving him a lot more grace than you give yourself."

"He needs it more than I do," Joe boasts.

"Hardass," you scold, giving him a playful grin.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he smirks, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips before heading for the door. "Have a good day," he calls over his shoulder, giving you a wink before disappearing into the garage.

A few hours later you stagger into the house carrying four heavy bags of groceries. "Should've made two trips," you chuckle, heaving the bags onto the kitchen counter with a sigh of relief. You eventually get everything put away, yawning a couple of times in the process. "I could really use a nap," you mutter, checking your watch. "Plenty of time," you smile, heading upstairs and stripping down to your undies before falling into bed.

An hour and a half later you come awake abruptly, your body so close to climax that you can't believe you don't fall over the edge. "Shit," you whisper, still groggy from sleep as you cup a hand over your throbbing crotch. You consider finishing yourself off but decide to wait for Joe to get home.

You take several deep breaths as you remember the reason for your hyper-aroused state -- an erotic dream about your man. "So hot," you mumble, easing out of bed and checking the clock, noting that Joe should be home soon. You walk into your closet and grab a couple of items, deciding to recreate the outfit from your dream.

You pull on a tight white t-shirt -- no bra -- before adding a black flouncy skirt so short it barely covers your buttcheeks. "Not bad," you whisper, checking your reflection in the mirror while fluffing your hair. "Oh yeah, almost forgot" you breathe, reaching under your skirt to slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you turn and head for the door.

You're halfway down the hallway to Joe's office when you hear the garage door open; your entire body immediately reacts, every single pleasure point throbbing in anticipation. You hurry into his office as you hear him coming up the stairs. "I'm in your office," you call loudly, "and I hope you're ready for this," you add under your breath.

"Hey," he says as he strides into the room, the big grin on his face morphing into a look of surprise and then lust as he gives you a slow once-over, his gaze coming to rest on your hard nipples plainly visible through your thin shirt.

You immediately notice his haircut but are too far gone to mention it. "I took a nap earlier and had a dream about you," you admit, closing the distance between you and rising up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Must have been a good one," he says, deepening the kiss while cupping his big hands over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nubs through your shirt; he pinches them just hard enough to make you gasp, and you press your thighs together at the gush of liquid heat in your core. He reads your body language and drops a hand down, sliding it under your short skirt before slowing inching it up your inner thigh, making a sound that's part groan/part growl when he realizes you're not wearing panties.

"Damn, babe," he hisses, pulling back to look down at you as he plays with your slick folds. "So wet for me." He slides a long finger inside you, both of you moaning when your walls clench hard around it.

"We gotta slow down or I'm gonna cum," you whimper. "Is that a bad thing?" he asks, latching his pretty mouth onto your neck while pumping his finger inside you. "I wanna do it just like in my dream," you pant, taking a couple of steps back to try and get yourself under control; you watch him suck his wet finger into his mouth, the look on his face causing your core to react.

"What do you need?" he asks. "Get naked," you order, taking your own clothes off while he does your bidding; you walk toward his desk, spinning his large, black leather desk chair to face you before pointing at it. "Sit," you urge, watching closely as he follows orders, his long legs falling open in his usual manspread.

You drop to your knees between his thick thighs, your mouth immediately on his hard cock as he buries both hands in your hair, his throaty groans going directly to your clit as you work him in all his favorite ways.

Shit, gotta fast-forward, you think to yourself. You'd teased him more in your dream, but you're literally about to bust so you quickly stand up and crawl into his lap, gasping when he grabs your waist and lifts you onto the desk. "This wasn't in the dream," you whisper, laying back against the desk as he grabs your ankles and places your feet on either side of him on the arms of the chair. "Just let me have a quick taste," he purrs, waiting for your approval before lowering his head.

You run your hands over his fresh fade haircut, relishing the velvet-like feel as he licks your wet slit a few times before sliding his tongue inside. "Oh my God," you moan, fisting a hand in his hair as he continues to tongue-fuck you, grateful that he left enough hair on top of his head to get a nice handful.

Even though he's strategically avoiding your clit, you quickly feel that delicious tension building inside you. "That feels so good but you gotta stop," you whine. "Why?" he asks. "Because I wanna cum on your cock," you say matter-of-factly.

The words barely leave your mouth before you find yourself lifted off the desk and straddling his lap, your head spinning a little as he makes sure you're settled before he drops a hand down to his erection, dragging it through your drenched folds a few times to gather moisture before pushing inside. It's been a few days and you bite your lip at the way he fills you up, inch by inch, the delicious stretch making your eyes water and raising chill bumps on your skin.

"So good," you whisper once he's fully seated, holding yourself still for several heartbeats to adjust to his thick length. Your gaze is drawn to your juices glistening on his lips, and you can't resist leaning forward and slowly licking them before sucking his plump bottom lip into your mouth. His cock twitching deep inside you spurs you into action, and within a few seconds you're riding him hard

"Don't touch my clit yet," you whimper, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders as you hit the perfect pace. "Yes, ma'am." He runs his hands up and down your thighs before resting them on your ass. "Did I talk dirty to you in your dream?" he grits out, his big hands squeezing your plump ass as you bounce on his cock. "Y … yeah," you pant. "Thank fuck," he groans, his gaze resting on your bouncing breasts for several seconds before he locks eyes with you and starts talking, the filthy praise spilling from his pretty lips arousing your body like a physical touch.

"I'm so close," you gasp. "Want me to finish you?" he asks, moving a hand to your clit as soon as you give him a breathy, "yeah." It takes one stroke of his thumb on your super-sensitive nub before you come apart, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the intense climax hits; he hisses in pleasure at the feel of your core rhythmically clenching his thrusting cock, lasting only a few more seconds before he buries himself deep and cums inside you, licking your sweaty neck before sucking hard enough to leave a love bite.

You pant against his shoulder for a few minutes, eventually lifting your head up before quickly dropping it back down. "Damn, I'm dizzy," you mutter, grinning when Joe mumbles "me too" against your neck.

After taking a little more time to come to your senses, you lean back and look at Joe, running a hand over his fade while giving him a grin. "I had a feeling you'd lose the hair before week two."

"Needed a fresh start," he states, returning your grin. "A hard reset."

"Ohhh, 'hard reset' sounds kinda hot," you giggle, hitting a Kegel on his still-softening erection.

His breath catches in his throat and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. "If I knew a haircut was gonna make you go beast mode on me, I would've cut that shit a lot sooner."

"I love the cut, but I was already horny as hell when you got home."

"You need to have naughty dreams about me more often," he teases, "except don't rush me through the pussy-eating part next time."

"Did you feel deprived?"

"A little," he pouts. "You know I love to get you off with my tongue. Plus, it would be nice to be reminded that I'm really good at something since I've clearly forgotten how to throw a damn football."

"Joseph!" you scold, opening your mouth to further admonish him.

"I'm kidding," he chuckles. "Don't get your panties in a wad."

You roll your eyes at him before looking down at your still-joined bodies. "Good thing this chair is leather instead of fabric."

"Why?"

"Because your lethal hotness caused me to unleash a pussy juice tsunami."

"You have a way with words," he laughs. "Let's go get a quick shower," he continues. "I'll clean the chair up later."

Twenty minutes later y'all are lounging on the bed, him flat on his back and you on your side facing him, exchanging small talk while the ceiling fan cools down your naked bodies.

"How did treatment go today?" you ask.

"Fine," he answers vaguely. "And my work-out went good."

You're dying to ask how his calf feels but you hold your tongue, opting instead for something positive. "I'm making your fav dinner tonight."

"Yeah? Which one? You make like a hundred things that are my favs."

"It's a surprise," you tease. "Why don't you try and get a nap while I go get dinner started. I'll wake you up when it's ready."

"Okay," he agrees. "If I can't sleep I'll just watch some film."

"Of course you will," you chuckle, pressing a kiss on his chest before pushing up into a sitting position. You take a deep breath and lock eyes with him. "I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If your calf tightens up during the game this Sunday, promise me you'll tell the trainers and team doctor, okay? Let them decide if it's safe for you to keep playing."

"Sure," he says, a little too casually for your liking.

You lean down until your face is inches from his. "Listen, I know you're tough enough to play with pain, but as the leader of this team you have an obligation to do what's best for the franchise. If you go down with a season-ending injury like Aaron's, this team is dead in the water. You owe it to them to be honest about your condition."

"Damn, woman, going for the jugular," he laughs, reaching a hand up to brush your hair off of your face. "How about this … if it tightens up more than normal, I promise I'll say something."

You search his face for several seconds before leaning down to give him a kiss. "Thanks," you breathe against his lips, squealing in surprise when he quickly flips you onto your back and crawls on top of you, careful not to crush you with his entire weight. He lowers his head and nips your earlobe before whispering in your ear.

"I gave you a promise … now what are you gonna give me?" he purrs, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Ummm, your fav dinner?" you whisper, your pulse rate kicking into overdrive at the look on his face.

"Later." He holds eye contact with you while kissing his way down your body before settling between your spread legs. "I'm gonna have my fav dessert first," he states, giving your clit a vigorous suck before sliding his tongue inside you, his groan of approval tickling your sensitive skin as you bury a hand in his hair and arch up against him.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mention of injuries; sexual themes; illness

A/N: I know I say this almost every time but this chapter is very lackluster and not my best. I had some major writers block and I struggled to get this done to the point where I was ready to give up altogether. I knew where I wanted to go, but words just weren’t happening. Hopefully, now that I’m past this part, it will be easier. Thank you for reading. I’m so sorry for the subpar work. 😢

You were actually a good patient, following Hershel’s recommendations by staying in bed, drinking more water, and not skipping or sharing meals. Daryl, to your surprise, returned to the room just a while later with a plastic bowl of some tasteless stew Carol had made. You didn’t complain, the woman always did the best she could. They had run out of any seasonings or herbs and with the cold weather, it was unlikely you’d find anything growing. 

“Ya need anything?” Daryl asked. You regarded him as he stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding looking at you. 

“No, I’m okay.” You took another bite, eyes following him. He retrieved his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door. “Where’re you going?”

“Gonna try an’ hunt. S’cold as fuck out there but maybe I can manage some rabbit.” He shrugged halfheartedly. You hummed and stirred your stew until you heard the sound of the doorknob turning. 

“Daryl?” You blurted out. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you. You could feel the difference in the atmosphere. It wasn’t hostile, just uncomfortable. 

“Please don’t disappear.” You meant it in more ways than one, though you weren’t sure if he would pick up on the entirety of the request. Please don’t leave us. Please don’t hide away. Please just come back. 

“I won’t.” And then he was gone. He left the door slightly ajar, in case you needed something. 

Daryl didn’t lie aside from his constant use of ‘I’m fine’ when he was always so clearly not. So, you knew he’d be back. He wasn’t just going hunting. He was going to clear his head. You knew that because it’s what you would do, were you able to seek refuge in the woods safely. You missed hunting, the safety and comfort of the trees surrounding you. The stillness and quiet sounds that provided much needed calm in times of overwhelming chaos. You wanted to believe that you would feel it again, but you would have a newborn in a few weeks. A little person that would rely on your constant presence. Maybe those days were over for you. 

Daryl wanted more. He had made that clear. He wasn’t going to run away from the newness of what you had both expressed you were seeking. He needed time. It was fresh and formidable. You weren’t sure of his past experiences with relationships or perhaps even lack thereof, but it was clearly overwhelming for him. 

Especially since you had proclaimed to love him. 

That had shaken him. You could have kicked yourself for burdening him with that information. It wasn’t the right time. He had only just accepted that you meant more to him than you could have ever hoped and you just had to go and complicate it. You could only hope that it wasn’t so much that he’d change his mind. 

Rick had taken Glenn and Maggie to rummage through some nearby homes and a small town, returning with a bottle of meds for you that was about a third full. They had managed several cans of vegetables, two bags of rice, and a box of angel hair pasta. It wasn’t much but it would keep the group from starvation. 

You managed most of the stew, getting out of bed to join everyone else downstairs. Hershel had been apprehensive until you immediately stretched out on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to continue resting without being trapped in isolation. The silence upstairs had been too much, the voices of fear and doubt in your head speaking too loudly. 

“How are you feeling, young lady?” The old man asked. He checked your stitches, used a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and felt around on your belly, chuckling when he was continuously kicked at each disturbance. “Someone’s lively this evening.”

“Yeah, they’re tap dancing on my bladder but I don’t…” you trailed off and looked out the window. You had needed to pee since coming downstairs but didn’t feel safe going without Daryl anymore. It almost made you nauseous how dependent you’d become. Always the damsel in distress, the wimpy princess who couldn’t do anything for herself. 

“Things change when you find yourself in your condition.” You slowly brought your attention back to Hershel. The veterinarian was wise, had proven to be so back at the farm. Not always reasonable— as a barn full of walkers had shown —but wise, nonetheless. “You’re accustomed to living a certain way, taking care of yourself. And then there’s suddenly this little person depending on you to keep them safe. It’s not always easy to make that transition.” He gently rolled down your shirt and pulled the blanket up over you. “I could sense from the day I met you that you were a free spirit. You didn’t always want to listen. I’ve watched you shift from a woman who took care of herself by any means necessary to a woman who would do anything to protect her child. There’s no shame in that and the rewards will be sweeter than anything you’ve ever known before.” Hershel stood, knees cracking. With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “You’ll see.”

You returned the smile, rubbing a hand over the swell of your belly as the old man took his leave. “He’s right, Thumper. You’re worth it.” Glancing back out the window, Daryl was trudging tiredly toward the house with two rabbits. You smiled, resting your head on the back of the couch to watch him interact with Rick. “You’re both worth it.”

“Whatcha doin’ outta bed?” Daryl was pulling off his crossbow, watching you warily. You wiggled until you were sitting up against the couch arm. 

“Don’t worry. I asked Hershel. As long as I rest, I’m okay.” He watched you for a moment longer before giving a nod, disappearing to prep the rabbits for cooking the next day. Carol smiled at him in passing. You couldn’t see his face but heard him grunt in acknowledgment. Maybe one day you’d be fluent in the complicated language of Daryl. 

“How’re you feeling?” A bottle of water was handed to you. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty until you were removing the cap and tilting it to your lips. 

After several generous gulps, you lowered the water and sighed contentedly. “I didn’t know I needed that.” 

“Well, you’ve been—“ she turned her head toward where Daryl had walked away, looking back to you with an arched brow, “preoccupied.”

Your face warmed and you ducked your head. “Is it obvious?”

“Well, I’m not deaf.” She chuckled, patting your knee. 

“You heard?” You blanched, knowing you had grown impossibly redder. 

“I think everyone did.” 

“Oh god.” Mortified was an understatement. You were suddenly trying to recall the moments they could have heard but only succeeded in encouraging a sudden wave of arousal between your thighs. Well, that’s not helping. “Don’t say anything to— they can’t tease him. He’ll never—”

Carol reached out to rub your upper arm, shaking her head. “No one is saying anything. We’re all just glad some of the tension around here has eased.” She meant Rick and Lori, that wasn’t hard to figure out. 

You had barely opened your mouth to reply when Rick came in, moving quickly but quietly. 

“The fire.” He whispered harshly. You sat up straight, ignoring the pull of the stitches, and looked out the window, the scene becoming clear once the reflected light from the flames was doused. 

You managed to duck your head just as a walker passed by the the glass, its arm dragging across the surface with an eerie scraping. A myriad of shadows danced across the wall, your wide eyes following them until Daryl was crouched in front of you with a finger to his lips. His crossbow was by his foot while his hands held your boots and jacket. 

“Be quick.” He whispered so quietly that he may have only mouthed the words. You nodded and took the items, pulling on your boots without tying them and shrugging on your jacket. “Stay low.” It was hard not to smile, even with danger lurking so closely, when he wrapped his hand around yours. You let him guide you, walking as low as you could manage. 

Carol was coming down the stairs, your bag on one shoulder and her own on the other. Daryl let go of your hand to grab his bag on the way to the back door. Everyone had already gathered, Rick falling in behind Carol. The archer held up a hand to have you wait further back while he checked outside. 

“Here.” Carol whispered from your right. You glanced at her only to find her looking down, your knife held out to you. “I’ve got your gun and holsters in your bag.” Nodding your thanks, your hand wrapped around the handle and you brought the weapon in close, meeting Daryl’s eyes for a fleeting moment before he cracked open the door and peered outside. 

“S’clear. Go ‘round the right. Straight to the cars.” He began to wave everyone through, catching your hand as you passed. “Stay close to Carol. Be right behind ya.”

“Okay.” You agreed quickly and followed the other woman out. Only the pale moonlight illuminated the snowy ground as the lot of you bobbed and weaved your way around the herd. You couldn’t hear steps behind you but that wasn’t uncommon with Daryl. Even with the extra weight you carried, your own footfalls were light. 

It was close to impossible to see the dead and with the symphony of moans and snarls echoing from all around, you barely had time to stop and take a step back before the walker crossed into your path. Knife ready, you took down the woman with ease, lowering with the body to keep the noise to a minimum. 

She looked to have been a pretty lady, maybe in her thirties. Her blonde hair was missing in patches and her skin was torn and gaping in places. She was sporting a t-shirt that read “No. 1 Mom.”

You let that simmer after Daryl pulled you to your feet, urging you to resume the trek to the van. It was within view now, with only three walkers circling. Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog dispatched them quickly enough, creating an open path straight to the vehicle. 

Twenty minutes on the road was long enough to lose yourself in consideration of the woman you’d put down. It wasn’t hard to imagine yourself meeting a similar fate, maybe forced to bear witness to the grizzly death of your child or dying without knowing what became of them. What if she had been the one to kill her kid? What if it was an infant, a toddler? Unable to understand why this person who was meant to protect them was causing them pain?

You cried for her. You cried for the child. Silent tears that you didn’t attempt to hinder while you sought out the comforting rumble of Daryl’s bike just ahead. Even if you did fall victim to the dead, he’d never allow your baby to be hurt. You could take comfort in that. As long as one of you was breathing, your child would never know harm. 

The weather only grew more unforgiving as the days wore on, chipping away at any shreds of hope that were managing to survive in your little group. Another home found and lost. Freezing nights huddled against Daryl in the backseat of the van. A great deal of the blankets had been sacrificed when fleeing the dead. Of course, you, Lori, and Carl were given the heaviest ones that remained. Daryl would wrap you snugly and then hold you tight, claiming that alone would keep him warm enough. Apparently he still thought you were stupid. 

Food was dwindling. Once again, you were arguing with the archer about eating meager portions so that you could have more. If each bite wasn’t worth more than gold had been valued in the old world, you would have surely thrown many a bowl at him. 

His hunting trips grew longer and longer, now gone for no less than two days at a time. Measures were in place to ensure he knew how to find the group should the need to flee become necessary in his absence. Still, you worried. He manged to bring back more, usually rabbits but had lucked out with a small doe on the last excursion. With an extra few runs, enough salt was procured for the majority of the meat to be dried into jerky. It was sorted into each of your bags so it was sure to not be left behind if you had to leave quickly. The rest of the meat was prepared into a stew that could be reheated for a couple of days. 

It was nice to eat well for once, surrounded by full bellies and sleepy faces. The one face you wanted to see was absent, however. Daryl was on first watch at the small ranch style home. There were no fences but the land was open for a good distance before the treeline. Walkers would be spotted and the group could move on before the dead even made it halfway to the house. 

You bundled up, pulling up your hood, meaning to sit outside with him for a while. You grabbed one of the smaller blankets on your way out. Whether he admitted it or not, the long sleeve flannel under his vest was not enough to keep the frigid temperatures at bay. He was coughing into his elbow as you passed over the threshold, noticing his stew, long cold, was hardly touched. Pointing it out would only lead to another argument and at 28 weeks pregnant in an apocalypse, you just didn’t have the energy to spare. 

He was scrubbing a hand roughly over his face when you draped the fabric over his shoulders. For once, he didn’t argue, simply nodding while watching you move his bowl aside to sit down. 

He cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy. “Weren’t that hungry.” 

“I can heat it for you later if you change your mind.” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you leaned onto his shoulder and watched the gentle flurries pepper down from above.

“Ain’t gonna nag me?” 

“Nope.” You smiled fondly to yourself. “You’re stubborn as ten mules and this baby has been kicking me non stop for two days. I don’t have the energy to attempt and force feed their father.” He nudged his shoulder upward, jarring a giggle out of you. “We do need to find you a coat. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

“Your tits ain’t never cold.”

Rolling your head on his shoulder, you feigned offense. “Why, Daryl Dixon. Did you just call me a witch?”

“If the broomstick fits.” 

That coaxed a startled laugh out of you. “Huh.” You stared at him a moment longer and then settled back into watching the snow. 

“What?” He leaned a little to angle his head in order to see your face.

“Thought you’d misplaced your sense of humor, that’s all. Maybe you found it while your head was so far up your ass.”

“Think you're funny?” He huffed, clearly not annoyed. It was refreshing to just talk like two people in a relationship on a cold, snowy night. Maybe you could pretend the world hadn’t ended for at least a moment. 

“Oh, I know I am. It’s part of my irresistible charm.” You retorted cheerily. Daryl made a pfft sound and joined you in watching the snow. It was almost hypnotic; the peace of the moment drawing you in until you were sure you’d fall asleep. 

When Daryl coughed again, you startled and sat up straight. He had turned away and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling the sound to the best of his ability. 

“Are you okay?” It was hard to keep the concern out of your tone, terrified he’d withdraw from you. He had been trying, the evidence of his efforts displayed in his own ways. 

Over the last month, you’d never felt closer to him. He had found a truck, loading the bike in the back so that you would be with him anytime moving was necessary. There wasn’t much time for intimacy, not sexually, though he’d made you cum on his fingers a few times while the others laid behind him, sound asleep and none the wiser. He seemed to enjoy your company, especially while on watch. He didn’t speak much but when he did, he was soft and attentive. He would watch you in silence, tinkering with his crossbow or prepping a kill to be cooked. He still agitated easily, but he was trying. You couldn’t ask for more than that. 

“M’fine. Just a cold.”

It made sense. He was out in the elements more than anyone. He wasn’t eating or sleeping nearly enough. His body could only take so much abuse. 

“We have the venison, Daryl. Why don’t you stay in for a few days?” Pulling your hands from your pockets, you dragged the sleeves down to cover them. How did the man stand it without proper clothing?

“Could always use more. That jerky ain’t gonna last forever an’ the stew will keep a day or two.” The flickering glow from the lighter’s flame cast a soft hue across his face, gone too quickly for you to truly admire. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he turned his head to blow the smoke away from you. Such a small gesture, but it made your heart flutter. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that, I guess.” In truth, you couldn’t. Food was food and it was necessary. “Maybe I could go with you. You know I can hunt and—”

“Nah. No way.” He barely got the words out before coughing again. “You’re stayin’ here with ev’ryone else.”

“I can help and you know it.” You weren’t angry, but still found it difficult to keep the bitterness out of your words.

“Know ya can. Don’t mean ya should.” He took another draw from his smoke, exhaling while rubbing at his throat. Was he even aware he was doing that? “Best way ya can help me is stayin’ here an’ keepin’ the two’a ya safe.” It was dark but you could still see the pink beginning to cover his cheeks. “Get inside ‘fore ya get sick.”

You smiled slyly, crossing your arms. “I’ll go inside if you go too.” He turned his head toward you, brow drawn inward. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, angry, or amused. Either way, you tipped up your chin defiantly. “Someone else can take watch. You’re leaving to hunt tomorrow and need to sleep.”

Those blue eyes narrowed, the flare of the cigarette giving them the illusion of burning like the hottest flame. He never looked away, exhaling from the corner of his mouth to keep the smoke away from you. “You’re a brat.” 

“Yep.” You grinned. 

“Fine. Jesus, go inside. Be there in a minute.” He grumbled something under his breath and continued his smoke, shaking his head after looking away from you. With a triumphant HA, you grabbed the dilapidated railing by the steps and pulled yourself to your feet, cradling your belly to bend enough for your lips to press against his cheek. “Pain in my ass.”

He made you cum twice that night but not before denying you for an agonizing amount of time. 

“This baby is definitely a Dixon. Doesn’t ever stop moving.” 

Carol chuckled, stirring the stew she had just removed from the fire in the other room. “You’re gonna miss it once they’re born, I promise.” Her smile faded, a morose air encasing her. As your baby moved under your hand once again, a pang of guilt came with it. 

“Oh, Carol, I’m sorry.”

The silver-haired woman rarely spoke of her daughter anymore, but that wasn’t to say that the pain ever left her eyes. There was a permanent sadness etched there. Now two women she traveled with, survived alongside, were pregnant. It was a slap in the face from the universe. 

But Carol? She handled it with a grace you weren’t sure you would ever possess. 

“Nothing to apologize for, silly.” She reached for the hand that lay across your rounded middle and squeezed it. You smiled solemnly as she went back to stirring the day’s meal. “Daryl should be back today. He never stays out more than two days.” She chuckled quietly. “I think he only does that much out of necessity. He’d likely stay right here with you if he had a choice.”

“I think he leaves for two days cause he needs a break from me.” You mused, plucking a piece of venison right from the pot. Carol shot you a sarcastic look of disapproval but refrained from scolding you. “I’m not easy to get along with at the best of times. Forget being in a relationship with me while I’m 92 weeks pregnant.”

“So you did take that step.” When you blinked at her with wide eyes, she shrugged. “He’s not exactly forthcoming with details regarding his personal life but sightings have been noted of cheek kissing and even a little hand holding.”

“Glenn never could keep his mouth shut.” 

“Don’t worry. He’s been informed that if Daryl ever hears him, he’s likely to lose a limb. He’s aware of the dangers.” While the two of you laughed, Maggie stuck her head in the door. 

“Daryl’s back.” She waggled her eyebrows at you, prompting a one-fingered gesture in return. “Real classy, Y/N.”

“Hey, I am the perfect representation of a lady.” You winked at Carol and squeezed her upper arm before meeting Maggie in the doorway, bumping her with your hip. You quietly released a tense breath once out of sight. It was getting late. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but worry when it took him a little longer to get back. 

Grabbing your coat, you quickly pulled it on and zipped it. There was still plenty of room for your growing belly. It should last you the remainder of the pregnancy. The snow was at least four inches deep, quite the difference from when the archer had left two days prior. Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were out scavenging for the usual food and medicine, but you had cornered them before they left and made them promise to find a warm coat for Daryl. 

The wind was frigid in the evening hours, the temperature steadily dropping. Your face stung from only seconds of exposure when you walked down the steps to meet him. At first glance, everything seemed fine. It wasn’t until he was closer that you noticed his unsteady gait, the way he was dragging the string of rabbits through the white powder behind him. 

“Hey.” You called over the gusts, smiling at him when he slowly looked up. He didn’t return the expression but he wasn’t a teeth and gums smiler anyway. That much you could brush aside without concern. It was the wet, barking cough into the crook of his elbow that shifted your concern to something just short of panic. “Daryl?”

“Got some rabbits.” He croaked, walking right past you and into the house. You followed on his heels, leaning forward to relieve him of the four animals before he could object. He fixed you with a sharp glare but you only smiled and backed toward the kitchen. 

“Just gonna put these in there. We can clean them together in just a bit.” There was no time for either of the other women to question your hurry. You deposited the rabbits on the counter by the old sink and exited just as quickly as you had entered. 

Daryl was coughing again when you returned, a painful sounding hack that jarred his entire body. His chest seemed to rattle with each breath, his movements sluggish while he removed his crossbow from his back. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You moved closer but still gave him several feet of distance. 

“M’fine.” He gestured vaguely around his upper torso. “S’just this fuckin’ cold.”

“Right.” You answered, watching him remove his poncho and vest. He must have sensed your eyes on him, an irritated glance thrown your way. 

“What?” He snapped. 

“You look like shit and sound even worse.” Your feet were propelling you toward him but he somehow managed to sidestep around you. “Daryl, hang on.”

“Ain’t in the mood for your shit, Y/N.” There was a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue that you swallowed when he began to cough again and staggered to catch himself against the wall. 

“Daryl?” You were at his side in an instant, your arm winding around this back to help support him. You couldn’t miss the heat you felt beneath his shirt. “Fuck, you’re hotter than a jalapeño’s ass!”

“Told ya, m’fine.” He hissed, probably attempting menacing but only managing a weak rasp. 

“You’re not fine, Daryl.” You held on tighter when he tried to shrug you off, a good thing since his legs buckled a moment later and took you both down. You managed to control the fall, ending with the two of you on your knees. Daryl coughed harshly, only managing to stay upright with your support. “Maggie! Maggie, get Hershel!”

“What’s wrong?” The eldest Greene ran into the room, followed by Carol. “Shit.”  One look and she disappeared, yelling for her father while Carol came around to Daryl’s other side. 

“Ain’t…no reason…for all this fussin’.”

“Shut up, Daryl. Daryl?” Your eyes met his briefly, fear and panic flashing through them before they rolled up and he slumped forward against you. “Daryl!”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon smut #daryl angst #daryl smut #daryl the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl dixon

[bg-brainrot]

Second winter fluff prompt for the BG3 Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Ice and Snow

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Love at First Knife, on AO3 here

Premise: Astarion is always cold, used to a nocturnal lifestyle and a distinct lack of blood in his veins. However you, the sad little mortal, are not prepared for the winter’s chill. When you experience your first snowfall together, Astarion makes it his personal mission to ensure that you’re bundled up.

Tags: Fluff, POV Second person, Gender-neutral pronouns, Post-Canon

Word count: ~1.1k

“Astarion, please,” you say, voice muffled behind a thick, knitted scarf. “You’re completely overreacting.”

The vampire tuts at you, as he deposits a fur-lined hat upon your head, and a few dangling tassels tickle your ears. “Now darling, what did I tell you about fighting me on this?”

“That you would tie me up and–”

“No, the other thing,” he interrupts, though a salacious smile comes over him at the thought.

“Oh. That you wouldn’t let me make a snow celestial…” you sound dejected, and you downcast your eyes to appear pitiable.

Astarion, for his part, only finds joy in your reaction, a delighted giggle being his only response.

“What about you?” you challenge, as he tries to shimmy another coat onto your already quite padded frame. "You were just complaining about the cold the other day!"

“I’m coldblooded, my dear. And you know I only complain for the attention,” he says, kneeling down to lace your boots for you. If you tried to bend down right now, you’re certain you’ll fall over in a pile of furs and fluff. “I shall be just fine with my current coat.” He’s currently wearing a fitted red winter coat, an embroidered pattern of roses in gold along its sleeves and collar– the epitome of a dashing man, next to your shambling mound.

“Stupid, sexy vampire,” you mutter under your breath. He only laughs and places yet another scarf around your neck.

Satisfied with his work, he takes a step back. “Would you look at that, my scary assassin is all ready to go outside,” he says, a bright smile on his face.

You level him with a murderous look, which loses some of its effect considering the scarves currently blocking your mouth. “I’ll show you scary,” you mumble, ready to attack your lover. You find that difficult now though, considering a slow shuffle is all that you can maintain.

He pays your death glares no mind, as he tucks one delicate little scarf around his own neck and declares that he’s ready to go outside as well.

You wobble after him, feeling nothing like the intimidating rogue you’re supposed to be. But you suppose if it means he won’t stop your snow celestials, some sacrifices, like your pride, must be made.

The first snowfall along the Sword Coast is always among the most beautiful and this year is no exception. Once you’ve made your way outside, you find yourself surrounded by a winter wonderland.

Pockets of snow line your roof, several inches of snow surround your house in every direction, and a light smattering of snow falls upon you now. You wish you could feel it, but between all of the layers, you only guess that it’s light and powdery– perfect for snow celestials.

Astarion peers around at the world, seeming rather unimpressed. “Well, isn’t that lovely. The ground is white.”

You ignore his lackluster response to the bounty of snow before you and make your way past him to the yard. With more of a stumble than a step, you fall into a particularly open patch of snow in front of your house. A puff of white snow explodes around you as you land, and you breathe out a single, “Oof.”

“Love, was that… on purpose?” Astarion asks, not far behind you.

“Mmhm,” you mumble into the snow. A backwards snow celestial it is. With all of the effort you can muster, you wave your arms and legs into the shape of wings and, well, whatever celestials had in place of legs. You can feel yourself overheating from the bundle of clothes surrounding you, but you’re determined to make this look good and ensure that Astarion understands that this is lovely.

After your exertions, you stop moving for a bit, just laying there in the impression of your snow celestial. Astarion, who’s likely been watching you this entire time, calls out, “Are you alright, dear?”

You raise your hand into a gloved thumbs up.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“Mhhhmmmm,” you groan into the snow. Your nose is starting to get cold and your sweat is chilling over.

“Alright then,” he responds, and you feel his legs carefully step around you, his arms tugging you onto your back and hoisting you up. Once you’re on your feet, your lover frowns at you and begins dusting you off with determination. “Darling, look at you. You’re going to get soaked to the bone with how much snow you’re covered in.”

“And whose fault is that?” you grumble at him.

“Yours, for insisting on the snow celestial,” he retorts, flicking your nose with his index finger.

That reminds you– You look down at your imprint in the snow, see what all of this unpleasant combination of cold and sweat got you. It’s a little lopsided, and both your and Astarion’s boots have left several footprints in the center, but it’s a solid attempt.

Brimming with pride at your work, you look to Astarion. “See? Look at how radiant my celestial looks.”

Astarion takes a look as well, and you can see the stifled laughter begging to come out.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” you say, pointing a stern finger at him.

He promptly defies you, as a hearty chuckle escapes him. “Sorry, dearest, but the hat you’re wearing makes it look like some kind of beholder.”

You look down to see that the tassels to your hat must have flung around as you moved, creating a crown of what could really only be described as eyestalks. “Well then. A snow aberration. I’m not picky,” you respond with a shrug.

Astarion smiles at you, open affection coloring his gaze, before he pulls you into a wide hug. “Fantastic work, love. Your talent is unmatched. And maybe– just maybe– it was worth all of the effort.”

You lean into him and his praise and say, “I suppose I should thank you for making sure I stayed warm.”

“Oh no need,” he says, squeezing you tightly. “Seeing you look like a large marshmallow is truly its own reward.” He drops his voice an octave and adds, “And somehow you still manage to look utterly enticing.”

You can barely feel his movements through the layers between you, so when he abruptly begins dragging you back to the house you give a surprised yelp. “What are you doing?”

“Your snow creature is done, now comes my favorite part– taking all of these layers off,” you catch Astarion’s quick wink before you’re ungracefully pulled after him.

There’s snow between your scarves, your toes have begun to chill, and fresh new snow is falling on your face, but somehow his words still warm you. “Was this your plan all along?”

“Naturally, my love. You know I would do anything to keep you warm,” his tone is innocent, the lidded eyes he gives you anything but. He must catch the flush covering your face because he laughs a melodic trill. “I’m starting to think I quite like wintertime.”

#bg3holidayfluffle23 #astarion x tav #astarion #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #fanfic #fluff

[linisiane]

The Self-Aware Player of Harry Du Bois

It's fascinating to me to think about how satire is used as the 'touch grass' or 'be fucking for real' genre. Oftentimes it's making fun of tropes/conventions by humorously contrasting them with reality, which is exactly what Disco Elysium is doing with the RPG!

It goes hand in hand with the idea of RPGs as escapist power fantasy. RPGs are often thought of as the ultimate self-insert fantasy by its detractors or worst players, ahem looking at all those DND horror stories about entitled mangsty murderhobos.

One of the most infamous criticisms of Disco Elysium is its lackluster combat.

ID A screenshot of a random forum discussion post by dungeon master Zed Duke of Banville. It reads: "Disco Elysium has neither combat nor exploration, and therefore is missing two of the three fundamental components (or sets of components) that define the RPG genre." End ID

The game has essentially bordered off your ability to make Harry into a power fantasy murderhobo because you just are physically unable to equip an longsword or cuisse to murder your average citizen on the street of Martinaise.

But even on a less mangsty level, it subverts a lot of the basic expectations of RPGs.

Like the encounter with the racist lorry driver! You never get the ability or quest to change his mind, you only choose how you react to him.

Where other RPGs might let you act as the white savior or the white knight of chivalric romance, no questions asked, you're changing the minds of everybody who's wrong so we can all get along, Disco Elysium really makes you confront your ability to whiteknight, makes you confront if whiteknighting is even helpful, and why you wanted to whiteknight in the first place.

It’s part of the fun/humor experience of Disco Elysium that you at first expect to solve the world’s problems with a couple quests and lines of ‘good’ dialogue and then get socked in the faced with the fact that yeah, you can’t do much, you’re one person, what did you expect, asshole? Cuno doesn't fucking care!

By subverting our RPG expectations, it forces us to become more aware that these expectations even exist and how they fall short of reality. Yet, despite this subversion, the world of Disco Elysium feels so much realer to us.

ID a screenshot of Disco Elysium dialogue YOU - "Don't call it a dump, you've made it nice and cosy here." NOVELTY DICEMAKER - "Yeah." She stares out of the window, not really hearing your words. "Or maybe it's the entire world that's cursed? It's such a precarious place. Nothing ever works out the way you wanted." "That's why people like role-playing games. You can be whoever you want to be. You can try again. Still, there's something inherently violent even about dice rolls." "It's like every time you cast a die, something disappears. Some alternative ending, or an entirely different world...." She picks up a pair of dice from the table and examines them under the light. End ID

Like, Neha is highlighting this little meta element of how you can stack your Harry in any RPG to pursue a certain ending or situation, but the actual outcome is still influenced by a dice roll out of your control.

A lot of the satirical humor in Disco Elysium comes from the absurdity that you can do everything right or everything wrong, and the dice can still fuck it up or save it for you—not just for things like high-fantasy attacks, but mundane things like remembering your name.

The dice are, at their core, about how RPGs aren't just for the control fantasy, of winning high-fantasy battles, but also can represent life as it is, mundane and uncontrollable.

Similarly, Harry is clearly written—complete with all the 'lore' that this would entail—to couch his RPG protagonist nature in the real.

If RPG characters are blank slates? Let's give ours amnesia! Need fast travel?! Kim teases the 41st Precinct for constantly running everywhere by calling it the Jamrock Shuffle. He needs to have deep and intimate conversations with everyone, even when they're strangers? Yeah, that's so weird we gave him the name 'Human Can-Opener,' and everybody remarks on his uncanny manipulation skills.

It's commenting on difference between controlling an RPG avatar and navigating in a human body.

As Kurvits said: “In reality we do not have control, or complete control, of our minds. Just like our body, it is something that we give-not even commands wishes to, and we hope it's gonna do it. We hope it's not gonna break down, we hope it's not gonna rebel against us.”

In one type of RPG fantasy, we don't even question our total control and even assume the joy is from the control.

But in Disco Elysium, we lack control and find joy in it anyway. That is the fun of the game making us, the players, 'self-aware' about its RPG elements, and it especially resonates with anybody not able-bodied, anybody neurodivergent.

#disco elysium #metas #My thoughts #harry du bois #harrier du bois #human can-opener #jamrock shuffle #yeah so im reposting my meta because i worked really hard but i feel like it was too long for anybody to appreciate :')

[soon-palestine]

To Minister of International Development Ahmed Hussen,

Ahmed,

Our Dear Cousin

We cheered for you when you passed your bar exam. We cheered for you at your beautiful wedding. We cheered for you when you had your first child, your beloved son. We cheered for you when you were elected as a Member of Parliament, and finally a Minister. We were so excited to see you represent Canada on a global stage. The New York Times wrote a historic piece on you titled "In Canada, an Immigration Minister Who Himself is a Refugee" - we could not have been more proud. When you shared your experience with systemic racism but highlighted how Canadian generosity changed your outlook on life through your TEDx talk we were delighted to see you share a piece of yourself with the world. We shared your work all over our social medias, we proudly announced your accolades, we celebrated you with full belief that you would be the change maker Canadians needed and deserved. Sadly, our hopes have been met with a different reality. Once, we were blinded by our admiration of watching you turn nothing into something, but today we are seeing a sobering truth.

Since you have been appointed as a Minister, hundreds of thousands of Muslims have been killed around the world with impunity. Now, we don't fault you for those crimes, but your consistent silence has been deafening. Although your role is to represent the interests of all Canadians while remaining secular, you have proudly shared that your faith and identity has undoubtedly played a part in bringing you to where you are today. With this in mind, we see clearly that you have failed in your role as Minister of International Development. You stood firmly beside Ukrainian people and supported their refugees when they were resisting an oppressive force, but when it comes to Palestine and it's people today, your recent statement lacked the condemnation and passionate stance we have seen you are capable of taking. Your statement minimized the plight and struggle of your Palestinian brothers and sisters, lacked depth and clarity, and did not name today's current situation in the most accurate terms an actively occurring genocide. Although we will never minimize the pain of any civilian or refugee, we are compelled to clearly state the stark difference between your statements for Ukraine and Palestine. With Ukraine you said "Canada stands united with Ukraine and all those around the world, fighting for democracy, human rights, and justice" but when it comes to the struggle of Palestinian people, you fell flat.

Our hearts were broken at your lackluster words when referring to a historically oppressed people. Sadly, we have realized that you won't live up to our expectations and your own promises to be a change- maker and leader. Where is your condemnation of the Israeli occupying forces murdering thousands of children? Where is your condemnation of the genocidal language and unfounded aggression of Benjamin Netanyahu?

As a refugee, how can you ignore the ethnic cleansing Palestinians have suffered for over 75 years? Why have you let your position of power stop you from using clear language to stand with the oppressed people caged in a concentration camp being carpet bombed daily? Children the same age as our own are being blown to shreds or left as traumatized and injured orphans, does your blood not move?

The world is changed through the words of brave people who stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. Decades of unprincipled statements that shy away from addressing the root cause of Gaza and Palestine from politicians like you is the reason why this genocide has continued, claiming the lives and livelihoods of well over 1 million people.

Page two. We write to you this open letter today as your family to simply say -wake up! Open your art and recognize this horrific illegal occupation for what it is, A GENOCIDE. Do not let personal gain, a reputation, and a seat at a colonial nation's table make you complicit to this inhumanity. Announcing Canada's aid commitments without addressing the root cause of this genocide does nothing to recognize the dignity and humanity of Palestinian people. It is a slap in the face to see you announcing humanitarian aid to Palestine when you haven't taken a clear stance against the use of our taxpayer dollars funding weaponry being used to kill innocent Palestinians. We don't need band aid solutions, we need this genocide to be recognized. We need you to speak to the liberation of the indigenous people of Palestine. Your party leader has failed Canada in many ways, the average Canadian's quality of life has tanked according to our shrinking GDP.

There is no re-election in sight for the Liberal party. Is this how you want your legacy to end? With a stain of genocide complicity? You won't have the golden opportunity of standing on the right side of history if you choose not to make yourself clear. We are devastated that today we as a family can no longer cheer for you, you no longer have our respect or admiration. For the sake of saving your legacy and preserving the principles we expect all of our family members to uphold, we ask you to please wake up, take a clear stance, and step down as a Minister to side with the oppressed! You are a humanitarian lawyer, fight for the oppressed! Leave your mark politically to restore our faith on who we know you to be, and hoped you to be. One day your children will see your work as a Minister and they will question you, how will you explain your complacency with a population of indigenous people being massacred?

We leave you with one final note, when we all depart this world we will take nothing with us. Rich or poor, educated or not, we will all be wrapped in a white cloth and placed in the dirt left to answer for all of our worldly actions. So we ask you: Do you fear your maker that you are returning to? We pray and hope you will come to your senses before it's too late. Your role in this government no longer serves you in this life or the next.

#FreePalestine

#EndTheOccupation

#CeasefireNow

#palestine #gaza #free palestine #end the occupation #end gaza starvation #end the active genocide #permanent cease fire

[another-lost-mc]

discipline

it's all fun and games until mephisto thinks you need to be brought to heel.

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. sexually suggestive comments and insults. yandere elements (reader) including obsessive thoughts/behaviour, stalking and invasion of privacy. degradation, pet names, slut shaming, hurt with malicious comfort.

word count: 3.1k

Mephistopheles makes it very clear during your first meeting what he thinks of you. His voice drips with disdain and it’s obvious that he has little respect for humans, and even less interest in you personally.

He acts like he’s better than most demons, like he’s more dignified and above his baser instincts, but you can see the truth whenever you manage to catch his gaze. When he looks at you, his eyes betray a primal instinct to kill you or possess you.

Part of you wants to tempt him, to see what he would do to you if he had the chance. You’re fascinated by him and curious about what those dark desires in his eyes truly mean for a human like yourself living in the Devildom. It’s a dangerous game to play with a powerful demon like Mephisto, but the mere thought of it leaves you breathless.

You see glimpses of Mephisto at RAD between classes, but it’s difficult to get close to him. He avoids Lucifer as much as possible; when Lucifer or his brothers are hovering around you, that means Mephisto is usually nowhere to be seen. It’s common knowledge that he’s still very busy working for the newspaper club, even though rumors of his demotion circle widely throughout the school.

Most of the demon brothers don’t care for him, especially Lucifer, so asking them about Mephisto isn’t very useful. However, you do learn a bit more about Mephisto and his family from other classmates at RAD: he’s part of the upper Devildom nobility because of his family’s wealth and influence, and he has close connections to Diavolo. It’s more than you knew before, but it’s not enough.

When the RAD newspaper puts out a call for more volunteers, you don’t hesitate to apply. Mephisto sneers at you when he realizes why you’re sitting in the newspaper club’s office with the advertisement in your lap.

You didn’t expect a lengthy interview process for a volunteer position, but he insists that a lackluster human like yourself might not be a good fit. He asks about your previous experience and for samples of your work, smirking when he knows it’s an unfair demand when you’ve only just arrived in the Devildom.

Mephisto looks too smug and handsome for his own good, and you know he’s about to launch into a scathing rejection of your application (and you personally). Luckily, another demon in the room points out that even humans can still be good for the tasks no one else wants to do, like sorting documents or folding.

You smother a laugh when Mephisto glares at his club acquaintance for interfering. He knows that denying you now would look petty, and word might reach Diavolo that you’re not being treated fairly. He might despise you, but he hates the thought of disappointing Diavolo even more.

You can’t risk losing this opportunity to get closer to him. “Give me a chance, I’ll do anything I can to help,” you say as confidently as you can, and you hope it doesn’t sound too much like begging.

He steeples his fingers under his chin. “Show me how useful humans can be, then.” It’s a challenge, a taunt, and a threat rolled into one drawl of his sharp tongue. The wide smile he gives you is fake and mocking, and all you can see is the tips of his fangs when he licks his lips.

The sight makes you shudder, but not for the reason he thinks it does. He thinks you’re trembling in fear, when you’re secretly wondering what it would be like to run your tongue along those sharp fangs yourself. You’ve never been more aroused in your entire life.

True to his word, Mephisto is determined to make you regret volunteering for the newspaper club. He tells you to do the most boring, tedious chores while barely sparing you a glance. You know what he really wants: he wants you to give up to show everyone that right he was about how useless you really are. You don’t want to give him that satisfaction, and you wear smiles as bright and fake as his own every time he barks at you to do something.

You’re determined not to give up and let him win this little game you’re playing. Unfortunately, you’re no closer to getting to know him better. He avoids spending time with you as much as possible. When you end up in the same room together, usually for club meetings, he gives you orders like you’re his personal servant. Otherwise, he stonewalls all your subtle attempts to lure him into conversation.

You’re at a stalemate, and you’re not sure how to proceed. That’s why it’s nothing less of a shock one night when Mephisto reaches out to you unexpectedly. You didn’t even realize he had your number - he refused it every time you hinted he should have it for club business.

Barbatos gave me your number. There is a mandatory emergency club meeting one hour before class tomorrow to discuss the special edition of this week’s newspaper. Don’t be late.

He doesn’t respond when you thank him, but you don’t expect him to. You save his contact info and go to bed feeling motivated to make a good impression when you see him.

The next morning you arrive at RAD, one hour early like he asked, carrying a box of warm donuts from Madam Scream’s. Most of the demons in the newspaper club yawn and happily accept a sugary-sweet pastry from you. When you offer the box to Mephisto so he can take the last one, he turns his nose up at you and starts the meeting like you aren’t even there.

Feeling slightly deflated, you set the box on a table and take an empty seat while he and the new club president discuss upcoming assignments and deadlines. This week’s special issue is celebrating - well, some sort of holiday in the Devildom you’re not familiar with. As usual, you’re given the tasks no one wants, the ones that will keep you on campus long after classes end. You plaster a smile on your face when Mephisto asks condescendingly if you think you can handle it.

The meeting ends just before the first bell of the day rings, and everyone starts to shuffle out of the office. While you’re gathering your belongings and putting them in your bag, you happen to see Mephisto stroll out of the room after he swipes the last donut from the box. It’s a victory - a small one - but a victory nonetheless.

At the end of the school day, you assure the demon brothers you can get home on your own before heading to the newspaper club’s office. Mephisto wasn’t kidding when he said it was going to be a busy week, for you, anyway. There’s stacks of printouts to be folded, and you know it’ll take at least two nights to get through everything by yourself.

You’re about to sit down at one of the desks and get to work, but you realize someone’s left their computer behind by accident. You think it might be the club president’s, since the laptop is on his desk, but when you look closer, you realize it’s Mephisto’s. The screensaver wallpaper is a portrait of his family, and your first thought is that you think he looks a lot like his mother. It’s the most dignified family photo you’ve ever seen, given the exquisite clothing and jewelry they’re all wearing, and Mephisto has never looked more handsome. 

It’s almost an automatic response to get your D.D.D. so you can take a picture. You’re giddy with excitement and drop your phone onto the desk by accident. It lands on the keyboard and brings the machine out of screen saver mode. He doesn’t appear to use any kind of password protection and you can’t believe how lucky you are. It might be arrogance on his part, or maybe he truly has nothing to hide. Whatever the reason, his poor judgment is your gain and you sit down at the desk and casually browse the contents of his document folders.

You don’t know how much time you have before someone finds you snooping in Mephisto’s belongings, but it turns out his computer isn’t the treasure trove you thought it would be. It looks like he primarily uses it for RAD or newspaper club activities. There are a few random photos of him and Diavolo, or him and other demon classmates you don’t know very well. You take pictures of those with your phone; you can’t risk using his computer to email anything to yourself directly.

When you're finished, you make sure to leave the machine exactly the way it was when you found it. You run out of time, and realize you didn't get as much newspaper club work done as you wanted to. You still consider it a productive evening, though - your phone has several new photos of him for you to crop and admire from the comfort of your bedroom later on.

The next day, the newspaper club president catches you outside of class and asks you about your progress - or lack of progress - with your assigned tasks. He doesn’t seem too upset, but he’s concerned maybe it’s too much work for one person. You don’t want to give him or Mephisto the satisfaction of thinking you can’t handle it on your own.

“Oh, I’m really sorry about yesterday. Lucifer asked me to help him with something so I had to leave early.” It’s a lie, but a believable one - most of RAD’s students know by now that you often end up entangled in the demon brothers’ affairs. The newspaper club president accepts your excuse and seems content with your promise to stay later tonight to make up for it.

You walk into the newspaper club office that evening, fully prepared to fold and sort newspapers until you’re numb with boredom, but you freeze in the doorway when you see Mephisto is there. He’s standing at one of the desks facing away from you, and he seems to be looking through some papers. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you set your bag down on the floor - loudly, on purpose - so he knows you’re there too.

(Oh, he knows. He could smell you coming down the hallway.)

For all your banter and bravery, you can’t help the way your anxiety spikes. You’re rarely alone with him, and you have no idea what to say. There’s a good chance he’ll find some excuse to ridicule you no matter what you do, but you don’t want to give him any reason to leave. It’s better to let him ignore you, so you can bask in his presence and admire him in secret. At times like this, it’s better that he forgets you’re there.

You decide to stay quiet and attempt to focus on what you came here for. You reach for a stack of newspapers to start folding–

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” his smooth voice asks quietly, breaking the awkward silence.

You drop a handful of newspapers on the floor in surprise. You kneel down in an instant, scrambling to pick them up before they’re ruined. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

You suddenly feel the weight of his powerful aura and when you look up, Mephisto is standing a few feet away from you, arms crossed and eyes blazing.

“Do you think I’m so stupid that I wouldn’t notice someone accessed my personal documents? I know you were rifling through my computer when I forgot it here. No one else was here in the office last night, except for you.” His voice is sharper now, laced with threat. The heels of his boots click on the floor with each slow, purposeful step he makes toward you.

“Did you find whatever it was you were looking for? Something to try and blackmail me with, or to get me in trouble with Lucifer?” he spits the name like it’s venom on his tongue and there’s fiery anger in his eyes.

You scramble backwards to try and keep some space between you, but eventually your back hits a wall and you’ve no place left to go. You realize at that moment you don’t want to die, but he seems to have convinced himself you were trying to hurt him somehow. He couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re not sure what to say.

“It’s not what you think,” you try to explain, desperate to persuade him that whatever mad conspiracy he’s imagining is false.

“Then enlighten me, human,” he sneers angrily, “because I’ve run out of patience for you.”

Your D.D.D. chimes where you’ve left it on the desk. He glares at you with his hands on his hips. “Oh, is that how you saved copies of my documents to give to your precious Lucifer?” 

“No, don’t–” you say hurriedly, but he’s too fast - he already has your D.D.D. in hand and he’s swiping the screen to unlock it.

“Once I have proof for Lord Diavolo, you’ll wish you never….” His voice trails off, and his brows knit in confusion. You panic when you realize what he’s staring at: the wallpaper you made with the photos you took from his computer last night.

After a few moments, the baffled look on his face morphs into a sinister smirk and he points the phone in your direction.

“It all makes sense now,” he declares scornfully, eyes widening with newfound understanding. “Your annoying persistence, all your pathetic attempts to try and be friendly and helpful.” He leans forward and the lecherous expression on his face makes your stomach roll. “I didn’t take you for a demon fucker.” 

You don’t realize you’ve started crying until he crouches in front of you and flicks away a tear that’s rolling down your cheek. He’s not gentle, and his glove scratches unpleasantly against your skin. Usually he looks at you with annoyance and contempt, but now his eyes are brightened with amusement at your expense; you’re not sure which is worse.

“Now, now, don’t cry,” he coos with false sympathy. “I know you’re only human, but you need to be stronger than this if you want to survive here.” He’s still catching the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, but you know he’s not trying to comfort you. He’s enjoying your humiliation.

It’s hard to think properly when he’s this close to you. Your emotions are spiraling and you feel overstimulated by his presence. You wanted him, but you weren’t expecting this.

He waits until you stop crying, then he tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. It’s hard not to squirm under his scrutiny. His eyes seem to pierce into your soul, and you can’t look away even if you wanted to. There’s a mean tilt to his smile when he asks, “Are you so desperate for demon cock that the seven princes you live with aren’t enough to satisfy you?” 

Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, but the implication makes you shudder. You’ve never thought of any other demons that way, and the very idea of it is repulsive. He still looks amused, but his question seems genuine, too. It feels like he’s trying to figure out the puzzle that is you and your interest in him. Honesty might be the best approach, even if he kills you for it.

"I’m not interested in them like that,” you admit shakily. “I don’t want anyone else.” You’re desperate to convince him whatever he’s imagining about you and Lucifer or his brothers isn’t true.

“I assumed Lucifer would’ve claimed you for himself by now,” Mephisto admits slowly, like he’s not sure he believes you yet. His eyes trail down your body like he’s seeing you as a living, fuckable person for the first time, rather than some tedious little insect he wanted to crush beneath his heel.

“I’ve only wanted you,” you whisper, and it’s the truth, your vulnerability exposed because whether he realizes it or not, you’re utterly consumed by him.

He cups your cheek, and he’s surprisingly gentle despite the cruel smirk gracing his lips. “Do you want me to take care of you?” he offers. “I bet Lucifer won’t like that,” his mocking tone warns you.

He’s giving you one last chance to reconsider, but Mephisto doesn’t realize you’re already too far gone to turn back now. When he’s finished speaking, his lips curl against his fangs and you whimper at the sight.

To Hell with it. You lean forward and grab the sleeve of his RAD jacket. “I don’t care about him. Please, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound so pathetic, and it reminds you when you nearly groveled like this to join the newspaper club just to be close to him, but you can’t help it. Why bother denying yourself what you’ve wanted this whole time?

He brushes your hand away and stands up before you realize what’s happening. He’s quiet while he regards you, whimpering and cowering at his feet. When he suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you up too, you lose your balance. He catches you and you melt against him like it’s meant to be.

You’re overwhelmed by the intimacy of being close to him. You don’t stop to wonder why he lets you lean against his chest so willingly.

One of his hands strokes your head, and it would be patronizing if it were anyone else but him. He nods towards the piles of forgotten papers you were supposed to fold tonight. “Look at this mess. You still have so much work left to do, pet.”

The word sounds filthy rolling off his tongue, and you can’t bite back the breathy moan that escapes you when you look into his eyes. They glitter dangerously, filled with the same deadly arousal you saw the first time you met him, and you realize you’ve lost this game, after all.

You were always destined to lose against him, you just didn’t know it.

You watch quietly when he reaches for your uniform and starts flicking the buttons of your jacket open. “Perhaps I can be lenient with you tonight, as a reward for your honesty,” he murmurs as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and onto the floor.

You shiver when he leans forward, his lips brushing against your ear when he speaks. “Now, why don’t you show me just how useful you can really be.”

read more: mephistopheles masterlist | obey me! masterlist

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[seungstarss]

CUPID’S LAW | NEVER FALL IN LOVE

PAIRING › Play boy! Heeseung x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS › After a bland highschool experience, you immediately gravitate to your university’s most outrageous matchmaking club, “The Cupid Club.” Your job was simple: to collect information on your client’s love interest and then pair them together. After two years on your “job,” everything became less horrific and getting couples together almost seemed like a natural occurrence. That is until you’re tasked to collect information on Lee Heeseung, the infamous rugby captain who is coincidently known as the biggest player on campus.

GENRE› college au, angst (I said it was major angst in the preview, but after writing it, I realized that it’s not actually that sad), consultant! reader x rugby captain! Heeseung, heartbreak, crack, fluff

WARNING(S) › swearing, heavy drinking, mentions of sex

WORDCOUNT › 18.4k (I apologize beforehand)

NOTES › This is my entry for @jungwoniics ’ “just out of reach” collab

Love was an unexplained phenomenon that entwined souls together. It was an experience of rather difficult trifles which blossomed into ultimate bliss. To be with someone you found truly admirable and to lead a life with them for as many years as they lasted was society’s idea of a dream come true. Love seemed to be something like a goal to people, while to others, it was rather a burden. To you, it was a lackluster ordeal filled with complications and hurdles — an experience you didn’t want to indulge in.

You hated when September strolled along. Every autumn leaf gracefully leaving the comfort of the branches to experience the harsh winter chills yet again this cycle. It was similar to all the young adults who traveled distances away from the warmth of their homes to lead a rather dreadful college life.

The giddy freshmen were always entertaining to watch. The yearning they all had to start fresh, lead a new life, to grow, and become a part of society.

That is what college was

A greater look into society.

You had grown weary of the customs of welcoming newcomers to the school. Their excitement clearly not phasing you in the slightest. The way they would greet you and ask you for directions. You had found them cute before, but now, you couldn’t spare another waking moment guiding a freshman through the halls, introducing them to every passing professor you came across. You had grown tired. People made you tired.

In freshman year, you joined the school’s consulting club, “the Cupids Club.” You found the name rather stupid, but the more you grew to understand the club, the more fitting it seemed to be. It wasn’t any consulting club — it consisted of bringing two people together, two people who failed to communicate their feelings to one another. The heavy burden of match-making was one of the stress-inducing activities in addition to your own school work. Yet, you found it intriguing to bring people together and watch them form a special bond with each other.

Your job was simple, to analyze the receiver of love. To learn about their dislikes and likes, hobbies, and any other useless pieces of information. Your job was to convey these pieces of information to the person consulting you for assistance. It was a simple job.

So what made it so difficult?

You grew to realize that freshmen were the worst clients. All of them fresh into college and wanting to obtain and secure their significant other without their parent’s constant blabbing. Freshmen had the highest expectation. Once a first-year finds out about the school’s Cupid club, the rest of the freshmen automatically know too. And with so much attention and desire, they were never kind with their requests. Their demands strayed too high, and most of them went for unobtainable matches.

For example, Lee Heeseung.

The lad wasn’t exactly unobtainable. He was rather easy to woo, but he wasn’t easy to keep.

You had received a total of twenty requests, asking for you to set them up with Mr. Lee Heeseung before Valentine's day. Except there was an issue.

You knew nothing about the boy.

Sure, you had heard of him before. Most of the requests regarding him were given to students in his year to manage. You were a year below Heeseung, and the only thing you could conclude about the boy was that he was a gigantic player.

“Could you please set him up with me before Valentine's day, please?” The younger girl with strawberry blonde hair squirmed in her chair, looking up at you with her doll-like eyes. “I heard you’re one of the best consultants here and I really like him. So you’ll be able to do it right?”

How many times have you heard the same phrases of flattery that slipped out of their lying mouths? Praises, bribes, and baseless words — they used anything to earn a simple yes from you. You rejected everything of course, because all you cared for was someone genuine.

And that person came.

She was a year older than you, the same age as Heeseung. The girl had short beige hair and braids that pulled her hair into a half ponytail. She wasn’t very tall, but the girl was gorgeous. The way her eyes curved into crescent moons when she smiled made you almost envious. She spoke in a soft whispering tone and requested politely, unlike the previous girls who demanded your service.

“Um, hi,” the girl nervously tucked her side bangs behind her ear, looking at the floor. Her entire face was tomato red. “Could I request a favour?”

She was cute. The way she looked away, avoiding eye contact. She was the type of girl every boy wanted as a significant other. The girl didn’t even explain her whole situation, and you already felt the need to help her — to pair her up with whoever she had been yearning for.

“Yeah, of course!” You rested your chin on your palm, waiting for her to muster up the courage to tell you about her crush. “Just tell me your situation and who this person is.”

“Oh right! Well, I’ve liked him ever since freshman year. I met him in one of my classes and he, uh… he lent me a pencil. I mean, I don’t like him because of that! He’s really charming and good-looking. But the issue is, he’s popular and I doubt he even knows who I am. I heard… I heard he’s a player too.” She mumbled, fidgeting with the latch of her tote bag.

Okay, what was with these absolute catches liking the worst kinds of people? After a few years of this whole cupid consultant shit, you’ve come to notice how unfair it was — The way the best people were always attracted to the shittiest men.

“Oh no, not a player,” you sighed, scribbling the info down on your notepad. “Oh, I forgot to ask, your name is?”

“Yeeun. Jung Yeeun.”

Did she just say Jung Yeeun? Your eyebrows furrowed in absolute shock. “Jung Yeeun? As in the literature gold Medalist Jung Yeeun?” Your jaw was probably on the floor right now, but that didn’t matter when someone with such achievements stood in front of you.

“Oh… yeah.” The girl blushed, looking down at her fingers.

Gosh, she was cute. You found it odd how her mysterious crush hadn’t noticed her throughout these years. After all, she was the Jung Yeeun, and she was absolutely stunning.

“Oh my god. Um, this is so off-topic, but I really admire your work! The way your words flow and the way you intertwine emotions into your writing. Honestly, you’re amazing.” You were truly giddy to finally meet the faceless writer you had been admiring ever since freshman year.

“Oh what? You admire my work?” The girl gasped, looking up at you with her round doe eyes once again. “I don’t know what to say. It means so much to me!”

This time, you gave her a genuine smile. She was the first person this semester to come to you with such courtesy, plus she was talented and so warmhearted? You had struck gold with her and you couldn’t wait to provide any necessary help. “Of course! I’ll also do my best to help you with your crush!”

“Really? I don’t have to appeal or tell you more about my situation?”

“Nope, I just need his name and we’ll be set!” Out of all the clients you “interviewed,” she was the only one who appealed to you, and genuinely, even though it had only been a few minutes, you wanted the best for her. “Also, we can set up a date for weekly meetings so I can forward to you any information I’ve learned about them. Of course, I’ll give you advice too, since that’s my job.”

“What? You’re so kind! I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“No need,” you grinned, writing her name in your notebook. “I’ll make sure to take the most detailed notes on them to help you the best way I can.”

“Well…” Yeeun trailed off.

“His name is Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.”

What?

Out of everyone it could’ve been, it was him? The infamous senior, Lee Heeseung?

“Is there something wrong?” Yeeun panicked, moving her hand up and down in front of your face to bring you back to your senses. You could tell she was worried for you as your expression suddenly dropped upon hearing his name. “You look a bit pale, Yn.”

“Oh haha,” you chuckled nervously, clearing your throat in the process. “I was just shocked to hear his name. In all honesty, I think you can do better. I heard he’s a trashy person.”

“No, that’s what I heard too. But from the small conversations we had back in class, I think otherwise. He seems misunderstood.” Yeeun forced a smile, attempting to reassure you as you shook your head in disappointment.

One of those “I can change him” situations again. You sighed, writing the boy’s name in your notes along with Yeeun’s information. “Well, you’re right. I don’t know him so I can’t form an opinion on him from what I heard. But anyway, I will try my best to make things work.”

“Thank you, Yn. You’re so kind.”

You were tasked with gathering information about this popular senior boy, and it wasn’t hard. The first person you consulted was Ryujin, your best friend, who was a year older than you, a senior.

“Oh gosh, your client wants Heeseung?” She inched backward in disgust. “He’s literally the worst person to have a crush on. He can’t commit for shit, plus he’s a whole-ass player who has no sense of pity for his former flings. But I mean, it really isn’t hard to earn his favour.”

Your interest perked up after hearing Ryujin’s last sentence. She had rambled for an entire hour about the boy already and said nothing particularly intriguing until now. “And how would someone quote — unquote earn his favour?”

“Frankly, it’s quite simple,” Ryujin smirked, holding up two fingers. “One, show up to one of his or his drunkard friend’s frat party. Two, wear some skimpy dress and seduce the man. He’s quite simple. It makes me gag.”

Shaking off the utter disgust on your face, you rolled your eyes at your friend’s words. What had you expected? Some player with a heart of gold who just hadn’t found their soulmate? You probably spent too much time burying your nose in romance novels to see what reality was like. Even with a position as a love consultant, most of your pairings had worked out and your efforts had never gone to waste. But this time, Yeeun’s request seemed almost fruitless. “Gosh, why did I just know?”

“I mean, he is a player, after all. He’s easy to woo but hard to keep. Your poor client is definitely in a rough spot. But I don’t really know too much about him, so I can’t really speak on his actions.”

“You literally spent the whole past hour roasting the dude.” You scoffed at your friend in amusement.

“Well, I mean, after everything I’ve heard about him, I can’t help it.” The older girl smirked, pushing through the doors of the library. “I mean, I heard there’s a game after school. Maybe we can go together and you can analyze him then.”

“A game? He’s an athlete?”

“Yn, you really are clueless about this man, huh?”

“Maybe.”

—

Tying your hair in a simple ponytail, you grabbed the pale white tote bag that consisted of your notebook, where you kept all your client notes. You leaned against the doorframe of the washroom, tapping your fingers on the marble sink as you waited for Ryujin to finish straightening her hair. “Girl, are you trying to impress someone today? Like you look too good for a simple game.”

Ryujin shot you a sly smirk before returning to straighten the locks that fell to the left side of her face. “Your flattery is giving me too much confidence sis, but maybe.”

You sighed at the girl’s words. “So the truth is, you dragged me to this game just to accompany you, so you could flirt with some jock? I mean, I’m willing to be your emotional support, but girl, I’d rather off myself instead of watching you attempt to flirt.”

“Hey! I'm good at flirting! Plus, you needed to come anyway, right? You need to analyze Mr. Lee Heeseung.” The girl sang, unplugging the straightener. You had to remind yourself that Ryujin was rather popular and had a consistent social life, unlike you, who spent hours crying into your textbooks and a hundred pages of notes.

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we get going?” You cocked your head to the side as you watched your friend put on her dangly silver earrings. “I mean, it starts in twenty minutes, doesn’t it?”

“It’s literally around the corner. It takes five minutes to walk there. No need to rush.” The girl winked at you. “But you’re right, we should head there a few minutes early.” She quickly snatched the beige purse that hung on walls near the entrance, dragging you with her at the same time.

You slipped on your shoes as fast as you could to match Ryujin’s pace. She was definitely excited about seeing this game, and you just couldn’t feel the same way. Something about Yeeun’s request rubbed you the wrong way. Of course, it wasn’t the girl, but it was Heeseung himself. The thought of you getting them together only to have him cheat his way out of the relationship digested you to the max. The last thing you wanted was for Yeeun to get hurt. She was a sweet girl who deserved more than a half-hearted man who had a new fling every day of the week.

“You must be in deep concentration right now.” Ryujin smacked you on the back, bringing you back to reality. “Like hello? Girl, did you even notice that we’re almost there already?” Your eyes scanned your surroundings. The green grass below your feet and the bleachers that stood a few meters away from you definitely signified that you both were close to the playing field.

You hadn’t even noticed riding the elevator down, or heck, even locking the door because of your wandering thoughts. “Oh shit Ryu, did you lock the door?”

The girl scoffed and gave you a lazy grin. “Who do you think I am? Obviously, I had to take it upon myself since you were so wound up in your dreamland.”

“Dreamland my ass,” You rolled your eyes before clutching your friend’s arm, proceeding up the steps of the bleachers. “Where shall we sit?”

Ryujin dragged you back down and slowly approached the very front row, close to where the rugby team was getting ready. “Here obviously! You’re kinda blind, plus I have my reasons.”

“Girl, what the fuck?” You mumbled as you sat down next to Ryujin on the mini tarp she had put on the metal bleachers before sitting down. Right in front of you was the rugby team, some doing push-ups to warm up and some leaning against the bleachers talking to the cheerleaders.

“Shitt you actually came? Honestly, I didn't expect to see you here.” A boy with silver hair approached you and Ryujin while leaning against the tiny fence that separated the bleachers from the playing field. “And you brought a friend with you too? How interesting.”

“Cut the bullshit, Park,” Ryujin snapped. “I didn’t come here to listen to your nasally ass remarks. Kindly turn the fuck around and focus on your game.” She fakely smiled, gesturing for the boy to face around.

“Aw, you know you don’t have to act so hard to get.” The boy called “Park” chuckled. “But you, what’s your name?” He turned his attention to you, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“It’s Yn, and I think my friend wants you to leave.”

The boy smirked in amusement, twirling his helmet with both his hands. “Oh, she’s feisty. You two make quite the combination.” This “Park” boy had only been standing in front of the two of you for a few seconds and you already wanted to slap the playful grin off his face. From the way he carried himself, you knew he was one of those boys too.

“Yeah, did you not hear her? Piss off, Park.” Ryujin shooed the boy, who only winked at her before making his way toward his teammates.

“Who the fuck-“

“Yes, I know you’re gonna ask questions Yn, I’ll explain.” Ryujin placed her hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. The girl had told you everything about her life, but somehow this menace named “Park” was never mentioned in any of her stories. “That was Park Sunghoon, one of Heeseung's best buddies. He’s been trying to, I guess, ‘pursue me’ ever since freshman year? But of course, I rejected him every time. Yes, as you know, I have dated many people, but you will never catch me dead with one of those jocks, especially not Park Sunghoon.”

Park Sunghoon? Now his name sounded familiar.

You had heard his name slip through the mouths of many students roaming the hallways, but never matched his face to his name. He was well known throughout campus and was labeled the “deathly heartthrob.” Mainly because he never actually got into relationships. He was only an advocate for one-night stands, and friends with benefits, nothing else. The boy drew the line and only ever had physical interactions, never emotional.

“Oh, he’s Park Sunghoon,” you nodded your head, mentally connecting all the dots in your head. “Wait, but aren’t you trying to pursue some jock?”

“That’s a different story.” Ryujin inched closer to you, placing her hand over your ear before whispering. “You see, the boy over there?” She pointed ever so slightly at a boy in an oversized leather jacket who was holding a yellow water bottle.

“The yellow water bottle boy?” You questioned, squinting your eyes for a better view.

“Yeah, he’s the new manager on the team and he’s hella fine. Don’t you think so?”

You turned around to face Ryujin before throwing her a sarcastic grin. “Well, as you said, I'm blind, so I can’t see shit.”

The girl hit you gently, cackling at your response.

Before you could revert your focus to whatever was going on on the field, your eyes landed on a particular boy with raven black hair who was staring right back at you. His eyes seemed to pierce through your gaze, freezing you on the spot. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even breathe in the presence of his stare. He was just a simple rugby jock who had both hands lazily tucked into his side pockets. So what made his gaze so enticing? Was it the way he looked at you? Or was it the way he licked his lips while shooting you a sly smirk?

“Who the fuck is that?” You shook Ryujin right after the boy shifted his vision elsewhere.

“Which one? You’re literally staring into a crowd of men.” She remarked, waiting for you to point to whoever this dude was.

“The one over there. The tall one with the parted black hair.” You motioned your head towards the boy’s direction, afraid to point or make any more unnecessary eye contact.

“Oh, that one?” Ryujin grinned. “That’s Mr. Play boy. Your target of today.”

That was Lee Heeseung?

The boy with the almost dangerous stare? Your heart fell into your stomach. You could already tell by the way his lips curved up into a sly smirk that Lee Heeseung was trouble.

Quickly pulling out your notebook, you began to scribble down your observations of the boy, who stood amused at your actions. He had diverted his gaze back to you a minute ago, only to see you frantically ask your friend a question and then proceed to pull out a notepad.

The buzzer blared throughout the court, signaling the beginning of the game, and the boys rushed to their positions, waiting for the game to commence. You always thought rugby was an odd sport — the aggressive shoving, and the constant growling. You a hundred percent preferred football. A few minutes of passing the ball had gone by before you grew bored, aggravated by the icy wind that kept blowing your hair in your face, blocking your view. You had to focus on Heeseung, but all you could get out of this game was that he was stubborn. The way he played, constantly trying to score points for his team, and the way he shoved members of the opposing team with his brute force without looking back — Heeseung always got what he wanted. You could tell from the simple expression he had on his face, eyes hungry and full of desire.

A stubborn man who always got his way. The worst kind to deal with.

The final buzzer went off, signaling the conclusion of the game. Your school won and you were anything but surprised. The only extra information you got out of coming to tonight’s game was that Heeseung seemed to be the captain of the team, and Ryujin sucked ass at flirting. Before you could jot your concluding thoughts down, you heard your friend clearing her throat as she slightly nudged you. She was standing up, arms entwined with the yellow water bottle boy, and she looked down at you, eyes practically begging. “Yn, is it okay if you head back to the dorms yourself? Here, I can give you the keys.” She rummaged through her purse, pulling out her metal keys with the bear keychain you had gifted her for her birthday. “I’m just gonna be out for a little longer. Is that okay?” She was giving you puppy eyes now.

You sighed, chuckling at your friend’s words. You weren’t going to stop her from getting with someone she fancied just because you were scared to walk back yourself. What kind of friend would you even call yourself if you ruined her chances just because the dark gave you chills? “No problem, give me a call if you need anything!” You smiled, gesturing for her to go ahead before shifting your attention back to your notes.

“Captain of the team, strong-willed I guess, stubborn.” You mumbled to yourself, listing down every piece of information you detected through tonight’s game.

“Having fun writing my name into your death note?” A low voice spoke, startling you. Instinctively, you brought your notebook to your chest, guarding the information you had gathered. You were never to share your notes with anyone but your clients. Even Ryujin hadn’t had the chance to skim through your notebook.

Your eyes landed on a particular raven-haired boy, who leaned teasingly against the fence. His hair wasn’t perfectly parted anymore, it was rather messy and dripping with sweat. Good thing the boy had a towel around his neck. Or else you’d probably scoot away from him.

Or would you?

He was a good meter away from you, and your eyes instinctively fell to his facial features, his tall nose bridge, his tanned complexion which seemed to glisten under the stadium light, and his lips.

His lips? What the fuck were you thinking?

You slightly gasped, realizing the situation you were in. Heeseung stood in front of you, staring at your every flicker of emotion and movement. Once again, your mind ran blank, unable to move or think.

“I’m joking,” the boy chuckled. “What are you writing so attentively that you only looked up at the game a few times?”

He had noticed every time that you spent jotting down notes instead of watching the game? What the hell? Did this man have eyes on the back of his head?

“It’s none of your concern.” You spoke forcefully, shoving your notebook into your bag.

“Did you find the game boring?” The boy snickered, his intense gaze not leaving yours.

“Maybe I did.” You got up, getting ready to leave.

Heeseung wasn’t going to let you leave at that moment. “Then what interests you?” The boy asked, looking up at you while leaning closer. Did this boy not understand the concept of personal space, or did he just lack awareness? Though you were standing up, you still felt the way his cocky grin held you down, forcing you to stay.

“Probably not you.” You snapped back at the boy. He emanated so much confidence and somehow, he had a hold on you, and you wanted nothing more than to run away.

“But didn’t you just get ditched by your friend?” He raised his eyebrows, unknowingly provoking you even more. “I mean, I must be quite interesting since you’re still here answering my questions.”

Number one of why you hated men of his kind. In their minds, the world revolves around them and every little thing that is of convenience to them; they use to further latch onto in order to get whatever they want. Heeseung knew how to talk, and you already knew you hated his guts.

“Right.” You gave him a fake smile before turning your back on the boy. “Well, maybe you were interesting, but your words are boring me, so do me a favour and shut your mouth.” You remarked, giving him one last wave before leaving the premise of his lurking gaze. It took you lots of confidence to tell people to shut up, but with him, it came naturally.

ENTRY LOG #1

First day of analyzing Lee Heeseung and he’s an absolute menace. He’s the stereotypical frat boy who has way too much time on his hands. An absolute rake. Though besides that, he is the captain of the school’s rugby team and is very dedicated to winning. From the way he carries himself, he seems to be very confident, but he’s also very skilled with his words. He knows how to charm people, and that may be a dangerous sign. However, this is just an outlook on the boy as he did not show any of his true personality — unless this is what his true personality is, a shitty playboy jock.

The next time you saw Heeseung was on campus near the library. He was walking through the greenery area with his arms latched around two girls who wore short pleated skirts and heels too high for a simple lecture day. You totally understood dressing up, as you tried to dress your best during your first year of university. But ten-inch heels were a different story. They had their arms around him, either coddling his waist or his chest. You tried your best not to barf up this morning's breakfast, as the sight was triggering an awful churning in your stomach. Before you could turn your attention elsewhere, his eyes met yours and the same smirk found its way to his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before going off on your way. That was until the menace strolled up in front of you with his hands in his pocket.

“Enjoying the view so much, you had to stop and stare at me for a full minute?” He chuckled, walking backward since you hadn’t stopped walking forward. The cocky grin never left his face and your urge to push him off a cliff didn’t either.

“I thought I recognized one of the girls that you were with.” You blatantly lied, thinking of the first excuse that came to mind. “Speaking of the girls, where did they go?”

Heeseung’s grin only grew bigger at your lame excuse. His arms came to stop you from proceeding forward. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ‌walk away from someone when they’re trying to strike up an ethical conversation? They left after I told them I had something more interesting to do.” He smirked. “Plus, you suck at lying, don’t you? Your eyes dart whenever you lie. Did you know?”

He was damn good at analyzing people, and you knew he’d probably use that to impress the girls on campus who seemed to faint from his presence. “Morally ethical, huh? Sorry to burst your bubble, but nothing about you is morally ethical.”

“Oh, is that so?” Heeseung inched closer to you, and after quite a few steps back, you found your heels hitting the walls. There was no more space for you to back up against, and the sly smirk never left his face as he proceeded to step forward. He now only stood a few inches away from you — way too close for a mere stranger. “And how would you know?”

“I don’t,” you spat before harshly nudging the boy backward. “Just leave me alone, will you?” You mumbled, watching the boy stumble backward, amused by your actions.

“And would you like to?” Heeseung still managed to speak after you clearly rejected his advances. “You know I’m really good with my-“

“Shut your trap Heeseung.” You hissed, once again attempting to escape the awkward situation.

“You said my name for the first time!” He spoke enthusiastically. “The way it rolls off your tongue sounds really nice. You should say it more often!” He smirked, leaning back against the wall, not attempting to chase you.

You didn’t even bother glancing back at the boy, knowing if you did, you would be met with his painfully attractive smirk. Instead, you flipped the boy your middle finger.

Your seat in the consulting office behind the desk felt rather odd. You hadn’t found out anything revolutionizing or world-changing about the boy, but you still sat in your seat — waiting for Yeeun to prance in and listen to all the information you collected. You honestly had nothing to say that was worthy of her time, and you even thought about canceling your appointment. That was only until you saw the girl push her way through the library doors, on her way to visit you in the small room you had in the quiet space.

“Yn!” she exclaimed as soon as she set foot in the room. “I was so excited for today I barely could eat! My stomach is churning! It’s so thrilling!”

You offered the girl a forced chuckle before flipping open your notebook. “Well, you see…” You trailed off, not knowing where to start. “To be honest, since it’s only been a few days and I haven’t really gotten the chance to see him much? But from the information I gathered, he seems to be a very head-strong person who’s very dedicated to his own craft.”

“Oh, no worries!” The smaller girl giggled. “Even hearing about his achievements makes me happy. You know he’s the captain of the rugby team, right? Isn’t that so cool? I wish I could’ve attended his game a few days back, but I had prior arrangements.”

You were almost glad she hadn’t come. What would be the outcome of her seeing Heeseung’s eyes glued onto you throughout the entire game like you had a target on your back? Or maybe, if she did come, his eyes would be on her instead.

“Yes, he’s a very high achieving person. But besides that, he seems like he’s an easy person to strike up a conversation with. So that’s a win for you, right?” You smiled at her enthusiasm. She really liked him, didn’t she? Even talking about him made the corner of her lips perk up into a shy smile.

“Yes, yes, it is. He won’t get bored with me if I can’t think of anything to say, right?”

You rolled your eyes before chuckling at your innocent upperclassman. “Of course Yeeun! He’ll be the one that won’t be able to shut up.”

Yeeun giggled at your comment and checked her phone quickly. “I actually have a short meeting today, so I may have to cut our appointment a little short. Is that okay?”

You gave the girl an affirming smile. “Of course, I didn’t really have too much information today anyway. But next week at the same time?”

She nodded, pushing her chair in before waving at you and exiting the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, organizing your notes before you, too, decided to exit this stuffy room. The library was a big, bright place full of windows and you didn’t want to be cooped up in a room with no natural light whatsoever.

As soon as you locked the door of the consulting office, you felt a strong gaze on the back of your head.

Maybe you should’ve stayed in the room.

“I should consider myself lucky, right? I was dreading coming here, but it seems like it’ll be quite entertaining instead.” His voice was loud enough for the reception desk to send the two of you glares.

“Why the hell do I always bump into you? Are you sure you’re not following me or something?” You wanted to curse him out for his timing. If he had come just a few minutes earlier, you could’ve perfectly set him up with Yeeun.

Heeseung scoffed at your assumption. Him following you? Why would he ever do that? “You can daydream all you want, sweetheart, but sorry to break it to you. I wasn’t.”

You, happy with his answer, gave the boy a sarcastic smile. “Oh, is that so? Well then, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave now.”

Maybe Heeseung did want to follow you right now as his hand quickly grabbed your wrist, turning you back around. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t think I’ve made it clear enough. I’m going A W A Y.  F R O M. Y O U.” You annotated every word with a certain passive-aggressiveness.

“I’ll tag along then.” He grinned. “You’re walking towards the back tables of the library. Near the windows, am I right?”

Shaking your wrist out of his grip, you turned around once again. “I don’t think I ever invited you.”

The boy stood staring at you as you made your way to the far back corner of the library, settling your books on the desk. You were decently surprised when he didn’t follow you.

Or so you thought.

“Who needs an invitation?” Heeseung dragged the chair across from you over to your side as he plopped down and leaned on the tabletop, way too close to your face. “It’s a public space, am I right?”

How many times had he done this already? Invading your personal space without giving a single fuck about how you felt.

But how did you feel?

You felt his hot breath hitting the nape of your neck, and you watched how his long eyelashes fluttered as he opened and closed his eyes. He was good-looking; you had to admit that. But you had no interest whatsoever.

Right?

“Move, you literally could sit anywhere else.” You shoved the boy slightly.

Unfazed by your attitude, he only chuckled, making your rage grow. “You know, if it were any other girl, they’d be begging for me to stay, right?”

“Oh, is that so? Well, then what should I do, huh? Apologize?” You spat, annoyed with his entitled attitude.

“Nah, you should do something else.” He leaned back in his chair while crossing his arms.

“And what is that?”

“Let me see what you were writing in your diary the other day.” He smirked, raising his eyebrow in amusement as he awaited your answer.

“First of all, it’s not a diary. Second, I wasn’t writing about you, and third, I have a right to privacy for my belongings.”

“Then if you’re not gonna show me your notebook or whatever, let me stay here.” He shot you a winning grin, placing his phone on the table to secure his spot.

“You did that just so you could stay, huh?” He always had a way with his words and your desire to punch him only grew.

“Oh, looks like I’ve been caught red-handed, huh?” He chuckled, leaning back on the table and staring at your constantly changing expressions. It would be an understatement to say that Heeseung enjoyed the way you talked to him. He had never felt such a thrill in his life other than the first time he rebelled against his parents in high school. You were bringing that spark back into his life and he didn’t want it to extinguish.

You shifted uncomfortably, directing your gaze back to the stack of textbooks you had brought with you for studying purposes. “What are you gonna get out of staying here and wasting your life away?” You mumbled, quite bothered by his presence.

He smiled, placing his finger on his chin whilst pretending to ponder. Maybe it was the sunlight hitting his face, but your gaze only remained on his eyes that shone a golden brown in the light. They glittered when he blinked, and somehow you felt time freeze once more. How many times had this boy made you feel like the revolving word had stopped? You were in a stupid library, contemplating if you should study, yet here you are, staring into some boy’s eyes while he pretended to think of some excuse.

Thank god he was looking away, or else you’d definitely be receiving a mouthful from him.

“I’m gonna watch you study. Maybe I’ll pick up some studying habits?” He blurted out after a good three minutes.

You scoffed, looking away after he had met your gaze again. “That doesn’t sound too fitting to your character.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to get to know someone before you fully judge their character. Am I right, miss cupid?”

Miss cupid?

Had he known you were part of the cupids club, spending your spare time matchmaking?

Or worse. Did he know your client was gunning for him?

“I heard you were in some matchmaking club. But I highly doubt that seeing the way you interact.” Heeseung remarked, playing with your pad of colourful sticky notes.

“So you’re a stalker?!” you gasped.

“No, I-I’m not!”

—

Maybe it wasn’t that bad — having Heeseung accompany you. He spent hours taking turns from staring at you, then to your textbook. Sometimes the boy would lean in to stare at your notes and you could feel your cheeks heating up at the proximity. You had slapped yourself a couple of times, snapping yourself out of this unfamiliar daze. It felt almost improper to spend time with your client’s love interest. But you were glad now. The sun had set and Heeseung was slumped over the table, sleeping comfortably on the stack of your textbooks. You giggled at the sight. Somehow, he looked almost innocent and unlike his regular smug self. His body moved up and down slightly. You didn’t want to bother the boy who was sleeping so soundly — but he was lying on top of your textbooks. It wouldn’t hurt if you just tapped him awake, right? Just as your hand approached to grab your books, the boy groaned slightly, wrapping his arms tightly around the stack of your textbooks. You almost let out a loud laugh as you saw the boy bringing the textbooks closer to him to get more comfortable. Who knew the infamous rugby captain needed to cuddle something to fall asleep?

You decided not to wake the boy as he would probably get cranky or start throwing a fit. You had enough of the boy’s attitude for a day — frankly for the rest of your life. Taking off the jacket you had, you placed it gently on his broad shoulders before you stuck the small post-it-note you had written a few minutes ago in front of him, on the table.

You fell asleep :/// See; I told you ‌that you should’ve done something better with your time! You could’ve gone to a party or even practiced your sport, but instead, you spent your time here! Also, I hope you don’t drool on my textbooks; they were hella expensive. I didn’t take them because I didn’t wanna wake you up. Return those to me tomorrow and bring my jacket too! (Yes, I left my jacket for you. Not because I care for you, but because it actually gets really chilly since they turn on the AC :( whatever, just make sure you return everything.)

And what you didn’t know was that Heeseung didn’t care about “wasting time,” because all he really desired was to rest — escape from all the burdens and titles he carried.

ENTRY LOG #2

Heeseung seems to be bearable when he’s not trying to sweet talk. His conversations, besides that, are actually genuine. He also seems to have ears everywhere. Whenever he wants to know something, he’ll be able to get stacks of information on that person. Besides that, he’s pretty entertaining? I think he just needs someone that genuinely likes him for him, instead of for his outlook. He may seem all “I’m the best” and flirty, but something tells me his smiles aren’t genuine. He needs someone to appreciate him for who he is… and Yeeun is perfect.

You had spent hours the next few days working on your midterm seminar with your group mates, who didn’t seem to comprehend the importance of this group assignment. Meets ups happened frequently and your group mates listened well to your instructions. However, when they were off on their own to complete their personal assigned sections, most of them would slack off until the last minute. As the final slide organizer, you spent most of your time waiting for your group mates to hand in their completed parts to insert into the slides.

But it was already 11:30pm, and you were so close to crashing on the library desk you had been sitting at for the past four hours. Tapping your fingers impatiently, you opened and closed your text messages with your group members, hoping someone would send something in. You all had agreed on sending in your parts before 10pm, ensuring you had enough time to organize everything and get a good night of sleep before the seminar tomorrow morning. However, there wasn’t a single peep from your group mates and it was already halfway to twelve. Feeling the weight of all the stress, your eyelids began to grow heavy. A short nap wouldn’t harm you, and there was nothing better to do anyway. Setting your alarm for 12:30 am, you rested your head onto your forearm as you dozed off into dreamland.

—

Heeseung found it hard to stay at home. The boy was bombarded with nonstop noise coming from every corner of the house. On a normal day, he wouldn’t be bothered by the constant arguing between Jake and his girlfriend or the loud ass giggles coming from Sunghoon’s room. But today, all he felt was his shooting headache, and the noise surrounding him only added to his agony. He needed to get out.

The first thing that came to mind was the therapeutic library environment he had experienced while watching you cram for your seminar. Yearning for the same feeling, he found himself stuffing his keys in his jacket pocket as he decided to take a little night walk to the University’s library. The walls of windows would probably look even more stunning with the moonlight shining through.

Yes, he wanted to experience the same feeling he had the last time, but he didn’t expect to see you slumped over on the same table, sleeping soundly. Smiling to himself, the boy sat down in the seat across from you, watching as your body rose up and down slightly. In his eyes, you were constantly busy with no down time whatsoever. He had always wondered if you could get sufficient sleep every day. You rarely had nights where you would get enough rest, and Heeseung could tell. You wouldn’t be dozing off in the school’s library if you weren’t swamped with loads of work.

Maybe it was the way you gripped onto the edge of your laptop, hugging it like a pillow, but Heeseung couldn’t help but feel a need to protect you, to shield you away from all the bad in the world. The boy spent the next ten minutes staring out the window, accompanying you as you slept. Just from sitting in silence, he could feel his headache slowly creeping away.

The slight buzz of his phone startled him, shaking him from his short-lived relaxation. It was a text from Jake.

Jake: Hey sorry bro. I heard you leaving, and I figured it was because of the noise. She’s gone now, so you’re free to come back.

Just as he was about to ignore the text and return to his little moment of bliss, his phone buzzed once more.

Jake: Actually, you should come back now. There’s a fucking cockroach in the washroom and Sunghoon is busy having fun in his room. I ain’t tryna see him naked, so comeback and kill this roach.

Heeseung figured Jay had already gone to sleep and Jake was probably crouching in the bathroom, staring the roach down, watching its every move. Sunghoon was practically useless when it came to bugs. Even if he wasn’t preoccupied, he wouldn’t lift a finger to kill the bug. Sighing, Heeseung quietly stood up from his chair, trying his best not to wake you. This time he’d return the favour. Taking off his jacket, he carefully placed it over your shoulders.

As he was about to leave, his eyes landed on the same pad of sticky notes he had fidgeted with the last time he watched you study. Grabbing the pen from your unzipped pencil case, he scribbled a quick note before placing it on the top of your laptop. Heeseung wished he could stay for longer, but he knew Jake would grill him nonstop if he didn’t return to kill a small fucking bug.

—

Your alarm rang, the buzzing shaking you awake. Maybe taking a brief nap was a good idea because you woke up to blaring notifications from your group chat, sending you the completed work, and a small pink sticky note.

A small pink sticky note?

This wasn’t here when you fell asleep.

And neither was the black jean jacket that was carefully wrapped around your shoulders.

You're practically drooling on your laptop. What if it burns? Aren’t you proud that I didn’t wake you up? I know you would probably start scolding me for being out here at such ungodly hours, but you too??? What are you doing, sleeping in such an unsafe spot? Sorry I couldn’t stay, but I left my jacket with you since you said it gets chilly. Hopefully, this makes up for the last time. I returned the favour, but you don’t have to return the jacket. Keep it. Anyway, go to the lounge on the second floor when you wake up. There are pillows there and it’ll be much more comfortable to sleep there. Don’t go home. It’s late, and it’s unsafe to travel alone. You can head back when the sun rises, but not when it's pitch black outside, okay?

Oh also, I usually carry chocolate in my pocket (don’t ask why). There should be a Hersey’s bar in the pocket of my Jean jacket. Eat it, okay?

Heeseung had been here? Why was he out so late? Why did he come to the library?

You had many questions, but the main issue you had to deal with wasn’t the lack of answers, but the smile forming on your face as you read his note. Your heart was beating a little faster than usual, but you still sat there, oblivious to your own feelings.

After the library incident, you bumped into Heeseung quite frequently. Every day, he’d find a way to make an appearance in your life, even if it was just sending you a playful wink as you passed each other on campus. When not surrounded by girls or his weird druggy friends, he would often strike up a conversation with you, even if you tried to push him away. He enjoyed teasing you, and somehow, it didn’t feel quite as odd as it did before.

“Your outfit is quite nice.” He commented, leaning against the column. He scanned you up and down before shooting you one of his signature smirks.

“Don’t look at me like that. I internally puke every time.” You faked a gag, waving the boy off.

“Did you think I was checking you out? Because you don’t have to worry, there’s nothing to check out.” He cackled, pushing himself off the column and towards you. “Where are you headed today? The library again?”

You hummed in response. “I have an appointment.”

Heeseung’s interest immediately piqued. “Oh right! I forgot I was talking to Miss Cupid here. Who’s your client? I’m curious.”

It was against the rules to tell him about your client, especially when he was the target. “I’m not gonna tell you. It’s confidential information.”

Usually, Heeseung would just laugh it off and leave you off to your own business, but today, he found it extremely hard not to meddle. The boy pushed you against the lockers, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed. He somehow felt annoyed by the fact that you were going to ditch him for your client right after he got the chance to talk to you.

“H-Heeseung? What are you doing?” You gasped at the sudden impact of your back hitting the lockers. His expression had suddenly dropped, and you were left confused as to why he was so angry and why he had shoved you against some locker.

The boy only moved closer, placing his hand on the wall of lockers beside you. His breath was practically fanning your lips at this point. You squeezed your eyes shut. It was an instinct. There was something about the way he was staring at you that made you feel almost small and weak.

Heeseung was confused. Was it jealousy? Was he jealous of your stupid client that got to spend time with you? It seemed like every time he had a chance to speak to you, you would attempt to blow him off as soon as possible. Mostly, when he wanted to see you, his friends would drag him away to some party, and he’d end up getting drunk, forgetting his desire to see you as he fell deeper into intoxication. But finally he had some time to spare, without his friends up his ass and here you were, waving him off for some stupid client.

He wasn’t jealous; he was just angry that you completely disregarded his feelings — at least that’s what he told himself.

Seeing you squeeze your eyes tightly shut, he finally came to his senses, backing away before sighing. “My bad. Um, yeah, as I was saying, your outfit looks nice today. I like your barret.” He remarked dryly as he watched your eyes slowly flicker open. “I’ll get going now. Sorry about that.”

With that, heeseung left you alone, leaning against the lockers. Your heart felt as if it were a contestant for some Olympic race. Why did something so simple have your cheeks flaming? What was this feeling that caused your breath to waver and become unsteady?

Heeseung was your client’s target. You had to get that into your head. You had no right feeling this way.

Scurrying to the consulting office, you saw Yeeun fiddling with her fingers while sitting in the seat across from your designated one. She had arrived early — or instead, your little encounter had you running late. “Sorry about the wait, Yeeun!” You apologized profusely while entering the room.

“No worries, Yn!” I was really excited to see you again. “I actually wanted to ask you for a favour today.”

Placing your bag onto the wooden desk, you pulled out your chair, settling in. “A favour? Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

“Well,” Yeeun nervously grinned. “I’m attending a guest lecture today and I heard from a friend that Heeseung is coming! I just wanted to make a good impression. Do you know what I should wear?”

Your mind immediately flashed to Heeseung’s words a few minutes ago. “I like your barret.”

“Oh actually um,” you gave the girl a small reassuring smile. “I saw him in the halls today and I heard him saying he liked barrets. Maybe you could wear one?”

“I actually don’t have one. I can’t buy one either, since the lecture is in about an hour.” Yeeun sighed, wishing she owned more hats.

“You can take mine?” You suggested, taking your hat off before combing your hair through with your fingers. “You’ll look good in it and your hair is also slightly curly today! It looks good with slight curls!”

Yeeun gasped, politely accepting your offer. “Oh my, is that why your hair is always curled when you wear hats? It always looks so good!”

You giggled, motioning for her to try it on. “Yep! I spent a short while curling my hair today just for it.”

“How does it look?” Yeeun questioned, turning her head slightly from left to right after putting the hat on.

“It looks flawless! I mean, you always do, but the hat really accentuates your tall nose bridge!” You exclaimed, holding up your front phone camera for her to examine herself.

“What Yn, you’re right! It looks really good!” she squealed. “Plus, my outfit is similar to yours today, so it matches!”

“Yeah! So wear it!” You shot Yeeun another smile before going into your bag to pull out your notebook. “So since we already got you looking the part, I’ll just tell you about the new information I found out this week.”

“Sounds good!” Yeeun scooted closer to the desk, thrilled to hear about your new findings.

…

“Yes, so never reject a party invitation from him, okay?”

“Yes! I got it.” Yeeun gave you a small thumbs up. “But what if he doesn’t invite me to one of his parties?”

“Then casually ask him if he's holding one this week.” You grinned. “I mean, he hosts one, or at least his friend group hosts one every week at their frat house.”

“Right,” Yeeun pondered for a second before speaking again. “Is it that important to attend one of his parties?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Something in you wanted to end this whole cupid exchange quick, and you knew the best way for her to get his attention was at his stupid parties. You planned to doll Yeeun up when she officially got invited by him. These parties didn’t require invitations, but it was important to have Heeseung personally invite Yeeun. He would know she would be coming and would expect her to greet him when she arrived — that already was a benefit. “Yes, Yeeun! He needs to know you’re coming, remember?”

“Oh, right!” She exclaimed, beaming with excitement. “Then I’ll try my best to talk to him today. I’ll get going now! Thank you once again Yn, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Your last words left a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was your stomach churning so uncomfortably? It's almost like you hated the idea — the idea of them flirting or making out at one of his parties.

Heeseung regretted every minute of his morning, replaying his encounter with you repeatedly like a broken cassette player, until he felt almost dizzy. He didn’t mean to come off so harshly, yet whenever he saw you, he just wanted you to remain in his view until he himself was forced to leave. He remembered the expression in your eyes and how they grew almost fearful. Somehow it made him feel as if he was in the wrong, as if he were the one to blame for your shaking legs. Initially, he was intrigued by your lack of interest and aloof attitude towards him, but now it only bothered him, crushing his dignity firmly with no sense of remorse. It was almost as if you despised his presence and would go to extreme lengths to stay clear of the boy.

But that didn’t explain the goosebumps that ran up your neck when his breath fanned your lips.

Much to his disfavor, the boy's phone buzzed continually in his back pocket. His father had been pressuring him to attend a special guest lecture to make up for his lack of efforts in his other classes. He had been dreading it for the entire week, and he knew skipping would only earn him a mouthful. Some lecture about some “intriguing discussions about the human mind, darker drives and psychological analysis.” He had no interest whatsoever, and the only thing driving him was the party at the end of the dreadful week. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way down the looping brick hall, leading him to the lecture hall with the purple plush seats. He didn’t care too much since he would probably sit near the back and doze off behind some committed student who actually attended to learn. Waving lazily to the girls who stared at him with googly eyes, he felt almost sick of doing the same thing. No longer did he find it fun to watch a random girl squirm at the fact that they were acknowledged by the school’s infamous rugby captain. Instead, he found it tiring. He had grown weary to the customs of winking at every passing person. Their excitement clearly did not phase him in the slightest anymore.

The lecture hall was rather silent, opposite of what he thought it’d be like. The only thing he was expecting was over excited students who were too passionate about the subject and enjoyed blabbing constantly about it. He expected everyone to fit the prototype he had created in his head during his tread over. Instead of conforming to his thoughts, most people were in their own seats, scrolling through their phones. Sighing, Heeseung slowly made his way up the stairs. His arrival earned a few slight gasps from a few of the younger students, but he ignored them, focusing on gaining a perfect spot for his little nap.

That was only until he saw you with your head down, buried in your arms. You were wearing the same berret. He chuckled, carefully approaching you, making sure he didn’t make a sound. Maybe this lecture wouldn’t be too bad and maybe he could apologize for what had occurred this morning.

“Hey miss cupid, didn’t know I’d find you here.” Heeseung spoke softly, giving you a soft tap on your head. “Didn’t know you were interested in dark psychology. But at the same time, I feel like it’s very fitting.” Settling his bag on the small pull out table attached to his seat, he wrapped his arm around your chair as he watched you groan slightly, lifting your head.

“Excuse me? Who’s miss cupid?” Yeeun lifted her head, only to face the last person she expected to sit next to her. “Wait, oh my… um hi! Hi Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s face dropped immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Removing his arm, he quickly shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat in the process. How could he have mixed you up with someone who didn’t look remotely like you? It was the hat, the fucking hat. He cursed under his breath repeatedly, resting his head on his palm, attempting to distract himself from the embarrassment. He had really just sat in the most evident spot, where the professor could spot him in a single second. Maybe if his mind wasn’t flooded with thoughts of you, he’d make a rational decision and analyze the person in front of him first. Why the fuck was he so desperate?

“Oh, did you mix me up with someone?” Yeeun tapped the boy on the shoulder, shaking him out of his daze. Her smile faded when she saw the boy squint at her, shaking his head as he frowned. Did she do something? Why did he look so uninterested? Didn't Yn say that the hat might help her out?

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry, it’s my fault. I should’ve looked more carefully.” He spoke, forcing a smile to wave off the girl’s concern.

Yeeun couldn’t be happier to see the boy smile again. Her cheeks grew hot as the pair held eye contact for a few seconds. “Oh well, um,” she began. “My name is Yeeun. Hopefully next time you won’t get me mixed up with someone else.”

"Oh yeah, uh sure.”

“I’ve heard of you before,” Yeeun spoke, this time in a softer tone. “You’re the captain of the rugby team, right? I really enjoyed watching you play last year. This year I didn’t have the chance to attend any of your games because of my busy schedule, but I will for sure make time. Speaking of time, I have time this weekend but sadly there’s no game this week. I wish I had come last time. My friend went, and she said you—”

“Wow, that’s interesting, well I mean there is a party this week. I guess you could come.” Heeseung intervened, his tone lacking any sort of enthusiasm. He knew what this was. Another one of those girls trying to appeal to him; kiss up to him so they could get some special invitation from him. Or the other option; they wanted to get in his pants. There was no in-between and Heeseung was sick. How many times had he experienced the same conversation in the past four years? Previously, he might’ve flirted back, but somehow he was absolutely turned off by Yeeun’s advances.

“Oh my god, really? A personal invitation from you?” Yeeun’s expressionbrightened, along with her smile.

Heeseung shot her a forced lazily grin. “Yeah, just give me your number. I’ll text you the address and time.” She was so excited and for what? He didn’t understand how an invitation could influence someone this greatly. They had parties almost every two weeks. Had she never gone to one? Offering his phone to the girl, he sat back, watching Yeeun type in her number ecstatically, fingers slightly quivering. He already knew. She found interest in him, and he couldn’t help but feel bored at that revelation.

“I’ll be sure to come.” Yeeun giggled softly, returning Heeseung's phone. “I might bring a plus one. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, anyone is welcome. Do whatever you wish.”

And the rest of the lecture went swiftly. Heeseung could see the girl next to him steal glances at him now and then. He could see the twinkle in her eyes and how they shined when her gaze landed on him. She most definitely enjoyed his company, unlike someone he knew. But he couldn't say the same.

Upon dismissal, Heeseung didn’t spare a single glance at Yeeun before barging his way through his row, attempting to get to the doors as quickly as possible. Still left in a daze, Yeeun felt the giddy jumping in her stomach as she watched the boy’s broad shoulders squeeze through the jumbling crowd. She liked him even more now. The handsome, tall and kind Lee Heeseung, who was kind enough to invite her to his party.

Heeseung felt void of emotions. His body felt numb and his expression remained blank as he slammed the lecture door, leaving Yeeun’s sight. His surroundings were blurred out by his thoughts that swarmed and suffocated him.

Why did he feel no joy in seeing people swoon over him?

Why was this morning’s incident still stuck in his head like super glue, permanent and unremovable, that only a painful amount of scrubbing, scratching and rinsing could remove? Heeseung was unable to get his mind off you, and he didn’t have the energy to wash away his feelings when his thoughts blocked his freedom.

The realization of his feelings was something new to him.

But Heeseung feared acceptance.

His hands automatically swiped at his phone, dialing the first number on his contact list.

“1”

He needed a distraction.

“What the fuck? Where do you need to go?” Your jaw hung wide open at your best friend, who only shot you a nervous grin as she fidgeted with her fingers.

“I’m sorry Yn, please?” Ryujin shot her puppy-like expression at you, begging for you to say yes.

“Okay, first off, why the fuck are you going to see Park Sunghoon, and second, why do I need to drive your ass there? Drive yourself!” You rolled your eyes, bringing your focus back to your dinner you had cooked for yourself.

“Okay, I Just need to give him something, but I just need you to drop me off because ‘he’ knows my car plate and I don’t want him to misunderstand the situation.” Ryujin pleaded.

You had to remind yourself that “he” was the young manager Ryujin had been seeing, who lived around the area of Sunghoon’s fraternity home. “What do you mean, misunderstand? So you want me to wait for you until you return this ‘item’ and then drive you back?”

“Precisely!” Ryujin shot you a thumbs up, which was followed by a nervous grin. “If he sees that I’m with a friend, then he won’t get suspicious.”

You squinted at the girl. “Yeah, but whatever this whole ‘returning the item shit’ is, it’s already fishy to me.”

“No, I swear it isn’t, just please get in the car. Sunghoon’s an impatient person.”

And that’s how you found yourself stepping on the siege green door mattress, neatly placed in front of Sunghoon’s fraternity house. Ryujin pressed on the doorbell once and a long stretch of silence followed through. She then proceeded to bang on the door repeatedly. Ryujin was also an impatient person. “He’s really testing my patience today, huh?” Ryujin groaned, pacing around the door in small semi-circles.

You stood beside her, bored out of your mind. You could’ve been productive in the time wasted by Ryujin, who was too scared to get “caught” returning some stupid ass item. Maybe he wasn’t home, and he pranked your best friend to come over, just to waste her time. He seemed like that type of person. Waiting in the car sounded like a better idea than waiting out here on their doorsteps in the cold. Just as you were about to turn around, the door slammed open to a disheveled—

“Heeseung?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes scanned the man standing in the doorway. He leaned lazily on the open door, barely holding on to the frame of the entrance. He was wearing an oversized flannel, barely clinging onto his shoulders that hung only partially buttoned, revealing most of his bare chest. Your eyes grew big as you noticed the dark red love marks that decorated his neck, all the way to the lower half of his upper body, which was shielded by his flannel.

You were sure the marks didn’t stop there.

“Shit. Yn?” Heeseung was not expecting you. He had only come to his senses after the long pause of him opening the door. He had thought maybe Sunghoon had forgotten his keys, or maybe Jake was too drunk to even search for his. In no world did he think he’d open the door to you, standing at his doorway with an unreadable expression.

“Heeseung, what’s taking you so long?” You heard a voice emerging from behind him, her voice laced with fatigue but also a strong sense of desire.

You knew.

You knew what was going on.

“Yn, I can explain.” Heeseung rustled his already messy hair. You could clearly read his expression from the way his eyebrows arched downwards, to the firm line his lips were pressed into.

Shaking your head slightly, you squeezed your eyes shut. “What is there for you to explain?” You spoke in a stern voice, attempting to hide the quivering of your words.

“Heeseung, who is it?” You heard the honey laced voice another time.

Without any hesitation, you pushed Heeseung back into the warmth of his house before slamming the door shut. The cold air fanned your face, and the contrast stung like needles. Or maybe it was the disturbing churning in your stomach that made you feel almost sick. Maybe it wasn’t the cold that pierced your body, but the realization that hit you hard in the head, knocking you back to reality.

Why did it hurt to see him like that?

Why did you even care? What did it matter to you?

You always knew. Heeseung was the biggest player on campus, but somehow you didn't know why you expected him to differ from his reputation. You had seen him on campus with his hands around a girl’s waist before, so why did it hurt you so much to see him today?

Ryujin stood on the side, this time her mouth hanging wide open. What did she just witness? She knew her best friend, she read you like an open book, and she understood every expression and twitch in your facial expression. She had just witnessed her best friend’s heart shattering into pieces.

ENTRY LOG #3

Fuck Lee Heeseung. He isn’t kind, nor does he have any redeeming qualities. He isn’t someone to pursue if you're looking for something long-term. He’s an absolute jerk who lies through his teeth and he — it doesn’t matter. Yeeun should give up on him. He’ll just hurt her in the end.

Entry logs were supposed to be professional.

No feelings were supposed to be involved.

You dreaded your next meeting with Yeeun. Once again, you had nothing positive to report to her. You had been labeled the most professional member of the club, yet you failed to deliver any actual substance. Maybe this was a sign to quit the club once and for all. You would have to pull out your logbook full of scribbles and curse words at your client’s love interest.

It was unprofessional of you. But the only main issue was your feelings.

Why the heck did your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Heeseung the other night? It wasn’t like you two had anything going on — you knew that for sure. But then why did his expression fall into utter fear when he saw you on his own doorstep? Why did he feel the need to explain? Wasn’t this one of his normal, frequent activities? If so, why did his eyes yearn to apologize?

Snap out of it. You had to bring yourself back to reality.

What mattered now was that Heeseung was your client’s love interest and nothing mattered more other than getting them together — even if he was a jerk. You had no responsibility for how relationships would grow and break after your service. Frankly, you got them together, and that’s all that mattered. It wasn’t your fault if they ended up breaking up, because that was something you couldn’t control.

“I’ll just do what I always do,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you watched the faint movement of the clock. “Get them together. The end. No strings attached.”

There were five more minutes until your meeting with Yeeun, but surprisingly, the knock at your door came earlier than expected. She was smiling yet again, this time holding a set of sweet frappuccinos in her hand. The girl had an insane amount of manners. She stood outside the door even if she already knew you were fine with her bargaining in. She respected your privacy and only entered when you gave her a slight nod.

“Yn, you won’t guess what happened!” Yeeun squealed, placing the two diabetes-inducing drinks on the table. “I wanted to tell you as soon as possible, but I remembered ‌ that I didn’t have your number and had no actual other way to reach you.”

There was a strict rule in the whole “cupid’s service.” The relationship between you and your client would remain professional throughout the duration of your assistance. They would have no access to any of your personal information, and neither did you. The only thing you had to keep in contact with was your weekly scheduled meetings.

“What can be so exciting? You're all giddy!” In all honesty, you never understood the girl’s positivity. It was as if she was shielded by a ray of pure golden sunshine for her entire life. Darkness was a concept that strayed away from her, never crossing paths.

“Heeseung invited me to his party!” Yeeun chirped. “It was a personal invitation, too! He asked for my number and sent me the time and address! Do you think he likes me back? I mean, he invited me personally!”

Your smile immediately turned downwards at the mention of Heeseung. You found it odd that even after all the claims about him and his flings, she wouldn't slowly lose interest and move on. Instead, the girl only saw him as a knight in shining armor, who would walk with her in that path of purity, that ray of sunshine.

But she was delusional.

Forcing the best answer you could, you awkwardly closed your log book filled with pages of slander. “Uh, oh wow Yeeun! I'm so happy for you.” What more could you say? Heeseung invited anyone who wanted to attend his parties. There was no such thing as private invitations—

Unless…

Right, you had to be positive. This was your best chance at getting them together. “You should go, a hundred percent. You said he invited you, right? So he’ll probably want to see you there! We should decide on your outfit together.”

“Right!” Yeeun giggled in agreement. “Oh but Yn, I need to request another favour.”

Already scrolling through an online store catalog, you stopped to glance back at Yeeun, who had an almost apologetic expression plastered on her face. “The tone of your voice has me worried a bit. But go ahead, what's up?”

“I’m sorry, but could you please come to the party with me? All my friends are absolutely against the idea and I don’t want to be going to an unfamiliar place alone. I thought maybe since you’ve probably never been, we could navigate it together? Also, isn’t it best to go with a friend?”

Your mind immediately flashed back to the other night, standing in front of Heeseung’s doorway. An unfamiliar place? Yeah, you wished you could agree. “Yeeun, I’m sorry but,” You had to avoid this party at all costs.

Because you wanted to keep the relationship between you and Yeeun professional? That’s only what you told yourself.

You didn’t want to see him again. You didn’t even want to lay your eyes on the boy for a second.

“I get you wanna keep everything professional, but I really need your help! Just this once, I promise! Next time, I promise I won’t bother you about something like this again! You’ve just been so helpful and I really find comfort in you. Plus, maybe you could assist me with getting Heeseung there, right?”

Maybe she had a thing for rambling.

“Yeeun, I’m honored that you find comfort in me, but this is really something I cannot do for you. I can give you tips and I could also help you find a dress, or heck, even purchase one for you, but physically attending? That’s something I can’t do.” You spoke sternly, hoping she’d get the idea.

“But who’s gonna take me home? What if he invites me to drink? I can’t say no to him, and even worse, I can’t drive back under the influence!” Her eyebrows furrowed. She was getting more desperate.

“Then I’ll give you my number. You can call me and I’ll pick you up.”

“But that’s unprofessional!” Yeeun retorted. “I’m gonna have a hard time navigating this new environment. Could you just help me? Please?”

At this point, you knew the girl wasn’t going to back out until you accepted her request. Maybe you wouldn’t even see him. You could just drop her off and stick around outside and make up some random excuse that you're carsick. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. “Okay fine. But this time only.”

“Fingers crossed,” She giggled, standing up from her chair. “I’ll head off now since I have other plans! But we can meet here Friday night, I’ll pick you up. Make sure to bring your drivers license though! You’ll probably be the one driving us back! Oh yeah, and this drink is for you. I was going to bribe you with it but I’m glad it didn’t resort to it.” She waved at you before pushing her way out of your office.

Wow. Did she really think a cheap drink could buy your favour?

You were slowly losing respect for her. Who knew someone this smart could be so stupid in the real world. Being book smart doesn’t define your intelligence whatsoever.

Friday came faster than you expected and with a blink of an eye, you were sitting in the passenger seat of Yeeun’s silver Lexus that smelled as if it was brand new. They were going to a party, so why would she drive out her new car? It was a night of chaos and her perfectly painted car was a hundred percent prone to scratches, bumps and, worse off them all, vomit. Rolling down the windows, you stuck your face in the fresh air, attempting to mask the overwhelming smell of fresh leather. You dreaded this day, but somehow Yeeun didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Thank you so much for picking out a dress for me, Yn!” Yeeun broke the silence while keeping her eyes on the path ahead of her. “I’m glad we found an outfit suitable for you too! Your dress is really cute, but it doesn’t over shine mine, which is probably a good idea since I need to be the main highlight today.”

You had grown to realize that Yeeun wasn’t shy at all. She just needed time opening up and conveying her true thoughts. No wonder her works were all filled with complex feelings and a wide range of emotions. She didn’t have anywhere to convey her own, so writing them out was probably the most convenient for her. Yeeun was comfortable with you now, and that obliterated any filter she had masking her feelings. “Of course.” You awkwardly chuckled, staring back at the blurred silhouettes of landscapes passing by.

“We’re almost there,” Yeeun spoke again. “I can’t wait to see him! What do you think he’ll be wearing? Ripped jeans? A leather jacket? What do you think it is?”

“Definitely not a loose fitting flannel.” You blurted out, eyes still trained on the oddly shaped traffic light in the distance.

“Huh? A loose flannel? Why would that even come to mind?” Yeeun questioned. “Do you like when people wear oversized flannels?”

You choked, slightly coughing at her response. “No, it was just a random thought.”

A random thought?

No.

You still despised Heeseung for his flannel that told you everything. The way his face fell pale and the way he wanted to “explain.” Nothing made sense to you, and your thoughts were still tightly wrapped around that night.

Nothing made sense — not even your own feelings.

You didn’t know why you were so bothered and so angry at the boy. Every time you saw him after that night, your eyes would immediately dart away, fleeing his presence. He would attempt to run after you, but he would constantly lose your trail.

“Well, look at that. I can already hear the music and we’re only a block away.” Yeeun broke the silence once again.

“You might want to park your car around here,” you suggested. “It would be best if we walked over there instead. You wouldn’t want your car getting damaged by drunk students, would you?”

You were right, and Yeeun nodded happily. Complying with your suggestion, she pulled over, parking in front of a lawn, away from anyone’s garage lane. The housing was rather sparse in the area and none of the neighbors seemed to be bothered by the intense booming music coming from the party. Yeeun checked once again if her windows were rolled up completely before getting out of her car. Swiftly following her, you stepped out of the door from your side. You hadn’t even gone into the house, but you could already feel your soul leaving your body. You despised loud, chaotic environments — especially parties.

Yeeun scurried over to you, linking her arm with yours. “Isn’t this so exciting? Let’s find Heeseung as soon as we enter, okay?”

You squinted at her before reassuring her with a sarcastic smile. “Um, actually, I’m a little carsick. I think I’ll stay outside for a while.”

“No, you can’t do that!” She whined, shooting you an accusing pout. “At least greet him with me first. I told him I was gonna bring a plus one. You can go anywhere you want after.”

Demanding and inconsiderate. You had figured that she was just as stubborn as Heeseung.

“Fucking kind facade.” You mumbled under your breath, clearing your throat in the process.

“What?” Yeeun questioned with the same innocent eyes she had looked at you with the first time you two had met.

“Oh nothing, let’s go in.” You smiled.

Yeeun didn’t ask further questions. Blinded by her eagerness, she pulled you into the loud atmosphere littered with red plastic cups and confetti. The music was earsplitting, only making it possible to hear each other if you spoke up. “Shall we head to the main living room area? I heard he’s usually there with his friend group.” Yeeun attempted to shout over the music, covering her ears in the process. The speakers were right at the door, so maybe this was the reason the music overpowered.

You nodded hesitantly, and the girl didn’t waste a single second, dragging you further past the groups of students playing beer pong. Their drunken cheers of victory enticed you more than wherever the heck Yeeun was dragging you to.

“Oh, shit.” The shorter girl halted. “I see him.”

“Damn, do you have twenty, twenty vision or something? Because I can’t see shit.” You spoke with a lack of enthusiasm.

Yeeun turned around, facing you as she fidgeted with her fingers. “Do you see him over there? He’s surprisingly not wearing anything shockingly fashionable, but he still looks so good.” She gushed, looking down at her feet.

Once again, she reminded you. No matter how her personality took a turn, her feelings towards him were still the same — innocent and pure. She liked him a lot, and you could tell from the way her eyelashes fluttered as she spotted him.

Titling your head to the left, you looked in the direction where Yeeun was last staring. You spotted him almost immediately. He stood against a wall, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the same plastic red cup you had seen everyone with. Yeeun was right. He was dressed rather effortlessly, but he was still attractive. He wore a plain white t-shirt tucked neatly in his black straight-fit pants. His hair was styled and neatly parted, however, unlike regular days, more of his forehead was exposed today. He looked mature, unlike his daily boy-ish looks. “Well, it’s your chance. Go up to him.” You encouraged, trying your best to feel the same excitement Yeeun had felt.

“Crap, he looks so good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to say anything. What if I get tongue twisted? You’ll help me, right?” Yeeun panicked slightly, her eyes darting everywhere.

You gave the girl another reassuring nod. How many times would you have to reassure her today? “Yeah, just go up to him.”

Yeeun took a few breaths in and out, calming herself. “Okay, let me reorient myself.”

With Yeeun still facing away from Heeseung, you stole another glance at the group he was standing with. You spotted Sunghoon, the puppy looking boy and the other boy with the sharp features. You had recognized them from the rugby game, as their faces weren’t the easiest to forget. Before you could divert your attention back to the panicking Yeeun, your eyes met a familiar pair of inky dark eyes. Through his hooded lids, Heeseung looked up at you from the rim of the plastic cup he was drinking out of. He held eye contact, his gaze piercing right through you.

Instead of looking away, you stared back at him. Your surroundings seemed to disperse into nothingness as you fell deeper into his gaze that devoured all light with its intensity. You felt your stomach flip inside out as the boy kept his gaze trained on you.

How could he be so confident after that incident?

He really felt nothing, huh?

“Yn? Yn?” Yeeun was already snapping her fingers at your dazed expression. “What are you looking at? You’re making me more nervous.”

“Oh shit. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it.” You stammered, forcing another one of your fake smiles.

Yeeun rolled her eyes. “You’re constantly zoning out today, but I’ll let it go since you’re helping me out.” Maybe the girl had felt a sudden surge of confidence because she was now holding onto your wrist, pulling you towards the group of boys. She stopped right in front of the four of them and cleared her throat, signaling for their attention. You stood behind the girl, attempting to divert your attention back to the kids playing beer pong.

“Oh? Who’s this?” The puppy looking boy spoke in an amused tone. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new here?”

“Wow shut up bro, ask for her name first.” The boy with the sharper features stated.

You could see Yeeun fidgeting with the helm of her skirt. Heeseung wasn't even looking at the anxious girl in front of him. Instead, his eyes were glued on you, who seemed concerned about Yeeun’s nervous state.

“Oh wait,” Sunghoon pushed Yeeun slightly, moving her off to the side. He was moving towards you. “You, you’re Yn aren’t you? Ryujin’s friend.”

You lifted your gaze up to meet Sunghoon’s amused stare. Shit. Yeeun looked pissed. She had been completely disregarded by the boys, and Heeseung didn’t even seem to recognize her. “Oh yeah, hi.” You responded dryly.

“Oh wait, you’re Yn?” the puppy boy spoke again. “Heeseung mentioned you before, isn’t that right?” He nudged his friend on the shoulder, indulging in the conversation Sunghoon had established with you.

Your gaze found Heeseung once again. He didn’t speak. His face sat emotionless, void of any sort of reaction as he leaned back against the wall, sipping on his drink without responding to Jake.

“Sorry, he’s been a little out of it recently, I apologize for—"

“Doesn’t matter.” You blurted out. “Um, this is my friend Yeeun. She was invited by one of you, I’m assuming? She just wanted to say hi.” You wanted to avoid saying Heeseung’s name at all costs.

The boys looked at each other, confused. “Uh, I don’t think any of us invited her.” The boy with the sharper features spoke again, further extending his apologetic tone.

“I did.” Heeseung finally spoke up. “Well, she practically begged me to invite her. She bothered me about it for the whole lecture and she just couldn’t stop going on about how she wished she could be at my game. She kept batting her eyelashes at me as if her stupid falsies could seduce me or something. It was kind of sad, honestly. Actually, it’s embarrassing, seeing someone try so hard just to get notice—“

“What the fuck is your problem?” You viscously snapped at him. You could see Yeeun shaking slightly from the rude remarks Heeseung had thrown at her while inching close to her. He had taken someone’s genuine feelings and twisted them to sound like some obsession. You didn’t like Yeeun’s pushy attitude, but this was too much.

The other boys were stunned by your words, too scared to speak up. Yes, they had thought their friend had gone too far, but now that you spoke, there was no more room to intervene.

“What the fuck do you mean? What’s my problem?” Heeseung retorted. This time, his eyes burned with anger. He pushed his drink into Sunghoon’s grasp before pushing Yeeun to the side once again as he approached you.

“You can’t just say that about someone. Do you know how much your words can affect someone? Simply disregarding someone’s genuine feelings doesn’t make you cool. Just because you have a reputation doesn’t mean everyone fucking wants you. Stop acting so entitled because it’s gonna stab you in the back.” You hissed, ignoring how the room fell silent.

“Well, you know what? Your friend here seems to fucking want me, so your point isn’t getting through. She was practically drooling when she entered the fucking house.” Heeseung fired back.

He had already seen you two as soon as you both walked through the doors? Looking back at Yeeun, she shot you a venomous glare. You had completely ruined her chances with Heeseung, and now you were here arguing with him.

You were sick of this.

You had a feeling since day one, no one would walk out of this happy. You knew involving yourself would tangle up the situation, but you were already in too deep, trying to protect Yeeun’s image. Yet, she didn’t seem a tad thankful for your actions.

“Fuck this cupid shit.” You mumbled while scoffing. You didn’t know why Heeseung had targeted all his anger on you after he was the one who threw rude remarks at your friend. But more specifically, you didn’t know why he was so angry at you when he was the one caught in an unfortunate tango with some random girl. You remembered his apologetic eyes the first time he tried to explain. But now, all that was left was anger fuelling strongly in his heart. Maybe he just didn’t want you to tell everyone you had seen him that night and that’s why he tried to convince you with his sad eyes.

“You know what? Fuck you, all of you.” You fumed, turning around almost immediately. You didn’t want to be in this house for any second longer. Yeeun watched as you dashed out of the house, slamming the door in the process. She was pissed — pissed that you blew her chances.

“Yo, what the fuck is wrong with you today?” Sunghoon pushed the plastic cup back into Heeseung’s hand. “First you’re being irresponsive, now you’re being some actual fucking jerk. All this for what, huh? Apologize.”

Heeseung himself didn’t know what had gotten into him.

He had no reason to blow up in your face, nor did he have a reason to denounce Yeeun with such venomous remarks. He didn’t even know why he was so angry. The feeling that welled up in his stomach when he saw you enter the house with a smile on your face suffocated him. It’s not that he didn’t want to speak, he just couldn’t bring himself to.

“I need some fresh air.” Heeseung finally spoke up again, excusing himself from his confused friends, who only shouted at him to come back. Yeeun stood frozen, watching as the boy she so desired disappear into a crowd of people. He had ignored her presence first, made such negative remarks about her, and then, once again, disregarded her while leaving without a single apology. The rumors were lies. Heeseung wasn’t a swift player who swept people off their feet.

Instead, he was cruel and seemingly heartless. Yeeun’s view began to cloud and blur as tears welled up in her eyes.  

…

Heeseung headed straight for the door. He once again felt the sudden urge to find you, to apologize for everything that had transpired this past week. You had looked at him with such disappointment. He felt a lump forming in his throat at the thought of you hating him. As soon as he made his way outside, the cold air sent shivers down his spine. Had it always been this cold? His gaze quickly darted in every direction, until he spotted you a block away, leaning against a car with your hands covering your face. Were you crying? But his words weren’t even directed towards you.

His trudge towards you felt almost painful as his feet grew heavier with every step. At this point, you had sensed someone coming in your direction. Looking up, you made direct eye contact with Heeseung, who stood frozen in front of you. You weren’t crying. Rather, you seemed frustrated, especially now in his presence. “Why the fuck are you here?” You spat, gaze piercing through his.

Heeseung’s eyes softened, erasing his lingering anger. He didn’t have the right to get angry with you in the first place, and now that he was alone with you, he no longer wanted to keep beefing. Swallowing the lump that reformed in his throat, Heeseung finally spoke up. “I’m here to apologize. Not just for today, but the other night, too.”

“What is there to apologize for?” You retorted.

You were afraid to break down in front of Heeseung.

You couldn’t let him know how devastated you had felt after you saw him the other night. Rather, you couldn’t even give him the slightest hint that you were affected by his actions.

You were right. What was there to apologize for? It’s not like he did anything wrong. But somehow the guilt was eating away at him. He didn’t want you to misunderstand his feelings.

His feelings?

“You’re right. There’s nothing to apologize for, but everyday we grow further apart. At this point, you’re practically avoiding me like I’m some plague.” Heeseung spoke.

He had caught you. Sure, you wanted to play it off like nothing had happened. But whenever you saw the boy, you couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in your chest. Avoiding him was your only option. “I realized that I shouldn’t get close to you, since you’re my clients—”

Shit. You weren’t supposed to tell him.

“I mean. You’re um,” you struggled to make up an excuse. “You’re bad news. That’s what everyone says.”

“I know already. You don’t have to hide it.” Heeseung mumbled. “I knew that Yeeun girl was your client right when you spoke up for her. I was her target, huh? You’re tasked to bring us together. Is that why you distanced yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s not professional to have close relations with your client’s—“

“But what if I liked you?” Heeseung intervened. “What if I couldn’t go a fucking day without you?”

You were lost for words, and time seemed to stop at his sudden confession. What the heck did he just say?

“Yn, I don’t care for your fucking client or your stupid cupid services. I don’t care about professionalism, nor do I care about hurting Yeeun’s feelings. Every single time you avoided me or ignored me, I felt as if I was sinking deeper into a pit of lava. It fucking hurts. Do you know that? To see your expression drop into a cold hard stare as soon as we made eye contact.”

“Then why the fuck did you sleep with that girl if you liked me so much?!” You finally lashed out, demanding an answer.

His eyes widened, shocked by your words. Of course, he wanted to explain himself, but he didn’t expect you to blatantly ask him out of the blue. “That,” he hesitated. “I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I don’t usually feel such a strong attachment to people, and I wanted to deny every last hint of my true feelings. I thought that maybe… I thought by getting with someone else, I’d forget about how I felt about you. But it was the complete opposite. The more I indulged in my old habits to erase you from my thoughts, the more empty I felt. The worst was the other night when you came knocking on my door. I couldn’t even process the situation. My mind just fell blank. I knew I wouldn’t be able to apologize without telling you everything. Yn I’m sorry. You probably don’t even fucking care, sorry for—“

“It hurt like shit. Did you know that?” This time, you were the one to cut him off. “You could’ve told me earlier.”

“But you were the one avoiding me.” Heeseung spoke with an innocent expression on his face.

He was right. You would never listen to his reasoning unless you came to terms with your own feelings. You would continue to ignore him until he got tired of trying.

You giggled softly. “You’re right. That was ridiculous for me to say.”

Heeseung’s frown finally curved up into a genuine smile, an unfamiliar sight. You were so used to his cocky grins and his sly smirks, you couldn’t help but admire the way the corner of his lips lifted ‌so effortlessly. “You’re finally smiling again. I missed it. I missed you.”

You stared at the boy, this time falling victim to his piercing gaze once again. You stood there frozen, unable to move, as Heeseung stared back at you with his inky eyes that appeared golden under the streetlight.

The both of you fell into the comfort of silence.

Falling deeper in his eyes, you barely noticed him inching closer to you, his breath fanning your lips. Not being able to process anything completely, you managed to hold your breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the proximity and the boy's staggering breath.

He was nervous.

He had never been nervous, but as he slowly leaned in, he could hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. You stood still, gripping onto the helm of your skirt as if you were holding on for dear life. Too scared to move, you didn’t know what to expect. But most importantly, you couldn’t even process what was transpiring between you two.

Was this wrong?

What were you doing?

Before your mind could wander into deeper analysis or questioning, you feel his soft lips press against yours. His movements were gentle, almost as if he could hurt you at any moment. His arms encase you as they both rest on the car behind you. Heeseung was afraid to hold you. In his eyes, you were as delicate as a feather, and just one touch would break you. He saw you as someone precious, non-deserving of his filthy hands.

Who even gave him the right to kiss you?

You, on the other hand, were lost in your own world as your mind swarmed and your heart raced. You liked Heeseung. You truly did. Your hands slowly crept away from your side, wanting to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, but before you could, he swiftly pulled away. His breaths remained unsteady as he saw your flushed face. “Shit, I’m sorry Yn. That was all of a sudden, I know.” He mumbled as his ears burned.

“Don’t apologize.” You blushed, reaching for his hand that fell to his side. Your pinky latched onto his pinky finger as you nervously looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“Does this count as you accepting my apology, then?” Heeseung spoke in an almost whispering tone.

Finally, looking up at the boy again, you gave him a reassuring smile as you hummed in response. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile like a fool, knowing you had felt the same about him.

You had accepted his apology and you didn’t push him away when he kissed you. Heeseung couldn’t be happier. What else could happen to steal his happiness away? Nothing else mattered anymore.

“Heeseung, where the fuck are you?” A voice echoed through the street. It was Sunghoon. He had come looking for his friend.

“Oh shit. I think I have to go.” Heeseung shot you an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry Yn, I’ll see you on monday?”

You nodded, giving him another smile.

His hands left the comfort of yours as he turned away, heading back to the house.

Your pinkies were now detached from each other.

A promise would be broken.

The next weekend you spent, curdled up in your room, replaying your encounter in your head. What the heck had transpired? Heeseung had kissed you. And you did nothing to stop him. You buried your face in your palms as you blushed again. You felt as if you were on cloud nine. What could go wrong?

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself.

Your phone buzzed, shaking you out of your endless thought loop.

Yeeun: Yn. I don’t know what the heck happened that day and I don’t understand why you felt the need to speak up for me. If he was gonna slander me, then so be it. You failed. You fucking failed bringing us together, and you left me that night, alone. How can you even make up for all this? How could you do this? Where’s your fucking professionalism, huh? What are you gonna do now, huh?

You froze at Yeeun’s text. Part of you wanted to blame her for having no self-worth whatsoever. But in another sense, she was right. You were the sole reason she wasn’t able to get with who she wanted. You involved your own feelings into the mix, completely throwing everything off course. It was your fault for diverting Heeseung’s attention, and you knew you were wrong. It was stated clearly in the rules: you could never have personal relations with your client, or your client’s love interest — you had broken them both.

You let your emotions get the best of you when you intervened in the conversation, attempting to protect Yeeun, and most importantly, you had kissed Heeseung, completely enveloped in your own feelings. Your first mistake was accepting Yeeun’s invite to the party.

No. Your first mistake was getting involved with Lee Heeseung.

Your phone buzzed again.

Yeeun: Also, I hope you don’t think I’m dumb. I saw you. I saw you with him. I can’t believe you could do this to me — and you still preach professionalism? Cut the bullshit, Yn. You completely deceived me, and unless you want to deal with getting kicked out, I suggest you do something.

You didn’t care if you got kicked out, frankly it would probably be for the best if this would be the outcome of your requests. However, the main issue was your own guilt, that was picking away at you. You had lied and pretended to help someone. You had acted selfishly, only caring for your own emotions. The sole purpose of the Cupid consulting club was to prioritize your client’s feelings and help them in your best effort. You did none of that. You didn’t prioritize Yeeun, nor did you truly help her.

You shrunk back into your chair, contemplating what to do.

Yeeun was right.

You had to do something.

——

Heeseung was left confused once again. The boy was thrilled to see you after the weekend and it was all he could think about. His friends had also found his attitude weird, as they saw him randomly chuckle out of the blue. They didn’t ask questions, but they were happy he was finally out of his slump.

So why did he see you avoid his gaze once again, scurrying off to get away from him? He shook it off, thinking you were still nervous from the party incident, but as days flew by, you once again avoided him like he was some sick disease. What had he done so wrong now? He needed an answer.

He would not let you go so easily again.

“Yn.” You heard a shout from behind you. His familiar voice echoed through the empty hall, and as soon as you heard him, you wanted to dash for your life. “Can you just fucking stop? Why are you running?” The voice spoke again.

You knew if you turned around, your heart would shatter.

Right. This was for the best. You had to compose yourself.

“Yn what the fuck?” Heeseung garbled your wrist, turning you around to face him. “Why are you ignoring me again? After everything?”

You met his saddened eyes, filled to the brim with unexplainable emotions. You couldn’t bear seeing him like this, but his grip on your wrist only seemed to tighten as you attempted to wiggle out. “Let go of me.” You spat.

“What the fuck, Yn? You can’t just expect me to leave when you’re acting like this. I thought we talked this over already? Why are you acting like this, avoiding me?”

You sighed. Pushing your emotions back into your churning stomach. You hated this. You wanted to disappear.

“Stay away from me. I don’t care what you thought happened that day, but nothing did. Think of it as a mistake.” You blurted out. “No, actually, you’re Lee Heeseung, so think of it as your average fling.”

His face fell pale, all the emotions drained out by your words. “What did you just say?” He stammered.

“Do I have to make it any clearer?” You spoke again, this time struggling to keep your voice steady. “That day meant nothing to me.”

Heeseung felt as if he had been punched relentlessly in the stomach. He had poured out all his emotions to you and for the first time; he felt comfortable and content with someone. But now you were standing in front of him, each word piercing him slowly but deeply. You gave the boy a taste of his own medicine unknowingly, and all he could do was beg you to stay. “Yn, you don’t mean it.”

The more the conversation dragged on, the more you felt yourself waver in your emotions.

You wanted to drop this act, but you knew what had to be done.

“I do. You meant nothing to me. All your actions made me laugh. How could you fall for someone just because they didn’t show interest in you at the beginning? You’re truly pathetic.”

That was a lie and your words continued to thrust him deeper into agony. Sure, Heeseung enjoyed the chase, but he would drop anyone without batting an eye if they weren’t showing any interest. He thought he would feel the same about you, but his feelings proved him wrong. “If this is all an act for your stupid client, drop it. I told you already that I don’t care about your client, and if this is for her, I won’t accept it.”

He had caught you red-handed, but there was no turning back.

“No, I fucking despise you. Everything about you pisses me off to the core, especially your habits. Your habits are absolutely disgusting” At this point, you now involved your own insecurities into this. You hated his sweet words because at the back of your head you feared he was lying and you hated his habits, mainly because you were afraid he would never be truly content with you.

But none of that mattered.

Because you were never supposed to involve your own emotions in the first place.

Heeseung grabbed your shoulders, pulling you close to him. His grip tightened, breathing in slowly as he pressed his eyes shut in frustration. “Yn, fucking look at me in the eyes and tell me that there was nothing between us. Look into my eyes and tell me everything was a lie.” His voice wavered, cracking at the end of his sentence.

You took the last bit of courage you had and looked up at the boy, whose eyes were now begging you to tell him that it wasn’t a lie. “Did you not hear me the first time?” You spoke in the steadiest voice you could muster up. “You meant absolutely nothing to me, and you never will. In my heart, you amount to nothing.”

His grip on your shoulders loosened as they fell to his side in pure terror. Backing away, his hands began to quiver and his breaths grew unsteady. Never in his life did he ever think he’d experience the absolute horror of a heartbreak. He had cruised through his life, breaking hearts left and right, but never did he think he’d find himself on the verge of breaking down.

“Heeseung, it’s over. Whatever exchange we had, ends here. Don’t approach me or even look in my direction ever again.”

And that’s all it took.

That’s all it took to break Lee Heeseung, the boy who grew up engulfed by praises — the “careless” jerk, who was immune to tears and deemed “unbreakable.”

That’s all it took.

“Yn,” He croaked out, his voice still wavering. “Even if you shoved me deep into the pits of hell, I would still crawl back to you. Even if my legs were severed, I’d still claw my way back to you. Don’t you understand?” He paused.

“I fucking love you.”

Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach. You understood. You wanted to embrace him, to apologize, and to comfort him.

But you knew.

Cupid’s law number one: Never fall in love.

You were a matchmaker. You had no place involving your own emotions.

You were a matchmaker with the sole purpose of bringing others together.

But you ruined it.

You ruined it for everyone.

You had to swallow that bitter pill and acknowledge your wrongdoings. You had to come face to face with it all, and accept that you had failed.

You had fallen in love.

And in the process, you broke people for the sake of your own happiness.

There was a reason why rules were set, and you never knew the severity of following them until now.

You let your emotions get the best of you, and that’s where it all spiraled downwards.

You didn’t have the right to love; you were undeserving of it.

And if it meant breaking Heeseung’s heart to make up for your wrongdoings, you would gladly do so, no matter how badly it hurt.

For the sake of others.

You had to let go.

“I’m sorry.”

———————————————————————————————————

A/N: oml hi bff! You’ve made it through this word vomit. Hello, but I’m so honored that you even survived till the end. Editing this, plus blr acting up took like 5 hours I wanna cry. But anyways, thank you so much for reading! This is my first official one-shot, so feel free to leave your feedback and thoughts! I would love to read all of them. But again, thank you so much for reading ilyyy

©seungstarss

Do not copy or steal!

#jungwonics j.o.o.r #enhypen #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen imagines #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung oneshots #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jay #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #enhypen jungwon #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen hyung line

[viv-weylin]

Some thoughts about Shilo (and a lot of my thoughts about the aromantic reading of him)

Okay, so Shilo has been a character that's been spinning in my head pretty constantly. This isn't going to be organized but rather kind of just. Thoughts.

I see a lot of people interpret Shilo as a purely innocent person who has done no wrong wet cat, and yeah! He is! But the thing is, he's... done wrong. He's a vampire. There's something inherently evil in all vampires, and i believe this misconception stems from people not knowing the vtm lore. In VTM, all vampires have a beast inside of them, and this beast is inherently evil and cruel and animalistic, which is the part that forces vampires to feed. Shilo hasn't frenzied, he's never lost control of this beast but the fact he has one is enough to make him "not purely innocent", I'd argue he thinks he's innocent and hasn't done wrong but keep in mind he has zero hestitation throwing guards to die. He's indirectly killed several times, and that's not really something we can ignore when thinking about shilo.

He's also incredibly manipulative. He has no worries dominating or manipulating people for his own gain, and again, this comes from his sheltered life. This comes from him simply not knowing any better, but even then, this is a major flaw that i feel some people dont think about.

Shilo isn't rapunzel, Rapunzel isn't a killer, and she isn't manipulative with a disregard for people's lives. That is to say Shilo isn't pure evil, but rather, he's a morally grey character. He's killed, and he's manipulated, but you could argue that it came from a place of not knowing any better, but even then, he's still killed and manipulated. Do you see where the interesting moral dichotomy lies? Is he at fault for the evil he does if he doesn't know any better. I just dont like the "purely good" Shilo takes I've seen some people have.

The aromantic stuff:

I think it's rather well known I'm an aroace shilo truther (if im being honest, i have a distaste for armored pheasant to an extent, but that is not what this is about). I feel as if that's a rather crucial part of his character, and it's not unsubstantiated. He quite literally says he's incapable of having romantic feelings, and in the newest episode (i am not caught up, forgive me), I've heard there's more he says that hints towards this aromantic reading. He's had zero interest in romance, and the fact he was bloodbonded to Edward without his consent can have rather interesting implications that I believe could be expanded on. A lot of aromantics know that feeling of being told "I can fix you" or whatever and Shilo parallels it quite well with the experience he has had with Edward. Below is the quote where he says he's incapable of romantic love.

(This is my own personal opinion but I believe his character is also sort of dumbed down once someone ships him with Grefgore. A lot of people did from the get go, and I get and see the appeal but I also think they're better as friends but again, personal opinion and I don't care if you ship them but his character falls into the "only interesting for the shipping to the fandom" pit quite easily.)

There's something incredibly validating to have a character like Shilo, who's kind and silly and aromantic if that makes sense. Aromantic representation has been lackluster, and most representation is god awful (coughLovelesscough) so having Shilo would be really nice. He's not canon representation, yes. Unless Bizly straight up confirms it, it's just implied representation but come on. It's right there guys. Give us an aro win.

His character has a lot of interesting bits: a character who's only experience with the world is through media & book (hashtag autism), a character who's incredibly cruel yet kind, a character blind to his own flaws, an aromantic character who loves despite. Give me more morally grey Shilo, more guilty Shilo and most of all. More Aromantic Shilo.

#shilo bathory #shilo bathroy #jrwi #just roll with it #the suckening #jrwi the suckening #aromantic shilo bathory

[erodasfishtacos]

hiiii.

this is the first two parts of an exclusive trope i have on pateron. it is completed and all together eight parts.

if you’re interested in the rest, you can sign up here for $3USD and have access to 100s of stories and blurbs.

++

YN doesn't know why she thought that a hockey game of all things would make her feel any better about her breakup with Adam.

YN really can’t imagine that anything will lessen the sour taste of her high school sweetheart getting another girl pregnant.

All YN had known was Adam which she was now realizing how much she had been missing out on experiencing through her earlier twenties.

While Adam snuck around behind her back to experiment, hook-up, and do whatever else with other woman.

YN, unfortunately, only knew Adam intimately.

YN always knew that had been lackluster, always more to desire because he chased his own needs and very rarely helped her reach her own pleasure.

It was bittersweet.

There’s a massive relief that she doesn’t have to imagine her entire life with him and open it to new possibilities.

However, the hurt that came with his infidelity still ached enough that she sometimes physically felt her chest twinge.

A hockey game with a few of her close friends.

Her best friend, April, worked for the arena which meant that she was able to secure pretty close-to-the-ice tickets for a fourth of the price.

As they sat down, a few of them had already had a drink or two in them, and YN didn’t want to mix alcohol with a broken heart so she stuck to a soda instead.

After they’ve filed into their seats, YN was at the one end of her group which meant the chair next to her would be filled by another attendee.

She didn’t think anything of it, leaning across her friend Henry to chat to April, her back towards the empty seat.

YN does not realize that someone is trying to sit down until someone bumps her in the back with their elbow, not hard enough to hurt but enough that YN glances back.

“Sorry for that,” The most gorgeous man she’s ever seen apologizes, a big genuine smile that makes dimples pop in his cheeks, “Got my hands full.”

And he did, he managed to carry three bottles of beer by the neck in one hand, his other filled with a tray of food.

His friends follow shortly after, tugging the beers one by one out of his hand until he can sit down comfortably with his carton of food on his lap.

“It’s okay,” YN assures him, trying to not make it too obvious that she’s giving him a sneaky once over because damn.

He was in a pair of well fitting jeans, a shirt that looked vintage but hugged his broad shoulders tight, looser as it tapered down.

The man continues to smile at her as his friends appear to be quite a rowdy group in comparison to him as they settle in.

“You’re pretty,” The stranger tells her, no shame in his words but not much meaning because he’s already turning back towards his friends like he didn’t just rock her world.

YN questions whether she heard it right because did he just call her pretty?

She tries desperately not to hyper focus on it like a schoolgirl with a crush but it’s hard when his shoulders are so broad, his biceps were built.

It was impossible for their bodies not to be frequently touching.

YN attempts to focus on her friends until the game starts, having to face forward and not be able to have her back to the man.

“You want a fry?” The stranger asks randomly after a few moments.

YN assumes that he’s talking to a friend until he nudges her with an elbow, “Do you want a fry or a chicken strip?”

YN normally wouldn’t accept food from someone she didn’t know but their dinner had been disgusting and inedible which meant her stomach was rumbling.

He’s offering the basket up to her, letting her pick out a fry, and his smile was still just plaster on his face as he watched her.

“Thank you,” YN replies after she’s finished it, giving him more of an unsure grin back.

“Help yourself,” He tells her casually before he’s placing the basket between them so she could grab a fry or strip more easily.

This was weird.

After a few minutes, YN hesitantly plucks up another fry, and the man next to her doesn’t acknowledge that she’s eating out of his basket at all.

When YN’s hand hits paper, she looked down in utter embarrassment, “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I didn’t even realize that I was eating all your food.”

The guy looks over at her for a moment, confused until he glances down at the basket balanced on his leg, and then back to her.

“I’ll go grab you another one right now-“

YN moves to stand up and his hand lightly comes to her shoulder to keep her sat, his expression is somewhat unreadable, somewhat amused.

“I offered them to you? Why are you apologizing?”

“You didn’t offer for me to eat the whole basket,” YN points out with a heat in her cheeks, this was embarrassing.

“Are you still hungry? I could go grab more,” He asks easily, it wasn’t a jest or teasing, he was being a hundred percent serious.

If YN would have ate Adam’s food, he would have demanded she go immediately to get more and then bring it up for the rest of the night too.

This man, who was unfairly attractive but more than that, suspiciously nice even though it didn’t come off as creepy or predatory.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry again,” YN apologizes again for good measure as she picks anxiously at her thumb.

“No apology needed,” He shakes his head with a laugh as he puts the empty remnants on the ground in front of him and swigs from his beer.

YN has to keep her eyes on the ice, she is much too focused on every time his shoulder brushes or his knee knocks in hers because he has to spread his legs an ungodly amount.

There was no conversation between them until another attendee who was further into the middle row was attempting to exit by their side.

The man was a bit wobbly, there was surely a lot of alcohol running through his system and he wasn’t being careful.

He trips over his own feet, over the debris on the ground, and rumbles right on top of YN who yelps in surprise.

The man next to her is quick to action, standing up and tugging the guy back up so that he was standing off his feet.

He was visibly annoyed with the drunk, voice sharp as he warns, “Watch where you’re fucking walking, mate. You could have hurt her.”

The guy mumbles an apology before staggering up the stairs, most likely to get more alcohol.

“Thank you,” YN says once again to him, adjusting her top and brushing off the pants of her leg, heart still pounding.

“Harry, bro. Johnson almost scored!” One of his friends pats his arm excitedly.

Harry.

Well, Harry gives her that signature smile before biting the corner of his lip, and his eyes stay on her a moment longer than acceptable before going back to his friends.

When a commercial break cuts, towards the end of the game, it’s the crowd's favorite time.

The kiss cam.

YN doesn’t think much of it, she’s not with anyone nor loving up on someone.

And it’s an area with fifty-thousand people, it’s next to impossible for her to-

But then her friends are squealing, shoving at her to look towards the Jumbotron, and there she is, projected on the screen.

The frame is decorated with corny swirling pink hearts, balloons popping, and most importantly bold letters that read, ‘KISS CAM’.

In the frame with her, however, is Harry.

As if they were a couple.

His friends must point it out to him because he’s glancing at the screen before he’s making eye contact with her.

Boldly, wildly, he grins and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

YN boldy, wildly nods ‘yes’.

He leans into her space then, big hands coming up to cup her face, and he pulls her into a kiss with an intensity that’s unwarranted but welcomed.

YN can feel her heartbeat in her throat, blood rushing through her ears, and her hand trembling when she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

It’s not chaste.

No, Harry is swiping his tongue against her bottom lip as the crowd goes absolutely insane, roaring and hooting.

Not to mention their friends.

At some point, the camera finds a new couple but YN is positive that they’ve kissed for much longer than they were on the screen before they both pull back.

His lips are puffy, pink, and his eyes are intent on her.

YN feels like panting and her heart jumps when he leans back in for another kiss, a shorter, more sweet one but his hand is grounding on her jaw.

“I’m Harry.”

“YN,” She smiles back at him, her hand still gripping onto him and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as they just can’t take their eyes off each other.

“Would you want to get out of here?” Harry asks brazenly, hopefully as he appears like he wants to devour her.

YN who’s never been a risk-tasker, who’s never had a hook-up, or anyone other than Adam finds herself agreeing, “Yeah, I do.”

+ second part +

After Harry had opened his apartment door, the arousal and excitement has warped into a trembling nervousness.

What the fuck did a random hookup look like?

YN didn’t even know if she was good at sex because Adam only had a few trusty positions that he liked.

Harry locks the door behind them, the apartment is small but cozy and clean, it smells like his cologne and the lighting is just right for the mood.

He steps up behind her, leaning down to kiss her neck, and his hands on her hips, bigger and stronger than anything she’s ever felt before.

“Do you need anything first? Bathroom, food, water?” He asks against her skin, he was forward in the way that he was already pressing his hips into her backside.

YN shakes her head, trying to keep up, “No, thank you.”

Harry laughs softly, lips smooth against her pulse, “So polite. Let me know if that changes, baby.”

Baby.

They just met and it sounded sincere, not like a corny pickup line.

Harry moves in front of her, not once ounce of shyness as he crosses his arms over his chest and tugs his shirt up and off.

He was ripped.

Surprisingly so, not that he didn’t look fit with his shirt on but YN wasn’t expecting him to have abs, a sharp vee cutting towards his groin, nor the defined muscle near his ribs.

He looks like he walked out of a magazine.

Was she being pranked?

YN didn’t think this could possibly be real life where the most handsome man she’d ever seen was stripping for her.

He moves towards his jeans, unbuckling his belt, and shimmying them off his narrow hips before kicks them to the side.

Just in his briefs and socks, his groin was prominent, and YN’s heart lurches at that because she’s only taken Adam who was a little below average in size.

His wasn’t average, she could tell from here.

A nervous flip of arousal churns in the bit of her stomach, she wanted this man so much that she felt like clenching her thighs together.

Harry’s brow knife in concern when he notices YN stood like a statue, just staring at him, and making no effort to move.

“Is everything okay?” Harry checks cautiously, stepping towards her but not touching her as he looks unsure.

Fuck, she was embarrassed again.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” Her voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, “Just my first time.”

Harry’s eyes widen in alarm, startled, “Oh fuck, I would have done shit different if I knew that you’ve never-“

YN realizes she could have used much better wording and waves her hand, “No no, I’m not a virgin. I just got out of a long-term relationship. I’ve only ever been with him. This is my first time…just randomly hooking up with someone.”

A relieved smile crosses Harry’s face, “Shit, baby. I’m glad you chose me. How could someone let you go? Prettiest face I’ve ever seen, cutest set of tits too.”

“I just might not be the best but,” YN shrugs sheepishly, this has to be the most mortifying experience ever.

“Don’t be worried ‘bout a thing,” Harry assures her as he steps forward, “Now I gotta give it my all to prove m’better than your ex.”

YN decides to take a step out of her comfort zone, reaching forward to grip him through the cotton of his briefs, and he fills her whole hand.

“You weren’t going to give it your all before?” YN teases, feeling her confidence grow by the moment as she moves to thumb over the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, eyes meeting hers under his lashes, “I was always going to, baby.”

“Mhm,” YN hums, not convinced as he twitches in her palm, easy for her already.

“Gotta get you naked, my room,” Harry’s breathing is heavier as he reaches out for her hand, guiding her towards his bedroom.

Once they’re in, it’s surprisingly big, and has a comfortable looking king-sized bed that was actually made nicely.

“Please,” YN hears him asks after a moment of her being distracted, “Let me undress you. I’m fuckin’ dying to see you.”

YN can’t help but look over his body once more and she knew she was nothing in comparison to his athletic build.

However, pushing the insecurity down, she nods with a smile for him to undress her.

It was worth the nerves.

By the time she’s down to just her panties, Harry is groaning as he acts like he’s never seen anything better in his life.

“Knew you’d have the cutest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” Harry rumbles as he ducks down to cup them in his big palms, mouth wrapping around one and sucking.

It felt amazing.

Adam didn’t pay any attention to her body when they had sex, never had, and it did feel like her first time in a way.

She wouldn’t want it with anyone else but Harry.

His hand trails from her breast down her belly, fingers dipping into the front of her cotton underwear.

“Fuck, wait,” YN reaches down to hold his wrist, cheeks warm, “You don’t have to.”

Harry pulls his mouth back from her chest, frowning as he stands up straight again, “Do you not like that?”

“It’s not that, I just haven’t you know…” YN trails off, hoping that he would catch on.

He doesn’t.

“You haven’t….” Harry repeats back, he was still soft and gentle, unhurried and patient with her as she hesitated.

YN looks past his right ear as she replies, “I haven’t shaved in a while. We’ve been broken up for a few months and I haven’t maintained-“

Harry is letting out a humored snort, leaning forward to kiss her quiet before he’s kneeling down in front of her, mouth laying wet kisses on her belly.

“Baby, you’re insane if you think I mind hair. Anyway, I can get your pussy is fine by me. I like it, knowing I’m the first to have you like this in a while,” Harry replies, voice scratchier as his arousal grows, and his lips stay on her hip as he tugs the underwear down her legs.

Adam would refuse to have anything to do with her if she wasn’t freshly shaven.

Not shaving for the past few months had felt like the most freeing experience, she hadn’t ever thought she would be randomly having a hookup or she would have shaved.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Harry groans when he finally gets a look at her, his thumb coming up to smooth down the downy curls that were lightly dusting her pubic bone.

“Harry,” YN giggles anxiously, “You don’t have to act like -“

“Can I get my mouth on you?” Harry cuts her off, his eyes were glued to her center, where his thumb was pressing between her folds to nudge at her clit.

YN raises her eyebrow in surprise.

Adam had rarely done that, maybe five times total in their entire relationship, and YN never requested it because it didn’t feel good enough to want it again.

“If you want,” YN breathes out, still in a bit disbelief that this man was kneeling in front of her, asking to put his mouth if her.

“If I want,” He chuckles with a shake of his head before his hands are gripping his hips a bit firmer and keeping her still.

He doesn’t waste another moment, burying his face into her center, nose bumping against the curls on her mound as his tongue swipes through the split of her.

Harry knows what he’s doing.

His lips find her clit in seconds flat but he’s grunting at her, communicating without taking his mouth off of her, and shoulders her legs apart wider.

YN reaches for balance, finding his hair as something perfect to weave her fingers into, and hold steady.

He then just casually, again refusing to take his mouth away, hefts one of her thighs over his shoulder, and makes it possible to lick even deeper.

“Harry,” YN moans kittenishly, a sound she’s never heard out of her own mouth as she tugs harshly at his hair.

He lets out his own moan between sucks and licks, nose buried in the curls, and he’s taking heavy breathes because of his refusal of air.

YN has had orgasms when she had sex with Adam, occasionally, and with her own fingers.

This was the first time someone other than herself made her come.

Holy shit, it was life-changing.

“M’close,” YN warns but by the time she gets the words out, she’s throwing her head back and bucking her hips into his mouth as she rides it out.

His hands move to grip her ass hard, bruising enough as he pushes her as close as possible to help her feel it for as long as possible.

YN realizes just how much she was tugging his hair when her fingers ache, unwinding them as she pants, “I’m sorry. I pulled your hair so hard.”

Harry sits back on his heels, face shining as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip before sticking in his mouth.

He was fucking obscene.

“Loved it,” Harry replies, voice raspy and deeper than ever, “You tasted just as good as you look. I think I’m in love with the bush.”

YN giggles as he helps her unwind her leg from over his shoulder, he stands up and kisses her hard.

It shouldn’t be hot that she can taste herself.

“Want to see you,” YN murmurs shyly, her fingernails trailing down his stomach, his abs twitching in response.

“Yeah, baby?” Harry goads as he watches her hand, “Hopefully it’s to your liking.”

YN takes that as permission to tug his briefs down his thighs, he was beautiful here too, unsurprisingly.

YN had experience with this.

Kinda.

Adam was less than half the size, not as pretty nor as thick.

It was a bit intimidating.

Harry must sense it, pressing a kiss to her lips, and huffing when she wraps her hand around him, stroking upwards.

“S’gonna fit, nice and snug, huh?” Harry whispers sweetly before he bites her bottom lip, he takes it upon himself to reach down again.

He slips in index and middle finger through her folds, crooking them up inside of her, and cursing under his breathe.

“Baby, you’re tight,” He tells her as he goes slowly, working her open as she pumps him in slow, firm strokes.

YN bites her lip, brave as she thumbs over his shiny tip, “Fuck me, please. Want it.”

“What do you like?” Harry asks as he walks them backwards to the bed, YN landing on her back and squirming up to the middle center.

“What do you mean?” YN asks between a gasp when she feels him brush against her mound, tip bumping at her folds.

“What position gets you off the best?” Harry elaborates as he peppers kisses over her collarbone, tweaking a nipple in his fingers.

“Whatever you like,” YN replies because none get her off.

Harry glances up at her, “But what position is good for you?”

“They’re all the same, aren’t they?” YN shrugs mulishly, “I don’t usually, well, I can use my fingers in any one.”

Harry looks at her like she’s grown a second head, voice sharper, “Did you ex really never make you orgasm during sex without you using your own fingers?”

YN tucks her bottom lip between her front teeth for a moment, “He said it’s easier if I just did it so yeah.”

Harry shakes his head, a scoff of disbelief, “How did he not worship this perfect little pussy, baby? I’ve never seen anything more magnificent.”

YN tries not to let the compliment go to her head, he defiently says that to every other girl he’s been with, it’s just a line.

“Your fingers aren’t going to be anywhere near your cunt tonight,” Harry rumbles as he reaches over to his night stand, rummaging until he finds a condom and rolls it over himself.

“Sweetheart, you’re drippin’ to your bum,” Harry laughs but it’s not mean, it’s fond as he has her bend her knees and spread them.

Harry paints himself up and down her entrance, hitting the heavy weight of it against her clit a few times before pressing in.

“O-oh,” YN gasps because he’s big.

It’s not painful but it is a stretch, as he makes room for himself, and he goes slowly.

He leans down, kissing her, and murmuring encouraging words to her.

Much too sweet for a causal hookup.

“Look at you, never had anyone look so pretty while taking my cock, baby.”

“See? S’room for me, hugging me perfectly.”

“Shit, darling. Never going to want to pull out, just want to stay all tucked up inside you.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t decide whether I want to look at your pretty face or perfect pussy. M’spoiled for choice.”

“Please, please,” YN hiccups, she feels needy as he starts to put in more force behind in thrusts, and on every odd motion, he manages to hit a spot she didn’t know she had.

The spot that barreled her towards her second orgasm, nails digging to Harry’s bicep as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Fuck, there it is, pretty baby. Come around my cock, squeezing me,” Harry lets out a low moan when he feels her walls contract around him.

YN has never come twice like that.

When Harry reaches down to press a thumb to her clit, she squeals with the overstimulation but he kisses her and assures her that she can give him one more.

YN has pathetic, fat tears streaming down her face as her third orgasm hits her.

“There we go,” Harry croons, pleased as a peach as he kisses her damp cheeks, “Came on my tongue, on my cock twice, see how good you are for me? S’all mine, right? Only cock you’ve ever come on.”

The possessiveness in his words makes her stomach flip with something good, validating that she wanted.

“Just yo-yours,” YN manages to agree through bated breath, he was pounding into her now, barreling towards his own end.

“Good girl, fuckin’ making me come for you,” He grits out, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he stills, pulsing inside her, “Fuckin’ hell.”

++

YN wakes up before Harry the next morning, quietly as a mouse slipping back into her clothes, and leaving his apartment.

Was it a shitty thing to do?

Yes.

Did she do it to avoid him kicking her out after they used each other because it felt real to her and this was just plain fun for him?

Also yes.

YN guesses this is how hookups go.

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic

[noorpersona]

Photographs (Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 1)

You had been accepted to do a foreign exchange student program in Japan. For the rest of your high school career, you would be living in a completely different country and culture, filled with people with different mannerisms from you.

And you couldn’t be more thrilled.

From a young age you had been studying the country, its culture, and their language. Reading, writing, and speaking for hours on end ever since you were nine. It simply enthralled you, for no particular reason. While it’ll never be the most useful language, you didn’t care. You found beauty in it, and it made you happy.

So, when you found an opportunity at your local high school to travel to the country you always wanted to, you jumped at the chance. Your parents were a little hesitant at first, not exactly keen to the thought of their child leaving for a huge majority of the year, but, to your honest surprise, you had managed to convince them after few weeks of begging. The easy part was getting accepted; Since you spoke the language at a high level, they couldn’t have found a better candidate. All that was left was the paperwork and the preparations necessary.

Which only took a whole year.

To say you were impatient was a bit of an understatement, but once you had completed your first year at your local high school, they had given you the exciting news that next year you would be attending Karasuno High school in Miyagi. You were so ecstatic that the next couple of weeks flew by and soon you were on the plane heading to your greatest dream true.

When you got off the plane, you were greeted by your host family that you would be staying with for the rest of the program. It was quite a small family, with a single mother and two brothers. Not that you had minded. The mother and the oldest son, Akiteru, his name was, seemed quite nice actually, both exhibiting a friendly and pleasant aura. They were comforting to talk to and had settled any kind of nerves you had mustered on the plane.

You wish you could same about the other one.

The other boy, Kei, who was your age and was going to be going to the same school as you, seemed extremely cold and distant. He hadn’t even said hello, but just looked at you funny. As if you were already somehow an inconvenience to him. He also was extremely intimidating, with not only his lackluster enthusiasm, but his almost 6’3 stature. He seemed to loom over you, eyes screaming distaste and annoyance. When egged on by his brother to ‘loosen up’, he had uttered the most exhausted greeting, not bothering to listen to yours before turning to leave to the baggage area. Flipping his headphones to his ears and leaving any sort of social opportunity to get to know you.

If it weren’t for the physical similarities, you wouldn’t even think he was related to the other two. Definitely a black sheep if you’ve ever seen one.

But nevertheless, you wouldn’t let him ruin your experience. He was a speed bump at most, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop you.

That was your initial mindset. And while he certainly didn’t stop you, he did manage to make it all kinds of shitty.

During the first month of you living with his family, Kei hadn’t said a single word to you. He was always in his room and acted like he didn’t even know you existed. The only time you’d ever see him, was during dinner. And even then, he acted like he didn’t know you, not saying a single word as he quickly ate everything and marched right back up to his room.

Now, you didn’t mind if someone didn’t like you. You weren’t a child; You knew that not everyone gets along. But it seemed liked he hated you for simply existing; without even giving you a chance. And it frustrated you. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you as much as it did.

You didn’t even know him, and still, it was one of the most infuriating things you’ve ever experienced.

Over the course of the days, (That felt more like months) you had reasoned that why it angered you so much was that it almost always was you and him alone together in the house. You had learned later on that Akiteru was a college student, so he rented a small apartment and only visited for the holidays, and that their mother’s job required her to often have full time shifts to support you all securely.

You figured that you were just insulted that you were the only option in this empty, silent house, and Kei still chose to not speak to you; opting to be left in virtual loneliness.

But you wouldn’t dare admit that it hurt you more than it should’ve.

To add on to the list of problems, since school wouldn’t start for another two weeks, you were basically stuck with yourself. Which got boring really quickly, but manageable, nonetheless.

You moved on and acted as though you weren’t bothered; Simply figuring that if Kei was that much of a prick that didn’t want to speak with you it was his loss and your gain. School started, and the first term flew by. Not being cooped up in a house with someone that seemed to hate your guts proved useful to you, making some decent friends by the end of it, and soon the second term had started.

To your surprise, during those months he did start talking to you, but in classic asshole fashion, it was only to annoy you.

(Maybe it was the fact that he saw you thriving, but it’s not like he’ll ever admit it).

Apparently, the man had the frustrating abilities to make fun of anything he put his mind to. To your dismay, this meant your clothes, the way you talked (Heaven forbid you mess something up in Japanese), your looks, your friends, and countless other little things.

It seemed that misery really did enjoy company, since Kei clearly couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy, for some inexplicable reason.

Each and every comment had started to pile up inside you, and with each new one, your patience grew thinner and thinner for the tall blonde boy.

You had tried to let the little things go, since you could clearly tell that Kei was one of those people who loved getting a reaction out of others. Countless adults from speeches, presentations and logic said that if you showed you didn’t care, he would stop.

But he didn’t. In fact, it made him all the more relentless.

He’d constantly torment you, no matter what you did. You found that whether or not you ignored him was irrelevant. So, if it didn’t matter, you realized that at least you didn’t have to take his shit sitting down.

If he wanted to play mean, you could play mean.

You slowly started fighting back, and that only caused him to fight back harder. He seemed to like a challenge and boy did you hate to lose. It went on like this for some time, your ‘relationship’ only growing more and more tense all the while filling with more annoyance and hatred for the other person. You enjoyed watching him reel back for a second, seeing him process if what you said was correct at first, but it had started to get exhausting extremely quickly.

It got to the point where all you wanted now was for him to stop. Not have anything else to say. Not have the last word in an argument. To say something and have him be silent. To see with your own eyes, him flustered and struggle to form words in anger and embarrassment. Just one time would make you satisfied. To give him a taste of his own medicine, and you would die happy with your life choices.

You were snapped out of your daydreaming when your history teacher stated he had just assigned a partnered task. To create a presentation about an influential moment in Japanese history. You have to stop a groan of pain from escaping your throat. It was just your luck. Although you’ve never loved the concept of group work, with too many bad experiences in group projects, to add on to the shitlist, this was the one class that you had no friends in. So, in torment, you had to watch the excited students go to their chosen partners desk and wait until the teacher had to pick a partner for you from the scraps of the useless souls left behind.

At least until Kei had walked up to your desk.

You blink. You had forgotten he was in this class; you never paid him any mind in school, with him only talking to you to try and annoy you and all. You whistle lowly.

“What a surprise. I don’t remember summoning a minion of the Antichrist.” Your tone is dry, not even having to look to know that Kei is rolling his eyes.

“And I don’t remember asking to have you in my house. Things happen.” You scoff.

“What do you want, Tsukki?” You coo, using a mocking tone. After you found out that Kei had a friend, and accepted the reality that someone out there genuinely wanted to be his friend, used that nickname, you refused to let it go. You were quite happy with the way he reacted to it. He glares at you hard, and you only smile. He lets it go after a moment, and you watch is distaste as his face returns to the calm and indifferent expression that you’ve come to despise.

“Let’s work together.” He said simply. There’s a beat of silence as you process the words.

You.

And Kei.

Working together… On a project that would require a lot of time… Hours, even days…

…

Yeah, that isn’t happening.

You didn’t have to say anything, just with the quirk of a brow, you showed your hesitation. Or more like ‘Even if Hell freezes over, or if pigs fly, I still wouldn’t say yes’. He just tsked, as if you were a toddler not getting a simple concept. You felt your nails dig into your palms.

How did he always manage to get on your nerves so easily?

“We already live in the same house. It would be easier than trying to meet up with others.” Kei spelled it out for you, and you look away. Unfortunately, he did have a point. And even more so, Kei wasn’t an idiot. Sure, he acted like a complete jackass, but he did have good grades. Better than yours at least. And you needed to do well on this assignment too. You sigh, not seeing any real reason to say no.

But you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Guess you really favour convenience over your asshole ways.” You click your tongue as the bell’s rings, signalling that the period is over. His reaction is cut off by that sound. You sigh heavily, before giving in.

“Alright.” He nods and goes back to his seat to collect his stuff. He walks away you feel a pit start to form in your stomach.

Suddenly you don’t want to go home.

~~

The rest of the day had gone by smoothly enough, with you and Kei having different classes, the project had flown out of your mind. It was a Friday, so you had planned to walk home with your friends, and maybe get some food on the way. It would be a nice way to unwind and relax from a stressful week.

Key word *planned. *

Just as school was over you received a text from yours truly.

Are you going straight home?

You raise a brow at your phone. What did it matter to him?

No. I’m hanging out with some friends.

Which ones?

Does it matter?

**Not anymore. Stay until I’m done practice. **

You stop to stare. He’s never asked you to stay before. He’s actually quite quick to push you anyway when it came to his practice. Not that you minded.

Why?

**It’s important. **

Care to explain?

**Just wait until after practice. **

Kei, I have plans.

Kei?

You let out a frustrated grunt, trying to decide what to do. About ninety percent of you wanted to forget that Kei ever existed and go out anyway, but the other ten percent is nagging you with the fact that he said it was important. It could be anything, and it could be serious. Ultimately, you gave into that ten percent, with a curse to your conscience and a grit of your teeth you cancelled your plans with your friends and went to sit in the library.

For the next five hours.

You were pretty sure that your soul had left your body when Kei finally texted you.

Where are you?

Library

You saw outside the doors, so you finally got up and went to him, your mind going insane over what could be so important that you wasted your precious Friday. But he doesn’t say anything, only looking to you and walking to the entrance of the school to begin to walk home. You recoil with an extremely confused expression, having to jog to reach him. He doesn’t say anything as you catch up to him. You clear your throat. He turns to look at you, raising a brow.

“What?” You give him a look of disbelief.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You made me miss my plans for something ‘important’. I’d like to know what it is.” You finish, hands on your hips. Kei simply looks you up and down, like he’s measuring you. You can feel your blood pressure start to raise.

“We need to work on our project. Let’s work on it after dinner.” If this was a cartoon, your jaw would’ve hit the floor, then maybe there would be steam coming out of your ears.

This bastard just kept surprising you. It’s like he wanted to find new levels of low. You couldn’t even believe he just did that. How could someone be so petty?

“Are you fucking serious?! I had to stay afterschool for five hours so you could tell me something that fucking stupid?!” You could barely think straight, not even having the mental capacity to come up with something witty. Kei rolls his shoulders, causally stretching while you’re about to combust, lazy smirk adorning his face. You’ve never wanted to slap a smile off more…

“You didn’t have to stay.” You almost choke.

“You said-”

“Exactly. ‘Said’. I never forced you to do anything. You could’ve left at anytime.” You let out a lot of strained sounds. What kind of argument was that? Couldn’t he just for once, let go of his pride and accept he was an all-around asshole? You saw red.

“You know what? I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day, but you are the most immature, petty-” Kei cuts you off.

“Anything new to say? I’ve heard it all before, trust me.” You practically growl. You see him smile even wider out of the corner of you eye. This was what he wanted. Remember, all he wants is a reaction. That thought calms you down considerably. You take a huge, tired sigh, all of your previous energy gone. He was like a parasite, you realized. He completely drained your being. Not to mention annoying as fuck.

“What Yamaguchi sees in you; I’ll never know.” Kei shrugs. “Heard that one too.” Kei slips on his headphones, clearly seeing that you’re not going to be entertaining him anytime soon.

One of these days, you’ll get him back. Just be patient.

The rest of your walk was spent daydreaming about that day.

~~

Kei had told you to meet up in his room to start working on the project, so after a silent fuming dinner, you had reasonably calmed down enough and gotten the necessary supplies and knocked on his door. You seriously considered barging in to tell him to fuck himself and the project, but your grade average was at stake, and your schoolwork was something you could never risk over some stupid boy. You decided to bite the bullet, taking a deep breath, and attempt to let all of your previous irritation wash over you as he calls through the door.

“Come in.” You open the door to his room and take a look around. To no one’s shock, you had never actually been in Kei’s room before, not really needing or wanting a reason to do so. It was fairly neat, with huge white desk and matching white walls with his volleyball jersey set cleanly on top. A couple of shelfs with some plushies of dinosaurs that you decided not to comment on but kept stored for future mockery. Boringly enough though, it just looked like a boy’s room, which did give your ‘Kei is the source of all evil on earth’ theory a few heavy hits. You didn’t realise you were staring until Kei pulled you out of it.

“Are we going to do some work? Or are you just going to stand there gawking?” You glared at him slightly.

“Well how often do you get to see the Devil’s lair? This might be the last thing I ever see if I don’t get out here alive…” You mumble the last bit, ignoring his eye roll, before sitting down on his bed, spreading out all your work material on the mattress. Once finished you both just looked at each other.

Now what?

“Uh… So… What do you think we should do our project on?” You ask awkwardly. Kei looks at you like you’re suddenly the biggest inconvenience known to man. You resist the urge to throw your notebook at his very hittable face.

“How should I know?” You snort in annoyance. Someone’s cranky. Is it his time of the month?

“Well sorry I was asking my partner a question about the project we’re both assigned to work on. We must alert the church elders at my audacity.” You can hear him ‘tsk’ loudly, his swivelling chair moving to face away from you, slightly. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his pettiness.

This wasn’t going to lead anywhere, and you really wanted to get this over with. You take another deep breath, attempting to be the bigger person.

“Okay, how about we both start by researching some important events, then choose from there?” Kei takes you suggestion into consideration, before turning away from you.

“Fine.”

And with that he opened his computer and when down to it. You as well opened up your laptop and started your research. Things start to move better than you would’ve thought, because after about twenty minutes of searching, discussing, arguing you both finally decided to go with the Atomic Bomb dropping, with it piquing both Kei’s and your interest.

Well, with it piquing your interest and Kei being indifferent rather than disgusted at the ‘shitty’ choice.

You soon started researching, both going into your own little worlds, writing notes, and finding new sources. In the middle of the session, Kei had randomly got up and left the room. You assumed it was to get a drink or use the washroom.

You didn’t take any notice to him leaving, too focused on the task at hand. You had been taking notes on the event and had gone to set down your pencil to remove a rebellious strand of hair that had been getting in the way of your vision. Truthfully, Kei’s bed wasn’t the sturdiest material to study on, so when you set your pencil to the side, it had obeyed the laws of physics and rolled off, making a sound as it clattered on the wooded floor.

Sighing tiredly, you lean over the edge of the bed to look for the astray pencil, only to find it underneath his nightstand. Reaching your hand into the darkness to grab the pencil, you felt a small piece of folded paper near it. Curious, you picked it up and brushed it slightly. It had been covered in dust, lost, and forgotten.

You unfold the small piece of paper, like any person would, to find a picture. It looked to be an older picture; Maybe couple years at the least, with the colours fading and the edges being tattered, you guess.

Though the colours were fading, you could see the photo just fine. In the photo was a small boy, outside with trees surrounding what looked to be a park. He had a volleyball in his hands, the hugeness of the ball showing just how tiny his hands were. He wore a huge smile, the ones that were contagious, but with light hints of a smug and cheeky attitude; The kind of attitude that only looks cute with kids. With warm blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and huge black glasses sliding down the bridge of his small nose. You couldn’t put off the fact that he looked extremely familiar…

A light switch flicked in your head, putting two and two together.

Oh my God.

That’s Kei!

…

That’s Kei?!

You let out a small laugh of shock as you inspected the picture closer.

He looks so different. Well, not really. Physically speaking, they were basically a shot for shot remake, but just the energy of Kei in and photo and Kei now was astoundingly different. Just looking at the photo made you smile. He seemed like such a happy kid. Not to mention completely and totally adorable.

I wonder what happened…

Well, he grew up, that’s what happened. You thought cynically. But he had to have kept some of that childlike wonder and happiness. The debate continued on in your head. He was only fifteen after all, but it seemed like it had been stripped from him, and pretty early on. Thinking about that made your heart feel heavy, but you had managed to brush it off just as Kei had came back into the room. While you hadn’t noticed his return, he sees you on the bed, not working, holding a small photo, and looking at it with the stupidest smile he had ever seen on you. To say he was a little confused was an understatement.

“What are you doing?” His voice makes you jump, looking up at him. You don’t respond as you look back the old photo, then back at him. Now that you actually think about it, he’s still pretty cute.

You pause at your own thoughts.

Woah okay, that came out of nowhere.

You shake it off as you finally go to respond, the smile still plastered on your face, not able to stop. “Look at what I found.” You sing with small giggles, getting up as you show Kei his photo. His face is priceless. It’s a mix of confusion, realization, then complete and total mortification. You can’t hide your laugh as he tries to snatch the photo, but you pull it to you before he had the chance.

“Where did you find that?!” He shouts, and you laugh harder.

“Your worst nightmares, apparently. Look at how cute you were!” You say between wheezes, laughing so hard your stomach started to hurt. You hold the picture to your chest when he tries again to grab it from you. He covers his face in his hands before giving you the hardest glare you’ve ever seen. And if it were any other situation, you would’ve been scared shitless, but the glare loses all intimidation when you see his cheeks and ears are flushed pink.

He’s blushing. He’s cute when he blushes. You take a mental picture of this moment as your laughter dies back down to small giggles.

“Give. It. Back.” He holds his hand out, expecting you to be completely compliant. You weren’t going to give in that easily. It was thrilling to see him embarrassed. Seeing him so flustered that he couldn’t form words.

The satisfaction was almost addicting.

You had always thought Kei needed a taste of his own medicine, to see just how bitter it was. Also, you wanted to keep the photo. It was just so precious, you bet that you could look at it after having the worst day and instantly feel better.

So, dawning his trademark smirk, you boldly utter the words.

“Make me.”

You two hold each others’ eyes for a couple seconds, fighting a power struggle, and you clearly winning. But without any kind of warning, he charges at you, using his long arms to try and reach the photo. You laugh at his attempt and quickly step back from him, going into the centre of the room, and extend your arm behind your back.

“Why do you even want the stupid picture?” He spits, extremely irritated, not to mention embarrassed, and you smirk. Oh, how the roles have reversed. You could see why he enjoyed it so much. It was an absolute riot.

“Are you kidding? This picture can make the usual unbothered Tsukishima Kei act like an embarrassed schoolgirl. This thing is gold. Plus, you’re adorable.” You add, and Kei blushes harder. Your eyes widen at an idea popping in your head.

“I wonder how your volleyball team would react to this picture…” You say excited, and Kei widens his eyes in, dare you say it, fear.

“You wouldn’t dare.” You scoff. He clearly doesn’t know how serious you are. You were fully prepared to give him Hell. You hum.

“To be honest, normally I wouldn’t, but those five hours I spent in the library today have really changed me. You know, as a person.” As soon as you finished that sentence, Kei had had started trying even harder to get that photo away from you. Each time trying to reach your arm with newfound vigor, with you stepping back each time he got close. Eventually, after playing for a little while, he was actually managing to overpower you, which isn’t a surprise. With those arms and legs there was only a matter of seconds until you would be backed into a corner.

So you decided to broaden the playing field.

“C’mon Kei~ Try a little harder, won’t you?” You teased, waving the picture in front of you, like a matador with a very, very angry bull. Once again, he reached for you, long arms trying to reach the photo you held behind your back, not expecting you to also pull his door open and dash out of his room, not even trying to contain your laughs as he stumbled through his doorway, letting out an angry groan.

His misstep gave you enough time to run down the stairs, and all the way down to the dining area. He was right on your tail though, sprinting to you, ending up on the other side of the table. Staring you down with heavy, infuriated eyes.

Neither of you move, the room being filled with only gasps for breath and your small giggles.

“You’re acting like a child.” Kei spits at you, perhaps hoping for a response that wasn’t a simple shrug, with you accepting the insult all the while dawning a lazy grin slapped on your face.

“Probably. But this is most fun I’ve had in this house. And you’re playing along. So, aren’t we both the children here?” He doesn’t respond, taking your moment of contemplation as his chance, running around the table, and attempting to reach the photograph in your hand.

Your reaction wasn’t fast enough, running away from the table but not far enough to keep a safe distance. You were so concerned with where he was that you didn’t see the couch behind you, legs hitting the front of the cushions. The movement way too strong for you to stay balanced.

Out of pure instinct, and with Kei being the closest upright object to you, you grabbed at him.

Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting you to grab him, and with such force too, because when you fell you had taken him down with you, both landing on the couch. Hard. You both make sounds of surprise before falling on top of each other.

You could feel his weight on you, and you struggled to move as he used his arms to push himself up, looking directly at you. His face was still flushed pink, you bet yours was too. You could feel the mood instantly change, from hatefully playful to…

Not.

You two were so close you could feel his breath on your skin, but you didn’t care. Both of you hadn’t said anything, staring at each other still, until ultimately you realized what kind of position you both were in.

Kei was between your legs, his pushing your thighs apart. You had unconsciously hooked your legs around his thin hips. When did that happen? You were so close that your chests were bumping into each other with every breath; His arms had caging your face in, causing you to only be able to look at him.

Your face and heart exploded.

“Uh-uhm… Kei?” You whispered, not being able to say anything louder. He continued staring, not saying a single word. You could tell from his eyes that he was lost in thought, weirdly. You try to snap him out of it.

“Kei, you’re crushing me- “

“Shut up.”

Kei out of nowhere, slams his mouth on yours. You freeze, and so does your mind. Your body stiffens, but Kei doesn’t stop. The kiss is aggressive, on his part at least, pouring out all of his frustrations into that single kiss. Your teeth clack together but you still don’t respond, and Kei starts getting impatient, and bites your lip. Not hard to draw blood, but hard enough to make you gasp. With your mouth open, he pushes his tongue in and that’s when you finally start to react. Feeling the bottom of stomach start to heat up, your mind buzzing, and your body giving you weird sensations, you slowly kiss him back, forgetting all common sense.

You could feel his smugness coming off in waves about that fact that you had started to respond, so put him in his place, you ran your hand up his arm to the back of his head. You comb your fingers through his amazingly soft fluffy hair and tug a little harder than necessary. He groans in slight pain. The sound sends shivers down your spine.

Things begin to get more heated, the kisses becoming longer and sloppier when Kei decides to run his hand up your thigh, leaving you to let out a soft mewl. His hand goes to rest on your hip, when he goes to kiss your cheek, down your jaw all the way to your neck. He gets into a rhythm there, with kissing, licking, sucking, and even biting lightly all down your neck. After some experimenting, he had found out where the most sensitive parts were, and absolutely ravished them. By then you were an absolute mess, hair sticking in all directions, lips swollen, a light sheen of sweat covering your body, and a completely destroyed neck much to Kei’s pleasure. His hands had gone from your hips to your back, pulling you up so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck as much. His mouth reaches where your neck meets your shoulder, and starts leave light butterfly kisses, clearly teasing you. You whine in protest, but he just chuckles.

You tug his hair to indicate that you want him to face you again, once he removes his face from your neck you lock your lips with his. He returns it immediately, taking his hand to go under your shirt and rub your warm and slightly sweaty skin. You let out a light sigh.

Then it all stops.

The warmth, the kisses, his hands, his body, everything. You hadn’t realized that you closed your eyes until you open them, to see Kei looking down on you, smirking as if he just won the lottery. In his hand, was the photo.

“I win.” He declares, as he rips up the photo and throws it in the trash. He goes to sit down in his desk, wiping his lips and sitting on the couch causally, as if nothing even happened. You can’t say anything, your brain too stunned.

You inhale all the air you had lost in those moments, feeling the cogs in your mind turn as you abruptly stand, confused with all the new sensations and feelings that just happened.

And with Kei of all people.

Kei…

“Y-yeah, I guess you did.” You mutter, averting your eyes and refusing to look at him, knowing that his eyes were burning holes in your back.

“Let’s work the project some other time.” You say quickly as you practically run to your room, slamming the door, and sliding down it. Running your fingers on your lips before burying your hand in your arms. Face burning with red hot embarrassment and shame.

What in the fuck just happened?

#fanfic #haikyuu #writing #humour #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #hq angst #hq anime #romance #slightly suggestive

[limeade-l3sbian]

Some time ago, before I cut contact with my dad, I would often contemplate his mindset. Not of why he was so lackluster in all manners of fatherhood but about his unbiased, objective few of me as a girl and, now, a woman.

On some obligatory level, I know my dad loves me. I think his perspective of what makes someone a “good Christian” demands this of him. And in a small percentage of the time we spent together, he might love me for the child he knew. And to hear that a father loses interest in his daughter when she grows up/develops the ability to defy and to think is not a new experience. There were telltale signs of it coming so I was fully prepared. But I expected a casual indifference when we got to the point we are now. He would lie about me to the family and retain his desperate image of a father “trying his best.” Like I said, I saw it coming years before.

But it didn't really play like that. Because while he definitely began to detach, there was this frustration and rage in his eyes when he spoke to me. When I called him out. When I didn't just shrug off what he said. He was so angry when I threatened to stop talking to him for a while and followed through. As a child, he couldn't understand why I chose to live with my mom in a homeless shelter over staying with him and his now ex-wife. And there are a handful of family facts and personal history that I won't just spill but I know for a fact play a part in this. I was more interested in his objective perspective of me, like I said.

And to be frank? My dad loves me in a very superficial way, but in no way likes me. My family is the type that say “blood is thicker than water” no matter what. Generations of abuse and neglect founded on the back of “respect” that is inherited rather than earned. My mom was the first to make me challenge that, and I think my dad resents her for that to this day. 

When I was younger, I considered him cool. Especially since he seemed supportive of my feminist ideology that I garnered very early on by just being with my mom. My thoughts then and now? How can a woman's place only be by a man's side when my mom has given me as much of the world as she can without one? I just wasn't buying. But he always told me he wanted me to be independent and strong. So I can give him that credit. No one in my life ever told me I couldn't be whatever I wanted to be, and that is a real blessing I don't take lightly.

But his support had a veil of contrasting expectations. I didn't have to wear makeup…but I should have my hair pressed or braided. I could wear pants instead of skirts…but you need to ask your mom to teach you how to shave. The role models he thrusted upon me were strong figures still deeply layered under a presentation that was appealing, especially to him. To him, they were still “women.” Strong but ever willing to submit. 

And his support always came with imaginings. When I inevitably became rich, he would joke that I could get him things. When I won a writing award as a kid, he didn't drive me home for twenty minutes until he finished boasting to his friend about me. He thought I was the most intelligent person he'd ever met. If I could just stop being so disagreeable and more presentable then the world would be my oyster.

And as an adult, hearing him speak, I could finally understand why my average intelligence seemed like such a world shattering achievement. Because to my father, I was intelligent in spite of being born female. I immediately thought back to all his interactions with women. How they were either dismissive or lewd. How he rolled his eyes when my stepmom would demand basic respect from him. And I'd laugh with him. [Go ahead and insert infamous quote about how it will not save the daughter.]

His perception of women was secondary. Adam's rib. He wanted to raise me as Eve and felt (and feels) cursed that he was bound by blood to Lilith. And the only Christian thing to do is spend the rest of his life trying to change me. And when I came out, that thin smile of support from him told me that he felt his ability to control not just slipping, but being yanked. I did not recognize men as authority. His only card he had and has left is that we are bound forever by blood.

But I don't care about blood. The water of strangers and women in my life and in this community has carried me further in life than blood ever has or, at this point, ever will. 

#don't judge me if anything got autocorrected #i was on my way to work and wrote this on my phone

[boarcide]

There is something so good about Akutagawa--a very much feared, boogeyman like figure (even amongst his own men) in Yokohama because of his violence, bloodlust, and steadfast loyalty to a violent criminal organization such as the Port Mafia--given biblical angel symbolism

I don't know, something something about someone whose beauty is so incomprehensible and terrifying to most. He's not physically ugly, he's not--he's beautiful, the type of beautiful that almost feel as if he's not a real person, like he's a mirage, or a painting. But he's beautiful not like those renaissance cherubs and lovely looking maidens for angels, but more like the biblical angels with their beauty beyond mortal grasp, the beauty that brings fear and revulsion towards whoever sees them because they cannot comprehend it. Coming across him makes you understand why angels say, "Be not afraid" when they reveal themselves to mortals. An incomprehensible beauty that very few can keep looking at. A dangerous feat, literally and metaphorically.

(This isn't only with his physical appearance either--for someone who is constantly beaten down both by canon and by the fandom for being "simple", he is a terrifying bundle of different aspects that contradict each other. Like a super machine you open up and you see the intricate criss crossing of wires and bolts that hold it together. He's a mess of nerves and feelings and experiences so profound, so horrific, that you don't know where to start with him. To uncoil him and see him truly bare is almost impossible. Where does he end and the roots that connect him to the earth begin?)

Something about Akutagawa being an angel, a being created entirely to follow the will of "God", obey their every word. Unwavering loyalty to their master while singing praise. Acting entirely on the order of their master--wing always dipped in blood for his sake. A weapon of "heaven' that brings destruction to those who oppose "God" and be one of the many upon which "God" rests upon.

(Almost everything Akutagawa does is for the sake of the Port Mafia, taking orders from the "master" (boss) himself. Willingness and obedience and loyalty repeatedly exploited and used, everything he has done as one of the high ranking leaders handling most of the Mafia's dirty work playing a part so Mori's throne stays high.)

Something about comparing Akutagawa to a certain archangel, finding repulsion in "God"'s cherished creation, the inferiority that came with being "less" to "mankind", and the painful fall from grace to the deepest pits of despair when he confronts the being that created him, molded him, and then condemn him. And to his humiliation, mankind, for centuries, condemns him too.

(He can't be compared to Lucifer, God's most beloved angel. Maybe Dazai did value him, but it doesn't matter, does it? because the difference between the two is that one was cherished and one never was. However, you can compare the rage and humiliation Akutagawa felt towards Atsushi--for obtaining Dazai's approval and affection with no effort, no proper control over his skill or any seemingly differentiating quality-- to Lucifer's refusal to bow down to humanity--a creation inherently imperfect and lackluster, with not the qualities of angels. And as a result? Disgraced. Both by the creator and by ones that held their creator's favor. )

Something about Akutagawa being an angel--someone whose presence means nothing pleasant to those he appears before. A reaper of sorts, responsible for taking life and for souls to see the afterlife (killing both as an order and an act of mercy, for he despises torture and meaningless suffering). A guardian angel watching over "mankind" from afar, where he is not aware and saving him from certain death at his own expense.

There's just something so appealing about depicting Akutagawa--a fearsome, ruthless, and bloodthirsty mafioso, a boogeyman to his own men--as an angel, be it of death, of mercy, a destroying angel-- whatever anyone wants to see him as and use him for.

#ryuunosuke akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd akutagawa #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #character analysis #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #this post was brought to you by delulu gang #I just love akutagawa I love how despite how monstrous his actions are he looks almost angelic while doing it #maybe not angelic is the conventional sense but what is an angelic abomination if not an angel #ive said he's beautiful the way a spider is beautiful and its true #its much more accurate in a sense: he's all long limbs #cloaked in black #eyes too big and eerie #and many people don't like him the way they dont like spiders. the way people harm and attack or straight up avoid him #he's like a spider that had been crushed under the sole of your heels until he pops #but he is equally an angelic beauty; equally as divine as he is grotesque and horrifying #he is ultimately incomprehensible to most people. those who don't bother to look deeper at him #Even those who do “know” him do not know his heart. Dazai may know what he wants and how he works but he does not know his heart #anyways good morning America

[thefloatingstone]

There are almost 0 videos on youtube of Americans reacting to Eurovision for the first time which makes me very sad because I love seeing people experience cool things for the first time, but of the 3 or 4 I've managed to track down it has further cemented why America (as a blanket whole and a culture) should never get invited to Eurovision.

1: Immediately most of the American reactors seem outraged and sulky about "not getting included". Already a red flag.

2: They all seem to completely and utterly miss the point that it's NOT A SINGING CONTEST. It is a SONG contest. All of them automatically assume it is a contest to judge a person's singing ability to determine who is the best at singing.

3: America as a culture (as in NOT the individuals but as a larger culture overall) is WAY too competitive in nature. Instantly, without even being pushy or aggressive about it, every single reactor assumes the aim of the contest is that everybody is entering to WIN. And that the winner is determined by who is BEST. And that the goal is to DOMINATE the rest of the competition. Immediately they assume the point of Eurovision is to "beat" everyone else by being better than them.

4: the utter and complete BAFFLEMENT when they learn certain countries purposefully send lackluster entries so that they don't risk winning. The American reactors I have managed to find seem completely unable to comprehend this when it's first presented. Often asking out loud "why the hell would you take part in something you don't want to win???"

5: upon learning the reason many countries don't want to win is because winning means hosting eurovision and many countries don't want that expense, their response is to go "well they need to change that rule then! Why have a rule in a contest that actively makes people not want to win??? That's a bad rule if it deters you from wanting to be the best in the contest!"

Conclusion: American culture (from my VERY scientific research of watching exactly 3 or 4 people) is incompatible with the spirit and goal of Eurovision.

#text post #Where's my PHD in social studies now please? #I watched 4 whole videos! That should AT LEAST qualify for an internship somewhere